Chapter Twelve: The Dark Taper
If someone had told Finneas he’d be picking up the excrement from two rather putrid highland calves, he would’ve had second thoughts about running away from home. Finneas had a better time trenching through the sewers in Angleum; that at least smelled like fancy perfume compared to the manure the beasts produced on what seemed an hourly routine. Using a shovel, the group's older boys picked up the waste, throwing it into a large container. Even when the lid was shut, the smell continue to linger. The owner of the highland calves insisted the waste product his creatures produced would be used as fertiliser back in the Imperial City. According to the man, cow poo was quite rare and highly sort after. He said it’ll sell for a high price. Finneas doubted that, but it wasn't like he was an expert in selling chaff.
It was only the beginnings of Finneas’s woes; later that evening they were tasked to give the brownish-purple beasts a good scrubbing. Finneas was somewhat annoyed his younger brother and friends only had the task of feeding the calves – the animals ate what appeared to be pellets of compressed corn. The younger kids’ tasks were far easier, and Kistoph, as usual, made a point to complain.
“Why do we have to shovel all this stuff, while they…” Kistoph stared at Teller, who’d finished his task, and was now reading one of his books, "…get to lay about? That’s total chaff, I think.”
“Hey, don’t swear,” Petro, the owner of the highland calves said. The man was keeping an eye on the kids, to make sure they did their jobs properly. “A lady’s present.”
“She’s not much of a lady,” Kistoph said under his breath. He made sure only Finneas and Lochen could hear. “If you saw her on a field playing a game of ball, you’d think differently.”
Finneas and his friends continued shovelling the animal waste into the container. Another half-hour passed when Petro called Finneas up.
“Curls,” the man remarked – Finneas wasn't a big fan of people calling him that but decided not to complain. "Finn… was it," Petro continued, “I’ve another task for you. I need to deliver this, my friend.”
The man handed Finneas a package. Holding the package tightly, Finneas proceeded to do as instructed. This was perhaps the third or fourth time the man had given him an errand to do. He wasn't sure why the man kept asking him to relay messages, deliver packages, or whatnot; but any chance to get away from lumbering cow poo was a relief. Kistoph gave him a strange look. His friend seemed peeved at Finneas being able to skip doing all the disgusting work. Finneas didn't blame his friend's attitude – he would've thought the same if fortune had turned. The least Finneas could do was not gloat about it. He quickly left the room.
Finneas walked leisurely. He wasn’t in any hurry. He passed a few people, not paying much attention. No one bothered the child. Most of the ship’s crew turned a blind eye to him, while the passengers mainly ignored him entirely – after all, Finneas was just another traveller passing through. The only exception was a man named Fagis – or at least that’s what everyone seemed to call him. Not much was known about the man. The sailors said he was a regular on the ship, occasionally travelling back and forth between the Free Cities and the Imperial Capital. The man reeked of cheap ale – the stuff only grunts in the army would drink. The smell seemed to linger, even after the man had left. Finneas remembered sailors back in Angluem drinking the stuff. Finneas never thought much of the ale then, and even now still couldn’t stomach the smell. He once drank it, secretly without the matron knowing, but the bitter taste would always cause him to spit the stuff out. His friend, however, preferred the stuff – something which worried Finneas somewhat.
It was impossible to tell how old Fagis was. The man's appearance remained unkempt. He didn't seem to care about how he looked. A scraggly beard, a tattered old long cloak that had seen better days; nothing out of the ordinary. What did catch Finneas’s eye was the drunk's shining blue teeth. At some point or another, the man had probably lost a tooth in a fight or something. Whatever he was using to replace his missing teeth, only the Maker truly knew.
