The Wings of Ashtaroth

Chapter 16: Generals: Section III: Kirin

Kirin: A Beach: The Wings of Adonis

Silices wouldn't shut up, which wouldn't have been a problem except that his twin wouldn't either. The pair of them sat across from Kirin around the modest campfire they'd built up on the narrow strip of beach where Varco Drenda had laid anchor. Hundreds more fires identical to theirs pimpled the sandy Erusi shore, protected on the landward side by high, sheer cliffs.

Kirin had never seen natural rock so straight and tall. When the rugged coastline had come into view of Varco's trireme, Kirin had mistaken the cliffs for city walls. It had almost been enough to scare him away from making camp with the others, but the promise of water had been too great.

Three weeks of rowing on the Eralia, and Kirin's daydreams were consumed with visions of fresh water and fantasies of any food that wasn't the hard round bread, leeks, or onions that filled every corner of available space aboard ship.

Kirin nibbled at his bread ration, then quickly washed down the crumbs with a swig of stream water from his flask. After weeks rowing, he barely even noticed the pervading ache and burn every time he lifted his arms.

Scorching firelight bathed his cheeks, and he turned to survey the cliffs where freshwater cut through the stone. Even now, the grey-cloaked crews of the rest of the fleet lined up to fill flasks and barrels, ready for the final push to Zimrida.

In Lorar, water killed men as often as it saved them. That it could crack even these rock walls proved its power.

Kirin gazed out at the ocean, where smaller boats called celoces patrolled the coast. One celox had cut away from the others and was approaching the shore. A bright lantern hung upon the bow, where it illuminated the gold standard of the vessel. The banner on the standard wasn't red or yellow like those of the fleet Kirin had sailed in on. Had the little celox come from elsewhere?

Kirin frowned over at the Eralia, which rested beached on the sand. There was movement aboard—men with lanterns of their own emerging onto the deck. Some of the other triremes and actuaria on the sand were bustling as well.

The celox must be a messenger.

Vasthes—Silices's twin brother—snapped his fingers at Kirin. "Lupo. Lupo. Luuuupo."

Kirin faced the boys and his vision flared with blinding firelight. He tilted his head back, eyes watering, taking in the clear night sky. The stars rotated above him, moving the way everything moved now whenever he was ashore. Maybe the stars had always been this way, and it was only when you became a sailor that you saw the truth.

He chuckled.

"Lupo." Silices—Kirin thought it was Silices—sighed.

"What does a deep blue sky at night mean?" Kirin asked.

"Ask Drenda," Silices scoffed with a laugh.

The brothers had only recently been assigned to the Eralia, much like the majority of Drenda's century. The seaborne soldiers who made up Drenda's crew were a motley collection of men from the towns and provinces outside Lorar proper. Silices and Vasthes were Vetish, and there were even a few Indasi men aboard. They hadn't been sailing long enough for all Varco's sailors' sayings to have rubbed off on them yet.

"I heard it means we're to meet a sea dragon the next morning," Vasthes piped up.

Silices grinned. "I heard it means the seafoam will be filled with jewels, but that if we steal them we'll turn into crabs."

The twins were barely fifteen years old, with freckles and feckless smiles, and the boyish energy that seemed to come so naturally before life sank you with its sorrows. Kirin had warmed to them immediately, but every smile seemed bordered by the promise of future grief.