Elm awoke with Fern ensconced in his arms, her half naked body was warm and it made a shiver run through him from its pleasantness. She gave a muffled noise into his shoulder as she slept, moving a little, producing even more sensations within him. He could smell her hair, it still held the musty smell of the lake water, and he was surprised how sensual the mixed aroma of the lake and her body was. His hand was on her back, he could feel the texture of her, how soft and smooth she was. He moved his hand slightly to relish how she felt, then lay still staring up at the ceiling, painfully aware of every nuance of the girl snuggled into him.
His body jumped when he heard someone clearing their throat to get his attention and he spun his head around to see Hemlock standing above him, a half smirk upon his face. Although Elm wanted to jump out of the cot and rapidly explain his predicament he didn't. Instead he carefully disentangled Fern and slid his body away until there was no cot left for him to be on and with a thud hit the floor.
His eyes looked up once more at the definite grin upon Hemlock's face.
“Not quite what I expected to find Elm.” He said looking at Fern’s calm expression as she continued to sleep, then dropping his gaze back to Elm.
Elm abruptly jumped up onto his feet. “She had hypothermia; it was the only option I had available to me to save her life.” Running a hand through his hair he looked Hemlock in the eye. “I was honourable.”
He turned away so Hemlock couldn't see the burning rush that was forming in his face after he said the words. His thoughts hadn't been. The memory of her was still quick to his mind, her silkiness, scent, soft murmurs, but mostly the warmth that emitted from her body, the sensations it sent through him had surprised him.
He walked toward the door beckoning that Hemlock go with him. Taking a breath he gathered himself hoping the flush of blood in his face was no longer evident. He turned to Hemlock.
“Let's leave. I'll get her some food later, she still needs to rest. We can talk whilst eating.”
Hemlock was scanning his face as he talked. It made Elm feel all the more uncomfortable and it irked him that he was giving his feelings away.
“You look terrible!” Hemlock pulled a face to show just how awful he looked, scrunching his nose, mouth and eyes in distaste at the abused face before him.
Elm grabbed his arm and opened the door, relief running through him that he probably hadn't betrayed himself. Pulling Hemlock out with him into the corridor, he shut the door behind them.
“At least I can breathe. Cook said I might have problems with the swelling.”
“Well he was right. Your face looks like an over ripe tomato.”
Elm let go of his pent up breath. If his face was that red then the flush hadn't been noticeable. Still holding Hemlock's arm he pulled him down the corridor for a few strides and let go once Hemlock had fallen into step beside him. He knew Hemlock was still scrutinizing him but he continued looking ahead as he walked.
“She still has her virtue. I'm not such a cad that I would take advantage of an exhausted girl.”
“I wasn't thinking that.” Came Hemlocks reply and for some reason this disconcerted Elm even more.
“Then what were you thinking?”
“It isn't important,” Hemlock replied but Elm knew it was. He knew that whatever was going through Hemlock's mind would affect Elm in a very fundamental way.
They entered a large room where many boys were sat chewing handfuls of fresh bread and spooning huge globs of porridge into their mouths. Elm looked at them with distaste; porridge was his least favourite meal. He looked at the side of the room where large bowls were laid out on sideboards for the boys to help themselves. His mood became lighter when he saw the bowls of fruit and moved toward them. He knew Hemlock was still beside him and sensed that he was just as relieved to see the fruit too.
Some of the things that Elm missed the most from when he was a child were butter, cheese and eggs. He missed the dairy products that they'd once had. He could almost remember what they tasted like but mostly he remembered how butter would melt on freshly baked bread and how good it had been to eat it, feeling it drip upon your chin. He stared at the choice before him and picked up a large apple. Hemlock did the same and sat down beside him at one of the benches separate from the robust Lakellers that were scraping the bottom of their bowls.
They gave Elm and Hemlock a quick perfunctory glance and continued with their own conversations.
“Why aren't they angry with me? I fought their Captain, shouldn't I be in chains?” Elm looked around the room as he said the words and turned his attention back to Hemlock.
“The Captain was in the wrong. There'd been rumours that he'd killed the other girls that Madden and Gisburn had brought on board but no one could prove it. Now those rumours have been proven to be true and the crew have thrown him in the brig, charging him with murder. They are still contemplating whether Gisburn will join him and Madden too when he’s fully recovered, but I don’t think they were involved in the deaths of the girls.”
“But Fern’s still alive, it was attempted murder.”
“Yes, but the other girls aren't.”
Elm nodded back to Hemlock in understanding. “So what happens now? Who’ll lead the crew and what’ll happen to the Captain?”
“Lieutenant Rostin has been promoted to Captain. I'm not sure what’ll happen to the Captain himself. I do know that Cook would happily throw him to the envillions so he could experience what Ensign Jones and those other girls went through.”
