“Oh?”
Arnaud quickly put on his magnetic slippers and then moved over to unfasten the crate. “I found this waiting for me at my father’s house. An old friend of mine, an inventor of sorts, had been developing this and ran into a few hiccoughs, as it were. He was wondering if I could improve the design.” He opened the crate and the wondrous contraption inside was revealed.
To Arnaud’s delight, Nathanial’s eyes lit up. It appeared to be a kind of lamp, with three terrariums atop a brass and wooden box. One terrarium contained a plant and the two smaller ones contained what looked like wicks.
“Get it on to the table then. Let’s see what we have!” Nathanial said, his face beaming.
Arnaud smiled, hoping that this was a project that would break up the days. But he was even more glad that he could share it with Nathanial.
4.
IT HAD BEEN
nice to keep the company of Arnaud while in the common room, but Annabelle was left frustrated by the ill-feeling that had been gnawing at the back of her mind. She knew that there was something amiss, but could not quite put her finger on it. The most obvious answer had been her disappointment that her betrothed was not available while
Esmeralda
docked on Earth, but that was only a part of it. There was something else.
The thoughts had been in her head ever since she had retired to her room, and they would not release their grip on her. She had been trying to sleep, but to no avail. Every time she thought she had cleared her mind, it drifted back to Bedford. She missed him dearly; when would she see him again?
After spending more time failing to achieve sleep, Annabelle decided to take a visit to the control deck to see Folkard. They had not really had a chance to speak since returning to the ship.
Unusually the control deck door was closed, so she knocked tentatively.
“Ah, Miss Annabelle, what can I do for you?”
“Sorry for the intrusion, Captain. I cannot sleep.”
Folkard cleared his throat. “If you will forgive my impertinence, may I enquire if this has something to do with Commander Bedford’s inability to attend you on Earth?”
Annabelle was taken aback. “How…how did you know?”
Folkard chuckled. “Hardly a secret, my dear. Charlotte and I…” He smiled sadly. “We had the same trouble. The life of a Navy captain and his wife is not the easiest. Much like everything in life, the best things are those for which you must work the hardest. There were many times I missed Charlotte more than I’d care to admit, but the thought of seeing her again kept me going. Such thoughts can keep you going, too. And if you ever need it, you can come to me.”
For a moment silence sat comfortably between them. “You miss her still.”
Folkard looked away, his eyes drifting to the aether outside. “Always,” he said, “and completely.”
5.
ANNABELLE AWOKE TO
complete darkness.
“Hello?” she called out uncertainly. No response. She felt as if she was standing up. When had she got out of bed? Was she just imagining all of this?
There was a noise just in front of her, to her right side. Annabelle held her breath, expecting a strike. Nothing came. Instead, she heard the soft crunch of feet pattering on a grassy floor—where was she? Now that she had noticed the sound of the grass, she could feel it between her toes. The footsteps came to a stop, followed by a sharp thud.
“Hello?”
She heard a young girl sniffling, punctuated by several small sobs.
“I’m scared,” the girl whimpered.
“What are you scared of?” Annabelle said into the darkness. “I can help you!”
“No, you can’t. No-one can.”
There was a blinding flash of light. She was in an open plain at night. It was almost familiar. Giant mountains in the distance seemed to pierce the sky. The grassy floor filled the immediate area. Sitting in front of her was the young, sobbing girl. She had her back to Annabelle. All thoughts of how she could be here fell out of her mind as a maternal instinct took over, and she walked quickly to the girl’s side.
“Go away,” the girl said, not looking Annabelle in the face.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, worried only for the safety of the girl.
“I said go away. I don’t want to talk to you.”
Annabelle knelt by the girl, and tried to touch her shoulder reassuringly, but the girl shrugged her off, still sniffling. She watched the girl for a few moments, trying to figure out what to say to her. The girl jumped up at a sound in the distance.
