The Absent Son (3/4)
Title: The Absent Son (3/4)
Author: scatter_muse (my R.L. alias is viloki9)
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 to R
Characters/Pairings: Septimus, Tristan/Yvaine, almost everyone else in the story
Summary: AU: In which Septimus is not raised in Stormhold.
Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters, I'm merely playing in the sandbox.
Part 1
Part 2
Link/Cut/Fake Cut:
The Captain took a look at the wound again, clotted with dark blue blood, and grimaced. Not because it looked like it hurt, but because he had hoped it was a hallucination.
“Speak man, why is this situation so dire? Is this an illness? Do I need to return to England a soon as possible? Have I been cursed?” Septimus demanded.
“No no, none of those, it’s just that…I didn’t believe it when I heard your name, I had thought it was a clever joke, a false name, sometimes people use Septimus Storm if they don’t want their identity known.”
“My name? What is so significant about my name?”
“I always forget the both of you aren’t from Stormhold.” The Captain muttered to himself, shaking his head. He then took a deep breath as he contemplated how to begin.
Finally, he spoke:
“Stormhold has always had the tradition of sons fighting for the throne. With the last king, there were thirteen sons; one of the sons killed all of his brothers before the death of his own father, so he became king. With this king, there were seven sons. When this king passed away (no more than a few days ago) three sons had passed already, but four were left. So, he devised a game: he sent the Stone of Stormhold out into the land for the sons to search for. The one who found it first would be king of Stormhold.
Unfortunately, before the sons set out, one prince (we don’t know which one) plotted to kill his brothers all in one felled swoop by poisoning them during the blessing ceremony given by the bishop. Through some idiot mishap, the prince managed to poison all of the cups, thus killing himself, his two brothers, and the bishop. And now, with no king for the last week or so, Stormhold has been in turmoil with people attempting to take the throne. While the castle is bound with very old magicks that are tied to the royal family, so far, no one can sit on the throne, read any of the books the king keeps, or enter any of the rooms in the castle. It will eject anyone in the castle devising to take the throne. Nevertheless, Stormhold cannot go without a King for long. ”
Septimus cleared his throat as he made a face, “I still don’t see how this has anything to do with me.”
“Oh Right! Back to the point. Well, the thing was, if you recall, I mentioned there were seven sons, six are dead. There is one left, but he disappeared thirty years ago with his mother, when he was five.” The Captain finished dramatically, shooting Septimus a very intent look.
Septimus face looked pinched for a moment before he broke out into hysterical laughing, “Oh that- that’s a good one. Wow, you almost had me there for a second. A prince! Oh! And the whole back story! Did Yvaine put you up to this? I know she’s wanted to get back at me for the whole polishing stone incident. You’re quite convincing, if the whole situation wasn’t so absurd.”
The Captain was pale before he angrily shouted, “I am NOT lying you moron!”
A tense silence fell between the three men.
But it was broken by a light knock on the door as Yvaine came in and saw the three men brooding at the table, “What’s wrong?”
They ignored her, so she gave an angry huff and went over to one of the seat cushions to sulk.
“So you’re saying only royal family can have blue blood.” Septimus spoke slowly, still regarding the story skeptically.
“Yes.”
“Do you believe it?” Septimus suddenly asked Tristan. The younger man blinked, startled that he had been put on the spot. “I uhh… I don’t know… I mean, we’ve only been here for a few days, how do we know what the usual color of blood here is, right? Most people don’t cross the Wall, maybe everyone’s blood turns blue when they cross the Wall.”
“That’s complete and utter nonsense. I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life.” The Captain started, he pricked the tip of his finger to show them that his own blood was red.
Tristan followed, pulling out his dagger and nicking a fleshy part of his hand.
Blue blood.
“You see!” Tristan said as he showed the Captain his hand vehemently.
The Captain stared at Tristan’s hand with his mouth open before getting out of his chair stiffly and heading towards the back cabinet, “I need a drink…. No. Make that, many drinks. Yes… something strong…”
“Dammit! no no no!” Sextus wailed as he watched the conversation settle and Septimus convince himself that he only had blue blood because he had crossed over from the Wall.
“What an idiot! I can’t believe he...” Tertius started, but stopped when he heard Secondus mutter under his breath that Tertius was hardly one to talk.
“Well it doesn’t help that the young man has blue blood now does it.” Quintus pointed out.
“Actually I find that an interesting development.” Primus said as he stroked his beard, “How can there be someone else with blue blood? We don’t have any other brothers.”
“Bastard child?”
“He’s a bit young…” Quartus said, subtly implying that their father had gone impotent not too long after Queen Munynn had disappeared.
“Did any of you have bastard children?”
The brothers’ answers were mostly ‘no’, each with their own set of excuses: didn’t trust the whores, too focused on running away, too focused on killing each other, didn’t like women, Queen Melina killed his wife before she could bear child, had gotten venereal disease from a witch…
“Really!?”
“Yeah, right shame that. She had great breasts.”
A few of the other brothers regarded him warily.
“What other options are there?”
“Oh wait, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner!” Quartus started, “What about Una?”
“Sister?” The brothers asked at the same time.
“But she- we thought she was dead!”
“Well, we don’t know, father never really conducted much of a search-”
“Right! Because father immediately sent everyone to go after Septimus and Queen Munynn!”
“So maybe she isn’t dead.”
“It’s the best explanation.”
“So Una is out there somewhere.”
“I think so.”
“That’s interesting.”
“I wonder what she’s been up to.”
