Blood of the Sea, Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter 52: Flood

Astrophel

As they thunder down the last stretch toward Kildangan, the wind turns sour, and darkness chokes the blue from the sky. Even through the trees, they know something is wrong.

Erupting from the forest in a flurry of muscle and fur, Seri, Astrophel, and Dionne urge their J’korun on without a moment to waste on the heartbreaking scene laid out before them. All the same, as the horror grows in the foreground, Astrophel struggles to take it all in.

The harbor city is brought low as if by a natural disaster. Houses are smoking ruins, the streets full of opaque, watery muck. Crying fills the air, as does calls for help - rising much like the smoke still proliferating in the wind. The heavy taste of salt water is nearly drowned out by the tang of blood and the bitterness of ash. Tears are already upon Astrophel’s cheeks by the time their mounts slow and trot into the city.

Fires still run rampant on the outskirts, burning through livelihoods and homes. Tore’s hooves crunch as the gray J’korun walks forward, and despite the disgusting not-mud underfoot, Astrophel can’t help but imagine they are walking atop the bones of the fallen. It makes him sick to his stomach, and he sees Dionne press a hand to her stomach, feeling likewise ill. Khalil’s jaw clenches angrily, but he is also frozen at the sight of the flames reaching toward the sky. The firelight reflects, licking mirrored orange flames along the silver and black breastplates Astrophel, Dionne, and Khalil wear. As ash continues falling from the sky, it alights upon their shoulders, sticking to the metal and giving them otherworldly snowflake patterns reminiscent more of death than winter.

Seri swings down from her piebald’s back, stumbling as her feet find uneven ground, her feet shucking as she steps forward, knee deep in questionable water. The riverbed has broken down, leaving an earthen scar where the water used to once funnel through the city. The river itself has turned a dark blood red; the earth on the sides of the canal likewise stained and soaked through with crimson. Seri clutches at her chest and her mouth falls open, though the sound coming through is choked until a wail finally jerks itself free. Astrophel slides free of Tore, holding onto the J’korun’s mane as he wades toward Seri. He gathers her into his arms as her shoulders shudder with sobs, and she slumps into Astrophel’s arms.

“They d-d-didn’t ha-ave time t-to le-e-eave,” Seri cries.

Astrophel can see the truth of it in his mind’s eye. Pinned between the sea and the flames, it would have been an ugly thing. A choice between two deaths. He holds little hope that there are many survivors.

Gently, Astrophel guides Seri toward Dionne’s J’korun, Skai, and untangles the weeping woman from his grasp, helping her climb on with Dionne. Dionne’s face is a mask against the pain burned into the city that they found refuge in, but her eyes tell the story of how much it hurts to see. When Seri’s arms are wrapped around Dionne’s waist, Astrophel pushes at the tan J’korun, urging her to leave.

“Wait, what about you?” Dionne asks, voice thick with unshed tears.

“I’ll be not far behind. I want to check for survivors, but you need to leave before the smoke gets to you.” Astrophel glances meaningfully toward Dionne’s crying companion, her shuddery inhales doing nothing to stave off smoke inhalation.

Dionne’s jaw twitches but she nods, turning Skai back toward the trees and urging her on. The J’korun takes the prompt, bowing her head and picking up her feet as she makes a leap, filthy water splashing up against her tan hide as she makes strides back toward sturdy ground.

Khalil urges his mount toward Astrophel, sliding free of the J’korun’s back and turning the creature away, “I’ll go with you.”

Astrophel nods tightly, and turns back to the heartbreak of Kildangan. He can’t see much of a way forward between the rubble and the water slowly returning back to sea, but he trudges forward anyway, Khalil at his back. Astrophel ties some cloth around his face, tucking the ends of it under the neckline of his armor to block out the worst of the ash-ridden air.

Coming upon a gap in the street, an arm’s length away, a whirlpool of black streaked through with red reminds Astrophel that this city was split by a river. Khalil catches Astrophel by the back of his breastplate, tugging him away from the churning water. Cursing softly under his breath, Astrophel turns back to Tore, the creature acting as a faithful shadow, and mounts back up, having no way of moving forward on foot. Khalil calls for his J’korun and begins weaving deeper into the city atop his mount. As Astrophel turns Tore, he is about to leave when he catches sight of movement.

He squints, waiting for the wind to change directions. When it does, the smoke shifts, waving out of view and showing him a lone figure atop a strange J’korun, overseeing the ruin of a once prospering city. Even at this distance, nearly half a city away, Astrophel recognizes the mishmash of mage-like-nobility, and the dress of a salt-born soldier. His fist tightens in Tore’s mane as Vance meets his gaze, surprise coming over the water caller’s face. A smug grin replaces the shock, and Vance lifts a hand in greeting before turning his mount and walking out of view. Astrophel urges Tore on with a short yell, gaze fixed on the last spot he saw Vance, until the jagged edge of a building blocks his view, and he focuses on guiding his J’korun through the wreckage. Behind him, Astrophel hears Khalil call out to him in surprise, and the wet squelch of hooves through water precedes his friend’s attempt at catching up.

Weaving through streets, leaping over sputtering flame and sloshing through crimson puddles, by the time the two riders emerge from what once was Kildangan, they are transformed. Tore froths at the mouth, sweat beading upon his neck; flanks and legs coated in sticky ash and dappled by bloody water; Astrophel likewise covered in a layer of ash and muck, his silvery hair dingy and limp as it hangs about him.