Every time Finneas had to do some errands for Petro he was always forced to walk past the drunk. Fagis frequently visited the ship’s bar. The man would sit near the entrance, staring intensely at the other patrons. Usually, this was the only thing Fagis would do – although the staring could be bothersome, the man never approached anyone, or caused major problems – this was probably why the ship’s owner put up with the drunk. But for some unknown reason, Fagis seemed to take an interest in Finneas. Finneas wondered whether the man had heard about how a group of children ran away from Angluem. Perhaps the man had caught on and realised Finneas was one of those fugitive kids. News seemed to spread quite quickly it seemed. He hoped by pulling the hood over his head, Finneas wouldn’t be observed as much. Although the tactic worked for most people, it didn’t fool the drunk. Whoever he was, the man thought he knew Finneas from somewhere. Finneas simply hoped the man didn't piece all the parts together. Hopefully, the bottles of liquor could cloud the man's judgement.
Finneas passed the package over to the barkeeper – he couldn't exactly remember the man's name, but it might've been Davis or Davos. The man wrote something in his notebook. He muttered something, before giving Finneas a note. Finneas placed it in one of his pockets. It was important to return the slip to Petro. Finneas turned around to leave.
“Felec?” the drunk remarked. “No… never… it’s really you?”
"I think you're mistaking me for someone else," Finneas deflected, trying his best to end the conversation as quickly as possible. He had no clue who this Felec was. He didn’t even want to know, let alone bother to ask.
"I'm sure… I'm sure it's you… it's me, Thegos,” the man continued. “We fought in the Battle at the Grey Quarter, remember?”
Finneas barely had the faintest idea what the drunk was even rambling about. Nothing he said made sense. Surely, the man was mistaking Finneas for someone else – someone the drunk knew many years ago. Finneas tried to leave, but the man stood up, blocking his path. He tried to find a way around the man, but Fagis – or whatever the man’s name was – refused to budge.
“Leave the boy alone,” a mysterious figure appeared. Finneas unaware the other man was even there. Wearing a hood, it was practically impossible to discern the man's face. The mysterious person placed his metal hand on the drunk's shoulder. Fegis immediately backed down, sitting back in his chair without much fuss. “Go now, boy,” the other man instructed. “I’m sure Petro is waiting for you.”
Finneas did as he was told. He didn't bother to ask his sudden saviour his identity. It was probably a friend of Petro, Finneas decided. No need to probe further. He was glad to get away from the drunk. Finneas quickly made his way back to the ship’s storage room. Like before, people mostly ignored him. Finneas did see a young couple kissing. Finneas briefly glanced at the pair, before diverting his gaze. The wife had become aware Finneas was staring at them. There’s no point annoying someone, he decided, especially by giving them unwanted glares. Doing so was probably a good thing. Just as Finneas looked away, he noticed Lucien was walking toward him. Before the Sensor could identify him, Finneas quickly darted back towards the bar. Trying not to look suspicious, he strolled at least halfway down the corridor before making a glance back. The Sensor was nowhere to be seen. To be safe, Finneas took an alternative path back to the storage.
Returning to the containment room, Finneas discovered nothing had changed. Everyone was doing the same thing they were doing before he had left for the errand. Finneas helped his friend finish off cleaning the highland calves; rubbing the grub of the creature's hide. Once the task was complete, the kids were allowed to relax. Finneas and two older boys played a game of dice. As he rolled the dice, a thought popped up in his head.
"Does anyone know anything about the place we're going to?" Finneas asked. The rest of the group shrugged. He wasn’t surprised his friends didn’t know. He was, however, rather shocked Lochen was just as uninformed.
"My grandpa talked a bit about the place," Lochen explained. "He'd been there a few years ago. I know it has a river… endless river… something."
“The Eternal River,” Mollie corrected.
“Yeah… the Eternal River,” Lochen continued. "Besides that… nothing else."
In the corner, Teller smirked. It seemed he knew something they didn’t. The younger boy stood up. Rummaging through his backpack, he brought out his books. It was the one he'd found back in the cellar.
“These past few days and you’ve not asked me what I’ve been reading?” Teller queried. He held the book out for everyone to see. The Traveller’s Guide to the Riverlands. There was some imperial name, most likely the author, written below the title. The only name Finneas could recognise is Celestinos, a common name among imperials.
