-To Repair-

Callan awoke to golden orbs and an empty stomach. He sat up quickly to take stock of his surroundings. He was inside Hyasin, which meant the gift had lasted long enough for them to reach the mythical lighthouse.

And what did the lighthouse warn people from? Who was Flage directing in the heavens? Who was he saving?

Jordan was nowhere to be seen, but if he had made it safely, there was no reason she wouldn’t have as well.

Callan knew where Flage would be and began his climb. Morning light streamed through the windows, beams of warmth that hit his face and hands, reflecting off his hair.

The intricate wooden door was open, which surprised him. Knocking gently on the door, he entered the expansive space that was Flage’s domain. The man’s research and instruments were spread strategically throughout the room, his godlike Orenda splashing freely in the great bowl above Callan’s head.

The wonders that Orenda could accomplish. If a gift from Flage led to the command of the skies and seas, what could pure Orenda do?

“I heard you’re a decent cook. I hope your cooking is better than your sailing.” Flage’s voice was commanding, even though the pitch was mild.

The guardian was descending from the platform above, silent on his feet as always. Callan could see the massive battle ax rising over Flage’s left shoulder. A Forlorn gifted in both Orenda and weaponry—it was a potent combination that Callan envied.

“I… where did you hear… my sailing?”

Flage cleared his throat. “The Heightened is resting on my stones in pieces. Who else should I hold responsible?”

“A pack of sulfins,” Callan answered truthfully.

“And your indomitable pride. Guildedsun appraised me of events last night while you were recovering from the gift’s exacting weight.”

“And she told you I’m a pretty good cook?” The day was starting to improve already.

“Feel free to prove it.” Flage gestured back down the stairs Callan had just come up. “To the left of the great room is a pantry and kitchen.”

“And where is Jordan?”

“She wanted to explore Hyasin,” Flage responded simply before striding over to one of several desks and perching in a chair, where he started writing notes in a loose, intricate script.

He could have sent me to the kitchen before I climbed all ten stories…

***

The pantry had been surprisingly well-stocked. The lighthouse guardian seemed inhuman enough that Callan had secretly wondered if the man even needed to eat. But cured meat, large wheels of cheese, and a staggering variety of fruit and vegetables—all a strange, perfect shade of white as though bleached of color—were neatly organized and easy to access, which seemed at odds with the rest of the lighthouse.

How Flage obtained this kind of food when he lived in a floating lighthouse above nothing but the Glacian Sea was a mystery Callan would ponder after a well-deserved breakfast.

The kitchen layout was also intuitive, and soon Callan had a large wooden bowl filled with his invented breakfast. He placed several plates and utensils on top of the serving bowl and began the laborious hike back to the top of the lighthouse.

Jordan had better tell people I’m more than a decent cook after this lightstruck display.

She was there when he finally finished the ascent, a hefty tome next to her. She sat cross-legged in a large chair, laughing from something.

Surely not anything to do with Flage. That man could cleave a sense of humor in two with that weapon of his.

“Prepare to be amazed,” Callan warned, not even bothering to find a seat as he sank to the floor, setting the food beside him. “Come and get it.”

Flage’s portion was small and neat, and he ate in between glances at two books on his desk. Jordan’s portion was larger, and she thanked Callan before joining him on the floor.

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“I told Flage you were a pretty good cook. I think that convinced him to rescue you last night.”

“Rescue me?” Callan almost choked on the hot meat covered with melted cheese and thick slices of redcrisps. “Rescue me from what? Did a sulfin hitch a ride?”

Jordan laughed, pulling her hair away from her face and throwing it behind her back before taking another bite of her meal. “No. But whatever happened to get us here last night drained you. I didn’t have the strength to move you, but Flage picked you up like you weighed nothing and brought you into the lighthouse.”

“I made you breakfast, so I don’t owe you any favors,” Callan was quick to add, looking over at the reclusive guardian, lost in his studies.

