I’m late! I always post on Fridays but alas! This week has been extremely busy.
Nevertheless, here I am with Chapter 5, just in time for your weekend!
If you missed last week’s chapter you can find it here. All chapters are in the LCC section of Authorstrator. You can find chapter 1 here.
Happy reading!
Me-OW!
Five
Celia looked out over the railing, at the boiling ocean, watching as the rescue dingies returned from the marooned ship called the Hydra. Four little rescue boats had been deployed. Three were finally returning. Celia watched as the farthest one swerved, narrowly avoiding a sudden geyser of water, shooting up from the waves. The ocean was raging. The orange glowing beneath the waves -- fire? No one knew. But it certainly looked like it could be. How that was possible, Celia couldn't begin to imagine. And the smell -- sulfur. After smelling it for hours, she still couldn't get used to the stink.
"They've got someone on board," said Annette in French, nodding at the first returning dingy. Annette was one of Celia's fellow performers and twelve years her senior. "There were four when they left the ship. Now there's five."
"It's the guy who was passed out in the crows nest," said Celia. "They've rescued him!"
"Celia!" Annette yanked Celia's hand back from the railing. "It's hot! Don't touch it." Celia held her breath. How could she have forgotten? The railing burned to the touch, Annette had found that out the hard way, burning her hand when they first came onto the balcony off the crew kitchenette. Annette let go of Celia's arm and growled when her palm came away blue. "Go take off your costume! You're getting paint everywhere."
She should take off her costume. The performance was cancelled for the evening and she wouldn't be returning to the stage. But if the truth be told she preferred to be in her costume -- preferred to be Princess Dylana, daughter of the Sea, to being plain old Celia, the girl with no family, no friends, no education. She'd been part of The Bertrand Brother's Flying Circus since she ran away from home eight years ago. She was only seven. And she'd probably be there until she died. Flying on her ribbons and ropes -- it was the only thing Celia knew how to do.
When Gerard Bertrand came to her and asked her to headline the show he was putting together for a cruise, she couldn't believe her luck. After all, she was the most junior cast member and there were plenty of other talented performers who would have drooled at the chance to live on a ship as magnificent as the Silver Queen. But Gerard had insisted and Celia was happy to oblige. Now, after four months, she was starting to get bored. This stranded ship -- the Hydra -- was the first exciting thing to happen to her since she boarded the Silver Queen. And now that she had a bit of excitement, she wasn't sure she should have been wishing for it. Whatever had stranded the Hydra, it had something to do with what was happening to the ocean. And if it could stop the Hydra, then reason held, it could happen to the Silver Queen.
The first dingy pulled up alongside the ship, beneath a crane that sat on one of the higher decks. The men in the boat waved up and the crane screamed to life, lowering a cables to the dingy.
"A lucky man," mused Annette. "We are in the middle of nowhere. He could have been alone for months if we hadn't happened to pass his ship."
Lucky. As Celia watched the dingy rise out of the water, she began to worry that luck didn't have anything to do with this at all.
"Come," said Annette. "Get out of your leotard and we'll get some supper."
Celia nodded and Annette headed back inside. But she wasn't ready to leave just yet. She could see the men on board the dingy, the Silver Queen's crew members busying themselves with radios and cables, and the survivor -- a man, sprawled out on the floor. Was he dead already? Celia hadn't seen him move. As the boat rose higher she could see him more clearly -- his thick arctic jacket was hacked up, the white fluffy stuffing poking through tares in the fabric. What could have done that to him? And his hair -- she'd thought it was brown but now that he was closer she could see that it was bright blonde, stained with red. Blood.
What had happened to him? What had happened on board the Hydra?
Just then someone shouted as another geyser erupted from the waves, an eruption of water exploding right beside the Silver Queen, slamming the side of the dingy.
Celia's heart stopped as she watched the men dive sideways, trying to avoid the shoot. The crane above them groaned, metal screaming, and then she heard the SNAP.
One of the cables holding the dingy broke off, and the back end of the little vessel fell downwards, the crew members tumbling back, trying desperately to hold onto their survivor.
Celia looked up to the other crew men above, scrambling on deck trying to figure out what to do.
Celia could see the lost cable, dangling lifelessly against the Silver Queen. It needed to be reattached, but the men on the dingy couldn't reach it. Neither could the men above.
Celia's fingers twitched -- she could reach it.
Without thinking, Celia climbed up onto the hot railing, the metal burning her fingers and the balls of her feet. She was quick though, jumping from there to a little ledge that ran the wall of the Silver Queen. Not really a ledge, no. More like a break in the paneling that made up the ship. But it was enough of a foothold for Celia.
As nimbly as she could, she worked her way along the ship, using every window ledge, railing, nook and cranny she could find until she was up alongside the broken cable.
"Celia!" Annette's voice screeched from the balcony. She looked up and saw her, along with the other members of Bertrand's circus, watching with horror as she scaled the Silver Queen. "Celia! Get back here, you maniac!"
But Celia wouldn't go back. She could do this. She knew she could. It was just like her ribbons. It was the only thing she knew she could do -- assuming another geyser didn't knock her off her perch.
