Maledictus Aether (23 page)

“Our family was entrusted with the design plans for engines
and machinery, from those that were made to keep
Skylands aloft to airship designs.
Tier was, and always will be, the grandest of our family’s
achievements.

“That digression aside, it was
Alexander Andrews, the man who was currently in charge of the ship
and flying her, who called us all over and told us that he would
sail the ship into Terra Australis and hide her away so that the
Fleet would catch no sight of her ever again. He also informed us
to tell anyone who asked that he would sail her up as far as he
could make her engines carry her, where she would be
unattainable.

“The Fleet had caught up to us; the entire armada was
closing in from all sides, and there were only two options for
the
Alitis
: up or down. So, the orders were for all of us
to get on the airships tethered to her and sail away, guiding the
Fleet away long enough for him to sail her out of sight – as Tier’s
secret lies in her ability to fly quickly, among a few other
closely-guarded secrets that only remained in the first
families.

“Nevertheless, we obliged;
Alexander’s son, only a few months old, was given to a woman who
was barren and told to raise him as her own – his mother had died
during childbirth – and we all got aboard one of the six ships and
left, diverting the Fleet’s attention. Tier flew into the clouds,
and I never saw her again until nearly thirty years ago.”

He pauses, his eyes having
opened a while ago as he looks at us both, frowning. Sitting up a
little, he stretches his arms slightly.

“As for that day, twenty-two
year ago… to this day, I will never understand how it worked, but I
will still tell you. Do either of you have any questions so
far?”

Lucian shakes his head, silent beside me as his
thumb
behind me makes circles
in the short ends of my hair at the back of my head. After pausing
a moment I shake my own, sitting back a little more and trying to
settle in a little more comfortably. Nodding at that, my father
continues.

“Very well, then. Well, I can
begin by telling you both that I was not aboard my ship when it was
captured.”

This confuses us both and
protests fly from our lips, yet he holds up a hand to quell our
questions.

“As a matter of fact, a trusted
few – those that had been aboard Tier before we fled or who I had
known their fathers and mothers – spread the rumour aboard my ship
that I was, in fact, dead. My Quarter Master took the helm, as per
customs, and was to sail to London to inform my ‘widowed’ wife that
I had passed. I was suspect of a traitor amongst my ranks and I
expected it was not one who had lived upon Tier before the siege,
and I had been correct.”

Here my father pauses, frowning
as his eyes fall from us both and locks on the mugs sitting on the
table. The expression on his face is almost… sad.

No, it is. It is regretful and
filled with self-hatred.

“I had a daughter aboard that ship – Aurora, a young lady
who was often mistaken for a boy as she tended to keep her hair as
long as a man’s – who looked almost exactly as I did. She was only
fourteen, but from what I have heard she put up the biggest fight
of them all.

“Now, when they boarded my ship
my crew fought valiantly, do not mistaken – but my daughter,
already grieving about a father she did not lose, painted the decks
red with their blood. She felled a dozen on her own before they
captured her alive, and since she was apparently the last of my kin
– they were not aware of your imminent birthing – they decided to
publicly execute her, but to fool the people into believing that
she was in fact me.

“Against my bitter judgement, I
was attending.”

Taking a deep breath, my father
closes his eyes and presses his hands to his face once more; I
stand briefly and retrieve a tall bottle of clear liquid as well as
a glass, pouring some gin for my father and handing him the glass.
He looks at me a moment, taking it with a curt nod before he downs
the shot in a single gulp. After placing the bottle near him on the
table I sit right back where I was, and Lucian continues fingering
my hair idly, as if I never even left.

“I knew I had to hide, so
afterwards I planted those letters for you and came here; I’ve been
here ever since, returning to Dracia only to obtain supplies when
my own run short.” He looks to the glass in his hands, smiling
bitterly. “Not that I ever expected you to actually follow all
those leads – but I had a feeling that, as a Watkins, you would
sooner or later at least follow in the footsteps of your
forefathers. You seem to have made a great name for yourself, too,
if what I witnessed earlier is anything to go by.”

Lucian laughs beside me, making
us both look at him in surprise just before he presses the hand
that has been behind my head all this time onto my hair, messing it
up.

“Your son has been doing the
impossible ever since he got here,” he informs my father, ignoring
my complaints. “As a matter of fact, the first thing he did when he
was given the freedom to fly an airship was to almost flatten it to
the ground.”

“You are leaving out all the
details,” I snap, pushing his hand off my head and shaking my head
to place my hair back the way it was. “The Fleet was after us and
we needed to get to Aeon, and Captain Davis had given me the helm.
His ship was not fast enough, so I told them to tie themselves down
before I reverted the steam’s power to the thrusters, and when I
went back to the helm and flipped the lever, the ship used the
momentum of the fall and the new power to push us beneath the other
ships, so we could open fire.”

I sit back, irritated, and with
a light chuckle my friend returns to playing at the little strands
of hair at the nape of my neck. It almost tickles.

My father watches this
interaction; laughing lightly to himself and making us both
look at him curiously. Waving off our questions, he looks then to
my friend.

“How long have you been with my
son?” he questions, and here Lucian tips his head back, looking to
the ceiling as he answers.

“We met just before the maiden voyage of the
Atlas
, so…” worrying his lower lip a moment, he hums quietly to
himself, “perhaps a little above a month – maybe closer to two. He
chose me to be his Quarter Master on a whim. How’s that been
working for you, by the way?”

This question he directs at me,
looking at me with an eyebrow arching, and I return the gesture
gladly.

“You are as insufferable as
always,” I comment, and he hits me lightly on my shoulder, making
me laugh. “In reality, you did save my life so I suppose I could
have chosen worse.”

