Menewsha Avatar Community - The Sea Phoenix-Short Story Collection

Story 1 - Chapter 2 - The Fall

Sixteenth Year…

“You must stay here, Bella. You are not yet old enough to go hunting with us.” Her father placed a large calloused hand upon her shoulder and offered a gentle squeeze before walking towards the armory. Bella simply stood there, lips tightened in frustration. She longed to be in the hunt, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, yet the elders in the outpost doubted her, doubted her abilities.

“Do not worry Bella, soon you will have completed all your training and then you will be free to follow your father.” The almost angelic voice of her mother rang true through the open courtyard and Isabella turned to face the woman standing in the doorway of the main building. Isabella had aged, grown taller, slenderer, toned muscles, but at fifteen she was still a mere shadow of what she would turn out to be.

Isabella turned away from her position not speaking a word to her mother, as she watched her father and some of the others walk out the main gate and towards town. She was headed for the armory, the blacksmith there had kind of taken her under his wing. Often she could be found there watching him make the various weapons used by the family. Silver banded stakes lined one wall, swords on the other, and a roaring fire to the back of the building that reflected off the many weapons.

“Bella, what has you all worked up?” The scruffy voice of the blacksmith bellowed out as Isabella slammed shut the door behind her. Without responding she stomped over to a bench and took a seat. “All of my training, what good is it if I am never going to be old enough to use them in their eyes.” Her hand lifted to gesture towards the door, but more meaning to gesture towards the direction where her father had gone off.

Isabella randomly pulled one the silver enforced stakes from the wall and in one fluid movement released it, sending it sailing across the room and squarely into the opposite wall, like a dart piercing a board. She brought her knees up to her chest and looped her arms over them in a huffy manner. “They think I am not good enough!” She whined, something which was so unlike her in her later years.

“Bella,” the blacksmith left his station and moved over to her, looming above her as he stood there, “You father is protecting you.” He must have noticed the way her eyes narrowed at that statement for he went on to explain further, “Your talent can in no way make up for your lack of experience. That is something that can only come from patience. The streets of this town are not nearly as safe as they would need to be for you to be able to join them. They could be attacked, outnumbered…then you would be just one more thing for them to worry about. In battle a man does not need to worry for his daughter’s safety.”

It was cruel, the timing of it all. A moment’s time that changes your whole world. Out of your control, fate lunges after you keeping you beaten and broken within its grasp. The young girl sat unknowingly in the Armory, angered at her father for his lack of belief in her and yet whilst she sat there brooding her father had fallen into a trap of fate.

The calls of some of the slayers rang through the silence of the empty courtyard. Blood curdling screams that could have awoken the dead from that eternal slumber. Isabella’s eyes shot up to the blacksmith, wide and fearful. Before she could jump from her seat and runt o the door he had already beaten her there. He threw open the shifty oak door and barreled out into the darkness, she was right on his heels.

“There were dozens of them!” One of the slayers in her father’s troop was wounded, his arm hanging at his side, but he was alive. A few others were standing near him and as Isabella neared them she scanned every face looking for the one that mattered most to her. Only to come up short.

“Bella!” Her mother came running across the group and immediately wrapped her arms around Isabella holding her close, shielding her from the sight she had not yet seen. Unbeknownst to the girl her father was wounded, almost fatally, it appeared as if he was barely hanging onto any form of life. “Your father has been hurt.” The apparent visible shaking in her mother’s voice let her know that it was not a simple battle wound, but an infection more sinister. Their worst nightmare.

Instinctivly Isabella pushed back at her mother, wanting to see it with her own eyes. “Let go of me!” Finally giving one last forceful push she escaped her mother’s grasp and her gaze darted about group of returned slayers. Some standing, some wounded, some dead until finally falling upon her father.

He was laid upon the cobblestone drive, blood staining his clothes, his weapons stripped of his form, his skin pale, and his form limp. Never had she seen him like this. Never had she even seen him lose a battle. To her, he was invincible and yet he laid here before her a broken man, a fallen slayer.

