Drusilla finally began to move, following Herto to his own ship. The smell of heavy alcohol hit her nose, making her almost gag. Pirates, sweating from their work, glared at Drusilla as she passed. Herto’s quarters were much larger and more magnificent than Nathan’s. There was not much furniture, but it was all nicely placed. A desk was near the center of the room, maps and papers sprawled across them. A bed was up against the wall, and a few chairs placed throughout, as well as a trunk that served as a wardrobe. Herto placed his hat on the table, which despite the amount of papers on it was still rather organized.
There was so much of him that Drusilla could read and so much she couldn’t. His skin was well kissed by days in the sun, and the wrinkles on his face gave him a sad look as though he’d lived so much of a life, and in that life there was so much pain. “You look like someone I once knew. What’s your name, girl?” Herto asked in a voice that while stern was much kinder than before. He took a seat, offering one to Drusilla. She hesitantly took it. There was a picture on the desk, a black and white drawing of a woman. It was propped up as though he looked at it often. She was so young, barely twenty, and seemed to be so happy and in love. She too seemed familiar to Drusilla.
“My name is Drusilla. I am a Free Strider who was hired to work for the crew of that ship,” Drusilla answered sharply. Herto’s eyes narrowed once more as he tried to place his thought.
“If you are a Free Strider you must have once been called by another name. Tell me it,” Herto demanded. So he was familiar with Galdirrian life. That was interesting. He must have considered that avenue. He leaned forward, rubbing his thumb against the picture on the desk. He loved her, and it seemed to bother and hurt him so much.
“My name was once Melody. Melody Kloy I was called. I grew up in the village of Nathlo,” Drusilla confessed in a quavering voice. How long had it been since she said those words? It’d been four years. Luther was the last to hear them. She’d been Drusilla of nowhere for so long she’d almost let herself forget. A flicker of recognition flashed in Herto’s eyes. He seemed to know Nathlo, which would make sense if Drusilla was right about him being from there. He leaned back.
“Who were your parents?” Herto breathed. Drusilla raised her eye brow.
“My mother was Breena Kloy. It is her maiden name that I once bore. My father I know not for he left my mother before she even knew herself to be pregnant,” Drusilla confessed. She did out of fear for her life in some regards. He was a pirate captain and she was a hostage. There wasn’t much bargaining room. He roughly placed his bottle on the table, standing up as he began to pace.
“I only ever knew one Breena Kloy. Pray tell me what has become of that sweet angel if you are indeed her child. Pray tell me your age,” Herto growled. His tone revealed a certain sadness as though he was a hurt lover. Drusilla froze for a moment. He knew her? How?
“If you indeed knew my mother, you would be most sad to learn that she is dead. She was killed four years ago. I am twenty-three years old,” Drusilla replied. She saw a light drain from Herto’s eyes as she spoke. “She became a teacher in order to provide for me. Pray tell me how you knew her.” It’d been so long since Drusilla met anyone from her past or her mother’s. Her mother was a woman with so many pieces it was hard to put them all together as one. Herto look at her with the saddest eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He took a deep breath to speak.
“I knew her as a husband knows his wife. I knew her not as Breena Kloy, but rather as Breena Blackwright. To her I was known as the only man she’d ever love,” Herto explained. The two stared at each other as the pieces fell into place. She understood. Drusilla saw it now. The woman she recognized as a happier, younger version of her mother. The man… It was his eyes. His eyes were the same as Drusilla’s, that same deep blue. This man, this pirate captain, was her father.
“Just leave,” Breena growled. Herto stared at her.
“I’m trying to change, Breena,” Herto insisted. Breena shook her head.
“The drinking I can handle, but not the gambling. How does this look on us? It’s already enough you do odd jobs and I’m no more than a historian!” Breena argued. Herto shook his head.
“Please, Bree, don’t do this,” Herto begged. He reached out to her but Breena pulled back.
“No… No just go. Make it easier on us both,” Breena cried. Herto sighed, going to grab his things and take shelter in the night. Breena was left alone, crying and numb. She wanted him desperately, but she couldn’t. No, he wasn’t good for her. He wasn’t… He wasn’t good for the child she knew they were going to have. She hadn’t even bothered to tell him. Let the pain stay at the least amount it could be.
