Elm could see through the cracked plastic tarp as Fern's shoulders moved up and down where she leaned across the rail. He felt sick at what he'd done. Felt bereaved that he'd made her cry. All he wanted for Fern was to make her laugh, be there to hear the peals of it as it rang out. She hurt him but he didn't want to hurt her. He had to control his jealously; he'd never win her with it. He knew why she'd run from the tarp, he'd heard the footsteps too and it wasn't long before the boy crossed his line of vision toward her.
He could faintly hear the conversation and even saw the Lakeller raise his hand as if he was going to set it upon Fern's shoulder. He said something that Elm couldn't catch and then he turned and walked back toward Elm. He didn't come near the tarp but went to where Fern had enjoyed her food and licked the bowl clean. He couldn't help but smile at the thought. Fern was so artless at times; it was what he loved about her.
The Lakeller had picked up the bowl and was staring at it. He was probably shocked at how clean it was too but then he turned and looked toward Fern. Elm saw that he was young and everything about the boy's face showed he was unmistakably in love with Fern. He threw his head back for a moment and thought; not another block for him to have to overcome. Why couldn’t he have picked someone much easier to possess? Why Fern? —Fern who placed him in constant battle.
The boy was leaving and Elm knew he had to get back below quickly. It could be that he'd already been missed and he didn't want the Captain's wrath coming down upon him when they were so close to land and perhaps the end of this section of the journey. The Captain had threatened them all with being thrown overboard to be eaten by the envillions if they disobeyed his orders.
He checked numerous sides where the cracks in the tarp gave him a fairly clear vision of the deck and quietly slipped underneath it. Fern had turned around and he could see her relief when she saw him moving to the shadows of the ship. Was the relief for him not getting caught or for the boy not finding him? That girl frustrated him beyond belief!
He was sidling up to some heavy chains when he saw the Lakeller. It was not the boy but Gisburn, the burly friend of Madden. His head was down so he wasn't aware of Elm's hiding place as he passed. His heavy expression concerned Elm since it could mean that Madden was not recovering well from his injuries. He'd worked hard to save Madden's life from the potentially mortal wounds he'd received from the creature.
He and the doctor had done everything they could to make sure he'd live. Elm had even had to take a drink with the doctor. It had left him feeling dreadful all morning with a head continually being punched and a mouth dryer than any summer stream. He wondered that the boy could drink such poison and be unharmed by it since he'd seen him happily striding across the deck to talk to the Captain that morning. Dr. Consilla was made of a stronger constitution than himself. He would be much more wary of the amber fluid called “Scotch” in the future.
He'd approached the doorway to the bunks below when he heard voices coming up the stairs toward him. He quickly looked for the nearest cover and found only crates filled with Envillions. He shuddered at the sight of the huge fish. Their masses of teeth protruded at almost 90 degree angles, layers and layers of the sharp serrated edges. Their grey, wet bodies glistened, scales reflecting hues of green and blue. Just in time he wedged himself between the three crates. He had a slight view of two boys as they stepped through the door onto the deck.
“Ensign, I don't care if she is Cleopatra I am not making a vegetable only dish for dinner tonight. The Captain enjoys his fish and he'll be livid if he doesn't get it.” The boy, who was obviously the cook, dressed in a white tunic with his sleeves rolled up and towered over the younger. His chest was enormous; he arms twice the size of the other boy's, his huge head crammed into a tall white hat.
“Please Cook! Fern doesn't like fish. She's vegetarian; could you make something special for her, for me, please?”
“What foolishness are you getting yourself into? She's the Captain’s; don't be daft enough to fall in love with her!” He looked down at the boy and grunted in disgust at the soppy look that was returned.
“Too late!” he continued to grind out as he ignored the forlorn face beside him. “Don't be an idiot, keep away from her, she's not worth it! No one is worth it!”
“But if you saw her Dalgleish! Her hair is red, the colour of burnished copper flecked with gold. She's so beautiful; she should be called the goddess of the forest. If you saw her you would understand and she's so kind, not haughty and uppity like some of the other girls on board. She's a friend, on our level; all she wants is to be welcomed.”
The great arm raised as the Cook lay his hand upon the boy's shoulder, the bicep ballooning broadly. The eyes held the younger, serious with concern.