The words from Christian, her father’s closest friend, pierced through her core. Isabella fell to her knees beside the dying body of her father. “He does not have much time left before he will start to turn into one of them.” Was the only warning Christian gave her as she ran a shaking hand over his jaw line.

Her steely gaze focused upon his own, giving a wordless goodbye. No words would be needed, for he knew everything she would have to say in that moment. She loved him, admired him, and would miss him beyond belief. But, what could one say to express such things? There were no words.

As if he had been waiting for that last moment with his daughter her father let go of life. His eyelids flickered before falling open in uncontrolled let go of muscles. He was gone and yet that wasn’t the end of their suffering, for now they would have to wait for the disease to awaken him once more so that he could be staked.

“I do not want you to see this, Bella.” Her mother tugged upon her shoulders from behind. “He is no longer your father.” She almost pleaded with her daughter, but inside Isabella did not grow grief nor sadness, instead anger and revenge filled in the empty voids left by her father. It was then that Isabella stood, ripping her focused gaze away from the dead corpse of her father and letting it graze across the sea of faces before her.

“None of you will touch him!” Her anger had driven her voice to be so loud that it engulfed the hearing of any in its path. “He was my father! Mine.” The cold hands of her mother reached out to grip Isabella’s arm as she flailed them about in accusatory gestures. She took the few steps away from her mother and came about the other side of her father’s body, her eyes tinged red with her anger as she looked upon her mother.

“Go inside.” Her words were dead calm and demanding. She was her father’s only child and more of him rested in her then any of the other’s could imagine. A secret hidden rage that would be her greatest weapon against those that had taken her father from her at such a young age. She waited patiently as she stared down her mother, “I ask you to please, go inside.” Her mother was not weak, but she was not a Redmont either. She was married into the family and had been posted more as a homemaker then a soldier. A fate she had probably wished upon her daughter, with no such luck.

Tear stained cheeks flushed with disappointment as her mother turned away from her, being guided by another of the Redmont women who worked with her in the house. Whispers of comfort between them barely audible, “Let her handle it. You knew the day would come she would wish to follow in her father’s footsteps.” The elderly woman led her emotional mother away from the scene.

“Give me your stake.” Isabella cast her hand to the side, palm up, towards Christian. After a few moments went by and nothing was said, nor anything placed in her hand Isabella turned her eyes away from her father to face Christian. “The Stake.” Her tone was cold, stern. This was not the first time she had seen death, in their family death was just another roll of the dice gone wrong.

“Bella..you can not.” A soft protest against what she was obviously planning on doing was easily shut down, “I can. Do not tell me what I can not do. He is my father, he shall be saved from damnation by my hand.” She twitched the tips of the fingers on her extended hand. Reluctently Christian removed the silver banded stake and set it into her palm, causing the slayers that still stood about them to shake their heads, yet they would not dare challenge the decision. Her father had been sent to run this outpost and in the event of his death it would now be Christian that would take his place until Lord Isaiah sent word on who he would appoint next.

The cool sting of the metal against her hand made what she was about to do reality. Her hand pulled back to come to rest near her stomach. Could she do it? She was starting to doubt herself now that she held the weapon that would end the life of her father permanently.

‘It isn’t him. He is already gone form this world.’ She kept repeating to herself, convincing herself that she had to do this to stop the infection from consuming him and infecting his soulless body. She closed her eyes. Isabella repositioned herself, coming down upon one bended knee and lifted the stake up, with both hands, high above her head in an arc.

“Bella! Move!” Christian snatched her up as if she were made of feathers, lifting her from that bended position and setting her back upon her feet beside him. Her eyes had opened from the scare of the sudden movement and now fell down upon where her father lay. His eyes were open, moving sinisterly, their once steely gray color now an eerie pale blue. He was grinning at her. A blade came across her form, guarding her away from the beastly form of her father.