"Storytime… I guess?" Finneas asked. He looked around at his friends. They all seemed eager to hear about their destination. And there was only a certain amount of rounds of Last Card before anyone was driven insane. “Read on…”
“Let me get to the part… here…” Teller began to read: “Revitea City, the capital of the Riverland region, is the Republic’s southern crown jewel.”
“That’s up for debate,” Kistoph interjected. Staring intensely, Mollie scolded him.
“The sight is one to behold,” Teller continued to read. “Often described as the City of a Thousand Temples, every street is said to have a shrine dedicated to the Maker – the local deity worshipped in the southern regions. The city’s biggest temple is the Grand Temple to the Maker, the largest building complex in the known world; larger than the Old Royal Palace, the Imperial Archives, and the Temple of Stone combined. Although the structure's true purpose is debated, and who constructed the building is unknown, over the aeons the temple has been used as a monastery where laymen train to be priests. The temple has over ten thousand rooms and can sustain itself as a separate community. Once a year, during Spring, the entire city will celebrate the Festival of the Light, a weeklong event that marks the people of Revitea's successful overthrow of the Highland Empire, briefly restoring the House of the Hammer.” Teller looked up. “I think the Festival of Light is coming up soon, in a week or two, if I can remember.”
“Is there anything about this Eternal River I keep hearing about,” Kenelm ask curiously. “Those sailors that use to come in the factory would always yap on about it.”
“I think there’s something here,” Teller said. He began to read: “The city’s most peculiar landmark, the iconic Eternal River flows directly through the city, separating the temple district from the city’s centre. The earliest recording of the river dates back to a thousand years before the arrival of the Seer. As a result, many scholars question whether the Eternal River is a natural feature or created by a higher being.”
Probably Elves… or those Goblins Sebastos mentioned Finneas pondered to himself.
“One thing is for certain, the Eternal River serves as a source of magic,” Teller continued reading. “Legends say the river gained its magical properties after the Seer opened the portal to Ever-Growing Magic. Although it is a common myth the river is named because of its bountiful supply of magic, the Eternal River is named as such because the river ostensibly curves away from the ocean, and instead travels back inwards. Although explorers have found the source of the Eternal River – the river gets its water from a lake a thousand miles northeast of Revitea City, no one has discovered where the river eventually leads. After curving through Revitea City, the river turns northwest into the Wildlands.”
Finneas struggled to fall asleep that night. The awe Teller had described kept him awake. Estmere was pretty much the same no matter where you went. Finneas was excited to see something – anything – new and different. Although the Riverlands were said to be similar to Estmere in florae, the cities were bigger and grander. There were more people; who were usually wealthier than those on the southern continent. Pondering for a bit, Finneas realised his wrong not to bring his brother and friends. Maybe they’d be better off in the Riverlands anyway.
The next day, Finneas was given another errand. This time he had to deliver the package to the officer's quarters. He was nervous at first as he approached the door. A sign said ‘Official Business Only’. Tensely, he knocked. Finneas swallowed deep. He hoped this was the right place. He wasn’t keen on being told off again. No one answered. He knocked again. Still no response. Undeterred, and not wanting to return to Petro with the package, he opened the door. To his surprise, the door was unlocked. Entering, Finneas found himself in what appeared to be the third mate’s cabin. He didn’t want to stay here long, so he left the package on the desk. Closing the door, he proceeded to return to the storage room. As he walked back, he noticed the sound of men talking. He could faintly hear their voices. However, it was enough to get a grasp of what they were saying. Getting closer, he could see a senior officer barking orders to someone before turning to address another seaman.
“Sir,” Finneas overheard the young sailor talk. "I've something to report."
“Go on,” the senior officer said. The man was impatient, eager to move the conversation along. Finneas had seen this man yell at his underlings before. When provoked, his voice would boom so loudly, that Finneas was sure it could burst a person’s eardrums.
“There’s something out there… in the waters.”
“You sure?” The man’s tone sounded doubtful.