“Are we still in Grimberry Forrest?! I thought I told you to get a move on, girl!”
“I am. The Palace Market was two hundred miles away from where we started. We can’t get there any faster. At the soonest we will be there tomorrow night.”
“Lazy slutton.” The witch muttered. “Hurry it up, you are not to sleep or eat until we reach the pass before the market, stupid girl.”
“Yes mistress.” Una muttered sullenly as she slouched forward tiredly, she hadn’t eaten since early morning before they had started out. But the witch would soon be asleep. If she was lucky, Sal would be too busy to remember to count the food rations once they reached the Palace Market.
“Still charting? I assure you I know the way. I have been almost everywhere in Stormhold via the Casparatine.”
“This is more for me than you. I have no doubt in your familiarity of the land.” Septimus retorted without looking up from the markings.
“For you?”
“It’s very odd. I know where these places are. But I don’t know why. I’ve never been here before in all my life. There’s no possible way I knew that when we headed towards Mount Drummond, we were heading north. And then now to the Palace Market, we’re heading south.”
“And right now?”
“Right now, we’re going over these sharp peaks. I don’t know the name, I just…know.”
“Ah, further proof you are a prince. Only royal blood can sense their domain, whereas the rest of us mere mortals need maps and atlases.”
Septimus looked up with narrowed eyes, trying to decipher if the Captain was mocking him. “At the same time I have also come to the logical conclusion that being able to sense an unseen location is beyond the human cognitive ability. Therefore, this is all just a coincidence”
The Captain shot him an aggravated look, “There are magicks in Stormhold that do not exist in England. And I think that you do believe in these magicks, what you are unable to accept is the fact that you are a prince.”
“It is far more likely that I am not a prince.” Septimus protested, “This isn’t a children’s storybook, it is too highly improbable that any person visiting Stormhold just happens to be a long lost prince. Add on top of that, if you were correct, you also have two members of the royal family on your ship.
Therefore, based on probability, I am leaning towards Tristan’s theory that the blue blood is an indicator people from the other side of Wall and nothing more.” Septimus replied with such finality in his tone that the Captain found that he could not protest against it. The older man gave an indignant huff and left Septimus to his maps.
Lamia was catching up, she knew it. The ship always left a sort of ozone smell in the air, behind it. Nevertheless, she decided to check the runes again to verify her suspicions.
She tossed them until she was satisfied with their answer and returned to her new horse drawn carriage she had stolen from Ferdy the Fence; whom she had cursed to squawk like a monkey, so that he could not report to the authorities that she had taken his carriage.
She lashed the horses again, urging them to go faster. She was so close, she could taste it.
“So he thinks royalty has blue blood?” Yvaine repeated curiously while she sat cozily next to Tristan on the cushions.
“But it doesn’t make sense that Septimus and I are both royalty. The situation is a bit perplexing. Besides, I’ve never seen him in my life, the most we have in common is that we both came over from England.”
“The both of you look a little alike.” Yvaine wheedled.
Tristan gave her an odd look, “I don’t recall looking so angular or having a Roman nose.”
“Well I mean… you both have the same eyes, and your stance.”
“Stance?”
“The way the both of you stand when you’re relaxed, you sort of rest on your right leg at a sort of angle, oh and black hair.”
“A lot of people have dark hair. One-tooth Rory has black hair.” Tristan said using one of the crew as an example.
“You didn’t object to my other points.” Yvaine said, poking him in the shoulder playfully. “And the crew easily accepts the fact that he’s your uncle. If he looked ‘that’ different, they would have been skeptical.”
“I think the crew just believes whatever the Captain wants them to.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well I think they know the Captain is… ‘you know’… but they just go along with it because he’s a good Captain.”
“Perhaps,” She replied agreeably. More than once she had seen one of the crew roll their eyes when the Captain made personality slip (which was much more often than the Captain realized).
The elaborate grandfather clock chimed in the corner, indicating it was 10 o’ clock.
“Out of all the odd knick-knacks the Captain keeps, I think I like this one the most.” Yvaine said as the both of them got up to go gaze upon the clock.
“I can only read the part of the clock that tells time, the rest seems a bit… complicated.”
“It’s a star map, silly. You see, that’s me, the evening star. Coupled with the moon and sun’s position at the bottom here, it tells you the… date.” Yvaine instructed before she grew quiet.
“Yvaine?” Tristan, asked concerned.
“It’s August the third, Victoria’s birthday.” Yvaine said, recalling Tristan’s earlier ramblings about the girl.
“Oh… so it is,” Tristan said slowly, slightly startled, “Well noticed…”
“And it’s night already, you’ve missed it! Oh! I’m so sorry. We’ve been asking you to come along with us to help ‘me’ and we all forgot!”
“No no… it’s alright.” Tristan replies softly, with a sort of growing light in his eyes, as if he were realizing something important. “I think I’m alright with that. I haven’t thought of her in nearly a week…”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I believe I’m doing well without her presence. In fact, I’ve been happier this past week than all the hours spent with her. How odd is that? Perhaps -I have, as they say- fallen out of love with her.”
Yvaine smiled at this, “That’s good.”
Tristan laughed, “For you yes, now you don’t have to hear my ‘nattering’ on about her.”
“Well, that and because now I can do this.” She said as she leaned in and kissed him.
Meanwhile, Captain Shakespeare and Septimus were outside talking. Both were leaning against the railing, looking over the side, and gazing down at the darkening land below.
“You look disturbed Mr. Storm.” The Captain said as glanced over at Septimus’ pensive expression.