“What was that?” Annabelle asked her, looking around for the source of the sound. Without answer, the girl ran away. To or away from the source, Annabelle could not tell. She tried to give chase, but the girl had already sprinted far enough away that Annabelle would never be able to catch her. She stumbled as she ran, falling flat on her face.
And awoke face down on her bed, sweating profusely. She shot up and looked around her. She was definitely in her quarters aboard the flyer. Had it all just been a dream? She took a sip from the water by her bedside, the weird feeling in the pit of her stomach slowly fading away.
That was all it had been. A dream. It would be silly to get worked up over that. She lay back down in bed, trying again for a peaceful sleep.
6.
ARNAUD FOUND HIMSELF
lying flat against the hard floor, trying to remember where he was and how he got there.
He sat up, only to be met with wave of light-headedness. He steadied himself and drew a deep breath. It came as a surprise that what he found before him was quite pleasant, almost picturesque.
Beautiful stone walls bathed in a slate grey shade wrapped their way around to form a single room. There was a fireplace to his left that radiated rich warmth, whereas in front of him was a large door, nestled between two ornate windows.
Odd, but he was not going to complain. His vision clearer, he stood up.
Next to the windows there was a wooden table and chair. Perhaps this was some sort of lodge? He tried to peer out a window, but the frostiness of the pane did not allow him to do so. He pulled up at the cast-iron latch and heaved open the door.
The brightness seared into his eyes and they screwed shut involuntarily. He brought up an arm to shield his face then opened his eyes cautiously as he shuffled through the doorframe. The chill hit him, but was not a deadly cold.
The landscape began as a white blur, and then slowly took form.
It was quite the spectacular view. The house was perched atop a large rolling mountain. The plains below were so extensive that Arnaud had trouble figuring out where the land stopped and the sky began. There were no visible celestial objects to been seen above, but a plenitude of light emitted from somewhere.
His admiration at the sight was interrupted. There was a snapping sound nearby. Arnaud turned to look. There was another house to the right roughly ten feet away. Only this one was made of not just wood, but sticks, too. The bizarre choice of building material bothered Arnaud’s sense of engineering. How the structure maintained its integrity was a mystery, with sticks piled up to form walls, longer sticks sloping down to create the roof.
Such a structure could not be water-tight, or even resistant to the elements. Even the “windows” seemed to be only constructed of two thin slivers of stick, crossed over one other.
Then he saw him. Through one of the gaps in the walls, a tall man slumped on a chair made of a similar ramshackle wooden design.
“Nathanial,” Arnaud whispered.
Before he had even a chance to react, a large, dark, hairy beast emerged from behind the stick house.
Arnaud would have sworn he could almost name it, but couldn’t say why. Eyes like onyx met Arnaud’s gaze. Its mouth crept up, forming what could only be described as a mangled smile. But was happiness the emotion that this creature was trying to convey? Did this beast even have the capacity to convey such a thing?
Without warning the beast swung a colossal arm at the house and it sent splinters flying. Arnaud flinched so much so that he fell backward, landing on his posterior.
“Merde!”
No, this was not right!
“
Arrêter
!
You know better than this!”
The beast looked straight at him. Arnaud looked deeper into its eyes and recognition flushed through the Frenchman, but they appeared to be blacker than the last time Arnaud had seen them; the kind of black that was devoid of all reason and logic. For a moment they bathed in each other’s gaze, only to be broken when Arnaud turned to look back through the gap in the house’s wall, searching for his…
There! It was definitely Nathanial, Arnaud had no doubt about that, but something was amiss about him.
All his features were present; his head of red hair, his rich whiskers. But he seemed to be drained of colour. He almost looked like a daguerreotype, unmoving and…
Was he alive?
Adrenaline seared through Arnaud as he bolted for the door, powering through the thick layer of snow the ground was coated in. He was nearly there when he saw a lumbering movement on his periphery and he dropped out of instinct.
As he fell, he saw a huge arm swing over him and then crash into the house once again.