“Men, get him!” Christian cried out his commands to the slayers that still stood about them. Half were wounded, half were scared and it nearly rendered them useless in this situation. None stepped forward for the challenge, all debating on their course of action, but they did not have time to waste. Isabella reached across Christian’s back and pulled the crossbow out of its holster, depending on his foresight that he would already have it loaded and ready to go.

They now were all armed now and encircling the vampyric form of what had once been her father. None could have guessed what would happen next. Christian took the initiative lunging forward with that same blade he had used to guard Isabella. He was not quick enough, her father moved like a blur, uncanny for a fledgling. He stood now outside of the circle, a wicked laugh beckoning them to come for more.

Isabella was in shock. Unable to move from her position she watched as the slayers moved towards her father. In turn they each moved to attack him. His new acquirement of speed used to his advantage as he dodged as each attempt moved his way.

Nerves ate away at her, shaken visibly by the whole situation, she lifted the borrowed crossbow up and aimed it at her father. She had many chances to take her shot and yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her eyes closed momentarily as she refocused, when they opened once more the fight had moved further away from her. Many of the slayers had stepped back as Christian came toe to toe in a one on one battle.

Christian’s sword came barreling towards her father, a move not calculated so well against the speed her father now possessed. As quickly as the sword came in, it was knocked back by the brute force of her vampiric father. The sword fell to the ground and her father saw his window of opportunity to feed. He reached out and dug his hands into the head and shoulder of Christian, attempting to sink his elongated fangs into his neck.

A sudden rush of adrenaline snapped her from her state of shock and inspired her to react. Seeing Christian in danger at the hands of her father pulled her back to reality. The crossbow was aimed, the trigger leaning against her finger, and she pulled back. The wooden bolt came flying from the bow, hurdling across the courtyard before it finally met its target.

She had hit her target, but not in the intended place. The bolt had pierced through the bicep when it was intended for the heart. The beast, that once was her father, jumped back. An inhuman screech filling the courtyard as it ripped the foreign bolt from its undead flesh. It was frightened now, realizing the danger it was in. Christian had fallen back after the vampire released him and was now being checked out by one of the other slayers.

Isabella stepped forward, retook her aim, but this time he was watching her. With the speed likened to his new race he ran in a blur past them. Isabella took her shot, but the only thing the bolt hit this time was the wall directly behind him. He was too fast, she was not trained for such movements. All of this led to his escape.

A mixed emotion of guilt, grief, and self doubt came over her. Had she missed on purpose? Or was she not as good as she thought she was? All of the events were still sinking in. Her father was a vampire. He had gone from hunter to hunted, from slayer to enemy. He was no longer her father, and though she had no body to bury he was dead to her. She had to come to terms with that.

Eighteenth Year…

Her father had long since been gone. The search parties sent for him came up with nothing. He had disappeared into the darkness, forever lost it would seem. Her mother had taken it the hardest, locked up in the room they had once shared she had refused to come out for months. Leaving Isabella to go to the memorial alone, leaving her to sit at the cemetery that day all by her self. Perhaps this was where the proverbial line in the sand was drawn. Isabella had become more independent, more wild, even untamable.

She had become a slayer the day she attempted to take down her infected father. Her hand had brought many immortals to their early demise as she had struck each one down in revenge of what they had done to her father. She was a slayer, a Redmont through and through, but she wanted so much more then that.

Her parents had been transferred to this outpost early in her teenage years and the sea had captivated her from the very moment she had stepped foot out of the carriage. Often she would be found patrolling the docks, making small talk with the travelers, even helping ready the ships before departure. She had become quite the sailor, despite her mother’s wishes for her to not socialize with the merchant ships.

One Captain had caught her fancy more then the others. He was older, distinguished, debonair, but also a pirate. Something that did not sit well with the others of her family. He was captivating, articulate, worldly…everything that drew Isabella to him seemed to be everything she wanted. When they were docked at port he would invite her to dinner aboard the ornate ship, tell her tales of his adventures and Isabella ate up every last bit of it.