Malcolm played with a lock of Melody’s hair. She was nuzzled up against them by the fire as they read stories her mother had written down. “So where is your father?” Malcolm asked. Melody looked up at him.
“He left before I was born. Considering he was a drunk and a gambler, I’m sure he’s dead by now,” Melody explained. Malcolm brushed her lips with his thumb.
“It’s a shame… He left such a beautiful daughter behind and I was actually looking forward to fighting for you,” Malcolm chuckled. Melody rolled her eyes.
“You’re such a romantic,” she muttered, sitting up to set aside the paper.
“Well, one of us has to be and it isn’t you,” Malcolm argued. Melody laughed at that.
“Maybe that’s why I love you. We fit each other,” Melody mused. Malcolm sat up, wrapping his arms around her.
“I like hearing you say you love me. I love you too,” Malcolm cooed. Melody leaned back into his embrace.
“Never leave me, Malcolm,” Melody begged. “I don’t… I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to be alone like my mother.”
“I’ll… I’ll never leave you,” Malcolm promised. Melody had never even considered the break in his voice, the pain in knowing the lie he had just told.
Chapter 9:
“She thought you would be long dead by now. She said she was glad you left because she didn’t think a drunk could care for a small child. She said you were unfit for anything, and you weren’t the man she thought she was marrying,” Drusilla growled. She felt a new anger burning in her veins. All these years there was nothing, and now here the man was. She’d never thought to search for him, and Breena wasn’t fond of mentioning the man. Now here he was, and Drusilla’s head was spinning. Herto simply sighed.
“Poyro,” Herto called. “Poyro come here for a moment.” A young man around 17 or 18 stepped in. His hair was cleanly cut, the same black as Herto’s beard, and his eyes were that trademark turquoise. The two were clearly related. Considering his nicer clothing, he seemed to be second in command. He nodded his head respectfully to Drusilla before walking to Herto’s side. Yes, they were clearly related. “Well your mother was wrong on all accounts, Drusilla. This here is Poyro, my second in command and my son. He turned out well, at least so far, and I’ve raised him since he was just a babe,” Herto explained dryly. There was still a heavy sense of pride for his son, something similar to how Breena would talk about Drusilla.
“Poyro, escort this lady to her ship. I will meet you there momentarily. I wish to think for a moment,” Herto ordered. Like a loyal dog, Poyro walked forward, ushering for Drusilla to follow him. There was something different in the boy than any pirate Drusilla had ever heard of. There was a humanity in him, and a softness as though he simply enjoyed life and was just going along with the ride. There was a sense of mercy and justice in his eyes, eyes like Drusilla’s and Herto’s though not as dead.
I happened to overhear bits and pieces of your discussion,” Poyro whispered. “Please forgive me for being forward; it’s good to know I have a sister, even a half sister. Papa never discusses his life before he became a pirate. My eighteenth birthday is this week and I’d like to take a break from it all. If your ship ever stops at Tiarta, wait for me. I’d love to get to know you, Melody.” To Drusilla the invitation was abr
upt, but she nodded anyways, unsure of what would actually happen. It seemed more of it hinged on Drusilla surviving the pirates. The conversation dropped as they reached Nathan and the others.
Drusilla went to stand next to Lu who glared from Poyro to Drusilla in a venomous style. Finally Herto walked on, after an eternity or so it seemed. He still seemed distant and lost in thought, though it seemed that so much weight had just slipped off his shoulders. In his youth he must have been handsome, as even now he held some charm. It was clear in a way to Drusilla why her mother would have fallen for such a man. To her, there was even a bit of Malcolm in him.
“I’ve decided to let you live. Continue on your way. Be cautious; other pirate bands will not be so gracious. Even now you are lucky to still be alive. You can thank your Free Strider for that. Treat her well. Men, back to your posts. Let them through,” Herto ordered. He looked back to Drusilla, studying her for a moment before handing her a piece of paper. “Open this only when you are alone and you reach the only safe isle in these waters,” Herto whispered in Drusilla’s ear. With that he stormed off the ship, Poyro following right behind. There was a heavy silence as the rest of the pirates followed suit, Nathan’s crew remaining silent.