Celia carefully lined herself up across from the dangling cable, and when she was sure, she held her breath and said a silent prayer to whoever felt like listening. Then, with all her might, she pushed off from the Silver Queen and flipped backward through the air. Her arms found the cable and grabbed hold, but the cable wasn't like her ribbons at all. It was hard and stiff. It had no give. She couldn't thread it around herself the way she was used to. Her body slammed against the it, and it cut into her shoulder, forcing Celia to cry out. She slipped down, her hands burning as the steel cut into her palms.
But she'd made it.
Her shoulder was hurt badly, and her hands were bleeding, but she'd made it.
She pulled herself upright and began to pump her legs, swinging the cable toward the other one that still held to the dingy. After four pumps she managed to get close enough, and grabbed the other line.
Above her, applause sounded. The onlooking crew members were cheering. Celia slid down the cables and landed on the dingy, hooking the loose line to a loop at the front of the little boat. Above her, the crane squealed to life and when she was clear of the cable, the crane pulled the line tight, righting the dingy.
"Are you okay?" she asked the frightened men. They stared at her like she had just emerged from the sea itself. She must have looked strange, still in her costume. When they didn't say anything, she looked at the man lying at their feet -- the survivor from the Hydra. The blood on his head was even more frightening up close. There was so much of it, crusting his hair into thick tendrils. And his coat, the slashes in it -- were they claw marks?
As the boat slowly rose toward the cloud deck, crew members rushed up to the railing, ready to help the men and the survivor off the boat. Celia didn't want to face them -- didn't want the applause or the thank you's or maybe even the lectures they might hand out. So she climbed onto the edge of the dingy and, as they rose passed the Promenade, just below the Cloud Deck, Celia leaped off, landing with a hard thud on her side. Her injured shoulder screamed with pain and Celia winced.
"Holy shit!" said a voice in English.
"Shut up, Franklin," said another. Gently, the owner of the second voice helped her to her feet. "Are you okay?"
A boy held her by the elbows, about her age, dark floppy hair and eyes the colour of a stormy sea. "That was a pretty impressive rescue," he said with a smile.
"A super hero, Eidon!" Celia looked and saw the owner of the other voice, a little pudgy boy who looked so excited he could barely stand still. "She's a real live super hero! She's got the outfit and everything!"
Celia jumped back, suddenly remembering her costume. "Oh, pardon."
The sea-eyed boy looked at his blue stained hands and shook his head. "No, no, its okay."
She stood there, holding her shoulder, not sure what to do next. She wanted to get back to her rooms, back to Annette. There would be consequences for this. She knew. Maybe she'd be in trouble even. She just wanted to get back to her room before the fallout found her.
"Are you hurt?" the sea-eyed boy asked.
Celia nodded. "My um, shoulder."
"Her hands," said the little one. "Eidon, look at her hands."
Celia opened her palms. A deep gash ran up the middle where the cable had carved into her flesh, blood seeping out.
"We should take you to the infirmary," the sea-eyed boy told her.
"Oh no, no that's alright. I'll be fine."
"We can take you," he insisted. "You can't go walking around like that--"
Just then, another geyser struck the ship, this one rocking the whole thing sideways. The little boy screamed as Celia barely managed to stop herself from falling over. The lights flickered, then went out entirely.
"Eidon!" screamed the boy. "Eidon! What's happening!"
What was happening? The ship groaned against the strain and finally everything went quiet again.
"The lights, Eidon," said the little boy, panic rising in his voice. "What happened to the lights?!"
"I don't know, Franklin," the older one sighed. "Just calm down, alright?"
Calm down. She wasn't sure how long she could keep calm. The sea seemed to be burning from beneath. How long before the Silver Queen burned with it?
"I'd better go," she said, moving around the sea-eyed boy -- Eidon, the little one called him -- and hurried along the deck.
"Hey wait!" he called after her. "I'm serious. You're gonna need a doctor to look at that. Just let us take you."
"I said I'm alright."
"Eidon," the little one whined behind them. "Eidon, I'm scared. I don't like the dark."
Eidon groaned. "You're fine, Franklin. Just relax."
Suddenly, the boy named Eidon, ran in front of her, blocking her path. "Would you wait a second!"
"What?" she snapped. What was he so interested in? Why wouldn't he just let her be? All she wanted was to get back to her room. Why wouldn't he just let her go?
"You're part of the circus, aren't you?"
Celia rolled her eyes. "What gave me away?" She moved to pass him but he blocked her again.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"What do you want my name for?" To report her no doubt. He needn't bother. In her leotard they'd find her easily enough. And then she'd be in trouble. The Bertrand Brother's might even fire her.
Eidon grinned. "That's just generally what people do when they meet other people. They exchange names. For instance, I'm Eidon."
She watched him for a moment. The way he grinned -- he was genuinely interested in knowing her name. "Celia," she said carefully.
"Celia. Pretty name."
Celia frowned. Was he hitting on her? Now?
"Eidon," the little one said from somewhere behind her.
"Not now, Franklin," he hissed before looking back at her with that grin again.
"But Eidon--"
Eidon stepped by her, "I said, shut up, Franklin!"
"But look!"
Celia turned and saw the boy standing a dozen feet away. He was trembling, pointing at the deck.
There, on the floor, illuminated by the emergency lights and the light spilling over the open railing were watery footprints.
Massive.
Animal.
They moved away from the edge of the deck -- the railing was soaked, the paint scratched away.
Something had clawed its way on board the Silver Queen.