Ashtium: City of Sun

ENOCH

Mother’s funeral ship sets sail alone, burning in flames and smoke. It lights up the entire cavern where the waves stir in a sea of black beneath her vessel. Only by fire light can we see down in here of what lays ahead miles and miles of charted, and uncharted, ocean caverns where somewhere her ship will sink to the bottom.

Am I wrong to feel a great sense of weight lift from my shoulders at the sight? My own mother...

Adler had taken Greta out of the palace after we agreed on the plan. It wasn’t exactly cleanly done, but done nonetheless.

Now, I’m left with him and I’m not taking any chances. Although, what a pleasant surprise it was to find him willingly planning to take a fleet out and see to it mother’s ashes properly fall to the shallows.

Well, that, and, by south sea law, we cannot just let any burning ship set sail into the waters without being overseen. So he will be taking care of that and stopping at other docks on his own little fleet outing.

Adler watches her small form as she laughs above the ocean waves, her lantern waving in the sea breeze behind her as she darts out from beneath the dock and across the ocean sands.

“Look at her down there playing in the sand. You should join her. There will be plenty of time to grieve after you finish showing Greta a good time here.”

I wipe the sweat from my forehead, inhaling the strong odor of sea salt.

Greta races up the steps, flailing her arms. Little does she know my father is about to head out after our dinner tonight. The less she knows the better. This should be a happy time for her anyway and I don’t want her thinking I’ve warded her ‘god’ away.

Adler bends down to her eye-level. His attention mildly absent from Greta seeing the angry dock keeper approach behind her.

“Oh, look at you, what did you find?” he asks.

She shows us a ribbed pink shell.

The dock keeper hobbles around her. Looks like it’s time for him to be on his way.

“Emperor, er, I mean, p-pardon my forgetfulness, empirical advisor, Adler. Your ship is being loaded. You were to leave already and I have a ship waiting for you to move now.”

My father turns to address the old man. They carry conversation toward our fleet of warships. Adler hands him a sack of coins, a bribe to make him shut up for another hour.

A large wave comes in nearly knocking the anchor his guards carry overboard. Seawater rains down on him as he dashes up the platform to help as the boat rocks dangerously. The dock keeper scuddles aboard after him like an angered crab; for the anchors, he owns and lends to those docking here.

In fact, he owns this entire dockyard, but technically the kingdom of the south sea controls it.

Greta follows my stare.

“Enoch? What are they doing up there? The water is angry. I don’t like standing here, I can feel it stirring below us and testing the strength of the beams.”

“Oh, Adler just has to make sure mother is seen off well. We can’t have her boat setting fire to another. Most ships are coming inland now at this time. He has to depart soon.”

Her voice rises, “He’s leaving?”

“Just for a short while. The water is calmest now believe it or not. Our people are not so adept at sea voyaging, but he has gone many times. The dock keeper just wants to make sure he leaves on schedule and returns the anchor. You are not allowed to dock just anywhere. Anchors aboard are outlawed in the south sea unless you have a ‘seadom’ pledge with the dockyard. Do you want to have a look aboard?”

“I can?”

“Yes!”

Greta smiles so big it hurts to watch her board the old fleet warship with such spirit.

The ship rocks as we enter it. If they aren’t hauling supply crates up here, most of his crew are gathering their oars right now. It smells like sweat and salt. Greta holds her arms out to keep balanced as she walks around the planks of wood at our feet. I forget this is all new to her.

Her childish excitement makes her not think twice about leaning over the edge to look down the stern. Adler is already on his way over to her. I follow him.

“Wah!” she gasps when he lifts her up putting her on his shoulders.

Her little hands remain on top of his head. She looks above at the ceiling of the cave where the pointed formations of stalactite hang down. One of Adler’s guards strolls by with an Ashtium flag and swings it over his shoulder passing us by.

“Adler, put her down. She’s going to bump her head. Greta? Look out!” I shout.

She ducks just in time to avoid ramming her head into the pole. My father ignores me, carrying the Krexbin in the opposite direction, to the front of the ship, up the steps to the bow.

Greta yells above the noise, “I can see everyone from up here, Enoch, come look!”

I laugh, completely capable of seeing well enough on my own thanks to my height. At any rate, I climb up the steps, listening to Adler answer all her questions about his ship. It reminds me of when I was as small as she. Never was I held as he holds her now. He would never take the time to explain anything about sea voyaging to me. I had to find out on my own.

Greta grabs onto the top of his head, her hair a little longer now and dangling somewhat in his face as she leans forward.

“Adler, take me down there.”

“Oh, you want to go on the deck again? It’s very busy-”

Her little feet kick with amusement on his shoulders. “Take me!”

I scratch my neck, nervous at how he’ll handle the new level of command that stems from her innocent bubbling excitement. Has she always been like this? Perhaps more of her true personality is showing now since she has less to fear with my mother gone.

“Let’s go down,” he complies, returning to the busy deck. His voice happy as ever despite leaving his favorite part of the warship behind, “Where then shall we go next?”

“To eat,” I cut in.

A sharpness forms in his eyes as he turns to address my request. “No, Greta is still on her tour. You can go eat, Enoch. She has never been on a ship.”

Greta looks down at Adler. She plays with the short strands of his finely trimmed curls unaware of his predicament with the dock keeper. Her voice is soft as she takes the middle ground, “Can’t we come back on the ship after eating, Adler?”

“Greta, he doesn’t have time to. Why are you asking for permission from him?” I answer with concern. I watch my father’s smirk grow. “Adler, you were to leave already. What more is there to see?”

“Femke is not going anywhere,” he replies curtly. He brushes by me and begins walking back to the stern with her. Greta tugs his hair in silent protest. I bark with laughter when the movement actually works and makes him stop. He turns around sounding apologetic, but not to me with that honeyed voice, “On second thought, I’d like to eat before leaving.”

Astounding how she can control him so easily!