“Jones…you're a good sailor and I like you. You follow orders well and I have nothing to grumble of with regards to your work but of this I must. You have to stop this obsession now.”
The boy said nothing but dropped his head in disappointment.
The cook continued. “I will make a concession to you but you must make a concession to me.”
At these words the boy's head abruptly raised in anticipation to listen to the Cook, his face bright with hope.
“I will make a delicious meal for this girl, one that she'll never forget. It will be especially for her as a welcome to the Genoa. It will be the only time I cook just for her.”
The boy's eyes were bright with joy, his smile wide with gratitude after he heard the Cook's words. The Cook dropped his head slightly now toward the boy as he held his attention.
“As a concession to me, you will ask the Captain to charge someone else to take care of the girl and you will purposefully from this day on avoid having any contact with her.”
The devastation upon the boy's face was obvious even to Elm from his occluded view.
“No, I can't! She needs someone to watch over her. She's lonely, upset, she needs me there. She has no one.”
“Believe me Jones, she doesn't need you there. She'll be fine without you. However, you will not be fine if you continue this fantasy you’re living in!”
The cook’s face was set in a firm determined scowl between anger and ridicule. The boy started to stammer but the Cook raised his hand from his shoulder, palm facing him to stop him.
“What is your answer? Do I cook her vegetarian meal and you relinquish your adoration? Or do I go back to my kitchen and cook what I'd originally intended whilst you put yourself at risk and probably her at the same time. You know what the Captain did to those other girls‒is that what you want to happen to her?”
The face that looked back at him was white with fear and emotion.
“That was just hearsay; no-one really knows what happened. Madden and Gisburn had something to do with it didn't they?”
His eyes were enlarged as he stood staring at the large boy; his voice trembled, he now looked back and forth across the deck looking for an invisible Captain that he expected to nab him.
“As you said no one really knows but who's to say that the hearsay isn't the truth? Leave her alone. Don't place the Captain's jealousy upon a hot stove, it will boil in very little time and she'll suffer from the consequences.”
The boy's eyes were bulging and Elm had to wonder at what tragedy had supposedly happened to the other girls.
“I agree to your terms. Prepare the meal and I'll make sure I'm no longer the one to inform Miss Fern of her daily activities.”
The boy’s head dropped and the beefy cook patted his shoulder in sympathy.
“It's the right choice Jones. You know it just as well as I do. It will keep the girl safer.”
“Aye!” replied the boy as he moved away, dragging his heavy feet along the deck, along with his heavy heart.
The Cook watched the boy for a while and then turned to the crates.
“Aye, it may keep her safer for a while at least, but not forever.”
The Cook’s words were spoken to himself whilst he shook his huge hatted head and followed them with a loud sigh. He grabbed a large crate of envillions pulling it toward his chest and turned to the door.
“Poor thing!” he muttered as he moved away.
He pushed his way through the door with the crate to the kitchens below. Exposed and disturbed Elm still crouched next to the other two crates. What was going to happen to Fern? Thoughts went through his head that he wanted to dispel due to their distressing nature. Hearing movement further down the deck Elm decided that it was the boy returning and quickly got to his feet. He was through the door and down the stairs in seconds, making sure that no one caught a glimpse of him. Like a feline he slunk through the corridor. Quiet, his actions lithe and precise, he crossed the metal floors making no sound
He knew that Dr. Consilla was in a meeting with the Captain as he promptly went through the door of his quarters and leaned his back against the cold metal to catch his breath. His heart was beating faster than normal and he knew why. It wasn't because he had been stealthy and at risk of being caught on deck. It was because he knew bad things were going to happen and he had to stop it. For once he wasn't the one planning the mishap.
**********
Flint sat cross legged on the floor. His thoughts were of the Ojibwa people. Everyone he’d loved, his nation, had all been killed by the Devastation. His meditation was taking him through the reservation, returning his memories, his happy recollections of a people free of the Regime, the Regime that had died on the day of the Devastation.
The Chief had gathered them all together and was telling them they were to pray to Nanabush, who had come to them in the spirit of a grizzly bear to remind them of their beliefs. The bear had walked through the reservation touching nothing until it had found the Chief's home, where it had stood on its hind legs and hammered upon its chest until he came out. The bear had continued to stand on its hind legs and the Chief had gone back into his home to return with dried deer meat. The bear had taken the meat, devoured it, and satisfied with the gift, had left the reservation.