“I’m certain,” the younger sailor declared, although his shakiness said otherwise. “I saw it. A shadowy thing. A boat or something. I think it’s following us-”
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“You’re seeing things, boy,” the man said in a gruff voice, cutting the young sailor mid-speech. “There won't be another vessel sailing these lanes tonight, I'm a hundred per cent sure of it. And if there was; they'd report to us immediately. Now go along. And don’t make me hear or see you saying this stuff again, you hear? We don’t want to panic the rest of the crew or passengers, now do we?”
"Yes sir," the younger man said, stiffening himself up to salute. "I'll be on my way, sir."
As the youthful sailor march away to attend to whatever task was expected of him, the older gentlemen took a glance at Finneas. The boy quickly ducked away. Getting the officer's attention was the last thing he wanted, especially since he'd been eavesdropping.
Finneas walked quickly, making sure to look as casual as possible. He passed a few grownups, a group of passengers probably from second class. Thankfully, they didn't pay him any attention. He wasn't sure whether the officer was following him or not, but Finneas thought it was best not to check. There was no point risking it. He continued making his way down the promenade, making sure not to bump into anyone. He was usually pretty good at this. However, a figure walked past. The person barely scrape past him, but it was enough to garner his attention. Finneas turned to say sorry. To his shock, it was Lucien.
"It's… you…" he said simply. The Sensor apprentice spoke in short chunks. He seemed surprised. He probably didn't expect to see Finneas here of all places. “The kid… back in Angluem…”
Before the Sensor apprentice could say anything more, Finneas started to walk away, pretending as if this hadn’t occurred. Perhaps Lucien would think he’d been seeing things. Sadly, this wasn’t the case.
“Hey!” Lucien yelled. Finneas ran faster, pretending not to hear him. “Hey!” the Sensor apprentice shouted again, this time more forceful. “When I call you, I expect you to acknowledge me… boy!” Finneas wasn’t sure why he called him a boy – they were roughly the same age. “Guards!”
It was at this point, that Finneas began to sprint, dashing through a crowd of passengers. They seemed perplexed as Finneas darted past. He didn't have time to apologise. He needed to find his friends. He needed to find them fast. They were clearly in danger.
Finneas kept running at a brisk pace, only now and then stopping to gather his breath. He was surprised at just how big the ship was. It maybe took at least a half-hour to cross from bow to stern. As he approached the stern, he bumped into Lochen. The Native boy was probably sent by Petro to look for him.
“Hey!” Finneas exclaimed. “We need to get back. We need to warn our friends.”
Finneas was practically breathless, so his speech was broken and panicky. Lochen seemed to sense his distress.
“Was told to find you,” Lochen explained. “Where were you? Surely it shouldn’t have taken you that long to deliver… well… whatever Petro gave you. You come into problems?”
"It's not that. We're in danger. The sensor I told you guys about. He's the one my friends and I came across. He knows we're here."
Finneas needn’t say more. Lochen understood. Fearing the worst, they sprinted back to the storage room. To their dismay, the room was empty. The highland calves were snoozing, but nothing else.
“They were here, just a minute ago?” Lochen remarked with confusion.
“Perhaps they’re in the bunk?” Finneas pondered.
Although the kids spent most of their in the main storage area, during the night they were allowed to sleep in a small cabin room tucked at the side of the large room. Perhaps they were there, Finenas thought. He checked to find the cabin was empty.
“They’re all gone,” Finneas said. “Even Petro’s gone. He never seems to leave. I wonder what’s happened.”
“You don’t suppose that Sensor’s got to them first?”
Before Finneas could reply, he could hear movement coming from the corner of the room. A feeling of dread fell upon him. They weren’t alone. He turned to look at the corner of the room, shrouded in darkness. A figure slowly appeared from the shadows, his face barely visible even in the dark. Removing his hood, revealing his entire face, the man stared intensely. The man was perhaps in his forties. He was gaunt, yet seemed able to take on the strongest person in a fight. His skin was pale; almost white. The man's nose was unusually large. The nostrils seemed to go in both directions. Gouged in his face was a reddish scar that went from one side to the other. The blemish on the man's face cut incredible deep. His reddish-brown hair was roughly shaved short; enough to spike up like a burning flame.
