Peacefall: Book Two of The Fourpointe Chronicles

Chapter 11

This must be what Mar feels like. Well, not always. But at least part of the time.

Ely, suspended by the wild blue around him, glided in a circle. Beyond the clear waters stretched a canvas of midnight blue, which served as a backdrop to everything else in between. Schools of tiny, silver fish glimmered and darkened as they swam in then out of shafts of light. Forests of kelp pulsed with every shift of the moving sea, be it due to a nearby current or the pull of the tide. Beyond their reach, the silhouettes of larger inhabitants lurked, whether hillocks of submerged rock or creatures Ely had no desire to encounter up close. None of those stood out as daunting as the keel of the ship, which Ely likened to the long, wooden fin of a beast housing both the unthreatening and boring.

The burning within Ely's lungs stifled his musings. Oh, well. I suppose I should emerge, lest a knight try to jump in and save me.

Ely popped through the surface, spitting a surge of water into the air.

"Why in the bloody hell did you do that?!"

Ely grinned. Only Sir Everitt would have the guts to address him in such a manner out in the open. Even Symon – for all his posturing as his big brother – would not dare break character as one of his guards. Not with so many witnesses.

Ely treaded in a semi-circle to face the ship. The galleon towered above, such that Ely had to crane his neck to view the main deck. There, leaning over the railing, fumed his Right Captain. His face had a beet-colored tinge to it, a hue which only furthered the curl of Ely's lips.

"Well?!" Everitt demanded. "What were you thinking?"

"I just wanted to take a dip, my good man," Ely cried, spitting out seawater in between words.

"A swim? Unannounced? While you're still clothed?"

"I live for the moment. Not for telling someone what I want to do, then undressing, then waiting through you or the First Mate trying to talk me out of it, then the moment."

"Aargh!" Everitt threw his hands into the air as he pushed himself off the railing. "You're impossible sometimes. You know that, James?"

"I agree," Ely said as he extended himself toward the dinghy making it ways toward him. "Sometimes."

He tilted his head to the quarterdeck, where he spotted his two brothers. Gerry, stricken by a blend of shock and embarrassment, had turned as white as a bleached sheet. Symon, his skin color somewhere between that of Everitt's and Gerry's, managed to stay composed save for his brow. Lowered, it cast an ever so slightly longer shadow over his eyes. 'Twas enough to convey his mood, the one Ely knew he'd pay for later.

With Ely aboard the rowboat, the sailors made their way back to the ship. The attendants waiting above deck had all manner of towels and coats ready, along with a cup of tea, fresh boots, and an assortment of bread and cheeses. Honestly, this lot acts as though I've never been wet before, Ely thought, taking a towel. How ridiculous? Such fools . . . though the cheese does look good.

As Ely stole a bite of hard white cheese, his Right Captain waited with arms crossed.

"Glad to see your appetite is intact, as is His Majesty," Everitt said.

"Well, of course. Even a quick swim builds quite the hunger."

"Quite."