Shattered Spirits:
The Fall of Ishcairn

I HELD ONTO THE railing of the little ferry with white knuckles, squinting out into the heavy fog for signs of danger. Since the war began, countless ships have joined the watery graveyard that lines Craeburn’s coast. Some were chewed up by the coast’s jagged teeth, others hunted down by Rostaat U-boats. Rock or torpedo, the deep swallowed all ships alike. Hopefully, this one would make it to Ishcairn’s port safely. We were nearly there, but the heavy fog had slowed the boat’s progress to a crawl.

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“Everything alright, Miss Ecksley?” Captain Murray asked. An older man, his face was nearly as weathered as Craeburn’s coast. His voice was gruff, but he’d always been kind. “Been a few years since I saw you last. Don’t remember you being afraid of water.”

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“Not afraid of the water so much as what’s hiding in it,” I admitted, offering the man a small smile. He used to sneak me biscuits when I was little as a treat for being such a good ‘sailor’ while my father pretended not to notice. I debated telling the captain that it was ‘Professor Ecksley’ now, but the moment had passed.

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“Ah,” the captain nodded, stroking his wiry moustache as he joined me in looking out at the water for a moment. “Well, reports have been clear for a while now. Seen a few periscopes, but they haven’t troubled us.”

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“Wonderful,” I said, trying to sound genuine. “Thank you, Captain Murray. I feel more at ease now.” I did not, but my little lie was enough to reassure the captain. He tipped his hat and excused himself. With a sigh, I turned back to the water. The Craeburn flag barely fluttered in the breeze, the cresting wave quiet in the face of danger.

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As a young girl, I found taking the ferry to be a dreadful bore. Every spring, Father would head north to organise excavations of the old barrows of the Ish’skara, the ancient people who first lived on Craeburn. As a widower, he was happy to bring his only child along as his assistant, to take notes and climb into tunnels too narrow for any full-grown man.

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It hadn’t been a traditional upbringing for a young woman, but we’d been happy. I had thought I’d grown out of such adventures and had a different life planned. Then the war began. Father was called to serve the Wythlands by translating cyphers. I was to take his place at Ishcairn University and oversee the desperate cataloguing and dispersal of priceless artefacts to protect them. The fighting hadn’t reached our shores, but the increased U-boat presence had everyone concerned that it would only be a matter of time.

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I clenched my hands around the railing to keep from reaching for the delicate chain that hung around my neck. The war had changed many things, and thinking about what could have been would only leave my ragged heart bleeding.

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The cold, foggy air was a balm as I sucked it down, easing the tension in my chest. Familiar and briny, the sea was as much a comfort as it was a danger. The steady thrum of the ferry’s engines underfoot had faded to a whisper as we had entered the fogbank. I knew it was dangerous to travel at speed when the captain couldn’t see, but the crawling pace did nothing to assuage my fear of any U-boat lurking beneath the water.

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I’d read newspaper clippings boasting about how Wythlands’ ships outran the Rostaat U-boats, but there were just as many about ships that had fallen to such hubris. Surely U-boats would let a little ferry past, wouldn’t they? The knot in my chest twisted again, and now the fog was too thick in my lungs.

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Were we a mouse, ignored by the wolf pack? Or a lame deer trailing blood behind us?

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“Tea, Miss Cornelia?”

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My body reacted before I recognised the voice. I jumped, whirling on the boy who had approached, one hand on my hat to keep it from falling overboard. Poor Edwin Acton blinked, his long brown lashes matching the spatter of freckles across his nose and cheeks, both of which were scrunched up in concern. I had plenty of failings, but being so anxious was not usually among them.

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He was still small, too skinny to pass for seventeen at the recruitment office, even though he’d tried several times. The latest attempt had found Edwin filling his pockets with rocks to fool the scale. It could have worked if not for the seam of one of his pockets giving way and dumping the rocks out onto the recruiting office floor. I suppose that had been the last embarrassment Edwin’s grandfather would suffer. Sir William Acton, a renowned scholar and knighted for his work, gave me the ‘opportunity’ to bring Edwin north to Craeburn as my assistant. The way I had been my father’s, and my father had been his.

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It was hard enough to tell the Acton Patriarch ‘no’, but it had become impossible when he said the magic words.

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It’s what Lawrence would have wanted, Cornelia.

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 The thought made me sick because it was true. It was what Lawrence would have wanted: to keep his brother safe and busy until the war ended.

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“Sorry Corrie, I didn’t mean to make you jump,” Edwin said, his large ears going red. “The captain said you would like some tea.”

