Picking the wand up, she softly touched the emerald with her fingertips. As if reacting to her touch the stone emitted its own light, throbbing brighter with each caress. A sudden draft made its way through the treasury, causing the bottom hem of her dress to dance.
“Who are you?” a baritone voice send Adriana’s stomach into her throat. She turned to face a young man wearing a dark blue tunic that hugged the man’s lean frame. His curled, dark brown hair that hung over his gray eyes; it touched his shoulders and stood out against his tawny skin. She could almost feel his eyes burning holes through hers in his, “What are you doing?”
“Who I am does not matter. I’m taking this,” she pushed the staff up above her head, “to its new owner.” She took off running at the man as fast as her bare feet could take her. He braced himself, folding his arms in front of himself, his elbows pointing straight at her. As she came closer to him, a bright light surrounded him. The light push her off her feet and the staff out of her hands. She landed on her back, grunting in frustration, “What is with you all wanting me on my back?” She yelled.
“Maybe you should watch your feet more often.” the man said.
She pushed her legs over her body, rolling herself into a crouched position. Taking ahold of her dagger, she gripped it to her chest, her knuckles turning white.
“You won’t get past me,” He looked down at her with his almond-shaped eyes, half lidded with bubbling anger. “I will not hesitate to hurt you.”
“Do not underestimate me. You saw what I did to those men out there.” Bending down, reaching out and touching the cold floor, her fingers tapped along until she felt the staff under them. Eyes never leaving each other, Adriana lifted herself up from her crouched position, “This is my favorite part. Shall we dance?”
“I do not wish to harm you, but I will if I have too. Just give me the staff and I will let you go free.” He said opening one of his hands to allow her to place the rod in his grasp.
“You need not worry about me. Big strapping man like you can look out for himself.” She said.
“And what if you fail? Then this little game of yours is for naught.” The man challenged.
“Failing is not really my strong suit.” Her dagger glowed.
“I was hoping for a fair fight.” He said.
“Sorry. Thief. I don’t play fair.” She pointed her knife towards him as an electrical discharge came from the tip, striking him in the chest. The blast sent him falling back into a pile of gold coins, scattering them on impact.
He rubbed his eyes, clawing away the static that cracked and snapped around him. Focusing his vision, he frantically looked for the girl.
Jumping to his feet, he ran out of the treasury door, his heart pounding in his chest. His hair tickled his face as he pushed himself to catch up to the girl with golden hair.
Chapter Three
When falling becomes a problem.
Braian’s breath hissed out of his teeth as he paced back and forth, trying to do what their boss believed was dig a hole out from underneath him. Aaron leaned against the wall looking out a window waiting for a sign of his wayward child’s return. His eldest on the floor sharpening the blade of his gladius with a small diamond shaped sapphires down the tang.
“Where in the hells is she?” Braian yelled. The wall taking the brunt of his frustrations with the underside of his boot.
“She’s a big girl. She doesn’t need you to worry about her.” Their boss said. He stopped moving. “Thank the Gods; you were giving me a headache.”
“Don’t worry, she’ll be okay.” Owen said not taking his eyes off his blade.
“When did you start to care?” He snapped.
“Braian!” Aaron yelled.
The brothers watched each other. Owen was staring at him out of the corner of his eye expectantly. If he knew his brother well enough, there was an apology not far behind those remarks.
“Sorry.” he said, right on time.
“I’m over it.” Owen said, a smirk spreading over his face.
“I’m going up to see if anyone has seen her yet.” Braian said making his way up the stairs.
“It’s obvious that he still cares about her, but I wish he would just get the hint, she doesn’t share his feelings.” Owen growled as he slammed the sword into its sheath.
“Sometimes when someone feels so strongly about another, they would rather push them away than be near them.” he explained.
Owen glanced over to his boss, “If that is true then she must be madly in love with me.”
Aaron smiled. “How about an ale my boy? I think we might just need one.” He said walking into the galley.
* * *
“Have you seen her yet?” He asked. Phoebe watched as Braian took the stairs two at a time as she spun string from her loose hem of her pants. “Have you?” He demanded.
“Not yet. I cannot imagine that she’s gotten herself into trouble. I mean more trouble than usual.” She said, a giggle escaping at her own joke.
“Good to know you share the popular opinion.” He whispered. Peering over the railing of the airship at the meadow below, a chuckle rumbled in his throat when he saw the guard from the gate lying unconscious on the grassy knoll near their ship. “What did you do to him? He’s not dead is he?”
“No,” she waved her fingers in front of her nose. “It’s a new spell I’ve been working on. Do you like it?”
Her magic provided an endless amount of entertainment over the years. Her personal favorite was a confusion spell, one she would cast in the market and watch people walk back and forth knowing they came to get something, but could not remember for what. Another was giving an unsuspecting person an electrical shock. Every Elfan child is given a gift at birth. That gift is a talent. These talents include magic, mindsight, and the occasional future seeing. These gifts made themselves known as the children grew older. Fully manifesting by the time they enter puberty.