Even after the pirates left they were quiet. “Get the anchor up. Let’s go,” Nathan growled finally. Like a machine, the other three moved about the ship, still quiet. Drusilla slipped the paper into her jacket pocket, fighting the burning urge to go down and read. What words would her father have for her, a girl he didn’t know existed until today? She wouldn’t open it there though, not near Nathan and Lu. Adam… Drusilla was still debating things with him. She wasn’t sure if she trusted him entirely, though she was getting there. Drusilla also felt the need to heed the pirate captain’s warning, as determined and stubborn as she was. Even as short a time as she knew Herto, she saw those same two traits in him. Free Striders and pirates both had to be stubborn and determined, but was it more? Was it something she had inherited from her father?
It was so strange. Drusilla had so long given up thoughts of those questions she now asked, preferring not to know. She only knew what her father had said, and now… Now it was a new perspective. It was like her eyes were fully opening and she was just starting to know how to live. To Drusilla, it was jumping off a cliff into the water. She could ask questions about her father. How funny it seemed to be meeting him so far from the coast of Galdirr. It was as though fate was forcing her to face things she never wanted to face.
With these thoughts the day passed into evening, which is when they all moved down to eat. It was with wonder now that Nathan, Adam, and Lu studied Drusilla. “What did Captain Blackwright want with you?” Adam finally asked, his curiosity overcoming him.
“He just inquired about who I was,” Drusilla explained quietly. Nathan slowly set down his fork with a questioning gaze.
“I doubt the fact that you are a Free Strider would sway his opinion. What did you do that made him want to free us?” Nathan inquired. Drusilla simply looked down at her food. “He’s known for being tough and territorial.” That almost made Drusilla laugh. She too could be both of those things. It seemed the daughter was more like the father than she thought.
“He let us free because he could not kill his eldest child. Who I once was is what saved us,” Drusilla simply answered. Adam’s eyes went wide as he dropped his fork. Lu too seemed shocked, though there was something as well. Anger? Drusilla simply held her head high, able to be at least somewhat proud of her past for the first time in far too long. It was like she was finally letting go, finally able to move on. A little piece of Drusilla met with a small fragment of what was left of Melody, and in it there was beauty. In it there was healing.
“Do you mean to say that you are his…daughter?” Adam breathed in utter disbelief.
“Yes. I am the daughter, the firstborn child of Captain Herto Blackwright,” Drusilla confirmed, a sense of wonder in her voice. The words seemed so strange and foreign on her tongue, but it was so strong. She was the daughter of someone, someone alive. For the first time in four years she had family. Lu glared at her with a hatred for Drusilla and Herto. Nathan’s eyes widened as Adam leaned back. Drusilla simply glared back at Lu. She didn’t care anymore how the woman felt about her. It wasn’t worth her time. Drusilla was simply learning to despise Lu in return a little more with each passing day.
Drusilla decided to take the liberty of cleaning up. She needed to be alone, to think. Nathan’s kiss seemed so far off and distant now. Had it really been only that morning? Drusilla sighed. She knew it could have been more. She had felt that once, and the memory of it still ghosted her lips. How much of what Malcolm felt was real? Drusilla wiped away a tear. What the hell was going on with her? She groaned. Four years she’d fought off the pain, and now it was back. It was like Drusilla was becoming Melody once again, or at least letting that corpse back in.
With her job finished, Drusilla retreated back to her room, fingering the paper in her jacket. She slipped it into her bag before blowing out the candle and trying to sleep. The day’s events passed through her head, mixing with visions of the past. She wouldn’t sleep. She couldn’t. Still the Free Strider tried.
Melody was wandering through the trees starving and exhausted when she met Luther. “What’s this one?” Luther asked, jumping down from a branch with an apple in hand. “A starving little bird it seems. Lost?”
“In a way,” Melody muttered. Luther slowly nodded.
“The name’s Luther. What’s yours?” Luther inquired.
“M-Melody,” Melody replied. “Who are you?”
“A Free Strider,” Luther answered. Melody’s eyes narrowed.