The man wore a black waistcoat that went down to his feet. Finneas was certain the man had stolen a coat from a giant of some sort. The ends dragged long to the ground. The man’s most obvious feature was his golden metallic left arm. The brass glimmered in the dark. Around his shoulder, he carried what appeared to be a crossbow – a stealthy weapon that could foes in silence.
The two boys stood still, keeping their distance. Finneas was worried the man was some kind of bounty hunter, perhaps paid by the Order or something to hunt them down. Finneas remembered the stories the sailors back in Angluem would utter. Tales of the Dark Tapers attacking ships. Although rare, it was known to happen once or twice every century. The Shadows would get braver, and attempt to prove their superiority. Finding the knife Cymon had given him, Finneas picked it up and pointed it directly at the man. He hoped even the threat of violence would deter the man. Finneas kept waving the dagger at him, rather childishly. The man simply laughed.
“Put that thing down,” he remarked, “before you hurt yourself.”
“You’re a Dark Taper!” Finneas yelled. He didn’t care if his yelling brought attention. In fact, he hoped making a ruckus would cause the ship's crew to take notice. It wasn't every day a person came face to face with the most feared being in the world. "Stay away, or…"
"Or…" the man said as if egging Finneas on. "Or what?"
“I’ll cut you in two!” Finneas continued.
“We all know you’re not like that,” the man remarked.
“You don’t know me!”
The man laughed. He moved closer to the boy. Finneas tried to take a swipe at the man, but the Dark Taper was able to use his metal arm as a shield. The dagger fell to the ground, bouncing a few times before coming to a sudden stop. Finneas tried again to attack, this time with his fist, but the man was able to grab hold of it.
"Calm it, boy," the man said, this time forcefully. "Stop fighting, and I'll explain."
There was nothing Finneas could do. The man’s grip was extremely powerful, even more so than the quartermaster back at home. Finneas wondered if the man was once a fisherman. He seemed to have great strength, despite appearances. Finneas let go. He took a few steps back. The man continued to stare at him intensely. A smile grew on his face as if he just met a long-lost friend.
“You do look a lot like your old man,” the Dark Taper said. “It’s so uncanny.”
“Who are you?” Finneas asked again. “Have we met before?”
“Of course,” the man said. “You were a wee lad.”
“So… who are you?”
“A friend,” the Taper said, putting it simply. Finneas still wasn’t convinced. “I know the Shadow. He’s been very interested in you. Joining us… well… it might be beneficial.”
“Beneficial how?”
“You’re a pawn,” the man explained. “You think you’ve power. Those in Rivet will use you. Everyone will want you. Don’t mistake that for power. Only the Shadow can give you true power.”
“How can I trust you?” Finneas asked. “Your people raid us. Kill us. Do bad things to us. Why should I trust you?”
The Dark Taper laughed.
“Don’t believe everything you’re told,” he responded. “There are worst things in this world.”
“If I can trust you, then who are you?”
“The name’s Nadir.”
As the man spoke, the room suddenly began shaking. Something large had hit the ship. Something like an explosion or so. It was strong enough to knock everyone off their feet, including the Dark Taper.
“They’ve arrived,” he remarked. “They took their time.”
“Who took their time?” Finneas asked. He was still trying to get back on his feet. Just as he was able to do so, the boat violently shook again. This time the Dark Taper grabbed hold of the boy, stopping him from falling over.
“We’ve to go,” Nadir said, still grasping hold of Finneas’s jumper. Finneas tried to fight his way out of the man’s grip, but the gold hand didn’t budge an inch. It was too strong. He was convinced the Dark Taper could hold up a container or so and not sweat at all. Whoever, or whatever, removed the man’s hand; it didn’t appear to bother, affect, or hinder Nadir. “It’s time to go,” the man kept saying, ignoring Finneas’s struggle. “This way.”