It was uncommon that a child would produce no gift. If they had no gift, they were ordinary. Ordinary children were second in stature and not given opportunities that the gifted children were. Phoebe had been lucky, her magical ability surfaced when she was young, calling to her father for his attention, grasping at his coattails her touch burned a hole in the crushed velvet suit.
“Before we leave, let’s make sure you didn’t accidentally kill him.” His joke earned him a swat to his stomach.
“Miss me?” Pulling their attention from the guard, they watched as Adriana climbed onto the deck, sliding her torso underneath the railing. “Catch,” she threw the staff at Braian. “Now let’s start this baby up. I have some man trying to pick a fight with me. He’s been on my tail but I think I lost him.”
Phoebe cocked her head as her friend turned, running up the stairs to the bridge. “Funny, I see no one on your tail.”
“Figure of speech! Go tell Aaron we’re taking off.” She screamed.
Rolling her eyes, she took the staff from Braian, “You help her. Do you even remember the last time she flew this rig? I don’t. She’ll run us into the ground.” He nodded, following behind the girl with golden hair.
Running down the cabin stairs, she spoke out to the men, who more than likely were having a tall glass or two of ale,
“Adriana’s back with the staff. You should get ready, we will take off any minute now with Adriana at the helm so it could get bumpy!” She entered the cabin to find the men with their swords drawn. A man was on the other side of the cabin, blood crawling down his chest from familiar scratch marks.
“How did you get on my boat?” Aaron asked.
“Does it matter?” The stranger countered.
Phoebe placed the staff down in the corner away from the man and pulled her dagger from her boot.
“It matters because that is the direction you should go to get off.” Owen growled.
“Not until I have what’s mine.” The stranger demanded.
Walking in front of Owen, Phoebe was protective as a as a mother bear, “If you want to fight them you will have to go through me.” She said staring into the man’s gray eyes.
“All I want is the staff back,” He said. “It is a personal family heirloom and does not belong with outsiders.”
“I beg to differ.” Aaron said his voice hoarse but steady.
“Give the staff back now and no one gets hurt.” His voice had a diplomatic in tone.
“In hell.” The fyssh grunted.
“That can be arranged.” In the short distance, he gained the momentum to vault over Phoebe, swinging his sword at with his blade, nicking Owen’s stomach.
Watching him collapse to the ground, blood dripping from a new wound, Phoebe could feel the panic as spread from her stomach, tight and nauseating until it made its way to her heart, spreading to her limbs. Using her fear, she slammed her petite body into the attacker’s hulky frame. He toppled over; his body hit the floor with a hard thud that resonated around the room. Standing over him for a moment, she straddled him, her dagger pressed flush to his Adam. The sweat streaked down his forehead as he locked his eyes with hers.
“Stop! Don’t kill him,” Aaron yelled as he pulled his oldest from the ground. “He might be of some use to us. Owen, do you like getting the snot kicked out of you today?”
“Seems like it.” He said trying to regain the breath that had just knocked out of him.
The older man kneeled down by Phoebe and the stranger. “Tell me your name, son.”
“Corbin.” He choked out, careful of how he spoke so his throat did not touch the keen edge of the dagger.
“Prince Corbin?” Aaron asked. The fret lines on his forward appeared.
The prince attempted to get up, before he could lift his shoulders from the floor, Phoebe slammed his head back into the wooden planks.
Aaron paced back and forth in front. Stopping he knelt down on one knee. “Move off of him, this is Corbin Pryce, the prince and heir to the Kingdom of Eskorgan. If we get caught, they will skip the trial and go straight to hanging. He is the majesty’s only son.” His voice tightened as he barked out his orders. “Take his weapons and put him in Adriana’s room, please confine him. Gently. Not too tight. I should inform the others. Welcome to the crew Prince Corbin. I am sure you were not expecting the adventure you are about to be on today.”
Phoebe used an abandoned piece of rope to tie the prince’s hands together. “Probably should clean you up some. Being royalty and all. Not used to being this dirty. You look about Owen’s size,” she looked him over; “one of his shirts should fit you.”
“How are you feeling?” Aaron asked, slapping his hand over Owen’s shoulder.
“The choir still sings in my head.” he said, holding his head within his hands.
“Go rest. You have had a long day. I fear it’s about to get longer.” He muttered, running the tips of his thick fingers over the soft tufts of orange hair.
His firm and steady steps created a low pulse through the hull as he made his way down the hall. Aaron watched the man and remembered a brief memory of that boy running up to him, screaming for help from someone, anyone, as Phoebe followed behind him holding the back of her head, crying that the ‘stupid fyssh child’ had pulled her hair.
“That is my favorite shirt!” Owen’s yelling brought him back to the present.
“Braian’s clothes are too small,” She barked. “We can’t have the prince popping out of his clothes can we? What if he gets cold?”
“Then he gets cold! He’s a prisoner, not a guest.” he growled.
The older man made his way to the deck, taking a moment to watch the members of his crew working and making their way across the deck talking with each other, laughing, enjoying the afternoon, completely unaware of the events that just took place down below. He knew it was better that way.
The conversation he discovered unfolding on the bridge caught his attention. Standing next to each other, his youngest were holding a civil conversation.