As he spots Vance’s retreating form not too far ahead, he urges Tore forward with a vengeful, cold anger burning in his chest. He draws his hilt, the metal gleaming dully in the blackened light, despite it being not yet mid afternoon. The thunder of Tore’s hooves upon the ground gives Vance all the warning he needs, as the water caller turns in his seat, barely raising a sword in time to clash with Astrophel’s humming, white-flame of a blade. Astrophel scowls at Vance, the expression carved so deeply into his face that he feels like a part of it will always stay with him. Vance, on the other hand, has returned to being surprised, though his eyes are wary in the light coming off of Astrophel’s blade.

Astrophel growls, the words barely making it out between his teeth, “How dare you. What did these people do to you? They’re innocents.”

Vance’s brows climb on his forehead, but he says nothing.

Behind him, still a ways off, Khalil yells, “Astrophel!”

“Answer me.” When Vance still says nothing, Astrophel spits at him, “So help me, I will rain Eulla’s wrath down upon your head.”

At this, Vance shoves Astrophel’s sword away, keeping his own raised. Astrophel circles Tore tightly, his J’korun snaking out his head to bite at Vance’s mount. Vance’s J’korun squeals and leaps away, lashing out with clawed forelegs. Astrophel’s gaze never leaves Vance’s face, however, and he finally notices a slightly glowing, blackened handprint at the base of the water caller’s throat. Vance shrugs as if to reinforce whatever assumption Astrophel can come up with.

“They maim you and still you help them? Whatever happened to your loyalty?” Astrophel swings his smoking sword down, clashing with Vance’s metal blade again. He parries Vance’s next blow, making an opening for himself and he stabs through the water caller’s guard, his nearly invisible blade finding home in Vance’s abdomen. Vance gasps, reaching for the blade but Astrophel’s sword disappears back into the hilt, the magic vibrating in the air between the opponents.

No sound comes from Vance’s mouth as he stares down at the wound; blood now seeping into his clothing, soaking into the blue fabric and down his pant leg. He clasps a hand over his side, fingers turning red as his heart continues beating. His expression turns from one of shock - horror almost - to a steely gaze. Astrophel can nearly hear him say, you’ll regret that, and Vance raises his sword arm. Astrophel blocks a blow that never comes. Instead, there is a ziphhh that speeds past his head and he hears the roar of rushing water; turning, he spots a rolling black tide sweeping toward them.

Sparing one last glance toward Vance, Astrophel catches sight of a black fletched arrow buried in the water caller’s throat. Vance’s bloodshot eyes burn into Astrophel with hatred as the light in them fade, blood spilling out the side of his neck and between his lips.

Astrophel spurs Tore on, disengaging from Vance, leaving him for a lost cause, and racing against the magical current toward the protection of the trees and the uphill slope. Ahead of him, he spots Khalil’s J’korun just disappearing into the forest. The tide crashes against Tore’s back legs as they hit the first of the trees, the wave having grown to engulf what remains of the ruined port city, surging on with unnatural fervor. Tore struggles against the water, stumbling and nearly falling while Astrophel clings to his neck, letting his legs hang loose. Tore digs in, snarling as he kicks free of the water and leaps ahead, clawing his way up the slope, away from the ocean as it pushes past all natural limits.

The water recedes slowly, regretfully. When they’re high enough to avoid another wave, Astrophe spares a glance back toward the harbor, but Vance is nowhere to be seen.

Sides heaving, mount trembling, Astrophel dismounts, sitting heavily on the ground as he stares at the smoking, sodden ruins. Rock and wood remnants are littered about the town’s outskirts like a giant had scattered building blocks. Trees are bent, crushed under the weight and power of the ocean. The earth is dug up.

And still the river runs red; bleeding from the loss of its caretakers: the city’s inhabitants.

Khalil returns to him and stands, surveying the wreckage while Astrophel stays there, seated on the ground until the smoke clears, and the fires die out, and the water picks up a normal tide once more. Tore lays with him, Astrophel’s back pressed against the J’korun’s flank as they both attempt to recover as Khalil stands guard, curved hilt-turned-bow-grip gleaming in his hand, a softly billowing, ghostly bow still curving from the metal.

A soft whicker pulls him from the desolate scene; a piebald and a tan J’korun approaching from the direction of camp. Dionne slides free of Skai, catching Astrophel in a bone crushing hug when he stands to greet her. Seri doesn’t move from Skai’s back, face red and tear-stained as she stares at what was once her home.

“You’re alive,” Dionne whispers. Her gaze searches Astrophel’s face before checking on Khalil too, holding a hand out for their friend.

Astrophel gently brushes some hair away from her face where it sticks to tear-tracks of her own. He nods.

Khalil grunts, trudging toward his mount, “Come, we should tell the others.”

Seri shakes her head, “I’m staying here.” Climbing down from Skai’s back, she staggers over to her piebald J’korun who kneels down for her to climb aboard.

Khalil shakes his head, “There is naught but death to be found down there. You’re better off coming with us.”

“It’s not a good idea, Seri,” Astrophel says gently.

“It doesn’t matter,” Seri insists, sniffly and wiping at her face roughly. “My people are down there. Somewhere. Someone will have survived.” Her voice drops to a scratchy whisper, “They need to know they’re not alone. I can’t leave them right now.”

Dionne squeezes Astrophel’s hand, addressing the emotionally wounded woman they both care for. “If you feel that that is what you need to do, we won’t stop you.”

Astrophel acknowledges that he would do the same thing if it were his people, and says nothing as he watches the piebald slowly climb down the ruined slope. Tearing his gaze away, he kisses Dionne’s forehead and pulls her with him to climb aboard Tore’s gray-blue back. With Dionne’s arms around him, and Khalil beside him, they trudge away from Seri and Kildangan, and towards their camp of survivors.