Flameseeker (Book 3)

by R. M. Prioleau

  Leaning her forearms on the wooden railing of the main deck, Zarya stared dreamily out on the open waters, taking in the soothing sounds of the waves. There was no land in sight. It was the first time she’d been away from Aransiya, and she was looking forward to discovering what new adventures awaited her in the country of Ankhram.

  Her gaze flitted toward some of the well-dressed passengers who lingered about, chatting with one another or taking in the scenery. She heard Nester’s raucous voice above her, and she glanced up at the crow’s nest, where the brownie sat on the railing, his little legs dangling, while he conversed with the lookout there.

  A whistle pierced her ears, and she whipped her head toward the sound. A group of sailors stood a short distance away, leering at her. Feeling her cheeks get hot, she turned away and quickly moved toward the foredeck. She’d seen only four other females on the ship.

  She climbed up the ladder of the foredeck to be alone. She approached the wooden railing and leaned on it while she watched the bowsprit extend out toward the sparkling sea line against the mid-afternoon horizon. I should sail more often, she thought, inhaling the salty air. The sea is so relaxing.

  “There you are, Zarya.”

  She spun around to see Jarial climbing up the ladder to join her.

  “What are you doing here all by yourself?” he asked, taking a place beside her at the rail.

  Zarya tried to smile. “Oh, I was just enjoying the view. The sea is beautiful from here.”

  “Indeed, it is.” Jarial returned the smile and then stared out toward the horizon.

  “How long is the voyage, do you think?”

  Jarial looked back at her. “The seamen say a week, if the weather holds up.” Zarya noticed him looking sidelong at her, and she sensed he was admiring her. “What’s on your mind, my dear?”

  Zarya blushed and looked away. He’s been so sweet, attentive and concerned about my well being. But ...

  “Zarya?” Jarial asked again, concern filling his voice.

  She fidgeted and looked down at her hands, avoiding his gaze. She sighed and looked at Jarial. He, too, had secrets that he didn’t want the world to know. She felt bad for the one she did know, which had been inadvertently revealed. She moistened her lips as she searched for the right words. “Jarial. There is ... something you should know.”

  * * *

  From the tone of her voice, Jarial feared the worst. She doesn’t want anything to do with this old man. No one does. Damn my carelessness. He stared at her blankly, awaiting her dreaded words.

  Zarya fidgeted some more, her otherwise flawless face marred by an expression of grave concern. “As you already know, I am a Celestial.”

  He perked up slightly, not expecting that response. “Yes, of course. But why does that trouble you?”

  “Because ...” She bit her bottom lip. “I am much older than you think.”

  Jarial smiled, relief and amusement spreading through him. “Really? Well, you shouldn’t be ashamed of that. In fact, you should be flattered to look younger than your real age.”

  She shook her head. “No, Jarial. I am much, much older than you think.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. He liked older women well enough, though age was never a factor for him when it came to his attraction to the opposite sex. “Is that supposed to frighten me, my dear? Because it does not.”

  Zarya lifted her head and managed a small smile. “My kind can live a thousand years, sometimes longer. In a few months, I will reach my one hundred and thirty-seventh year.”

  Jarial blinked, startled. “One hundred and thirty-seven?”

  She nodded solemnly.

  He shook his head in disbelief. “Well, you don’t look a day past twenty. You carry yourself like a young woman of that age in human years. Is that the equivalent of a one hundred and thirty-seven year old Celestial?”

  She shrugged lightly and blushed. “I don’t know. Perhaps. I’ve spent the majority of my life in a convent with other aspiring Celestran clerics, but none who were of my kind. I have learned about my race in books, though rarely have I encountered them personally.”

  He digested the information and then stepped closer to her. “Well, I find you beautiful, no matter what age you are,” he said, gliding his finger down her cheek.

  She smiled, but it quickly faded. She turned her face away from him, stopping his gentle caress.

  Jarial understood the gesture and didn’t try to touch her again. He sighed and shut his eyes a moment, enjoying just her closeness, then opened them. “Do the others know this about you?”

  “They know what I am, but not ...” She stared wistfully toward the sea.