“It’s been a week. I was supposed to be home a week ago.”
“Do you have family waiting?”
“My mother.”
“What about your father?”
“I don’t have one. Or at least my mother won’t talk about him.”
“Ah” The Captain replied shortly, but the matching information only helped re-enforce his conviction that Septimus was the seventh missing son of Stormhold.
“Thank god I decided to surprise her instead of sending a letter home before me. If I had, she would have been worried sick. However, I was traveling with companions, if Adam manages to find her and tell her I went missing, I suppose the circumstance would be the same as if I had sent a letter home.”
“So, what do you plan on doing after all this?” The Captain asked, curious.
“Go home, see my mother. Wait for my next dispatch.”
“And that’s what you’re going to do for the rest of your life?”
“Yes, it is the most pragmatic path. Although, I suppose there are at times when I feel as if I had missed out on being something great, on being someone important with great contributions. Finding a cure for disease or figuring out the secrets of the universe. But every man has these thoughts, mine are hardly any different.” Septimus paused and then regarded Captain Shakespeare solemnly, “You still think I’m the prince.”
“All the facts match up.” The Captain pointed out.
“Alright, assuming that I am this so called prince, I am hardly suited.”
“With the exception of Prince Primus, the rest of your brothers were hardly suited to rule either. And even if Prince Primus did become king, he couldn’t have had more than another twenty years left in him. With no son of his own or anyone else left to rule after him, his becoming king could have only led to more trouble. But you, you have intelligence, insight, and no mercurial intent, you could do Stormhold a lot of good.”
“And if I don’t want to be king?”
“Stormhold is in turmoil at the moment, Mr. Storm. Can you not put your own qualms aside for the good of the people?”
“You are asking for a lot, Captain Shakespeare. Moreover, if what you say is true, why not implore Tristan to be king?”
“He is young.”
“He’s got a good head about him.”
“He’s unsure of himself, we need a leader.”
“He’s smart, he’ll learn.”
By now Captain Shakespeare was growing irritated, “And he’s too gullible!”
Septimus found no suitable retort to this, for it was true, the boy was too naïve. He looked away, refusing to meet the Captain’s imploring gaze.
“Do not press me anymore on this.”
“But…”
“However, I do promise I will consider it at length. In the meantime, you must promise me, if I eventually do decide to return to England, forget you ever saw me.” With those final words, Septimus stalked away from Captain Shakespeare and headed inside.
When Septimus opened the door, Tristan and Yvaine quickly separated and looked about the room awkwardly.
“What are you two lovebirds up to?”
“What? Oh no we weren’t… I mean.” The both of them stuttered out at the same time.
Septimus narrowed his eyes at the both of them.
Yvaine caved first, “How did you know? I didn’t know until…”
“One would have been deaf and blind not to know.” Septimus snorted, as if it were the most apparent thing in the world. “Now I’m going to go to bed. It’s been a long day. Please keep it down.”
“Night, Septimus.” The two chorused.
“Good night.” Septimus replied before heading into one of the extra hidden rooms that had a cot set up inside.
Tristan and Yvaine stared at each other after the door closed behind Septimus, before breaking out into quiet giggles.
“We have been a bit silly haven’t we?”
“Only a little.”
“Hello my darlings! Guess what day it is?!” Captain Shakespeare shouted out early in the morning.
“The day we kill Captain Shakespeare?” Septimus retorted morbidly.
“I see, as cheerful as ever. Oh poor dear, you just need some coffee in you. Here you go, just as you like it: stomach curdling black with lots of sugar.”
Septimus replied with a grunt as he silently nursed the large cup.
“Oh, I wonder where the other two are. I hope Tristan didn’t molest the poor girl too much last night.” The comment caused Septimus to choke on this drink. He gave the Captain a baleful glare before resuming to intake the sanity-rendering beverage.
“Oh good morning Captain,” Yvaine said as she and Tristan appeared at the breakfast table. “Septimus, how are you?”
“All of you are entirely too cheerful at this time of morning.” Septimus muttered into his drink.
“The Palace Market starts at seven. We probably want to get in and out before the noon rush.” The Captain explained.
“I thought you were in the Navy, didn’t you have to wake early before?” Tristan asked.
“I was the navigator. We stayed awake at night and slept during the day, since night charting is more accurate than day charting.”
“Oh! That’s like me!” Yvaine chirruped. “Or well, was like me, I slept quite well last night-”
“No details.” Septimus interrupted her before she could continue.
Captain Shakespeare coughed.
Tristan blushed deeply and pretended he didn’t hear a thing.
“Alright, so we will take the north west end of the market, Captain Shakespeare and Septimus will take the north east end, Lenny and Shelby will take the south east end and Roberts and One-tooth Rory will take the south west end, this pole is approximately at the center of the market. So we’ll meet back here at 11, right before lunch and discuss how to resume.” Yvaine told the seven people listening to her intently.
The eight of them split up quickly and as Septimus headed to the first stall, he stopped and quickly turned around.
“What is it?” Captain Shakespeare asked as heard the prince curse under his breath.
“They’re gone.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Thorn and Miss Yvaine.”
“Yes, she did say we were to split up.”
“No, I mean… think for a second, if she has become attached to Mr. Thorn. Why is she looking for the Babylon candle?”
There was a pause.
“I don’t believe she means to leave him, perhaps they are just blindly following their original goal.”
“You have a point, but there are still witches after her, wasn’t the whole purpose of finding a Babylon candle, to get her home, so she would be safe?”