“What the hell is that?” Melody asked. Luther laughed.
“I wander these here lands with a name of my own choice and no home or family. I survive on my own and the King doesn’t bother me,” Luther explained. “Here, eat something. You look horrible.”
“Thank you,” Melody muttered, taking a bite as she absent mindedly placed her hand on her abdomen. Luther studied her.
“Beings above… You with child?” Luther breathed. Melody looked up at him in shock.
“How…How did you?” Melody stammered. Luther smiled.
“I’ve learned many a trick. Maybe you should travel with me. You could be a Free Strider,” Luther explained.
“Would you do that?” Melody asked. Luther nodded.
“First step. We need to find you another name,” Luther sighed.
Drusilla groaned as she got out of bed. She needed fresh air. Leaving her jacket aside, she made her way up deck. She walked over to the railing, staring at the dark sigh. Soon there were footsteps behind her. Somehow she just knew it was Adam. “We have to stop meeting like this. Your wife may begin to suspect things that are not truth,” Drusilla sighed. Adam chuckled. He leaned his back against the railing next to Drusilla. He studied her with the careful expression of a child seeing something for the first time. It made Drusilla’ s heart flutter nervously as she smiled.
“I fear she already does. She hates you, you know,” Adam mused. Drusilla chuckled, knowing that was definitely true. She turned her gaze back out to the water, watching the passing reflections of the stars on its surface like black glass. She undid her braid, letting her hair flow in the wind.
“I got that feeling from the moment I walked on this ship. I’ve been wondering if I made the right decision,” Drusilla sighed. Adam placed a hand on hers gently but firmly.
“I believe you did, Sill. I believe in fate and that things only happen by it. In my homeland we call it the Calling. Each person has one. We meet exactly who we are supposed to and make the decisions we must make in order to follow that calling. Look at what has happened today. You would have never met your father, never knew what had become of him, had you not said yes to Nathan,” Adam explained. Drusilla turned the words in her mind. A Calling… Her mother used to speak of that. Callings used to rule most of society back when the
Elves still roamed, but even still there were some kingdoms that clung to the concept. Breena had been one who believed in it as she strongly as she believed in the Beings. It called into question once more where it was that Adam was from. Drusilla just bit her lip.
“I used to believe that. Now, though, I am not so sure. My past keeps trying to haunt me. It is no longer fate that controls me, but past,” Drusilla mused. They fell silent a moment, both lost in thought. They both were thinking of the steps that had led them there together, both staring at the water before them. Slowly Drusilla began to relax, letting her weight lean on the railing.
“Let not the past keep its hold on you. Let fate take the wheel. Let go of whatever fear is haunting you. You were meant to be here. This may be at least a part of your calling,” Adam encouraged. There was a change in his voice, a new accent winning out. It reminded Drusilla of the language he and Nathan sometimes spoke. But there was a power in it, a certain wisdom that traced each word. The way it differed from Galdirrian dialect captivated Drusilla.
“Is it really that simple, Adam?” Drusilla finally asked, a strange, foreign, and genuine innocence in her voice.
“Nothing is that simple, Sill. Just follow your calling. Let these things happen. Let them be the way they are to be. That is how the Calling works,” Adam mused, shaking his head. The arm marked tensed suddenly, as though he were reminded of a promise.
“Well I’d be the hardest to do so. I’ve been through hell, Adam, more than you might know. Sometimes you just have to survive the day, not look for the greater picture,” Drusilla sighed. Adam stared at her, studying the Free Strider for a moment.
“You seem to have fear. Fear can eat a person alive, destroy them. It devours slowly, following and haunting the person until either the day they overcome it or the day they die. It turns a person inside out. It enjoys clasping its deadly fingers around their neck. We all have fear, something that haunts us. It is because we all have faults that we fear. Overcome whatever fear is hidden in you; don’t let it destroy you,” Adam explained. Drusilla looked at him bewildered, as though for the first time. His childlike mask had faded, maturing into a man. He had showed a more complex side than Drusilla knew. He spoke of fear as if it were an old acquaintance and not a stranger.
The Flames of Arathia Page 6