  “I’m flattered that you’ve entrusted me with this information. Your secret will remain with me, forever.”

  Zarya looked back at him and smiled. “Thank you, Jarial. But I felt obliged to tell you after ... what happened to you.”

  Jarial’s heart sank. He hissed air through his teeth, averting his gaze. “Yes, well ... nothing I can do about it now. You’ve seen beneath this disguise. I will understand if you’d want nothing to do with such a repulsive old man.”

  “You are anything but repulsive. I am sorry you feel that way about yourself.”

  “No one takes their elders seriously. And if they do, it’s usually just a bunch of phony hogwash.”

  “Is that why you’ve taken on this disguise? So people can take you seriously?”

  Jarial thought for a moment. “Amongst other things.” And to perhaps find a woman like you that I can spend the rest of my days with.

  Zarya tilted her head to the side. “Did Kaijin not take you seriously?”

  “He did, though I can only imagine how much different things would’ve been if I came to him as a crotchety old man.”

  Zarya laughed. “You’re not a crotchety old man. Anyway, I find true beauty in one’s personality rather than looks.”

  He gave her a hopeful smile. “Your words are flattering, my dear.” Jarial looked at her hand, wanting to take it in his, but staved off the urge. I should give Zarya her space. He stepped away from her and turned back toward the ladder. “I will be belowdecks with Omari and Aidan. Do let me know if you need anything.”

  As he approached the ladder, he felt her slender, soft hand grab his. He stopped.

  “Stay here with me,” Zarya said softly. “Please.”

  Jarial’s heart thumped harder. His mouth going dry, he swallowed. He turned back to her and gazed down at his hand in hers, then smiled. “I would love to,” he said, slowly raising his gaze to look into her eyes. He slowly brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles.

  * * *

  Belowdecks, Omari slouched with his elbows propped on the table, watching with disinterest as Aidan, too big for any of the stools, knelt at an adjacent table and arm-wrestled another man. Aidan effortlessly slammed the man’s fist on the table only seconds after the match started, and the crowd gathered around them cheered.

  Omari winced from the noise. He’d kept to himself since they first embarked, and most of the passengers left him alone. But he remained aware of everyone on the ship, as he had sensed magic everywhere here. Perhaps it came from the passengers themselves, or the crew, or even the cargo. Omari wasn’t entirely certain.

  “Best two out of three!” Aidan’s opponent said, readying his hand again.

  Aidan smiled smugly. “Okay!”

  Omari sighed and rolled his eyes. It was Aidan’s ninth opponent, and he’d beaten them all with ease. He wondered if the half-Dragon would end up arm-wrestling everyone on the ship. Not wanting to watch another match, Omari rose from his chair, wandered over to one of the wine casks, and helped himself to a flagon. The ship apparently had enough food, ale—mainly for the crew—and wine stored to last the crew and passengers for up to two weeks.

  “What’s all the ruckus in here about?” Kaijin sounded confused.

  Omari re-tightened the spigot and looked over. Kaijin stood by the door, ne
ar him.

  Omari shrugged and took a sip of his wine. It wasn’t the best he’d ever tasted, but it was something to wet his parched throat. “Aidan is apparently challenging everyone on the entire ship to a barbaric contest. Rather boring, really.”

  Aidan slammed down his opponent’s hand yet again, causing the empty tankards atop the table to rattle. The crowd suddenly erupted in cheers, and Omari winced.

  Kaijin smiled. “Well, we shouldn’t deter him from having a little fun.”

  “Hmph. Tell that to Percival. He ran off with Sable when it started getting rowdy in here.”

  Kaijin leaned against the wall next to the cask, watching as the matches continued. “Are you excited about returning home, Omari?”

  Such a rude question. Omari raised an eyebrow. “Why would you ask such a thing? Of course I am not excited! I am searching for a murderer, not going to a family reunion.” He took another swig.

  Kaijin’s eyes dulled. “Sorry. It’s just that when you said Sinan was near your home, it made me think about my own family.”

  Omari scowled behind the brim of his flagon. Is he expecting me to show pity? “That is unfortunate for you, but my family is the last thing on my mind right now.”

  “You should be grateful that you still have a family, at least,” Kaijin said. “You have no idea what it’s like to be alone.”