“Yes, but considering that the objective has changed, shouldn’t we be finding something that will kill a witch instead?”
“What are you proposing?”
“I think we should look more diligently for something that will destroy her pursuers and if we happen to see a Babylon candle, we’ll purchase it.”
“Sounds good to me, lead the way, my prince.” The Captain said in a deferring manner.
Septimus shot him an irritated look before continuing to the next shop.
“You again!”
“Have we met?” Sal asked as she gazed upon the half-haggard looking woman, dressed in green, standing before her. They were just outside the pass through the valley, leading into the Palace Market.
The woman narrowed her eyes and lied, “No.”
“But you just said.” Sal said, in a confused tone.
“I can’t have you finding her. I don’t care what the ordinances of the sisterhood say. There is no king, therefore no one to carry out the punishment. I think it’s about time to do away with you permanently.” The woman hissed before a very large surge of green fire erupted from the palm of her hand, taking Sal’s head clean off. The body ran around, fidgeting and flailing wildly before disintegrating into nothing.
The woman cackled loudly, amused with her power until she saw her reflection in one of Sal’s hanging pots.
She gasped, offended at the sight of herself, before angrily muttering about finding that blasted girl. She gazed at the obnoxiously yellow coach and decided to take it into the market, despite how difficult it was to maneuver it through the narrow mountain corridor. If she could pass herself off as one of the merchants, she might be able to find the girl. But before setting out, she pulled a long brown cloak off of the hook next to the front seat and put it on so it would hide her face.
“We’ve been referred five times from other shops. They say you have a Babylon candle.” Yvaine said to the ugly minute man with two extra eyes on his cheeks and blue tinted skin. Tristan wasn’t sure what sort of creature he was, but he kept his expression polite.
“Oh? You seek a Babylon candle eh? I actually have two Babylon candles, but you have to make it worth my while. What will you trade for them?” The man replied in between hacking coughs. He sounded as if his entire throat was clogged with phlegm.
Tristan presented to the man, a long canister of electricity and bag of gold Captain Shakespeare had provided them with back on the ship.
“That’ll only get you one candle.”
“Oh we only want one.”
“Alright then, I’ll get it for you, I would have charged more, seeing how long it takes to make one. Yer better customers than them witches anyways, that’s why I’m givin’ you a discount. I was cursed last time by one of them who didn’t want to bother paying. So I’ve made it a policy not to deal with them. Dishonest horrible conniving....” The man continued to himself as he went into the back in search of a candle. He quickly brought it back out and wrapped it up in parchment paper. Tristan noticed it was longer than the one his mother had given him as baby.
“There you go.”
They agreeably traded their items and went on their way.
“It’s five minutes until 11, let’s hurry back.” Yvaine told Tristan with a beaming smile, unable to help glowing as he took her hand.
“Not so fast.” A crone like voice said as a yellow caravan and hooded figure stopped in front of the couple.
The scream alerted Septimus first and he quickly turned away from the pole to head towards the source of the noise.
“I think that was Yvaine.” The Captain told his men as they followed after Septimus, who was running towards a crowd of busy shop-goers running away from the commotion.
Septimus did not bother to wait for the others as he pushed through the crowd towards the sound of a familiar cackling and magical discharge.
Septimus reached into his coat for his pistol, since he had the temporary window of surprise at the moment.
(Earlier, he had bought the pistol from a warlock that had gotten it from Market Town by Wall and never figured out how to use it. But the warlock did enchant some of the bullets because he thought he would be using it. Septimus had discretely tested the pistol and found that it was in good condition before taking it off of the warlock’s hands).
Unfortunately, at the moment he did not have the time to load his pistol with the spelled bullets, so he resigned himself to only using the current plain bullets inside. The woman may be a witch, but she was not immortal yet.
He took quick aim as the witch paid her attentions on tossing an oversized clay vase at the couple and shot at her heart. Unfortunately, his pistol was not nearly as good as he had hoped, the bullet went wide two inches over and possibly punctured a lung instead hitting the heart.
The witch suddenly turned on him, seemingly unaffected by the bullet, and angrily flung him towards the caravan as hard as she could. The sickening thud along with the crack of wood indicated how hard she had flung him. He fell to the ground and did not move.
In the background Yvaine screamed Septimus’ name. Unnoticed by Lamia, Yvaine, and Tristan, the woman inside the caravan (who had not made her presence known earlier to Lamia) also heard the familiar name of her brother. Revealing herself from her hiding place, she quickly got out of the caravan to verify her suspicions.
And there he was, lying unconscious under a trail of blue blood smeared against the side of the damaged caravan.
Una quickly hopped down to check on his pulse and gave a sigh of relief, he was alive. She hooked two hands under his arms and dragged him back and away from the fight, hoping that she would not cause further damage by moving him.
Una froze when she heard the blonde girl scream out in protest as the witch took the Babylon candle and was running towards her own direction.
“Out of the way girl” Lamia hissed at Una, but Una only clung onto Septimus harder. Lamia’s eyes narrowed further. “Fine, have it your way.”
From the tip of the witch’s finger a light spark flew towards Una’s forehead and she fell over like a rag-doll.
Lamia turned to the couple and gave them a final warning, “If you value the life of your friend, I shall be holding him ransom at Crow’s Ridge Point. You know what I want.”
Despite the brief pause, the dark haired boy could not reach the witch in time as Lamia lit the candle, took a hold of Septimus’ hand, and disappeared with the last son of the late Lord of Stormhold.