“On the contrary,” Flage said dryly, nibbling on a piece of meat. “The Heightened must be repaired.”

“You’re a master of Orenda. Surely it would only take you two seconds…”

“And you’re going to learn a simple lesson. You cannot fix everything with Orenda. You will repair the ship, and you will repair her without Orenda.”

Callan was growing tired of choking on the breakfast he had worked so hard to prepare.

“That could take weeks!”

“With my supervision and guidance, it will take seven days.”

“I’ll have to fashion an entirely new mast, and from what materials? Not to mention the sails…”

“You sought out a fight where there was no need. Now you’ll pay the price for your ‘fun.’”

“I had no idea we were sailing into a nest! It’s not like common maps of Ealias illustrate the favored locations of sea monsters. And what about Jordan?” Callan retorted, pointing his utensil at her accusatorially, but he couldn’t help but grin.

“She already expressed a willingness to help, although the main burden will fall on your shoulders, as captain.”

“You did look like you were enjoying your wrestle with the sea monsters,” Jordan teased, gently nudging him with her elbow.

She was in a good mood this morning. Which honestly didn’t make any sense, given that Flage had been her only companion up until now.

“I’m going to protect my ship and the lives of those aboard it,” he stated. “I don’t regret my choice at all. It was nothing more than luck that you reasoned out that we were in their nest and used the sunsword to distract them long enough for us to escape.”

“Luck that saved you the work of repairing three masts instead of one.” She smiled at him, and the jab didn’t shoot through him like the grin did.

“Where did you get the book?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the book she’d left in the chair she’d been perched in.

“Flage. I haven’t opened it yet, but from the little he told me, it might be a little like The Heightened.”

“Waterproof?”

“No, more than it appears.”

“It might also be waterproof, we should test it.” Callan was joking, but Jordan seemed to tense up at the suggestion, like he’d threatened to throw her into the sea.

“Flage, I think Cal is eager to get started.”

***

Jordan wasn’t sure where Flage had gathered the materials, but large white planks of wood that matched the wood of The Heightened lay on the large stretch of smooth stones where the ship rested on her side.

Long swathes of cloth were folded to the side, and the assortment of tools were enough to remind Jordan of her first day of weapon instruction, when the dozens of different weapon types, all with their different names and uses, were strange and unfamiliar to her.

Long, jagged saws; much smaller, more refined hooks; knives and blades—Cal hadn’t been wrong to protest when Flage had insisted they repair the ship by hand.

Cal looked as lost as she did, although he hid his uncertainty behind his confident, relaxed demeanor. He held himself like a leader, and while part of Jordan was jealous, most of her was relieved there were people like him so she could avoid the weight of such responsibility.

“Excited to begin your training, Shadows, Jordan?” Flage asked. As always, he’d appeared behind them as quietly as the moon or sun shifting in the sky.

“Certainly,” Cal grinned, a smile that was fierce and slightly cocky. He’d re-donned his dark, broad-brimmed hat once more, which only added to his devil-may-care persona.

Jordan nodded, still eyeing the assorted tools and supplies with skepticism. This has to take more than a week…

“Excellent. In that case, you and I will begin refashioning the main body of the mast.”

“And Jordan?” Cal was quick to ask. She was just as curious as he was and looked at Flage expectantly.

“Will join us later. There are some books littered throughout the lighthouse that might be of interest to you, Jordan. I can’t permit you to take them with you when you depart, but you can delve into them as much as you want in the week you are here.

“I’ll summon you when we need your assistance.”

Flage was far more formal when Cal was present. To Jordan it was obvious that the two men both respected and annoyed each other. Cal was oozing charisma, Flage authority.

Shrugging her shoulders, Jordan couldn’t resist smirking at Cal behind Flage’s back before turning and jogging up to the lighthouse, intrigued by Flage’s vague hints and clues.

There was clearly something in those books meant for her.

And he had no intent of telling her what it was.