Phoenix

Battle Part I

The sounding of the conch came at the crack of dawn, a repetitive glissando, dousing the sleeping island in cold water reverberations, wrenching them awake. Ash was dragged from the depths like a hooked fish, dozy and disoriented. She stumbled to the door, tucking Gunner's dagger into the elastic of her ponytail, her fire-twirling chains into the belt of her robe, and looping the chain of the pocket watch around her neck.

She winced as the cold metal pushed against her existing bruises, but soon forgot the pain when Eli joined her at the door, his fire-twirling chains strung over his shoulders, the storm in his irises cleared to a glacial aquamarine and his eyes had lost their dark circles. Sleep, it seemed, had woken him.

Outside, the prelude before dawn was a whitewash glow and their path was lit by the flicker of the moon and stars between a thick murder of clouds. A light mist coated their bodies and mingled with their sweat as they ran the length of the beach towards the limestone cliffs. She spared a thought for the children and elderly who'd be making their way to the safety of the Terra Falls waterfall where they would remain concealed behind the wall of water until it was all over. She hoped someone had thought to transport Gigi there as well. She should've checked. It was too late to turn back now.

As they crested the rock and made their way towards a plateau overlooking the water, Eli grasped her hand, connecting their forces and emotions. She felt his anger, trepidation and apprehension all wrapped up within the strongest emotion of all.

Hope.

Her hand shook as the enormity of what was at stake threatened to overwhelm her. Eli had finally allowed himself to hope, allowed himself to stand on the precipice and give himself to the fall. If the water below failed to catch him, or suddenly turned to concrete, he'd be broken beyond repair.

The pocket watch ticked against her breast.

"What do you see?" Shorty asked Oroton as the group gathered overlooking the ocean.

"It wasn't me who gave the initial alert. It was Herald."

They looked up. Herald flew tight circles over the water, eyes trained on something lurking below the surface.

"Submarines?"

"I fear so," Oroton said.

Ash looked around at the gathered crowd. Gunner, Oroton, Gus and fingerless Fred stood at the edge of the cliff amongst the leaders, and Apple, Ollie, Jacob, Yolanda and Donny were amongst the twenty or so able-bodied apprentices from each house, carefully selected to execute a portion of the elaborate battle plan. That made around eighty Wanderers in total, willing and able to fight, a number that seemed smaller and smaller as the seconds clocked down to the Establishment's impending arrival.

Gus's eyes widened, then narrowed when he saw Ash and Eli holding hands. When Eli moved to join Oroton and the rest of their leaders, Gus's eyes tracked him with an inscrutable expression that made Ash's stomach roll with dread. It was as though the two men had traded places—Gus's open expression had narrowed, and Eli's closed expression was suddenly wide open.

Down below, in the safety of the cove, Shorty and Miki prepared the boats with twenty of their best water and air-wielders, four to each of the five boats. Among them were the twin sisters who'd taken their initiation alongside Ash and Ollie the night before. They embraced before boarding separate boats, stooping into the mist that had now become a light drizzle. All the confidence they'd possessed before the initiation seemed to have fled at the sounding of the conch. They looked younger than before, smaller.

Oroton gave the signal, just as the sun strained over the horizon, its pale light swallowed by the ravenous clouds which feasted on its rays, filled up, condensed and broke into lashing rain. The sailors turned to Miki, looking for their next instruction. But Miki had gone cardboard stiff, her eyes fixed on the sky as though at any moment, it would come crashing down. They held their breaths.

Just as the boats began to drift apart, the discomfort of their masters showing in a break in sail tension, Shorty jumped the railing of his boat to land with a rickety thud next to Miki. Cupping a hand to her ear, he whispered, lips quirking, only a little smug. Whatever he said earned him a harsh slap across the arm. But it worked. Seconds later, Miki elicited a shrill cry, so full of fury that even the twins couldn't help but straighten to attention. A vivid bolt of lightning shot down from the sky, which Miki, with fingers splayed skyward, redirected over the water, revealing what Herald had been the first to see.

Three large grey blimps loomed beneath the wind-dimpled water, getting bigger as they broke the surface. Submarines. Three of them. Large enough to house an army of hundreds, and too strong to be taken down by lightning.

Miki let out another ear-piercing cry, and with a jerk of her hand, she spurred her fleet from the protective cove and into open water. With the control of a practiced unit, they flew at break-neck speed, bolstered by the air-wielders, who collected tumultuous bundles of wind, smoothed them into streamlined ribbons and sent them into the sails. But for all their temerity, they were still ten times dwarfed by the Establishment ships and looked like suicidal fish swimming into the mouth of an orca.

The five sailboats split into two groups and encircled the outer two Establishment vessels, giving them a wide berth at first, then drawing closer and tighter. Soon, they were going so fast, their silvery sails blurred and disappeared. Between the white caps, sleet and mist, Ash momentarily lost sight of their fleet.

Just when she'd begun to presume the worst, the ocean heaved, shuddered and began to churn like a giant bowl of jelly. The fleet, using the full force of wind and water were turning the ocean in two giant whirlpools.

Metal groaning, the weight of the submarines gave way and began to spin. Slowly at first, then faster and faster until centrifugal force sent them orbiting outwards. Ash saw it happen in slow motion, the two boats spinning in opposite directions, getting closer and closer until their two whirlpools met with ear-splitting impact, a seismic collision of steel upon steel.

A mushroom explosion rose from the collision. The ocean shuddered, the sleet rain hissed, and a great shockwave rippled outwards, knocking one of the Wanderer's sailboats off-course. It spun, dipped its nose and did a little pirouette before overturning and spiralling towards the centre of the now slowing whirlpool. Ash thought she saw the bodies of the crew, barely distinguishable black dots in the storm-chopped swell being dragged underwater, then disappearing.

The watching Wanderers on the clifftop were silent with disbelief as the remaining five sailboats rushed to the sunken sailboat's aid. But soon the puncturing cry of Herald from the mast of Shorty's boat, followed by another sky-dazzling bolt of lightning from Miki's, confirmed what they all feared. They'd lost the first of their people. And the pain of it was like having a bandaid ripped from an open wound and covering it in salt.

Ash wished she could cry and scream and pound her fists against the ground until her body ached in the way she was aching inside. Instead, she focussed her anger and let it fuel her force. By the time the one remaining Establishment submarine crashed to shore, taking with it chunks of the limestone cliff, Ash's fingertips were tingling with vengeance and power. She watched with cool reserve as the Establishment soldiers popped out of human-sized flaps in the vessel and swarmed the shore like crows catching whiff of rotting meat.

Not yet, she told her force.

Oroton turned to face them, his royal blue robes strangely still in the whipping wind. "To the forest," he said.