To be Continued...
Author: scatter_muse (my R.L. alias is viloki9)
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 to R
Characters/Pairings: Septimus, Tristan/Yvaine, almost everyone else in the story
Summary: AU: In which Septimus is not raised in Stormhold.
Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters, I'm merely playing in the sandbox.
Part 1
Part 2
Link/Cut/Fake Cut:
The Captain took a look at the wound again, clotted with dark blue blood, and grimaced. Not because it looked like it hurt, but because he had hoped it was a hallucination.
“Speak man, why is this situation so dire? Is this an illness? Do I need to return to England a soon as possible? Have I been cursed?” Septimus demanded.
“No no, none of those, it’s just that…I didn’t believe it when I heard your name, I had thought it was a clever joke, a false name, sometimes people use Septimus Storm if they don’t want their identity known.”
“My name? What is so significant about my name?”
“I always forget the both of you aren’t from Stormhold.” The Captain muttered to himself, shaking his head. He then took a deep breath as he contemplated how to begin.
Finally, he spoke:
“Stormhold has always had the tradition of sons fighting for the throne. With the last king, there were thirteen sons; one of the sons killed all of his brothers before the death of his own father, so he became king. With this king, there were seven sons. When this king passed away (no more than a few days ago) three sons had passed already, but four were left. So, he devised a game: he sent the Stone of Stormhold out into the land for the sons to search for. The one who found it first would be king of Stormhold.
Unfortunately, before the sons set out, one prince (we don’t know which one) plotted to kill his brothers all in one felled swoop by poisoning them during the blessing ceremony given by the bishop. Through some idiot mishap, the prince managed to poison all of the cups, thus killing himself, his two brothers, and the bishop. And now, with no king for the last week or so, Stormhold has been in turmoil with people attempting to take the throne. While the castle is bound with very old magicks that are tied to the royal family, so far, no one can sit on the throne, read any of the books the king keeps, or enter any of the rooms in the castle. It will eject anyone in the castle devising to take the throne. Nevertheless, Stormhold cannot go without a King for long. ”
Septimus cleared his throat as he made a face, “I still don’t see how this has anything to do with me.”
“Oh Right! Back to the point. Well, the thing was, if you recall, I mentioned there were seven sons, six are dead. There is one left, but he disappeared thirty years ago with his mother, when he was five.” The Captain finished dramatically, shooting Septimus a very intent look.
Septimus face looked pinched for a moment before he broke out into hysterical laughing, “Oh that- that’s a good one. Wow, you almost had me there for a second. A prince! Oh! And the whole back story! Did Yvaine put you up to this? I know she’s wanted to get back at me for the whole polishing stone incident. You’re quite convincing, if the whole situation wasn’t so absurd.”
The Captain was pale before he angrily shouted, “I am NOT lying you moron!”
A tense silence fell between the three men.
But it was broken by a light knock on the door as Yvaine came in and saw the three men brooding at the table, “What’s wrong?”
They ignored her, so she gave an angry huff and went over to one of the seat cushions to sulk.
“So you’re saying only royal family can have blue blood.” Septimus spoke slowly, still regarding the story skeptically.
“Yes.”
“Do you believe it?” Septimus suddenly asked Tristan. The younger man blinked, startled that he had been put on the spot. “I uhh… I don’t know… I mean, we’ve only been here for a few days, how do we know what the usual color of blood here is, right? Most people don’t cross the Wall, maybe everyone’s blood turns blue when they cross the Wall.”
“That’s complete and utter nonsense. I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life.” The Captain started, he pricked the tip of his finger to show them that his own blood was red.
Tristan followed, pulling out his dagger and nicking a fleshy part of his hand.
Blue blood.
“You see!” Tristan said as he showed the Captain his hand vehemently.
The Captain stared at Tristan’s hand with his mouth open before getting out of his chair stiffly and heading towards the back cabinet, “I need a drink…. No. Make that, many drinks. Yes… something strong…”
“Dammit! no no no!” Sextus wailed as he watched the conversation settle and Septimus convince himself that he only had blue blood because he had crossed over from the Wall.
“What an idiot! I can’t believe he...” Tertius started, but stopped when he heard Secondus mutter under his breath that Tertius was hardly one to talk.
“Well it doesn’t help that the young man has blue blood now does it.” Quintus pointed out.
“Actually I find that an interesting development.” Primus said as he stroked his beard, “How can there be someone else with blue blood? We don’t have any other brothers.”
“Bastard child?”
“He’s a bit young…” Quartus said, subtly implying that their father had gone impotent not too long after Queen Munynn had disappeared.
“Did any of you have bastard children?”
The brothers’ answers were mostly ‘no’, each with their own set of excuses: didn’t trust the whores, too focused on running away, too focused on killing each other, didn’t like women, Queen Melina killed his wife before she could bear child, had gotten venereal disease from a witch…
“Really!?”
“Yeah, right shame that. She had great breasts.”
A few of the other brothers regarded him warily.
“What other options are there?”
“Oh wait, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner!” Quartus started, “What about Una?”
“Sister?” The brothers asked at the same time.
“But she- we thought she was dead!”
“Well, we don’t know, father never really conducted much of a search-”
“Right! Because father immediately sent everyone to go after Septimus and Queen Munynn!”
“So maybe she isn’t dead.”
“It’s the best explanation.”
“So Una is out there somewhere.”
“I think so.”
“That’s interesting.”
“I wonder what she’s been up to.”