His promises of taking her with him one day kept the girl’s hopes alive. For no matter how much she loved her family, she felt her heart needed to be on the open ocean and he made it seem like such a life to live. That was what it was to truly be alive.

He had been gone at sea for months now and Isabella had begun to fear the worst. She sat perched a top the column that overlooked the gate into the outpost, watching the ships as they came into port. A familiar sight came over the immediate horizon, the red tattered flags were unmistakeable, it was his ship.

Isabella leaped down from the column with a cat like grace. The minute boots touched ground she was already at a run towards the docks. Pushing through crowds of customers searching through the many vendors, she finally broke free and sprinted down the rickety boards of the dock. A quick pivot led her down one of the side walkways where the ships were tied in.

There she waited, knowing he would come to this particular dock, just as he always did. The ship neared port and released the massive anchor, followed by a large splash as it decended through the water to the sandy bottom. The mates aboard were already clearing the way to place the long wooden board across from the ship to the dock.

As they began to unload the ship he finally emerged from the Captain’s quarters and came to the dock side of the ship looking over to her as she stood upon the dock. Isabella lifted her hand and gave a short, quick wave and as the last remaining bit of sun streamed onto her face she brought her other hand up to shield the light from her eyes. He looked just as she had remembered, but better, every time better.

“Well, if it ain’t me favorite lass, da Vampyre Slayer.” His rough voice boomed across to her and then he chuckled with a portly laugh. “Is dis your port I ‘ave stumbled inta ta’day?” He wasn’t dressed in fine clothes, nor a feathery hat. He was a Pirate, in every sense of the word. A simple three pointed black hat, loose pants and shirt, topped off with a vest of many pockets.

“Aye, this is my port you scally wags have stumbled upon. Now pay my price or I shall send you back to sea with one less hand.” Their banter was so familiar, a sexual tension breathed between them. Finally, after she was beginning to think she would be standing there all day, he made his way down the temporary walk way and onto the dock.

Before leather boots could touch the wooden dock Isabella was already running towards him, within a few feet of him she lept into the air, knowing she would be caught. And caught she was, as her body hit his her arms and legs wrapped around his form and he in turn looped his arms under her to hold her there. “God you smell good.” Isabella, in an odd moment of tenderness, nuzzled her face into his neck.

They had left the docks, immune to anything going on around them, they were in their own world now. A world that Isabella knew would only last days, at best, before he was to leave again. They had slept on the ship that night being as he was not welcome in the house of her family.

The gentle waves of the cove rocked the massive ship as they slept in his bed and Isabella stirred. The ship was silent, except for melodic creaks that came and went as the ship was moved by the sea. All the crew members had either gone on shore to the many brothel houses or were sleeping in the hammocks below deck.

Isabella moved quietly from the bed, being careful not to wake him, and with nothing more then a sheet to wrap about her nude form she tip toed over to his desk that was littered with various breads and fruits. It was a bunch of grapes that she chose, then she headed out of the quarters and onto the large deck. The summer night wind was warm, the silence in town allowed her to listen to the crashing waves as they met the shoreline.

Isabella turned away from the town and crept across the slimy boards to the other side of the ship, the side that faced the endless horizon of the ocean. A gentle sigh escaped her as she lifted the small bunch of grapes and pulled one into her mouth before tugging it from the vine. It was then she heard the door to the Captain’s cabin close shut with a soft click. She needed not turn around to know who it was.

His burly arms fell about her waist, pulling her in close to him, and his chin came to rest upon her shoulder. She was still turned away from him, both now staring off into the horizon of the sea. “Tis a charmin’ lass, captivatin’ and wild like da wind.” He was not speaking of Isabella, but of the sea. Isabella knew that whilst he might love her she was nothing in comparison to his love of the open waters.

