Aeternitas by M Mixson (free ereaders txt) 📖

uh, something isn’t right. I just don’t know what.”

Leer sighed, “Sometimes weather like this can change a person’s mood. Even to me sometimes it is off putting. I’ve always said if I had to die I’d rather the Empress take me while I’m at sea.”

Leer patted Diar’s shoulder, “I don’t mean to push you away, but gut feelings aren’t very useful if you can’t tell me what’s making your gut twinge.”

Diar gripped the old man’s forearm. “I don’t blame you. It might turn out to be nothing in the end anyways.”

“Good boy,” Leer smiled at him and motioned him out of the cabin, “Go on then, get back to that protégé of yours.”

Diar left his old friend feeling a bit worried but realizing that at this point, Leer was right – there was not much they could do on gut feelings.

He tried to keep his tread light on the stairs so as not to wake up any of the passengers; the walls were thin and often times the smallest noise could easily wake a person up.

Back at his own suite, he watched the storm that raged and his gut got a twinge again.

He placed a hand over his belly and shook his head before going to sleep.

Morning dawned with a slightly cloudy day but with no more signs of a storm on the horizon. Ohiel turned over in his bed and for the first time in a week, he wasn’t sick.

He swung his feet over the side of the bed and stretched, his fingers brushing the ceiling. He yawned and rubbed a hand through his messy hair. He yawned again and stood, his legs trembling because it had been a good week since he had actually walked around.

He had finished dressing when Diar knocked on his door. “May I come in?”

“I’m actually coming out,” Ohiel told him.

“You’re up?” Diar sounded surprised so Ohiel opened the door.

“I’m feeling much better today on all counts.” Ohiel stifled another yawn. “Although it feels like I could do with some more sleep.”

Diar stepped back from the doorway to let Ohiel through. “Do you feel up to breakfast?”

As if in response Ohiel’s stomach growled loudly. “Yes, apparently I am.”

Ohiel closed the door to their room as they left and asked, “Do you know where Blose is? She offered to give me a haircut and I’d like to take her up on that offer.”

The older man shook his head. “I don’t know where she is. I’m sure we could ask the serving staff if they’ve seen her about anywhere.”

Instead of eating in their suite this morning, they had decided to eat in the main dining hall with the majority of the other ships passengers.

Breakfast was a light fare, some slightly toasted bread and butter with a side of honey, some hot tea and tiny bowl of strawberries and cream.

“Mmmm,” Ohiel made a pleased noise in his throat. “This is delightful.” He munched on another strawberry. “These are really good, the ones I’ve had before weren’t nearly as sweet as these were.”

“I’m glad you like them,” the familiar voice of Blose said over his shoulder. “I heard you were looking for me.”

Ohiel rose from his seat and turned towards here. “I was – you offered to give me a haircut and I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer.”

Blose refilled his teacup as she talked to him, “That’s fine, but I’ll only have some time later on today. Do you mind waiting? I’m sure you can find something to do in the meantime.”

“I’m sure I can,” Ohiel responded to her request. “I think I’ll be on the top deck.”

Diar cut in, “Actually, I want to teach you some new tricks with the contrapposto I was telling you about. There are some other techniques like impasto and tenebrism you’ve yet to learn. This free time will give you time to practice.”

“I’ll find you later then,” Blose told them before she left to refill another passenger’s teacup.

Diar and Ohiel left and returned to their cabin where Diar explained both impasto and tenebrism.

“Impasto is where the paint is layered on thickly in some areas and very thin in others. Tenebrism is where the background is very dark with a single source of light in the painting. The light does not necessarily have to make since in its location. Here, try drawing that still life I set up over there using impasto and tenebrism.”

Ohiel very carefully sketched out the still life and then slowly began building up the paint in darker areas and using less paint in the lighter ones. A few hours later he’d completed his rather simple still life and Diar was nodding his head.

“That’s quite good. That’s what I’m talking about. Once you get more practice you’ll get even better.”

As Diar was lecturing him on his mistakes Blose came into the room and had him sit in the chair so she could cut his hair. Diar continued his lecture even while Blose cut his hair.

When it seemed that Diar was winding down his speech Blose cut in. “May I see this painting you seem to be critiquing so heavily?”

“Ohiel?” Diar asked.

“It’s fine with me,” he told him. “I don’t mind. I’ll have to get used to showing my work anyways, won’t I?”

“I’m sure you will,” Diar’s reply sounded a bit too ambiguous for Ohiel’s liking but he decided to leave it alone.

Diar brought over the painting so Blose could see it. “I think it’s very nice. I like how it looks almost three dimensional.”

The older man was smug. “I taught him how to do that. Although his landscapes were good and his portraits were decent he needed more refinement. I’ve been giving that to him.”

Blose shook her head, “He’s got raw and natural talent; even I can see that, Mister Master Painter.”