“Are we still in Grimberry Forrest?! I thought I told you to get a move on, girl!”
“I am. The Palace Market was two hundred miles away from where we started. We can’t get there any faster. At the soonest we will be there tomorrow night.”
“Lazy slutton.” The witch muttered. “Hurry it up, you are not to sleep or eat until we reach the pass before the market, stupid girl.”
“Yes mistress.” Una muttered sullenly as she slouched forward tiredly, she hadn’t eaten since early morning before they had started out. But the witch would soon be asleep. If she was lucky, Sal would be too busy to remember to count the food rations once they reached the Palace Market.
“Still charting? I assure you I know the way. I have been almost everywhere in Stormhold via the Casparatine.”
“This is more for me than you. I have no doubt in your familiarity of the land.” Septimus retorted without looking up from the markings.
“For you?”
“It’s very odd. I know where these places are. But I don’t know why. I’ve never been here before in all my life. There’s no possible way I knew that when we headed towards Mount Drummond, we were heading north. And then now to the Palace Market, we’re heading south.”
“And right now?”
“Right now, we’re going over these sharp peaks. I don’t know the name, I just…know.”
“Ah, further proof you are a prince. Only royal blood can sense their domain, whereas the rest of us mere mortals need maps and atlases.”
Septimus looked up with narrowed eyes, trying to decipher if the Captain was mocking him. “At the same time I have also come to the logical conclusion that being able to sense an unseen location is beyond the human cognitive ability. Therefore, this is all just a coincidence”
The Captain shot him an aggravated look, “There are magicks in Stormhold that do not exist in England. And I think that you do believe in these magicks, what you are unable to accept is the fact that you are a prince.”
“It is far more likely that I am not a prince.” Septimus protested, “This isn’t a children’s storybook, it is too highly improbable that any person visiting Stormhold just happens to be a long lost prince. Add on top of that, if you were correct, you also have two members of the royal family on your ship.
Therefore, based on probability, I am leaning towards Tristan’s theory that the blue blood is an indicator people from the other side of Wall and nothing more.” Septimus replied with such finality in his tone that the Captain found that he could not protest against it. The older man gave an indignant huff and left Septimus to his maps.
Lamia was catching up, she knew it. The ship always left a sort of ozone smell in the air, behind it. Nevertheless, she decided to check the runes again to verify her suspicions.
She tossed them until she was satisfied with their answer and returned to her new horse drawn carriage she had stolen from Ferdy the Fence; whom she had cursed to squawk like a monkey, so that he could not report to the authorities that she had taken his carriage.
She lashed the horses again, urging them to go faster. She was so close, she could taste it.
“So he thinks royalty has blue blood?” Yvaine repeated curiously while she sat cozily next to Tristan on the cushions.
“But it doesn’t make sense that Septimus and I are both royalty. The situation is a bit perplexing. Besides, I’ve never seen him in my life, the most we have in common is that we both came over from England.”
“The both of you look a little alike.” Yvaine wheedled.
Tristan gave her an odd look, “I don’t recall looking so angular or having a Roman nose.”
“Well I mean… you both have the same eyes, and your stance.”
“Stance?”
“The way the both of you stand when you’re relaxed, you sort of rest on your right leg at a sort of angle, oh and black hair.”
“A lot of people have dark hair. One-tooth Rory has black hair.” Tristan said using one of the crew as an example.
“You didn’t object to my other points.” Yvaine said, poking him in the shoulder playfully. “And the crew easily accepts the fact that he’s your uncle. If he looked ‘that’ different, they would have been skeptical.”
“I think the crew just believes whatever the Captain wants them to.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well I think they know the Captain is… ‘you know’… but they just go along with it because he’s a good Captain.”
“Perhaps,” She replied agreeably. More than once she had seen one of the crew roll their eyes when the Captain made personality slip (which was much more often than the Captain realized).
The elaborate grandfather clock chimed in the corner, indicating it was 10 o’ clock.
“Out of all the odd knick-knacks the Captain keeps, I think I like this one the most.” Yvaine said as the both of them got up to go gaze upon the clock.
“I can only read the part of the clock that tells time, the rest seems a bit… complicated.”
“It’s a star map, silly. You see, that’s me, the evening star. Coupled with the moon and sun’s position at the bottom here, it tells you the… date.” Yvaine instructed before she grew quiet.
“Yvaine?” Tristan, asked concerned.
“It’s August the third, Victoria’s birthday.” Yvaine said, recalling Tristan’s earlier ramblings about the girl.
“Oh… so it is,” Tristan said slowly, slightly startled, “Well noticed…”
“And it’s night already, you’ve missed it! Oh! I’m so sorry. We’ve been asking you to come along with us to help ‘me’ and we all forgot!”
“No no… it’s alright.” Tristan replies softly, with a sort of growing light in his eyes, as if he were realizing something important. “I think I’m alright with that. I haven’t thought of her in nearly a week…”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I believe I’m doing well without her presence. In fact, I’ve been happier this past week than all the hours spent with her. How odd is that? Perhaps -I have, as they say- fallen out of love with her.”
Yvaine smiled at this, “That’s good.”
Tristan laughed, “For you yes, now you don’t have to hear my ‘nattering’ on about her.”
“Well, that and because now I can do this.” She said as she leaned in and kissed him.
Meanwhile, Captain Shakespeare and Septimus were outside talking. Both were leaning against the railing, looking over the side, and gazing down at the darkening land below.
“You look disturbed Mr. Storm.” The Captain said as glanced over at Septimus’ pensive expression.
