Bastion of Sun

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Pride of Median

Helix found himself in darkness.

He didn't hate darkness. He didn't love it. It was what it was. The rats that nibbled at his toes, however, the constant creak of planks above him and the droplets of water that fell into his eyes, waking him from his intermittent moments of shuteye—it was all beginning to grate on him. The only thing that truly comforted him in the pitch black was the soft splash of the ship's hull crashing against the waves beneath it. That was the one saving grace to this leg of his journey.

A journey to find his homeland and reclaim his ancestry.

It was his seventh day on the Pride of Median—a dumb name for a boat if ever there was one. He'd chosen it not for the name, however, but for his ability to sneak on without the crew or captain noticing. He didn't like the term stowaway, for Helix planned on paying the captain and his crew back eventually when he found his homeland and its lost wealth, but for now he was out of money.

He'd run out a week ago and had been scrounging ever since, but he knew himself well. He had integrity, and, one day not far from now, he planned to pay everyone back that the things he'd 'borrowed' from along the way: the farmer's apples in the orchard of Tovai, the pie on the windowsill of that little village, the copper in the beggar's cup, of which he still felt especially guilty about. But he'd needed it, he thought again, adamant. To continue his quest and to survive. The world was a harsh place for a seventeen year-old orphan from Median without coin or connections.

But for now, there was nothing to do but find peace in the soft lapping of waves just outside the ship. Always they lulled him back to sleep, back to the darkness within darkness. And so they did again. Helix shut his eyes and found himself in the world of dreams.

They came fitfully.

He saw a vision.

A city of wind and salt, sitting mightily upon the northern banks of the Frizzian coast. He watched it from the cliffs of Ren Nar, standing far away. Barges, fleets of warships, dinghies, trading crafts, and all manner of seafaring vessels lined the silver docks that extended for miles into the Kalvas Ocean—the water a tranquil blue.

Median, he knew—The Great Kingdom of Water.

"The false kingdom," he whispered.

Suddenly, as if his words had sparked it, the sea roiled, turning tumultuous. It churned and frothed like a diseased animal. A storm was coming. It surged, becoming a sheet of water a thousand feet high, looming and creating a shadow over the land, darkening Farhaven, promising to flood the world with change, with chaos... with death.

The vision dissipated, evaporating like water in a dry land.

It was replaced by a vision of a man with a dark beard and bright eyes like a shallow lake, just like his... Anger spiked inside Helix and—

He awoke with a start.

Helix wasn't sure how long he was out, but diffused bits of light tried vainly to peek through the outer hull. The faint call of gulls echoed in the background and his limbs were stiff with disuse. He looked around in the pitch blackness, confused. What woke me? Helix wondered, slightly unnerved, yet the ever-present creak of the ship and crashing of water threatened to soothe him back into sleep when a voice called, sharp and loud, "Oi! How many of thems does ya want, Captain?"