“Aye, captivating. She is that.” Isabella and him rocked gently under the soothing motion of the boat, only the moonlight to grant any visage to their surroundings. Isabella leaned back a bit more, letting her form mold into his.

“Come, Bella, let me steal ya away from all dis.”

Isabella moved from him and turned to face him. He had never offered anything like this before. “Are you serious?” Her face contorted into a confused expression. Her hands lifted to her make shift dress-sheet and tightened it around her. Her steely grey eyes focused upon his for any sign that he was merely joking.

“Aye, I be serious. Serious as da day is long.” His arms moved towards her in an attempt to wrap them back around her. “I love da sea. But, if it must be a woman I love as much as da sea den I would only wan’ a woman as captivatin’ an’ wild as de sea.” His arms grabbed her up, not allowing protest from her he pulled in her quickly and kissed her lips, softly at first but with a growing passion hidden behind them.

A million thoughts ran through Isabella’s mind during that kiss. Weighing her options and trying to decide what it was she truly wanted. She had wanted him to take her since the first day they met, but now that it was offered she had doubts. Isabella pulled back from the kiss and looked upon him, just looked upon him. She loved him, didn’t she? She knew that she did love the sea, since the moment she first saw it she loved it. He would just be an added bonus.

“I will go with you, if you truly wish me to.” What was she leaving behind, the life she was raised in, her family, her home. None of that mattered to her, she wanted to see more. To know the feel of the open ocean, to wake up in the mornings to the smell of it, to see new lands, new places. To find her own path, not one that was already plotted out for her since birth.

He simply nodded his head to her, “Yer family will be none too happy. I sugges’ we sneak inta da outpost an’ get yer things dis evenin’. We will leave port early mornin’ before sunrise.” Isabella nodded to him and made haste back to the cabin to redress herself. The guards at the outpost would surely alert her mother once Isabella began to take her belongings out of the outpost, so Isabella was preparing for a yelling match with her mother.

“Let me go alone.” Isabella laced up her boots before standing and heading towards the door. He sat on the bed and watched her as she flittered about the cabin, perhaps regretting his decision to ask, but it was too late now. “I do not want them blaming this on you, it is my decision. I shall handle it myself.”

Isabella walked past the gates with her head held high, it was still late enough where no one within the main house stirred. They were used to Isabella coming home all hours of the night, as she had usually tagged along with Christian and the other hunters on late night patrols around town. She came upon her door, which was straight across the hall from her mother’s and slipped inside.

Every minute of packing her belongings into that same old trunk reminded her of the night she had left the Estate all those years ago. She had never been back since that day. Mostly everything she owned was placed in the trunk, no notes left for her mother. She would simply disappear for the time being.

It must have been the careless dragging of her trunk down the stairs that awakened some of the family members, including her mother. Isabella was not stopping for anyone and as they started calling out to her and following her she only continued tugging the heavy trunk down the long set of stairs.

“Isabella stop, where are you going?” Her mother stepped forward from the small gathering of Redmonts at the top of the stairs.

“Where I am going is no concern of yours any longer!” Isabella growled out to her estranged mother. She had finally reached the bottom and nearly threw the trunk towards the door as she put all her weight and anger into it. “You will be free to rot away in your room, in your sickening pity party. I am off to live my own life.” Isabella wrapped her hand around the ornate handle of the main door and turned it before flinging it open.

The rest of her family was still perched atop the stairs, probably in shock, and just wanting to remain out of it. Her mother stood upon the stairs, half way up the stair case, and watched on. “You can run far Bella, but you will never run away from your life. No matter where you go or where you end up you will always be a Redmont.” A last warning from her mother, though it did not stop her. She was determined and focused upon getting back to that ship.

She paused before closing the door, after removing her trunk from the house, “I will miss you all.” It was obvious that Isabella was looking past her mother and directly to the small crowd of Redmont onlookers behind her. With that Isabella shut the door to the house and turned, dragging her trunk behind her as she made her way back to her pirate and his ship.