The Chief requested that they should go to the river and return with many fish to be left as an offering to Nanabush. He'd made his request to the Regime soldiers who remained on guard outside the reservation and only let them leave the reservation for such tasks. They agreed he could take five men and the Chief had gathered his best fishermen. To the rest of the people he told them to set up an area outside of the reservation to make offerings to Nanabush. Leaving with his fishermen he'd ordered everyone to make haste to find offerings and pray.
Flint asked his father how the bear could be Nanabush when Nanabush was depicted in the form of a rabbit. Smiling down at him his father explained that Nanabush has the ability to transform itself into anything it wants to be; however, it has to accept the limitations of that particular form. Since the Chief wanted to please Nanabush and bears enjoyed eating fish, this was to be their gift to Nanabush in thanks that he had originally taught them how to fish. Flint, excited by the events, rushed to his lodging with the others to collect offerings.
Inside his home he'd gathered his collection of feathers, shells and stones, taking them to his father with some regret that he was to lose his treasures. His father's smile had been so proud and joyous that he'd forgotten his loss as his heart filled with pleasure at pleasing his father so much. His father had collected tobacco, telling Heath that tobacco was the first plant given to his people by the Creator and was used as a means of communication. He also had a bag of cedar, explaining that it was used for cleansing and purifying the body, and a bag of sweetgrass that he said represented Mother Earth's hair. Heath nodded in enthusiasm at the knowledge.
The soldiers allowed them outside the reservation but they lingered around watching them constantly. The feathers, shells and stones were placed at what his father termed special places; others from the reservation were performing likewise ceremonies, praying over the offerings. The cedar, tobacco and sweetgrass were formed into braids and burnt whilst prayers were muttered over the smoldering braids. His father was telling him that the smoke from them would promote positive energy and good thoughts.
An old woman was smudging sage as she whispered her own prayers, leaving sprigs as an offering. As Heath watched he was overcome with emotion listening to the soft chant. His heart filled with feelings of hope and joy that the apparition of Nanabush had visited them. He fell into easy prayer beside his father and the armed soldiers were forgotten as everything around him was dispelled and only the spirit world became real.
Sitting in his small cabin on board the Avila Rose once more his surroundings were forgotten.
He was no longer on the airship but travelling in a large birch bark canoe. He was sat next to a shaman as he chanted to take them to the different world levels. A five foot crane stood in the shallow water where the boat stopped and the shaman picked up the crane carefully lifting it and taking it to the head of the boat. The crane was no longer a crane but became one of them, a speaker who talked of the spirits and the journey they were taking to them. A large turtle swam beside the boat and the speaker informed the people in the canoe that he was offering his back as a place for a new world to be built. Flint was looking at the turtle and on looking up saw that the speaker was looking at him expectantly. Knowing the turtle was a symbol of patience, longevity and fertility, Flint was curious as to why the speaker was only looking at him. Looking at the other hazy faces he saw that they too were staring at him, waiting.
Flint arose, confused but obedient to his people; he stepped out of the boat onto the turtle’s back and sunk into the depths of the translucent water. There he espied a snake, weaving toward them. They were close to the banks and he noticed bubbles forming from a gap in the rocks, floating slowly to the surface. It was an underground stream. The snake and stream were symbols of renewal and regeneration but the snakes were also creatures that live in the underworld. The snake disappeared into the cracks of the rock.
Thunder rumbled overhead and echoed through the water as Flint looked up to see the thunderbird, the protector of people. Its eyes flashed as it looked down upon him and a loud clap of thunder rolled as it flapped its wings.
The sound became even louder and Flint was rocked out of his reverie as lightening flashed across the window of his cabin. He sat calmly but his heart was not; it beat rapidly, his body was tingling with an excitement he didn't understand. What did his vision mean? Everything he had seen were symbols of his beliefs, symbols that represented life anew and yet he believed he was going to his death to be with his people. Were the spirits trying to tell him that he was to survive; he was to procreate and continue the life they had once had? Where was he to find the girl he was to bond with? They were to go into battle against evil, to fight and die so that others would live, yet his vision suggested he was not to die, he was to build anew. Through the flickering shadows in his room he realized he would no longer be a Citan.