Phoenix

Washed Ashore

Ash woke the next morning, head pounding, mouth like the skin of a partially fermented kiwi—dry, furry and sour. Her stomach rolled in on itself, acids eating away at stomach lining so that lying down became a queasy torture. She stood and pulled on her carmine robe, taking small mercy in the fact that she was in her own dormitory, and she was alone. No Gus.

The common room was empty and the pale zigzag of light from the crack in the ceiling said it was early. The tunnel to the tavern was absolutely dark this time. Even the glowworms seemed to be sleeping in.

The beach was deserted, the pile of burnt out coals the only sign that a party had been there some hours before. The smell of charcoal wafted, reminding Ash of the barbecue skewers, sticky rice and steamed fish. Her stomach rolled again, and she veered towards the shoreline to put distance between her and the memory of the regurgitated food and wine.

She found the water's edge and waded along in the cool relief. Above, Herald's silhouette flickered the sunlight, casting figure of eight shadows around her feet. At first, he was nothing but a silent companion, a comfortable, faraway presence. But when his piercing ca-cawsplit the air and his shadow loomed larger, figure of eights drawing tighter, Ash knew something was wrong.

Suddenly, Herald's twirling shadow disappeared as he dropped out of the air, took a wide berth and swooped past, the tip of his wing clipping her shoulder as he passed. He angled into a low glide over the water, before coming to an abrupt landing up ahead. That's when she saw it. About halfway between her current position and the limestone cliffs in the distance, a small wooden boat was wedged in the shallows, rocking against each roll of wave. Herald perched on the railing, head turned towards her, waiting.

She stopped, mid-stride, suspended between one step and the next. Her whole body screamed caution and she looked around for someone to attest to what she was seeing. But the beach was still deserted.

Slowly, she approached the boat which, as she drew closer, was more like a small canoe. The hull was barely the length and width of a human and was shaped more like a coffin than a seaworthy vessel. The pace of her heart quickened as she peered inside.

A woman lay flat on the hard, planked deck, arms crossed over her torso in a posture of death. She seemed to have become encrusted in her surroundings, her deftly knitted poncho and woollen undergarments stiff and crunchy, hardened from weeks of abuse by the deadly combination of salt and sunlight. Her face was blistered and peeling in fish-scale flakes. In her hands, tangled between her knobbly fingers, was a golden pocket watch on a chain with the letters K.V engraved in its surface.

Ash took a deep breath as nausea gripped her insides. She spat sour bile, wretched, but nothing came out.

The woman was Gigi and the watch was the same one Ash had seen in her dream.

She was running, feet sending splays of water into the air, catching rainbows as she rushed to shore. Up the beach and into the Tavern, Gigi's blistered face and the glint of the pocket watch haunted her every step. She climbed the rickety stairs and burst into the first room on her right, hoping it would be Oroton's.

The room was occupied, but not by the water-wielder. Instead, Freia and Eli looked up at the sudden intrusion, and it was obvious they were none to impressed to be interrupted in what looked to be an intimate moment.

She didn't know what to do, where to look, how to act. While they weren't in the kind of compromising position she and Gus had been in the night before, they sat, perched on the edge of Freia's mattress, heads bowed almost touching. Eli, whose dragon scales were now concealed beneath his robes, had his hands on Freia's waif arms, encircling them completely. Freia's eyes brimmed with tears, but dried when she saw Ash and narrowed.

Eli must've gauged the haunted look on Ash's face, for his own expression morphed to match her concern. "What's wrong?" He stood and took a few steps towards her. "What happened?"

Ash heard her own voice, high and distant, as though it had come from someone else. "Gigi. On the beach."

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