It sounded like a giant breaking a twig.
Shielding his eyes from a mist of splinter, Arnaud scrambled for the door handle while rising from the floor to his knees. The beast pulled his fist out of the wall, leaving a gaping gash big enough for a man to pass through.
Arnaud dived through it.
Inside, the room was cramped and unpleasant. The beast continued to tear through walls but Arnaud was more preoccupied with his friend lifelessly perched on the chair. He scrambled over to Nathanial, planted his hands on each shoulder and shook. “Nathanial, we must leave this place!” But there was no response, only a vacant stare fixing on nothing.
There was a huge smashing sound. The beast was now inside.
“Listen to me, Nathanial! We are not safe.” Arnaud grabbed his hand; he was icy cold to the touch. He tried to wrench Nathanial out of the chair, but he seemed to be fixed in place.
The beast could be heard getting closer, breathing heavily.
Arnaud was not leaving without Nathanial. He turned his head, just in time to see the tusked maw that was moving to envelope him…
He woke violently, thrashing out, clammy from the heat of the lab.
“Have you quite finished?” asked a sleepy voice nearby.
Arnaud was out of breath; he had never had a dream quite like that before. “I had nightmare,” he managed between gasps.
“That much was evident, I assure you.”
Arnaud saw a ginger head emerge from near his feet. Prior to leaving Earth, Nathanial had allowed Arnaud free use of the cot he had set up in the lab, due to the illness that had ailed him since Ceres, but now that he was well again Arnaud had insisted that they equally share the cot. At first Nathanial was against the idea: “really, Arnaud, what would the captain say at such an idea?” But Arnaud pointed out, with his usual
irrérvérence
, that he did not require the captain’s presence in his bed, too. Nathanial had soon relented.
“What could have occurred in that dream of yours that I should receive such a thrashing?” Nathanial asked, with a tone of annoyance tinged with sympathy.
Arnaud realised that some of the erratic movements in his dreams must have translated into the real world. “Sorry,
mon cher ami
, it was slightly distressing.”
At this Nathanial sat up, his brows creasing in concern. “So… What of the dream?”
“Oh, nothing, it just a dream,
non
?” Arnaud batted away the question quickly. He was still rife with the emotion of the dream itself, so he couldn’t discuss it. “Let us rest, though. It will not do well for us to have our sleep being disturbed.” Arnaud turned over and hoped that he would forget the dream.
Chapter Two
“Nature Vs Man-Made”
1.
THE MORNINGS ON
board the flyer were often bizarre for Nathanial; the lack of both sunrise and sunset while travelling the aether sometimes upset his sleep pattern. Although Nathanial’s sleep had been disturbed by Arnaud’s thrashing, something else was niggling away at his mind, keeping him from sleep.
The Frenchman lay splayed out in an uncomfortable looking position on the cot while Nathanial dressed.
“Did you sleep well, or is that a question that you may find too intrusive?” Nathanial asked before turning away to continue readying himself for the day.
Arnaud yawned rather inelegantly and rubbed his face before talking. “It is no secret that sharing such a small cot between us is far from ideal. Were you expecting it to be cosy?” Arnaud asked, waggling an eyebrow.
Nathanial felt his cheeks flush. “Arnaud, can you cease the jesting for just a moment? You were clearly in distress while you slept last night, and I am merely expressing a little bit of concern.”
Arnaud frowned and heaved himself into a sitting position. “Well perhaps your concern is not required at the moment,
mon cher
.”
Frustration continued to grow. “You think calling my name in your sleep is nothing of concern?”
Arnaud froze and cleared his throat (rather melodramatically, Nathanial thought). He rose from the cot and floated over to one of the equipment cabinets. “What did I say exactly?”
Nathanial sighed exasperatedly while pulling on his frock coat. “Just my name, I suppose, and also something like mina or minor.”
Arnaud raised an eyebrow. “And these words I spoke were sufficient evidence for you to be concerned?”