“It’s been a week. I was supposed to be home a week ago.”
“Do you have family waiting?”
“My mother.”
“What about your father?”
“I don’t have one. Or at least my mother won’t talk about him.”
“Ah” The Captain replied shortly, but the matching information only helped re-enforce his conviction that Septimus was the seventh missing son of Stormhold.
“Thank god I decided to surprise her instead of sending a letter home before me. If I had, she would have been worried sick. However, I was traveling with companions, if Adam manages to find her and tell her I went missing, I suppose the circumstance would be the same as if I had sent a letter home.”
“So, what do you plan on doing after all this?” The Captain asked, curious.
“Go home, see my mother. Wait for my next dispatch.”
“And that’s what you’re going to do for the rest of your life?”
“Yes, it is the most pragmatic path. Although, I suppose there are at times when I feel as if I had missed out on being something great, on being someone important with great contributions. Finding a cure for disease or figuring out the secrets of the universe. But every man has these thoughts, mine are hardly any different.” Septimus paused and then regarded Captain Shakespeare solemnly, “You still think I’m the prince.”
“All the facts match up.” The Captain pointed out.
“Alright, assuming that I am this so called prince, I am hardly suited.”
“With the exception of Prince Primus, the rest of your brothers were hardly suited to rule either. And even if Prince Primus did become king, he couldn’t have had more than another twenty years left in him. With no son of his own or anyone else left to rule after him, his becoming king could have only led to more trouble. But you, you have intelligence, insight, and no mercurial intent, you could do Stormhold a lot of good.”
“And if I don’t want to be king?”
“Stormhold is in turmoil at the moment, Mr. Storm. Can you not put your own qualms aside for the good of the people?”
“You are asking for a lot, Captain Shakespeare. Moreover, if what you say is true, why not implore Tristan to be king?”
“He is young.”
“He’s got a good head about him.”
“He’s unsure of himself, we need a leader.”
“He’s smart, he’ll learn.”
By now Captain Shakespeare was growing irritated, “And he’s too gullible!”
Septimus found no suitable retort to this, for it was true, the boy was too naïve. He looked away, refusing to meet the Captain’s imploring gaze.
“Do not press me anymore on this.”
“But…”
“However, I do promise I will consider it at length. In the meantime, you must promise me, if I eventually do decide to return to England, forget you ever saw me.” With those final words, Septimus stalked away from Captain Shakespeare and headed inside.
When Septimus opened the door, Tristan and Yvaine quickly separated and looked about the room awkwardly.
“What are you two lovebirds up to?”
“What? Oh no we weren’t… I mean.” The both of them stuttered out at the same time.
Septimus narrowed his eyes at the both of them.
Yvaine caved first, “How did you know? I didn’t know until…”
“One would have been deaf and blind not to know.” Septimus snorted, as if it were the most apparent thing in the world. “Now I’m going to go to bed. It’s been a long day. Please keep it down.”
“Night, Septimus.” The two chorused.
“Good night.” Septimus replied before heading into one of the extra hidden rooms that had a cot set up inside.
Tristan and Yvaine stared at each other after the door closed behind Septimus, before breaking out into quiet giggles.
“We have been a bit silly haven’t we?”
“Only a little.”
“Hello my darlings! Guess what day it is?!” Captain Shakespeare shouted out early in the morning.
“The day we kill Captain Shakespeare?” Septimus retorted morbidly.
“I see, as cheerful as ever. Oh poor dear, you just need some coffee in you. Here you go, just as you like it: stomach curdling black with lots of sugar.”
Septimus replied with a grunt as he silently nursed the large cup.
“Oh, I wonder where the other two are. I hope Tristan didn’t molest the poor girl too much last night.” The comment caused Septimus to choke on this drink. He gave the Captain a baleful glare before resuming to intake the sanity-rendering beverage.
“Oh good morning Captain,” Yvaine said as she and Tristan appeared at the breakfast table. “Septimus, how are you?”
“All of you are entirely too cheerful at this time of morning.” Septimus muttered into his drink.
“The Palace Market starts at seven. We probably want to get in and out before the noon rush.” The Captain explained.
“I thought you were in the Navy, didn’t you have to wake early before?” Tristan asked.
“I was the navigator. We stayed awake at night and slept during the day, since night charting is more accurate than day charting.”
“Oh! That’s like me!” Yvaine chirruped. “Or well, was like me, I slept quite well last night-”
“No details.” Septimus interrupted her before she could continue.
Captain Shakespeare coughed.
Tristan blushed deeply and pretended he didn’t hear a thing.
“Alright, so we will take the north west end of the market, Captain Shakespeare and Septimus will take the north east end, Lenny and Shelby will take the south east end and Roberts and One-tooth Rory will take the south west end, this pole is approximately at the center of the market. So we’ll meet back here at 11, right before lunch and discuss how to resume.” Yvaine told the seven people listening to her intently.
The eight of them split up quickly and as Septimus headed to the first stall, he stopped and quickly turned around.
“What is it?” Captain Shakespeare asked as heard the prince curse under his breath.
“They’re gone.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Thorn and Miss Yvaine.”
“Yes, she did say we were to split up.”
“No, I mean… think for a second, if she has become attached to Mr. Thorn. Why is she looking for the Babylon candle?”
There was a pause.
“I don’t believe she means to leave him, perhaps they are just blindly following their original goal.”
“You have a point, but there are still witches after her, wasn’t the whole purpose of finding a Babylon candle, to get her home, so she would be safe?”