Elm gazed around the room once more. It seemed Captain Laroche was not as clever as he thought he was. He was obviously disliked enough to be quickly replaced when the opportunity presented itself. There was something to be learned about how you wield power. If Captain Laroche had treated his crew differently he wouldn't have been in the situation he was in.
“Then our presence here is safe? There won't be any changes?”
“There is one.” Hemlock replied, taking in Elm’s swollen nose, cheeks and chin. We can now go on deck at any time we like.”
Elm stared at him in surprise and gave a short laugh. He couldn't believe that things had improved for them. The change in their situation presented a change in him. He didn't understand it but the discontentment that he'd felt for a long while was gone. A strange realization passed over him. He no longer cared about being leader, he no longer held on to his hatred of Oak.
Even though his close proximity to Fern during their chats on board had been brief, these, and his fight against the Captain to save her, a Captain who’d been determined no one would give her help, plus his plight to keep her alive, had left an indelible mark on him. The original writing had been struck through and new words had taken their place. It was as if his whole book of life had been re-written.
He was staring at the apple in his hand as this enlightenment passed through him. He quickly looked up at Hemlock who was slightly taken aback, then smiled at him. Elm returned the smile. A quiet understanding passed between them. Hemlock knew he was no longer under Elm's blackmail threat and Elm knew he would never give away Hemlock's secret.
**********
Flint had noticed changes in everyone that morning. His time spent watching over Blackthorn had been exhausting. The boy had talked incessantly and Flint had felt his head would explode with the barrage of words that were pounding constantly at both of his ears. When his shift was over he retreated to the silence of his room, after briefly talking with Denver and Oak to find out the plans for the day. He was encouraged by the fact that Oak said nothing and Denver made his request and information short, covering everything that needed to be said in less than five minutes.
He left them knowing something had happened and that it concerned Oak. Denver had shown a protective gaze toward the Woodlander and Flint had thought their relationship was too close to a friendship for his comfort. He went over everything in his mind more thoroughly as he reached his cabin door. Stopping, he browsed through the occurrences and decided that Denver knew what was best, and if he trusted Oak then Flint would too.
He opened the door and stepped into his solitude, closing the door behind him with a thankful sigh at escaping the excessive noise everyone else on board the ship seemed determined to make. Once in the middle of the room he silently dropped down to the floor, where he sat cross legged, closed his eyes and started into a low thrummed chant.
The visions that had so easily appeared the day before eluded him. He felt frustration run through him and shook it off. Once more he concentrated on breathing, slowing his heart, feeling the blood passing through his veins. A calm set upon him again and he exalted in the feeling of rising above his body and floating toward the ceiling.
With the sensation still within him, he once more tried to tap into his spiritual connection. He began to struggle to make things happen and with a deep sigh gave up; knowing that today was not going to be the one to connect with the spirit world.
He rose slowly; his body was folded toward his legs and he carefully unwrapped his spine, vertebrae by vertebrae. Stretching his arms forward and above his head, he swept them outward and let them glide to his sides. Turning he looked at the wall clock, noticing that he’d been meditating for ten minutes, it had seemed like seconds.
Moving to the window he pulled out the chair and sat at the table. He sat tall but relaxed as he took in the new landscape below them. The lake had turned to land. Not a land like they were used to, the giant forest of Elanclose and its unusual vegetation, this land was more barren. There were no trees only gnarly looking shrubs and scraps of grass that looked as if life was a great struggle. He found it an unwelcoming land and was surprised that he missed Elanclose. He’d enjoyed traversing her complex and difficult pathways; he’d enjoyed her massive canopies above him, huge umbrellas preventing the sun from overheating anything on the ground.
They were to land soon and he wondered what food supplies could be brought on board from a place where life barely continued. The Citans were lucky that the land around them supplied so much. He knew it had to do with the scientists that had been in the area and although it bothered him that their lives were indebted to the people who brought life to monsters, he was glad of the life he had been able to enjoy so far.
So far? What was to happen from here? His vision had told him he would not go back to the Citan City, his route lay elsewhere but he was confused as to where. Shrugging his shoulders he knew it wasn’t for him to worry about. The spirits would guide him when the time came.
His thoughts were broken by a sudden descent toward the land. After a while the ship leveled off and lowered once more at a slower pace. He looked toward the approaching ground and saw the perfect gap in the bushes; they were now aligned perfectly to land upon it.
**********
Denver was staring at Oak in concern. The boy was different from the one he’d planned with yesterday. He was barely interested in the plans they were setting into motion, his thoughts would wander and Denver caught glimpses of visions of Fern.
Fern pulling herself off a cot and looking down at her own half naked body, turning and grasping the blanket, throwing it over her shoulders to regain her dignity. The heat that rose within him at the vision shocked him and he had to turn away to look across the room at the group of boys that were conversing about their landing and search for food.