It was nearing dawn now and the once black sky was shifting to colors of grey and blue. Two men waited on the dock to help her with her things, “We’ll be takin’ dat for ya, Lass.” Isabella obliged and left her trunk with them as she continued to make her way onto the ship. He was waiting for her, of course, fully dressed now and standing near the helm.

“I hope dey did not cause ya much trouble.” Isabella moved through the many men preparing the ship for departure and came beside him. “Nothing I couldn’t handle, of course.” She offered up a playful wink in his direction and then set both her hands upon the large wooden wheel. “So, where are we headed?”

“To da Castalian Islands, tis da time o’year for da Masquerade.” He came up behind her once more and placed his hands over hers. “Ya wouldn’t be tryin’ ta take me title as Captain o’ dis ship, would ya?” “Perhaps,” she teased. “Aye, dat’s me girl.”

“Pull da anchor, Men. Tis time we be settin’ sail.” The many crew members scurried about the deck below as they rushed to follow the Captain’s orders. “To da Castalian Islands!”

They had been at sea for days now, pulling into ports only for supplies. Isabella’s appearance had already changed, the once well dressed girl had changed in her clothes for more fitting attire. She had ransacked his closet, stealing anything that could possibly fit her and then altering it to make it her own. Her hair, usually loose in long flowing curls was now always pinned back into a tight ponytail. The seawater she used to bathe only adding to the unkempt feel of her hair.

Everyday she awoke she could not believe where she was. Open waters, tiny island chains, ports filled with people and items she had never seen before. It was adventure, just as she had asked for, and it was everything she dreamed of and more.

He had told her it would only be a few more days until they would reach the Castalian Islands. He had told her stories of the masquerade festival, that it was mostly sea travelers coming to port to drink, fight, and generally cause mischief. Every story she heard from him or one of the crew members just got her even more excited, it sounded like something from a book. Pirates, costumes, a deserted island that came to life this time every year.

They had finally reached the Castalian Islands, a small chain of tropical islands dotted the turquoise sea. It was prettier then she had even imagined it. They had arrived during the day, in enough time for Isabella to tour the few shops set up for the festivities and find herself a costume. There was no dock for these islands, so ships littered the shore line anchored just far enough off shore as to not be stuck in the sandy bottom come low tide.

Isabella and her captain climbed into one of the side boats attached to the side of the ship and were slowly lowered to the water by some of the crew. Once reaching the water they untied the ropes that held them and began to row towards the white sandy shore. Isabella was nearly speechless, it was as if she was entering another world.

They landed, got out of the boat, and made a direct path towards the makeshift row of merchants. The tables and carts were filled with weapons, food, gemstones, jewelry, clothes, and a myriad of other different things. It was the last booth in the row they were headed for though, “Jelana, dis lil lass o’ mine be lookin’ for a costume for ta’nights festivities. Ya mind showin’ ‘er around.”

“Not at all, Captain.” The gypsy looking woman turned around to face them and started sizing up Isabella. “Well, you look like a smaller size..but tall. Let me see what I have.” As the woman disappeared into the cart behind her Isabella looked over to him with a wide eyed look. “Ye’ll be fine. Dat I promise ya. I am off ta go look at da rapiers.”

Isabella nodded and waited, picking up some of the masks that were spread out upon the table to occupy her time while she waited for the woman to come back. Almost as if on cue the woman reemerged from the cart carrying three or four outfits. “I found some I think will work for your size and build.”

The woman laid the outfits out one by one across the large empty table in front of her cart. One was a detailed silken gown with a feathered mask made of peacock feathers. Another, was an all black formfitting outfit with a cat like mask. The final one was a goofy jester type outfit complete with bell tipped hat. “I believe I will take this one,” Isabella pointed to the dress. She was not much of a dress wearer, but it was the only option that wouldn’t have her looking completely ridiculous.