“If you do not mind,” my father
begins, ending our banter and making us look back at him; I keep
forgetting he is here.

It is still so surreal. I
suppose that is the shock setting in.

“I am curious to hear your
stories,” he continues, and while making a face and laughing I pull
myself to my feet, retrieving two more glasses and a bottle of rum
for my companion, filling two glasses with gin and one with the
darker liquor. Once drinks are served I sit back down, nursing my
gin as I sit back close enough to feel Lucian’s body heat.

That
and his foot
tapping onto my knee every little while. I imagine it must hurt his
foot after a while.

While Lucian speaks I listen
attentively, and once he is finished I do so in turn. Sharing war
stories and regrets, licking each other’s wounds.

However.

I feel as if I know a little
more about my father afterwards. As if he is a little less surreal;
and I learn more about my friend as well, which is always nice.

The chill of the night keeps me
awake long into the night, a robe wrapped tightly around me as I
sit on the edge of my desk in my quarters and look at the stars
through the large window at the very back of the ship. I can see
Tier lying off-kilter on the right, but the majority of the view is
dominated by ice-capped hills that jut from the earth like teeth, a
giant’s mouth awaiting its prey. The moon shines against this
surface, the stars a breath-taking display, and I can’t help but
watch the heavens move. The sky is shaded by the display of colours
dancing there.

Aurora Australis.

The sister I never knew I
had.

Sighing to myself, I push my
fringe away from my forehead and walk up to the window, pressing my
hand to the cold glass and looking at the display of lights in the
night sky. The sight is stunning, breath-taking, and I can’t help
but watch this dance. Watching it, I start asking myself the kinds
of questions you only ask yourself in the dead of night.

Who am I? What is my purpose?
What if I’d done this differently? What if this had not happened?
What if…?

The door behind me closes
quietly, almost soundlessly, and I can see his silhouette through
the glass. I address it quietly, my words no louder than
whispers.

“Do you ever wonder how things
would have been if you had never been a pirate?” I question, and he
pauses in the midst of walking towards me. I see Lucian stop where
Orin is lounged on the back of the couch, to scratch at the
creature’s chin, and he answers me from there.

“When you start asking the
existential questions, I know it’s time to intervene,” he replies
calmly, and I frown to myself. That was not exactly the answer I
had been looking for.

“I am being serious, Lucian,” I
counter, and he shrugs, moving on from the lizard until he stops a
little bit behind me.

“So am I,” he counters,
crossing his arms in order to preserve body warmth. “You have had a
very rough day today, though, so I suppose it’s only fair. To
answer: I try not to think about it.”

“Why?”

He steps to the glass, stopping
at my left, and watches the southern lights with me as they paint
the sky a mirage of colours. The vivid red and light orange hues
even paint the pigment of his skin a little, and through his
reflection I can see his frown.

“The thought… is painful, I
suppose,” he admits, sighing softly as he closes his eyes. I take
that opportunity to watch his expression through the glass. “I miss
my family every moment of every day, and not one goes by where I do
not regret my actions. I do not even know if they are alive, or if
they have simply stopped caring about me. If I ever marry, I will
never be able to ask for their blessing; I would have never been a
slave, in more ways than one. So many things would have been
different.”

I never thought of it that
way.

“My case is particular, though,” he continues, shrugging
and opening his eyes. I look back to the display of lights,
swallowing even though my mouth has gone dry. “In some ways I was
better off before I left home the way I did, in others I am better
off the way I am now. Your case is different.”

“I never would have known my
father is alive,” I whisper, and he nods sullenly. “I probably
would have never had my accident, maybe never have been an engineer
in the first place. Perhaps I would have found a smaller
occupation, a more humble one. I would have never had the anger in
me to confront my mother about her wrongdoings on my father’s
behalf, seeing another man.”

I close my eyes at the memory,
the memory of all those days so painful it sends a jolt of pain to
my eyes. I rub the bridge of my nose, remembering it all.

The hurried footsteps and quiet whispering, the maids all
out for the day. I
so quiet
in my room I am easily forgotten, momentarily pulled from my
research and readings of my father’s journals at the strange
noises. Then, the door closing down the hall. Soon enough, the
noises. The panting, the moaning, the quiet shouting, the banging…
the names.

I could never get back to work
afterwards. It always disturbed me far too much.

Sighing shakily, I press my
forehead to the cool glass and take deep breaths, almost shaking in
my skin at the memory. A careful hand presses against my shoulder,
squeezing the skin connecting to the metal reassuringly, and the
stab of the thought comes automatically, perhaps one of the most
predominant thoughts in my mind that I always push back.

I will always be less than a man. No one could ever
want to tie themselves to a being
that is more machine than man.

I tense under the touch, and
Lucian withdraws his hand. Shame attacks me, and guilt, and
confusion, all at once and bringing a bad taste to my mouth.

“I had to keep quiet,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I could
never look her in the eye growing up, and after I got the surgery
and was admitted back home briefly, before I was called back for
duty… I saw the way she changed. My own mother did not see her son.
She saw what everyone else does – a machine. A man desperately
struggling for life, in vain. These will kill me; I know it very
well, and as a result, well…”

I shrug, and this time I try my
hardest not to tense under his calming touch, the warmth of his
hand thawing my chilled skin.

“I cannot imagine another
person ever wanting to spend their lives with someone who is
already making a deal with death, one foot beyond death’s door and
the other still in life,” I admit, the words tasting foul in my
mouth as they leave my lips. “So, in that prospect, I tend to wish
I had never agreed to work on that automaton.”

The hand on my back has
stilled, and I raise my head to look to the dancing lights in the
sky. He sighs beside me, almost in exasperation, and places an arm
around my shoulders. This time I tense, uneasy, but he ignores my
reaction.