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He’d be fifteen in a month, and he was the very picture of his older brother when we were that age. Stormy grey eyes peered out from bushy eyebrows that gave away the anxious nature of the Acton boys: always worrying. Edwin had shoved his mop of mousy curls under a pageboy hat, but a few strays snuck out near his temples. The familial resemblance that I once found so endearing now made it difficult to look at Edwin for long.

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I took a deep breath, setting aside the thoughts of Lawrence and their grandfather.

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“I know you didn’t,” I said, forcing myself to let go of my hat so I could accept one of the two tin mugs that Edwin held. Another day, a better day, and I would have pushed the brim of his cap down over his eyes like I used to. Instead, I smiled apologetically and wrapped my fingers around the warm tin. It was comforting, a ritual meant to soothe our nerves. How funny that Captain Murray had been the one to think of it, and not me.

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“I was just lost in thought.” I blew the steam from the tea and took a delicate sip. It was weak, but it was warm and had a drop of honey in it. A small luxury during the war. “It’s been over a year since I’ve been back at the university, and two since I was on a dig.” A quick glance at Edwin told me he wasn’t convinced.

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“Besides, who are you calling ‘Miss Cornelia’?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow. I don’t think Edwin had ever used my full name in all the years that I’ve known him. “You’re my assistant now, not a stranger.”

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Edwin rolled his eyes.

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“Father said that since you’re not part of the family anymore, I have to use your full name,” he said. His normal expression of worry pinched into a scowl that he politely directed out toward the fog. Oh Edwin, ever the little gentleman. “I don’t think you aren’t family anymore,” he muttered. “Besides, we don’t even know if–”

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I cut him off with an unladylike snort. His words cut deep, but it wasn’t a fresh wound. Lawrence had disappeared out on the front months ago, reported as missing in action. Sir Acton might still think I was a future granddaughter, but the news that Edwin’s father no longer did was no surprise. He’d wanted Lawrence to marry a proper lady. With a dowry.

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“Exactly,” I said, swallowing the fresh pain. “We don’t know. As far as I’m concerned, you are still my pesky younger brother.” I reached out, swatting the brim of his cap so it tipped down, blocking his eyes. Edwin sputtered, the usual routine about how he was too grown for such silly behaviour.

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A low clap caught my attention and for one insane moment, I turned back to glare at the cabin, certain someone had got into my luggage and dropped one of my books. I blinked, realising with a chill that the sound had come from out on the water.

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Glancing back into the fog, I watched a dull violet light bloom somewhere far ahead. Even with the obfuscating grey, the strange colour made my eyes water, as though the light was brighter than my eyes could register, in colours I couldn’t see. A second flash of light was brighter, and I ducked away, squeezing my eyes shut and wrapping my arm over them to shield them from any further blasts.

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The clatter of my dropped tin mug was lost as a rapid series of booms ripped over the water, each louder and sharper than the last. The final crack of thunder hit me with a blast of frigid air that tore through my thick wool coat like it was nothing. My hat was ripped from my head, the pin that had held it in place scratching a line along my scalp as it went.

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Gasping, I peeked out over my arm with watering eyes to see the ferry was now covered in a rime of frost. The spilled tea had frozen over, the mug now stuck in place. Wiping the water from my eyes, I straightened and looked around to see that the fog had frozen. I’d been staring at it for hours, but now the grey wall had turned into a veil of shimmering ice crystals that slowly drifted down to the water.

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It was as beautiful as it was unnerving.

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Ahead of us, a zeppelin fleet emerged from the falling fog, one by one. They had been impossible to see moments ago, their silver hides reflecting the grey skies above and the fog below. They hung so low in the sky that I could see the machine guns mounted along their bellies. The nearest had the black Rostaat eagle painted on its prow with its name in gothic letters. ‘Sturmbrecher’, the Stormbreaker.

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Heart in my throat, I stepped back and grabbed Edwin’s arm to drag him with me. The boy hadn’t moved, and was still staring out at the horizon, his eyes bloodshot and crying pink tears. Someone inside the ferry’s bridge rang the fog bell as a warning to the crew and passengers, few as we were.

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“Edwin, come away from the railing,” I said. He was holding onto the rail tight, and though he was still small, I wasn’t strong enough to pull him free.

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“Corrie?” Edwin asked, his voice shrill with panic. “Corrie I can’t–”

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“Yes, you can. You can let go,” I said. “We need to get inside.”

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Edwin swung his arm out, hitting me in the chest hard.

 

“Corrie? Where are you?” He asked, turning his head toward me. His pink tears had darkened now, and his eyes were filling with red. “Corrie, I can’t see!” Edwin said, his voice breaking into a shriek.

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“I can’t see!”