The King Trials 2: Beyond.

~Azura's Revenge~

"Why?"

Arms tightly crossed against my chest, abrasive to the chill. My long coat fastened up to the last button. The boat trembles haphazardly, as if shuddering from the cold—a sudden sway forces me a step forward.

"Please, just take me to him."

Reinsbure's hand rested on the pommel. After a begrudging second, he nods, a reluctant accord. We move from the main deck towards the warren of sleeping quarters. My gaze does a brief scan of what stirs beyond. The darkening skies forebode destruction, the louring clouds like a thick shroud, overcast with the shadows of distant high cliffs, crags of jagged rock jutting out from the surface.

The swishing waves; a dismal grey buffets the flanks of the ship.

"A storm brewing," Reinsbure says thoughtfully. He rotates his face from right to left like his head is on a swivel. "She's angry."

"Who is she?"

"Azura, the Goddess of the waters and the seas. The lore of her belief is founded on a myriad of conjectures, but only one thing is certain. In the womb is where her wrath grows, and she births only chaos. Every ship to sail faces the peril of being a casualty of her volatile fury."

Suddenly the wind whips up over the deck, clouds swirl dauntingly overhead, blotting out all light. The ship bucks and rocks beneath as the sea turns choppy.

Reinsbure and enter the gloomy corridor.

"And what is the cause of her anger?"

"A broken-heart." He peeks a glance at me. "Nothing is more ferocious than a woman scorned. It was told that her lover used her for her power, so she slew him and plunged his soul to depths of the ocean itself. Now every ship that sails, exploiting her as a means of travel faces that same probable fate."

I glare at the back of his head. "Because of course something as unpredictable as nature would be a euphemism for the volatility of a woman's emotions. And what does the lore say on how to appease her?"

"A surrender." At the end of the passageway, a bulky Avangard soldier stands posted at the last door. "The only thing that pleases her is a tribute of death."

"Well, it seems we all cannot get what we want. I suppose she will have to remain bitter and angry."

As we approach, the soldier halts us with his hand held out. "I have strict instructions from the Primus to not let anyone disturb him."

Reinsbure nods his head at me. "She is not anyone." The soldier glowers at me then his eyes soften by a molecule. "I will resume your post. Go do a sweep of the deck, and be sure to take your time."

The soldier remains grounded. 

"That's an order," Reinsbure says with a raised voice, all hints of good-naturedness drained from his tone.

"And I have orders from the Primus," he says with matched sternness.

Reinsbure grumbles gruffly. He clasps his hands behind his back. "Should I or do you want to be the one to tell him you denied her—" he exaggeratedly throws a look at me, "—entry when she requested?"

He falters for a millisecond but upholds his fixity of purpose. "And why should the Primus care?"

The door behind him swings open and Kelan looms at his rear. "Because I do."

The soldier whirls around. He and Reinsbure bow their heads to him in unison.

"Bartholomew, Reinsbure, you are both dismissed."