He turned back when he felt he’d regained his composure to look into Oak’s cold blue eyes. He knew what he’d seen and he could see that his intrusion had placed more stress on their friendship.
“I’m sorry!” He was looking sincerely at Oak. “It’s so natural to pick up thoughts and for some reason your thoughts are the strongest I’ve ever had. He saw the disgust and anger drive across Oak’s face, moving down his whole body as tension overtook it.
Denver was surprised at how Oak was losing his self-control. He knew Oak was just as appalled and hated himself for it. He could sense that he doubted his skills as a leader, that the good sense and abilities he’d built were being destroyed by the rage he felt at knowing Fern had lain in the arms of Elm and that she’d enjoyed it. He knew his defenders were on board the ship, determined to find him and take him back to the clan. They would never stop searching until he was once more amongst them, leading them. Denver pulled himself away from Oak’s mind. He needed to sort his thoughts out by himself not with Denver wandering around within them.
“I’m not sure what we’ll find for food down there.” Denver was looking at the uninviting landscape. “But at least we will have the chance to walk on land. That is if Rancor lets us off the ship.”
Oak gave no reply just an empty stare and turned back to the window. Denver was finding this wallowing annoying and although he liked Oak and admired him, he felt he’d had enough of the downer trip that Oak was on.
“I’m going to find Detroit and see if I can find out what is to happen. Perhaps I can work something out to allow us to place our feet on the ground. I miss the feel of solidity beneath my toes.” He looked Oak over but received no reciprocal glance, nod, or confirmation that the conversation was directed to him, so he arose from the bench and moved across the room to the group of boys.
Detroit was boldly talking about the landing party and how he would be heading it. He was looking at the others with deliberation as he waveringly decided whom he would be taking with him. The boys eagerly crowded him, keen to set foot off the ship. He looked from one to another as they smiled willing him to pick them. Slowly he named five of them and the others dropped to their chairs, their faces falling with their decent.
“Detroit! Can I have a word with you?” Denver gave Detroit an ingratiating smile in apology at drawing him away from the important task he had ahead of him. Detroit unwillingly moved toward him.
“I’m glad it is you that has the job of taking out a search party for food.” The tawny eyebrows went up at his words as a flash of confusion passed momentarily, until a spark of recognition registered.
“I have picked the boys that will go with me,” replied Detroit, looking huffily back. “I have no need of you to join me.” The rude inflection didn’t go unnoticed but Denver kept the smile plastered to his face to mask the sensation of annoyance behind it.
“Yes, you’re too well organized for me to get a foot in Detroit. I understand that everything is already set into motion but…” He leaned in toward Detroit in a conspiratorial manner and Detroit unwillingly leaned toward him too. “But I am concerned about Oak.”
Detroit gave a swift glance over to the morose Oak, whose head hadn’t turned away from the window since Denver had left.
“Huh! He doesn’t look to be of concern to me!”
“True! True! But I think this is a cover. This silence is Oak planning. He’s planning his escape.”
“Hah! How can he escape from here, with so many boys to stop him?”
“Did you know he followed us in the forest? Did you know where he hid? Did you know that he was that close when he arose to help Blackthorn?”
Worry drenched Detroit’s face. He’d decided that his drunken stupor had sent him into a path of needlessness and that Oak’s confession to planning an escape was just the same as the hot air in the giant balloon. He stared over to Oak and his face wrinkled with thought at perhaps misjudging him.
“You believe him?”
“I believe that he will do whatever he can to escape. Blackthorn has been in high spirits, he laughs and jokes. Doesn’t that make you think that he knows Oak has a plan and will be away from this airship soon?”
Detroit’s look of panic was almost comical, if it weren’t for the fact that Denver was worrying himself about Oaks plans, he would have wanted to laugh. What were Oak’s plans now?
“You’re right. I think he does plan to escape,” answered Detroit not taking his eyes from the planning escapee. His eyes shot back to Denver. “What should I do Denver? I can’t tell Rancor, he’ll go into a rage at having another problem to deal with.”
Denver looked thoughtfully over at Oak; he took in the rigid stance, the hands tightly drawn into fists. Oak needed to be off the ship.
“You must take Oak with you; he will prove helpful finding food but keep him busy. Let him know that Blackthorn is never left alone on board this ship and should Oak disappear Blackthorn will do the same in the clouds we will be travelling through.”
Detroit gave a smirk of gratitude. Denver knew this course of action would appeal to him. To have control over Oak and have him do his bidding, plus have the power to get rid of Blackthorn were rapturous to Detroit.
“But the Captain said…” Detroit returned, “We’re not to hurt Blackthorn!”
“Accidents happen. Especially when a person tries to escape, how can anyone else take the blame for their mistakes?”
Detroit smiled, nodding his head in satisfaction. Denver had secured Oak’s exit to land. He smiled back at Detroit, gave him a wink, turned and with huge steps walked out of the room.