manners and nodded at her just as respectfully, if not as
flirtatiously, though this one kept her eyes so keenly on the
pavement she wouldn't have noticed if he'd whipped his uniform off
and done a dance.
As she was so
decidedly not looking at him, he took the opportunity to
observe her. She was painfully thin, but not by choice he reckoned.
She had unruly, full, crinkled hair that hung about her head in odd
little zigzags. But, strangely, that wasn't what drew his
attention. She had the most extraordinary eyes he'd ever seen –
grey and deep, almost unnaturally calm like the deep sea before a
storm, like the sea in the harbour beyond right at that moment, in
fact. Odd that she had a cat though.
And then she
was past him, the little black cat bounding behind her.
He wouldn't
usually have stared at a woman like that when he walked down the
street, and he told himself he knew why he'd used such a keen eye
to ogle this one.
He was
distracting himself from the conversation that would follow.
'Hello
mother,' he'd say.
She'd nod
politely.
'I'm afraid I
won't be coming to see you anymore, my reassignment is up.'
Her eyes would
flick around the room like a fluttering moth caught in the
light.
'This is my
last stop in Bridgestock before I transfer to the Academy.'
She would cry,
blubber possibly, but definitely try to convince him not to go. The
defiant, strong mother that had greeted his news six months ago
now, would make way for the needy, scared mother of old.
So it was with
a strange mix of trepidation and bravado that he walked towards her
house. He was proud of how far he'd come and certain of where he
was going….
The house, his
childhood home, came into view and he stopped. He didn't have to
see her one last time. He could just write her a letter surely.
With his hands
in his pockets, Pembrake rocked backwards and forwards gently. Then
he turned around and his eyes drifted back to the woman with the
ocean blue-grey eyes. She was standing still at the top of the
steps he'd just climbed, her back to him, staring up at the ominous
clouds above.
She looked
quiet serene. Like a picture.
Then she
shrugged her head down and walked down the steps and out of his
sight.
He was wasting
time.
He let his own
face turn towards the turbid sky.
Not good.
His face
creased with deep worry and, with one last look over his shoulder
at his mother's house, he hurried back towards the dock. It was
time to become the least popular man in Bridgestock; it was time to
cancel shore leave.
Chapter 4
This storm was
violent. This storm was totally chaotic. This storm was by far the
worst storm of the century.
It ripped
through the sky like a rough saw grating through space. It growled
and howled like a pack of starving, vicious animals baying for
blood and devastation.
Windows and
doors did not so much rattle, as shake to within a centimetre of
breaking. The streets were filled with debris washed off the roofs
by the gale and torrential rain, and they clogged the storm drains
till the cobbles were drowned under the churning water which had
nowhere to escape.
There was no
denying that this was the worst storm that Bridgestock had ever
seen. Never before had the great wooden pylons of the port screamed
under such fatigue. Never before had so many old, hardened trees
been uprooted as if they were nothing but dead leaves floating to
the ground. Never before had the great tessellated walls, that cut
he city into neat raising divides, been assailed by such a
ferocious foe.
And never
before had the clouds crackled, had the rain been tinged with an
almost electric blue, had a strange barely audible groan been heard
on the wind. There was no one, however, who was aware enough to
note these other characteristics though.
No one except
Abby, and she was far too busy.
~~~
Commander
Pembrake Hunter looked up into the storm above. It was as if time
had slowed down. He could see the clouds circle slowly beyond.
Somehow there was a break in
flirtatiously, though this one kept her eyes so keenly on the
pavement she wouldn't have noticed if he'd whipped his uniform off
and done a dance.
As she was so
decidedly not looking at him, he took the opportunity to
observe her. She was painfully thin, but not by choice he reckoned.
She had unruly, full, crinkled hair that hung about her head in odd
little zigzags. But, strangely, that wasn't what drew his
attention. She had the most extraordinary eyes he'd ever seen –
grey and deep, almost unnaturally calm like the deep sea before a
storm, like the sea in the harbour beyond right at that moment, in
fact. Odd that she had a cat though.
And then she
was past him, the little black cat bounding behind her.
He wouldn't
usually have stared at a woman like that when he walked down the
street, and he told himself he knew why he'd used such a keen eye
to ogle this one.
He was
distracting himself from the conversation that would follow.
'Hello
mother,' he'd say.
She'd nod
politely.
'I'm afraid I
won't be coming to see you anymore, my reassignment is up.'
Her eyes would
flick around the room like a fluttering moth caught in the
light.
'This is my
last stop in Bridgestock before I transfer to the Academy.'
She would cry,
blubber possibly, but definitely try to convince him not to go. The
defiant, strong mother that had greeted his news six months ago
now, would make way for the needy, scared mother of old.
So it was with
a strange mix of trepidation and bravado that he walked towards her
house. He was proud of how far he'd come and certain of where he
was going….
The house, his
childhood home, came into view and he stopped. He didn't have to
see her one last time. He could just write her a letter surely.
With his hands
in his pockets, Pembrake rocked backwards and forwards gently. Then
he turned around and his eyes drifted back to the woman with the
ocean blue-grey eyes. She was standing still at the top of the
steps he'd just climbed, her back to him, staring up at the ominous
clouds above.
She looked
quiet serene. Like a picture.
Then she
shrugged her head down and walked down the steps and out of his
sight.
He was wasting
time.
He let his own
face turn towards the turbid sky.
Not good.
His face
creased with deep worry and, with one last look over his shoulder
at his mother's house, he hurried back towards the dock. It was
time to become the least popular man in Bridgestock; it was time to
cancel shore leave.
Chapter 4
This storm was
violent. This storm was totally chaotic. This storm was by far the
worst storm of the century.
It ripped
through the sky like a rough saw grating through space. It growled
and howled like a pack of starving, vicious animals baying for
blood and devastation.
Windows and
doors did not so much rattle, as shake to within a centimetre of
breaking. The streets were filled with debris washed off the roofs
by the gale and torrential rain, and they clogged the storm drains
till the cobbles were drowned under the churning water which had
nowhere to escape.
There was no
denying that this was the worst storm that Bridgestock had ever
seen. Never before had the great wooden pylons of the port screamed
under such fatigue. Never before had so many old, hardened trees
been uprooted as if they were nothing but dead leaves floating to
the ground. Never before had the great tessellated walls, that cut
he city into neat raising divides, been assailed by such a
ferocious foe.
And never
before had the clouds crackled, had the rain been tinged with an
almost electric blue, had a strange barely audible groan been heard
on the wind. There was no one, however, who was aware enough to
note these other characteristics though.
No one except
Abby, and she was far too busy.
~~~
Commander
Pembrake Hunter looked up into the storm above. It was as if time
had slowed down. He could see the clouds circle slowly beyond.
Somehow there was a break in
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