Monday 10 March 2008

Shift, Chapter 8

It's been nearly a year since I last wrote some of this- it'll probably have some inconsistencies. Enjoy!

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SILVETERA MOURNS ROYAL TRAGEDY.

The Kingdom of Silvetera has initiated a state of mourning today in the wake of the tragic death of Princess Elile, 20. As yet there has been no official statement as to the cause of death, although security around the Palace has been tightened, leading to fears that an outside party might have been involved…
… in an unusual move, all trade has been suspended and movement in or out of the country forcibly forbidden until further notice…


***

“I don’t like it,” Riarna muttered, her voice barely audible over the low-key hum of the busy tavern. Her eyes flickered anxiously around the room before returning to contemplate the crackling fire.
“It’s not right. Things aren’t right. They haven’t felt right for weeks,” her sister replied, swirling the dregs of her drink in agitated little circles.
The buzz in the room dropped suddenly quieter and the two girls looked up, following the focus of the room to the doorway. An enormous figure stood framing the opening, his dark bulk outlined by curls of insinuating mist, creeping in from the frosty night outside. With a slight shiver, the bear-like creature completed his shift and stepped forward into the room, his heavy footsteps reverberating slightly in the increasingly silent tavern.
“It is good to see so many of you here on such a bleak night,” the man began in his deep, carrying growl. “I have learnt little more than what we knew at our last meeting.” He broke off and began to pace the room, rubbing his bearded face pensively.
“It doesn’t look good,” Srynia whispered, leaning close to her sister’s ear. Riarna nodded her assent, watching the perturbed reactions of those townspeople who’d been able to gather that night.
“Arrozale continues to insist that it harbours no hostile intentions towards its neighbours. The latest news is that King Falos and his Queen will be entering the city of Silvetera within the next couple of days. If I hear of any changes before then, I will post news of another meeting on the town’s message board.”
“And what of Silvetera? Will she trade?” an aggrieved voice called from a crowded but shadowy recess of the pub.
“No more news on that front, Perephus,” the man answered resignedly, but placing a rather pointed emphasis on the name.
“But my good Lord Urlof,” the same aggrieved voice replied, as Perephus himself stepped forwards from the crowd, “how can we sustain ourselves? Why bother with anything if our products will find no market?”
The background noise of the tavern rose slightly, with more raised voices throwing out opinions. Lord Urlof held up his arms in a gesture for quiet and the people quickly subsided.
“There are other markets, although less lucrative than Silvetera, that will sustain free-moving trade.” The noise level began rising again and Urlof quickly cut across it. “But give it time! A few more days and we will have news about the success of the diplomatic visit of King Falos to Silvetera and then we will know if any of this worrying was necessary in the first place!” He paused to draw breath, looking sternly around the room, waiting for the next challenge. None would dare to reply and even Perephus looked slightly cowed.
“Until the next meeting then!” Urlof raised his arm in farewell and strode across to the room, wrenching back the door and leaping through in bear-form once again. There was a moments stunned silence before the pub resumed the low-key hum that it had had before his arrival.

***

Captain’s Journal; entry 325.
12th Auldary 4376

Storm predicted 14th Auldary. Likelihood severe gales. Journey needs delay but passengers insist urgency. Plan test emergency drill procedure tomorrow. Hope this enough. I have doubts.

From: Famous Last Words: a Compendium.

***

“Abandon Ship!” the Captain called again and again, his voice hoarse from shouting, his body rent by the rips and burns his ship had put him through in the past few hours he’d tried to save her. He clung on to one of the few remaining pieces of upright timber on the creaking wreck of the hull. He could not see beyond the driving rain, but he knew that his crew should be fine; he only employed aquatic shifters for a reason. It was the passengers that worried him.
Suddenly, he caught sight of a figure stumbling across the remainder of the deck. “Who goes there?” he called to it, squinting in the gloom. A flash of lightning dazzled him briefly, but lit up the person well enough for him to realise who it was.
“Your Highness! We must abandon ship! She’ll not withstand much more of this storm,” the Captain called across, praying that the wind was not snatching away his words.
“I have never been a strong swimmer, Captain,” the Queen replied, her shout barely audible.
“You must shift!” he yelled back, just as a particularly violent wave ripped up through the leaking hull, causing the timbers to shriek with strain. The Queen stumbled and the water pushed her from her feet, slamming her against the raised border between the ship and the churning ocean.
“Shift!” the Captain called again, but her body remained propped limply against the boards. He mustered up what remained of his strength and threw himself across the deck, scrambling over to her side.
“Your Highness!” he shook her shoulder, but got no response. “Vinthia!” he tried her informal name in a desperate bid to wake her.
“Can’t…” she muttered, her voice sounding painfully cracked.
“You must! There is no other way now. The ship is lost,” he swallowed that painful thought and tried again to shake her.
“No!” she replied, looking up at him with savagery in her eyes. “We have been betrayed! I can’t shift. We have been poisoned!” With a desperate gargling, the Queen’s face contorted violently, as if in a silent scream. A dark shadow moved across her prone body, just in time for the Captain to turn and witness the curve of the enormous wave engulf the ship. Instinctively the Captain shifted into a sea lion, gliding effortlessly through the crashing water.
He knew he must find shore, he must tell someone, if only he knew who he could tell. His ship sunk; his Queen gone; no sign of the King. He was lost in his thoughts, so lost that he did not notice his sea lion instincts niggling at the corner of his mind.
With a crude thump he collided with a solid mass in the water and paused to regard it with slightly dazed senses.
“Dayvi?” he chirped in sea-lion.
“Cap’n,” the creature replied in whale, rolling over slightly in the water, revealing where massive chunks of flesh had been torn from it.
“What’s happened?” the Captain barked, the nauseating taste of blood in the water grating on his senses.
“One of Them is here,” Dayvi gurgled in response, his voice low and weak. “In the water. I saw it take the others, but I could not swim fast enough. It left me for last…” he broke off, his pitiful groaning echoing through the ocean.
“Them? Here?” he barked back, his mind in turmoil, quickly scanning the water around him.
“Too late… too late,” Dayvi moaned and choked, struggling in the turbulent storm waters. “Go now and there might still be a chance for you.”
The Captain paused, torn by indecision, a cold tingling creeping up his spine. Turning too late, the flash of jaws screaming across his vision, before nothingness and the dark crushing oblivion of the waves enveloping him. Its face fixed in a permanent grimace, the shark turned back to the whale, fixing his blank black discs of eyes on his victim.
LAST ONE