Nadir proceeded to pull Finneas towards the door. Finneas tried to pull away, despite the furtiveness of his attempt. Lochen stood still. He was probably afraid to interfere.
“I need to find my brother… I need to find my friends,” Finneas yelled, still struggling to fight his way out of the man’s powerful grip. “Let me go!”
The Dark Taper suddenly eased his grasp, causing Finneas to tumble to the floor.
“If my people have got to them first, which they've certainly had, death would be a kindness,” Nadir growled harshly. “I have orders to get you off this ship; willingly or unwillingly. Do as you’re told, and you’ll get out alive. Maybe your friends will be lucky too.”
Finneas glanced at Lochen. The Native boy nodded his head as if telling him to go along with the Dark Taper. On a scrap piece of paper, Finneas quickly wrote a short letter to his brother and friends, telling them what had occurred. He left it on Petro’s desk. Hopefully, if they returned they would read it. He told them to go directly to Rivet City if they weren’t able to find each other again. Satisfied, he followed the Dark Taper outside. Finneas made sure to close the storage room’s door – the last thing they needed was rampant highland calves charging everywhere.
They followed Nadir down a hallway. The Dark Taper walked at a hurried pace, making it difficult to keep up with the man. Nadir quickly made his way up a flight of stairs, before marching down another long passageway. Just as they reached the other side of the hallway, something massive crashed through the floor above. Finneas was unable to get a glimpse of whatever it was. The mysterious object went crashing down below. There was a sudden exposition, causing the entire ship to rattle. Whatever it was, it was powerful enough to destroy the steel beams between the ship's floorboards. Finneas was glad he was far away from the object’s quick and sudden descent. He was worried, however, about whatever had exploded seemed foreboding. Was it the ship’s engine? Finneas it wasn’t entirely sure.
He didn’t have time to reflect. After leaping away from the impact, Finneas continued following Lochen and the Dark Taper. They made their way to a dining area; a place rich folk would eat all types of expensive and fancy food – rare fish Finneas could only dream of. The patron had fled, leaving their meals unattended, and uneaten. Finneas thought about grabbing a few pieces to bite along the way but decided against it. They were in a hurry, and they certainly didn't have time to stop to take a snack. He followed Nadir up a staircase located in the middle of the room – a centrepiece of some sort. The stairs had golden railings. Finneas couldn’t fathom how much they cost.
They made their way to the mezzanine. Nadir made an abrupt turn in the ship’s galley. Similar to everywhere else on the ship, the kitchen had been abandoned rather suddenly. Prepared meals had been left on the counter, waiting for a waiter to pick them up to serve. The stove was still bubbling away unattended.
Leaving the galley, they made their way down a narrow corridor - the hallway was used by the ship's servants, allowing crewmembers to bring goods from different parts of the ship without the general passengers noticing. The passageway was cramped – there was barely enough room to fit one person – which made it difficult to navigate. Reaching the hallway's other end, the Dark Taper opened a door. He used a key to unlock it. Finneas pondered how the man knew his way around this ship. The man must've planned far ahead.
They entered one of the ship's many living courters; confined areas where the ship’s crew could relax. The room had at least four triple bunk beds. Finneas was certain the room would be incredibly crowded at times. Luckily, for them, the room was empty. The crewmembers were elsewhere, probably trying to escape the attack.
The Dark Taper led them into another hallway; this one much larger, although still unmeant for regular passengers. They quickly jogged down the hallway, making their way to a double door. The doors were locked, but this didn’t stop Nadir. Using his metal arm, the Dark Taper forcefully thrust himself at the entry, causing the two doors to swing open revealing a far fancier hallway. A man, most likely a first-class passenger, desperately scurried past them. Nadir quickly walked in the opposite direction. Still uncertain, the two boys continued following. They were about to turn a corner, when the Dark Taper lifted his metal arm, stopping the boys from going any further. In front of them was a tall lanky figure. It was another Dark Taper.
