River Stone
This damned chair will never be worth it. This is the bitter thought that takes up residence in my mind, as the ship bucks and prances under me. My king just had to have the throne of one of his enemies. Having given into the popular fallacies about great kings about wealth and power. He became a foolish man, chasing and trapping perfection but always losing it in the next moment.
The stupid chair is made of stone and inlaid with gold and precious gems sprinkle the back like stars on a clear night. I would trade every one, plus the real ones as well, in exchange for the return of the owner of the little river stone in my hand. Instead, all I have left of my brother is a smooth stone pierced through the heart by a string. For now, I sit among the other soldiers on the ship between time and tears. I'm hoping this ship will go faster so that I can grieve at home.
Shouts of alarm from the sailors draw our attention to a juggernaut of a storm, painting the sky black. Concern makes its home in my chest as well. They told us it should be smooth sailing today. I can feel in my bones that something is wrong with this storm, nothing good can come from this.
Various insecurities make themselves known as I help the rest of the men secure the ship. I can't die on the water; if I do, the gods will make my soul reside in the watery halls of Caelum rather than under the fortress of Elisium. Once, I didn't care if I resided in Caelum or Elisium after my death; before, it didn't matter because my brother was at my side and we would greet the gates of either place together. Now dying at sea terrifies me.
The storm hits with a fury not seen in the weather of the land. Tiny, stinging teardrops wiping around, driven into a feeding frenzy by the wind. The waves lunge tossing the ship from one to the next like children with a ball. The ship jerks and strains against the wind, but still, some water crashes over her quivering sides.
"Lighten the ship, now!" are the words the captain yells as the creature the storm has become increases its wild dance. Boxes of cargo are tossed over the side to swirl and crash apart in the raging water below. I set my eyes on that chair, determined to cut the overweight monstrosity free of the groaning ship.
The sword of the commander blocks me from reaching the ropes with my knife. His face is set in a sneer, but when he speaks, the wind steals his words before they can reach me. Several sailors join me in wildly gesturing to send the stone beast over board. The commander shakes his head, the answer is no; his refusal really pisses me off.
When another great wave hits the ship and we all struggle to keep our footing, I lunge for the ropes, making quick work of two lines before the commander turns on me. I manage to cut the third line when a pain lances through my chest, but I don't get a chance to wonder what caused it due to someone else cutting the last line and the chair going flying as a wave hits.
I glance at the water rivulets on my arm as they run red, causing my mind to briefly panic, but then the thought is tossed from my mind as I am thrown overboard. Desperately, I thrash and claw, screaming at them not to let me die in the water. I keep the string of my brother's river stone twisted in my fingers as I struggle for my life.
A hand closes around mine, wrinkled and rough, unlike anything I have ever felt. I twist around and look into luminous ocean-green eyes. Shining stars created from the depths, eyes that even the bravest marinara fear. I don't even have the strength to fight her, and I close my eyes as I accept the fact that I will live eternity separated from my brother.
Water rushes around me, but my head is not pulled under the uneven surface. It feels like hours; it feels like seconds as my hand meets the rough sand. I jolt out of my stupor and scramble up on the small stretch of sand, praying that this will be enough and that the hand still holding mine won't pull me back into the sea.
As I struggle to breath laying there on the sand my free hand is grasp. This time I know the hand, rough fingers caused by wielding a sword tighten around my own. I release the stone and ocean hand still holding me and allow the warrior's hand to lift me up.