  Perhaps Omari didn’t, but he wasn’t about to let Kaijin know that. Omari had his own problems. Thinking about the death of Master Faulk was like recalling a nightmare. “You have made friends at the Pyre, Kaijin. You have a new family now.”

  “Yes, but ... it is not the same as your own flesh and blood.”

  An elf approached them before Omari could respond. The elf was tall and wore a long, green coat over colorful silk attire. He smiled pleasantly at Omari and Kaijin and held out his hand. “Greetings to you both. My name is Silas.”

  Omari looked at the elf’s extended hand and curled his lip.

  Kaijin shook Silas’s hand and returned the smile. “Hello to you, sir. Nice to meet you. My name is Kaijin. Kaijin Sora.”

  Omari stared coldly at the handshake. Disgusting.

  Silas nodded to Kaijin and held his hand to Omari, but when he didn’t shake it, he frowned and lowered his hand, then cleared his throat. “Quite a show, that Aidan fellow is putting on. Every time I turn my head, he ends up beating someone else.”

  “Not much of a ‘show’ when there is no competition,” Omari muttered, and then finished his drink.

  Silas raised his thin, brown eyebrows. “On the contrary. There is one on this ship I think may give him a little challenge. She’s part of this ship’s crew, actually. I see her working every time I board.”

  Omari raised his eyebrows, intrigued. ‘She’? He hadn’t seen any female crewmembers.

  “So, who is this woman?” Kaijin asked.

  Silas pointed to the rear of the room, where a lone woman knelt on her hands and knees, scrubbing the wooden floor with a brush. A layer of soap and water covered the area she cleaned. She seemed to pay no mind to the people nearby.

  “That’s her,” Silas said.

  The woman was a half-Dragon, young and rather scrawny, from the looks of her thin body and ruddy scaly, arms, which were exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of her oversized tunic. Long, red locks spilled from the front of her black headwrap and hung over her face, and big, golden hoop earrings dangled and twinkled almost unnaturally in the light as she scrubbed and scrubbed, tirelessly.

  “She doesn’t look very intimidating to me,” Kaijin said.

  Silas guffawed. “You should see her drink.”

  “Aidan’s no slouch, either, when it comes to drinking—or eating.” Kaijin glanced at Omari and then grinned.

  Silas clapped his hands together. “Well, then. How about a friendly competition, hm?” He put two fingers to his lips and whistled loudly, interrupting the current arm-wrestling match and getting everyone’s attention. “Let’s make things interesting, everyone,” he announced. “How about a match between Aidan and Clarice?”

  The woman stopped scrubbing and looked up, her earrings dangling and sparkling in the light.

  “Yeah! Now that I wanna see!” one of the ship’s crewmembers said from the crowd.

  “I’ll put money on that,” a passenger in the crowd said.

  The crowd’s chatter continued, and their gazes turned to the woman.

  Aidan smiled and gestured for her to join him. She politely refused and returned to her work.

  “Aw, give it a rest, bird,” one of the sailors said, approaching her. He swiped the brush from her hands and tossed it in the bucket of water beside her. “Ye been workin’ on the damn decks since we shoved off.”

  Clarice sighed and sat back on her knees, looking up to the man. “Ya seadogs pay me to work, don’tcha?” she asked sharply.

  “Aye,” the man replied.

  “Well, the decks surely ain’t gonna swab themselves!”

  “Bah, get up. Ye gotta new challenger. He’s a mighty big one.”

  Growling, she stood up and placed her clawed hands on her narrow hips. Standing only shoulder height to the man, she tilted her head up to look him in the face. Her earrings gave another brief twinkle. “And what if I don’t wanna challenge the ‘mighty big one’?”

  “Then ye be yellower than me own piss.” The man laughed and returned to the table. Several other men joined in the laughter.

  Her amber eyes narrowing, Clarice stormed over to the table and slammed her fist down on it so hard, the wood split on the edge. Everyone, including Aidan, jumped and fell silent.

  “Say that again, ya swivin,’ milk-livered scullion, and I’ll swab the decks with ya ugly face!” Clarice snapped at the sailor.