***

“… but out of the darkness of this tragedy might come the light of change…”

Excerpt from “King Penry’s Seminal Speeches.”

***

“I don’t want it and I never have done,” Dyl spat at his uncle, pacing the room in agitation.
“Well, you do realise, spoilt princeling or not, that you are the only direct heir to the throne?” Penry replied with amused condescension. “What would you have me do? Run your Kingdom for you?” He smiled darkly at this, looking away from his nephew briefly.
“I’d rather that!” Dyl replied vehemently, swiping irritably at the air around him.
“Do be serious, boy,” Penry replied, taking a firmer tone, “Your Kingdom is not just a pretty palace with lots of treasures and fine clothes for you to wear. It is a powerful nation, not to be idly toyed with. Its military strength alone is only matched by one other Kingdom in this world!”
Dyl looked shrewdly across at his uncle.
“A strength I‘m sure you‘d put to much better use than I would,” he replied pointedly.
“It is true that with the combined strength of our two Kingdoms, there would be no power in this world that could equal us!” Penry stood up, grasping his nephew’s shoulder and fixing his eye in his.
Dyl edged out from under his uncle’s hand.
“Silvetera would never bow under Arrozalan rule again,” he replied in agitation.
“No and why should it?” Penry replied fervently, “It has long been the most powerful Kingdom; its influences reach to every corner of this world! Our wealth could buy the Arrozalan army twice over and why shouldn’t it?”
Dyl backed away, getting increasingly alarmed.
“But how? How could you even begin…”
“Do not worry about the hows! All I need from you is one thing,” Penry replied, striding across the room and pulling a scroll of parchment from his desk.
“What’s this?” Dyl asked, whilst desperately trying to scan the densely packed legal jargon.
“It is a peace treaty between our Kingdoms. All I need is for you to sign,” Penry held up a pen and Dyl took it without thinking.
“But we’re not at war! We haven’t been at war for decades!” Dyl looked from the pen in his hand to his uncle’s contorted face.
“A minor war at best, of no real concern. That is, as long as you’re willing to sign the peace treaty,” Penry’s voice dropped and his eyes narrowed, fixing his nephew in a long, calculating look.
Dyl looked again at the parchment and at the pen and at his uncle.
“I’ll need some ink.”

3 comments:

Quoth the Raven said...

Yay! More Shift! I didn't notice any inconsistencies, but that said I think I need to re-read everything to remind myself of who is ruler of where and such. Poor old Vinthia's death was rather dark (and, of course, the Captain, crew and all other passengers who also died in one big bloodbath of werserk sharks. Mustn't forget the commoners.) I still hate stupid Dyl. He's stupid and bratty and rubbish.

I'm also still loving the style it's written in. Ooh, and first proper meeting of non-children Riarna and Srynia! There's nice.

More please.

Jester said...

More soon I promise. I hate Dyl too. He's supposed to be hateful. I just don't want to cross the line into "drags down the quality of the writing by his very presence." I may need to re-edit him if he gets too much.

Steffan said...

Dyl's certainly harder to take without the foil his cousin provided. But then, we're still in Backstory Territory, aren't we? He's not a fun character, and with the story hitting such a dark turn, it's difficult reading for not having a fun protagonist.

But then, "fun" wasn't the point of this entry, and it does very successfully convey the doom and gloom of the situation. Onwards to Chapter 9!