Diar narrowed his eyes at Blose. “Are you making fun of me? Have you ever tried painting?”

Blose sighed and left the comment alone only saying, “I’m finished darling; you look much more handsome now. Remember to get it cut regularly, you will feel better and people will take you more seriously if you look like you’re sophisticated.”

She brushed the bangs out of his eyes. “I’ll see you soon,” she told him and left.

The evening started out normally (despite another raging storm) but as the night progressed, another storm started to converge on the ship. This storm was much more dangerous than any actual storm: it was a mutiny. Diar and Ohiel awakened to several large bangs on their door before several burly men who had been part of the cleaning crew broke it down.

They found themselves hustled to the dining room with the rest of the passengers and once there the two of them were forced to take seats at one of the tables.

There was a couple sitting across from them, holding onto each other’s hands as if it were the last thing they would ever be able to do.

Diar watched with a slightly detached expression what was going on, but made sure to keep one eye at all times on Ohiel. Ohiel looked scared, and he had every right to be – Diar had promised to keep him safe and here they were captured be renegades.

Ohiel leaned over and whispered to him, “Are they pirates?”

Diar wanted to laugh at his naiveté. “No, they’re not just pirates, they’re former military soldiers turned pirates.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I have no idea – go along with them and hope that we get out of this alive.”

In the back of his mind, Ohiel knew there was only a very slim chance of this; that there was likely not going to be any escape or rescue. They were too far out to sea at this point. Still, he hoped.

Slowly mental exhaustion began to set in and Ohiel’s head drooped as his eyelids fluttered. He was able to stall his sleepiness for an extra hour by pinching himself when he started to daydream. He could see Diar next to him, looking nonchalant as he leaned back in his chair as if there was nothing amiss and everyone had gathered for one big party.

He had just fallen into a light dose when a booming voice rang out above all the sobs,

“Your captain is dead! We’ve taken control of this ship. You’ll all be fine as long as –”

Before the man could finish his sentence, a huge force rocked the ship. Cries were no longer stifled as people were tossed from one side of the ship’s dining room to the other.

The man who had come in with the leader was shouting, “What’s going on?! Someone answer me!”

Ohiel was surprised when it was Diar who answered, “You must be terrible pirates if you don’t even realize it’s the storm that’s causing this.”

The leader turned to him and snarled, “Fix this!”

Diar strolled casually up towards him. “I’m not the master of the storm – I can’t help you any. You killed the one man who might have been able to save us all.”

The leader backhanded Diar so hard the man staggered back with blood dripping down his face.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

Diar looked up challengingly. “You’ll have to make me then,” he remarked as he wiped the blood from his face. “Of course, I also might be able to help you, but that all depends if you’ll cooperate with me or not.”

“We won’t be cooperating with anybody, you’ll be doing as we say or we’ll start killing passengers.”

Ohiel quivered in his chair as the fear for Diar began to overcome him – what was the man playing at here?

Another wave shook the ship and people screamed as there was a groaning noise.

The ship was literally trembling and from where he sat Ohiel could see widening cracks in the ship’s side.

“Diar!” he cried out.

Diar turned and faced him, the only sign he gave that he understood the problem was a little head nod and a finger to his lips.

Ohiel sank back against the seat as one of the pirate captain’s men approached.

“What’s wrong, kid? This your first time on a ship?”

Ohiel held up his head and did not look away from the pirate’s face.

“That’s none of your business.”

“I rather think it is, you’re on our ship now.”

Ohiel stepped forward almost into the man’s personal space. “It’s not your ship if you can’t control it.”

“You’re a smartass little brat, aren’t you? How’d you like to be locked in the brig?”

“There isn’t a brig in this ship; it’s not the type of ship you’re thinking about. It’s a passenger ship which means all it has is rooms.”

“Hey, Captain! The little twerp seems to know something about how a ship works, maybe we should bring him up to the bridge and see if he can steer this damned thing.”

Ohiel pushed down the panic and tried to breathe through his fear. It had been a long time since he had controlled a ship and only then it had been his father’s small fishing boats before he learned that he got severely seasick.

The boy found himself pushed up to the bridge where he was placed in the guard of two more burly men who were carefully watching his every move.

The captain who had come up with them placed his doughy paws on Ohiel’s shoulders and whispered in his ear, “You get this boat to land or we’ll kill all the passengers on this ship.”

Ohiel looked at the men surrounding him, at the rain that was pouring down, at the half destroyed main mast, listened to the creaking and groaning of the ship and said,

“None of us are ever going to make it to dry land again.”

The captain’s eyes seemed to blaze a bright red and Ohiel stepped back.

“I’ll tell you one more time – steer this ship or I’ll kill those passengers.”

“I can’t! If I force the ship one way or another against this wind and the current it’ll break into pieces; can’t you hear it?”

Ohiel watched as the pirate’s listened to the ships creaking and