“We were worried about you.” Braian said turning the ship’s mahogany wheel gently to port.
“‘We’ sounds an awfully a lot like ‘you’.” She whispered, unrolling a map and marking it with a red and orange-feathered quill.
“You should clean your ears out then.” He snorted, turning the wheel starboard to keep the dirigible steady.
“Why can’t you admit that you were the only one that was worried?” She asked.
“Because it was all of us.” He said, “Do you know where we are headed?”
“Belleza.” She said, her mouth stretching with a hint of a smile. “Finally getting to go home.”
“Not this time I’m afraid.” Aaron interrupted, “There is a small problem.”
“What kind of ‘small’ problem?” She asked.
“A princely problem. He will stay in your quarters.”
Her fingers snapped out, pinching at the cotton material of his shirt. “I don’t understand. Princely?” She asked.
“You have a fan club. A man followed you onto my boat.” He answered.
“Why didn’t you kill him?” She demanded.
“He is the crowned prince of Eskorgan,” Aaron said. She opened her mouth to argue. “Now thanks to your lack of attention to the man following you, we’ll be charged with kidnapping and hanged if we’re caught. Nevertheless, we have to get away first so, Braian, let’s try to get this bird away from the area now. Everyone’s safety is my concern. Set a course to the southwest. There are small islands to the west. It should take us about three days to get there, two if we push the engines.” He commanded.
Taking off, she ran down the stairs. Braian and Aaron heard the cabin door slam shut.
“Oh good,” Braian said. “Now she’ll kill him.”
Aaron glared at Braian. “Keep flying, mister.”
* * *
Phoebe’s nimble fingers tugged the thin needle as she worked it through the small buttonholes of the prince’s shirt. Her back pressed flat against the door to his makeshift prison. Fixing one small button would not make much of a difference to the torn up shirt, but she decided that the prince could at least button his shirt properly. Heavy stomping caught her attention.
“Are we going home?” She asked, not lifting her eyes from the button.
“No.” Adriana’s voice was low, raspy as she spoke, “I want to see this prince.”
Phoebe looked down at the buttons on the shirt and ran her fingers across the silky material. “You know Aaron seems to think we need him. Maybe for leverage with Eskorgan.” she said.
“Eskorgan is his place of birth. His belief that his home city would give him amnesty after kidnapping their prince & stealing from their treasury is laughable. Besides, this is my cabin, and I would like to change.” She smoothed the front of her dress. Every breath tightened her throat. Phoebe took a deep sigh as she scooted from her spot in front of the door.
“If you kill him, Aaron will throw you off the ship.” She warned.
Adriana entered the room, closing the door behind her. Sitting on her bed, she noted that the prince’s hands tied to one of the bars at his side. When he heard the door close, he lifted his eyes to meet her cool gaze.
He was wearing one of Owen’s dark green shirts. His leather gloves were lying next to him, revealing smooth hands that had not held a sword for any significant amount of time. The hint of red soaking through the shirt caught her attention. He shifted his back against the wall as he watched her as she made her way across the small room.
“I won’t hurt you,” She chastised, nimble fingers pulling off the broken lock from one of the two chests in the room. “I am just looking for a decent pair of clothes.” Opening the chest, she pulled out black trousers and a blue linen shirt at the top of the pile of unkempt clothes. As she untied the bodice of her dress, she looked over at the prince. “You mind?”
He smiled, raising a challenged. “No
t at all.” Raising her eyebrow, she watched him. The corners of his mouth ticked upwards. So much, for the scared man she found sitting on her bed.
Facing the prince, she reached behind her, tugging at the laces to the corset that kept the body of the dress hugging her petite frame. Shrugging her shoulders the dress to dropped to the floor, pooling around her ankles, leaving her bare with just her smalls and breast band. Turning his head to the side, he caught sight of the angry scars that lined Adriana’s pale stomach. More appeared across her arms and legs. Some were older, faded, and somewhere new, red and screaming.
“You see something that interests you?” She asked pulling the shirt over her head. He averted his eyes to the bedsheet, but he could still see the smile dancing on her face. They watched each other for a moment; blood was crawling up his neck to his cheeks.
“You can take that damnable blush off your face. I’m not going to eat you. Not yet at least. Eating of princes is not permitted until after dinner.” She mused. “What is your name?”
“Corbin.” He said.
The snort escaped from her before she could contain it, “Corbin? Strong name. Good name for a prince.”
“And what is your name?” He asked ignoring her laughter.
“Adriana.” She took a seat in a chair across from him, crossing her legs. “This is where his majesty ends up. In my room. Tied to my bed.”
“Surrounded by a gang of common thieves,” He barked, “The irony is not lost on me.”
She pursed her lips together, “I like to think of myself as not common.” She explained further. “Common denotes sub-par, and it is belittling. I have you know, I have yet to be caught on any major charges.”
“Truly?” He asked.
“Truly, and I will be the world’s greatest thief. I will want for naught. Kingdoms will bend to my will.” She said, turning away from him.
Children of Destiny Page 3