“Nadir?” the man laughed, sounding perplexed yet amused. Despite the lights flickering, Finneas was able to get a good look at the man. Like Nadir, he was as pale as a ghost. He stood tall, probably taller than his friend Kistoph. The man swept his jet-black hair back, revealing his piercing blue eyes. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in the Free Cities… or was it the Imperial dumpster? I can’t seem to remember.”
"Out of my way!" Nadir yelled, attaching his crossbow to his arm. He aimed with the intent to shoot.
“What’s so urgent?” the lanky man said. “And who are these kids? Have you become some babysitter?”
“Stand back!”
“So the Shadow sends his lapdog to do his duty work, it appears?” the other Dark Taper remarked. “What makes these kids important?”
“The kid’s under the Shadow’s protection,” Nadir replied. “I know nothing else.”
“Terrible excuse,” the other man chuckled. “Our shadow gave us orders-”
“Then you give me no choice,” Nadir cut the man off midsentence.
Nadir blasted a bolt from his crossbow. The arrowhead pierced straight through the other man's forehead. The dying man stared blankly – his eyes bleeding tears - before falling to the floor. Nadir grabbed the fired bolt. He cleared off the blood, rubbing the arrow on his coat's shoulder, before returning it to his crossbow.
“We haven’t much time,” the Dark Taper said bluntly. “Time to move.”
Finneas carefully made his way past the dead body. The man's eyes were still open, only now gazing at nothing. Finneas wondered who the person was. Did he have a family? Was the man really going to kill them? Finneas didn't have the chance to ponder. Nadir called for them to continue following. Finneas did as was instructed.
They continued following the Dark Taper, making their way topside. Finally having reached the ship’s deck, Finneas was able to get a grasp of the other boat. He was surprised to find the Dark Tapers' ship was an old wooden vessel. The ship had slammed into the cruiser's starboard. Dark brownish clouds covered the sky. The ship’s bridge was on fire. The deck was eerily empty. Finneas would've thought there'd be at least a few panicking passengers trying to escape for their dear lives. In the far distance, Finneas could see a few lifeboats had managed to escape the carnage. Perhaps that young sailor he’d seen earlier manage to get the ears of a higher-up. Finneas only hoped his brother and friends were on it.
The Dark Taper led them portside, finding a single lifeboat. He instructed them to get in. Finneas and Lochen did as they were told. Nadir eased the rope, lowering the lifeboat into the ocean below. The moment the craft hit the water, a sudden slush noise echoed out. The Dark Taper appeared above; his golden hand gripping the side-handling. The man used his other arm to drag the hood back over his head, obscuring his face yet again.
“You not coming?” Finneas asked, yelling to make sure the man heard him.
“Too risky. I’m sure you’ll survive on your own. You’ve got this far, I’m impressed,” Nadir responded. “Make your way due east. The shoreline should be a mile or so from here. Avoid any patrol ships. And certainly, avoid sailing into Rivet directly. The guards will try to arrest you, I’m sure of it. Good luck. The Light blinds, so hide in the shadow.”
"What about my brother?" Finneas continued yelling. "How will I find my friends…?"
The Dark Taper had disappeared.
"He's gone," Lochen remarked. "Our friends surely haven't gone far. Perhaps they found a lifeboat too. Maybe we'll come across them. Perhaps."
Lochen could reassure him as much as he could, but Finneas still felt anxious. He prayed to the Maker to save his brother and friends. Finneas was never the type to pray – he half believed in the Maker anyway. But with a sense of hopelessness, there was nothing else he could do.
Finneas watched as the sinking cruise ship disappeared out of sight. A smog enveloped, making it difficult to see any other lifeboat drifting on the open sea. Within the mist, red embers burned – the ship submerging to its doom. Lochen was probably right, the best place to find them if they survived was Rivet. Even though the Dark Taper warned them not to approach the city directly, Finneas wasn’t certain he could trust the mysterious man. Still, as they began rowing towards the shore, Finneas made sure to keep sailing eastwards. The land was at least a few miles away, he guessed. The sun was only beginning to set. Finneas was barely unable to see if there were any other lifeboats. With the last glimmer of light, they directed the lifeboat towards land.