“Yes, but considering that the objective has changed, shouldn’t we be finding something that will kill a witch instead?”
“What are you proposing?”
“I think we should look more diligently for something that will destroy her pursuers and if we happen to see a Babylon candle, we’ll purchase it.”
“Sounds good to me, lead the way, my prince.” The Captain said in a deferring manner.
Septimus shot him an irritated look before continuing to the next shop.
“You again!”
“Have we met?” Sal asked as she gazed upon the half-haggard looking woman, dressed in green, standing before her. They were just outside the pass through the valley, leading into the Palace Market.
The woman narrowed her eyes and lied, “No.”
“But you just said.” Sal said, in a confused tone.
“I can’t have you finding her. I don’t care what the ordinances of the sisterhood say. There is no king, therefore no one to carry out the punishment. I think it’s about time to do away with you permanently.” The woman hissed before a very large surge of green fire erupted from the palm of her hand, taking Sal’s head clean off. The body ran around, fidgeting and flailing wildly before disintegrating into nothing.
The woman cackled loudly, amused with her power until she saw her reflection in one of Sal’s hanging pots.
She gasped, offended at the sight of herself, before angrily muttering about finding that blasted girl. She gazed at the obnoxiously yellow coach and decided to take it into the market, despite how difficult it was to maneuver it through the narrow mountain corridor. If she could pass herself off as one of the merchants, she might be able to find the girl. But before setting out, she pulled a long brown cloak off of the hook next to the front seat and put it on so it would hide her face.
“We’ve been referred five times from other shops. They say you have a Babylon candle.” Yvaine said to the ugly minute man with two extra eyes on his cheeks and blue tinted skin. Tristan wasn’t sure what sort of creature he was, but he kept his expression polite.
“Oh? You seek a Babylon candle eh? I actually have two Babylon candles, but you have to make it worth my while. What will you trade for them?” The man replied in between hacking coughs. He sounded as if his entire throat was clogged with phlegm.
Tristan presented to the man, a long canister of electricity and bag of gold Captain Shakespeare had provided them with back on the ship.
“That’ll only get you one candle.”
“Oh we only want one.”
“Alright then, I’ll get it for you, I would have charged more, seeing how long it takes to make one. Yer better customers than them witches anyways, that’s why I’m givin’ you a discount. I was cursed last time by one of them who didn’t want to bother paying. So I’ve made it a policy not to deal with them. Dishonest horrible conniving....” The man continued to himself as he went into the back in search of a candle. He quickly brought it back out and wrapped it up in parchment paper. Tristan noticed it was longer than the one his mother had given him as baby.
“There you go.”
They agreeably traded their items and went on their way.
“It’s five minutes until 11, let’s hurry back.” Yvaine told Tristan with a beaming smile, unable to help glowing as he took her hand.
“Not so fast.” A crone like voice said as a yellow caravan and hooded figure stopped in front of the couple.
The scream alerted Septimus first and he quickly turned away from the pole to head towards the source of the noise.
“I think that was Yvaine.” The Captain told his men as they followed after Septimus, who was running towards a crowd of busy shop-goers running away from the commotion.
Septimus did not bother to wait for the others as he pushed through the crowd towards the sound of a familiar cackling and magical discharge.
Septimus reached into his coat for his pistol, since he had the temporary window of surprise at the moment.
(Earlier, he had bought the pistol from a warlock that had gotten it from Market Town by Wall and never figured out how to use it. But the warlock did enchant some of the bullets because he thought he would be using it. Septimus had discretely tested the pistol and found that it was in good condition before taking it off of the warlock’s hands).
Unfortunately, at the moment he did not have the time to load his pistol with the spelled bullets, so he resigned himself to only using the current plain bullets inside. The woman may be a witch, but she was not immortal yet.
He took quick aim as the witch paid her attentions on tossing an oversized clay vase at the couple and shot at her heart. Unfortunately, his pistol was not nearly as good as he had hoped, the bullet went wide two inches over and possibly punctured a lung instead hitting the heart.
The witch suddenly turned on him, seemingly unaffected by the bullet, and angrily flung him towards the caravan as hard as she could. The sickening thud along with the crack of wood indicated how hard she had flung him. He fell to the ground and did not move.
In the background Yvaine screamed Septimus’ name. Unnoticed by Lamia, Yvaine, and Tristan, the woman inside the caravan (who had not made her presence known earlier to Lamia) also heard the familiar name of her brother. Revealing herself from her hiding place, she quickly got out of the caravan to verify her suspicions.
And there he was, lying unconscious under a trail of blue blood smeared against the side of the damaged caravan.
Una quickly hopped down to check on his pulse and gave a sigh of relief, he was alive. She hooked two hands under his arms and dragged him back and away from the fight, hoping that she would not cause further damage by moving him.
Una froze when she heard the blonde girl scream out in protest as the witch took the Babylon candle and was running towards her own direction.
“Out of the way girl” Lamia hissed at Una, but Una only clung onto Septimus harder. Lamia’s eyes narrowed further. “Fine, have it your way.”
From the tip of the witch’s finger a light spark flew towards Una’s forehead and she fell over like a rag-doll.
Lamia turned to the couple and gave them a final warning, “If you value the life of your friend, I shall be holding him ransom at Crow’s Ridge Point. You know what I want.”
Despite the brief pause, the dark haired boy could not reach the witch in time as Lamia lit the candle, took a hold of Septimus’ hand, and disappeared with the last son of the late Lord of Stormhold.
To be Continued...