  Omari smirked at Kaijin and Silas. “Finally, something interesting!” He slowly approached the crowd.

  Kaijin and Silas followed.

  Aidan frowned slightly. “There is no need for violence.”

  Some people in the crowd snickered.

  “I wasn’t talkin’ to ya.” Clarice looked Aidan up and down. “Ain’t often I run into kin. So ya th’ one who wants a challenge?”

  “Well ...” Aidan rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Of course he does.” Omari broke in, and all eyes turned to him. “Why, he told me that he can break your scrawny little arm like a twig if he arm-wrestled you.”

  Aidan looked horrified. “Aidan did not say that!”

  Kaijin whispered to Omari, “I think you’ve been hanging around Nester too long.”

  Omari twisted his lips, trying to hide his widening smile. “Perhaps. But I will have to admit, Kaijin, it is fun.”

  Clarice turned her gaze back to Aidan and took a seat in an empty stool across the table. “Snap my arm? We’ll see about that.” She put her thin bony elbow on the table and readied her clawed hand. “And ya better not let me win, or I’ll slap th’ silver offa ya.”

  Aidan gulped, set his elbow on the table, and slowly took her hand.

  A sailor stood before them and initiated the match. “Ready? Go!”

  The crowd cheered and stomped the floor. Clarice stared at Aidan as she resisted him. Their clasped hands shook. The muscles and veins in Aidan’s arm strained and bulged, and sweat poured down the sides of his face. Clarice looked unperturbed. Gritting his teeth, Aidan grunted and began leaning to one side, as if it would help him pull her arm to him, but she didn’t budge.

  Omari watched, dumbfounded. Amazing! She is actually beating him?

  Clarice and Aidan’s hands shook more and more as Clarice slowly bent his arm backward, not taking her eyes off him. The crowd cheered louder and louder, the closer Aidan came to defeat. Aidan growled and snarled; he seemed to be giving everything he had, but it was not enough.

  Finally, with a loud grunt, Clarice tapped the back of his hand against the table.

  Kaijin rubbed his eyes. “Did I just see what I think I saw?”

  “Apparently so,” Omari sa
id. “Because I saw it, too.”

  The crowd went wild. One of the sailors slapped her shoulder, and she elbowed him in the gut to get him off her. The man doubled over and staggered backward.

  Aidan stared at the table, bewildered.

  “She can’t possibly ... I mean, I don’t see an ounce of muscle on her. Not like Aidan, anyway. How—” Kaijin paused, as though understanding had suddenly dawned on him. “Magic. It must be magic.”

  “Maybe.” Omari looked at the woman. He wasn’t sure if Clarice was amongst the white noise of arcane auras he felt. “So you feel it as well, Kaijin?”

  “How can I not?” Kaijin said. “Though I suppose it shouldn’t be any surprise that most of these passengers are probably wearing some sort of magical item. And let’s not forget the cargo below us.”

  “Yes, I know. Well, if Clarice really is amongst those wearing magical items, then I admire her cunning for hiding it so well.”

  “Or perhaps she didn’t think she’d be in the presence of mages who can detect them.” Kaijin smirked.

  The cheering dwindled, and Aidan smiled at Clarice. “Aidan’s never lost at arm-wrestling before. You are worthy opponent.”

  Clarice returned a half-smile. “And don’tcha forget it, none, either.” She prodded his chest with her clawed finger.

  “Let’s have a round of drinks!” one of the sailors called over his shoulder as he walked toward the ale casks.

  Clarice grinned, baring her set of fangs. “Yes, let’s see if he can redeem himself with a drinkin’ contest. How ’bout it, Aidan?”

  Before Aidan could answer, two sailors set a full cask on the table before him. Another slid two empty flagons across the table.

  “There’s only one rule,” Clarice continued, grabbing one of the empty flagons. Her hoop earrings twinkled in the light as she moved. “Once ya start drinkin,’ if that tankard touches the table again, you’re done.” She turned on the spigot and filled her flagon brim-high with the hearty, earthy-smelling drink.

  Aidan cringed. “Aidan has never done this before.” He picked up his empty flagon, filled it up as well, and waited gingerly for the contest to begin.