The War Chamber

The War Chamber

Trial by Fire
 
Book Two of The Moon Singer

B. Roman

Copyright (C) 2016 B. Roman

Layout Copyright (C) 2016 by Creativia

Published 2016 by Creativia

eBook design by Creativia (www.creativia.org)

Cover Design by http://www.thecovercollection.com/

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Other:
You were wise to foresee the dangers in store for this boy and everyone he encounters.

“But as I said, I have merely scratched the surface of the boy's capacity to recognize what he can become - is destined to become - because of my presence.”

Other:
He needs more awareness of what and who you are, which takes desire -

“I know that he has it.”

Other:
And courage -

“He demonstrates that, too.”

Other:
Then, is he ready to delve into more complex questions and deal with answers that may shock and surprise him?

“At such a young age? I know, I know, his soul is ageless, his curiosity boundless.”

Other:
And the fairy tale daydreams have served their purpose. His mother's heart is now wide open to embrace and guide his path to discovery…

“… to help him dig more deeply…”

Other:
And to protect him from the destructive forces that would corrupt him and everyone he knows, just to possess selfishly what should be held close, selflessly.

“Then, what is to come will be an even bigger test of his bravery than what he has already experienced.”

Other:
And a test of your own evolution as well.

“Then I must not fail him, or myself.

Port Avalon, September

“I've been home almost three months, and the miracles I brought back with me have faded to mere delusions. At first, I lived in a state of euphoria, enjoying every sound, every word, every noise I hadn't heard for years. But now, I'm as deaf as I was before.

“I wish I could tell someone about what happened to me. But I can't. Not yet. Sally is the only one who knows anything, but even she doesn't know the full extent of my experiences with Ishtar and Saliana. How could I tell her there really is a place where she could walk and dance again, but that I can't take her there? It would be too cruel.

“What if I can never sail the Moon Singer again, or even conjure her up? Where did she come from anyway? Why did she come to me of all people? Even if I could bring her back again, how do I know I could find my way back to the Island?

“Jaycina's final words keep echoing through my thoughts: 'One day you will understand. Perhaps one day you will also find it in your heart to forgive.' But with each passing day, I understand less and less. And although I'm sure I've forgiven Dad, why does anger and resentment still squeeze at my heart, especially today?”

David finishes his entry in the journal, a ritual he performs daily since returning home. He closes the book and studies the cover inscription:
Captain's Log, Great Ship Moon Singer
. In it, he has recounted every astonishing moment of his adventure aboard the mysterious clipper ship. He slips the journal under a stack of sweaters in his dresser drawer and closes it.

A familiar hand lightly touches David's shoulder. He turns toward it.

“Hi, Dad. I'm almost ready. Couldn't decide whether or not to wear a sweater.” David closes the drawer, hoping his father doesn't pick up the slightly self-conscious tone in his voice. His father doesn't know about the journal. No one does.

“I don't think you'll need it today,” Isaac says, casually. “You'd think it was the first day of summer instead of the first day of autumn.”

Isaac Nickerson is not good at signing and prefers David read his lips. Thus, Isaac's face is a constant study for David. Today, he is struck by the seemingly serene expression on his father's face and thinks,
Dad's really got it all together. And this has to be his hardest day since the funeral.

Isaac observes his son for an instant, crinkling his brow curiously. “I'm surprised you're not wearing the blue shirt. It was always your favorite.”

“Uh - yeah. It is, Dad. I just thought maybe I'd wear something new today, being it's a special occasion and all.” David once said he'd wear the blue shirt until every thread frayed, until the monogrammed initials fell off, until the mother-of-pearl buttons turned yellow and cracked. He'd always wear it, for her. But not today.

“Well, let's get a move on, Son.” Isaac and David walk side by side down the stairs, both of them with expressions of deep thought, their heads slightly bowed.

“And you say women take forever to get ready,” Sally razzes the two men in her life as they enter the living room. “I've been ready for hours,” she signs nimbly.

“Bet me,” David challenges her good-naturedly.

David's articulation is strong and clear, the result of much practice, and coaching from his mother. He constantly anguishes as to why none of his previous surgeries has helped when other deaf people have known improvement from the same procedures. Now, he wears a new hearing aid that allows him to hear his own vocal vibrations, but not discernible words. Still, it keeps him from feeling isolated in a nearly soundless world.

“Bet me,” Sally teases back with her infectious teenage giggle.

David helps Sally up onto her crutches. His heart tears at the sight of his little sister maneuvering herself onto the arm rests, even though she is strong and expert with the “sticks,” as she calls them. In David's eyes, he is responsible for her relapse to braces and crutches, a reminder of his inept experiment with the sacred Star-of-David gridwork pattern.

Sally smiles and gives David her “at least I'm out of my wheel chair” look. In Sally's eyes, David is responsible for the miracle that let her stand and walk unaided, if only for a few weeks. Sally adores her brother and is unwavering in her faith in him. She wants him to try his experiments again, but she fears he has put the crystals away for good.

Moments later, the family station wagon rolls up to the cemetery and comes to rest under a sprawling Lone Cypress that adorns the entryway. Isaac removes several lush bouquets of flowers, a small pot of violets, and a trowel from the back of the car. David and Sally follow him to their mother's grave.

The white marble angel still steadfastly guards over her. The epitaph stands out sharp and clean, as though the headstone was cut only yesterday:

Blanche “Billie” Nickerson
Beloved Wife and Mother
We Miss You

Sally lowers herself awkwardly to the ground and sits at the head of her mother's grave. With the trowel, she digs a small hole for the violets. David and Isaac spread the floral bouquets around until the plot is blanketed with the vivid colors of life.

Blanche “Billie” Nickerson. No matter how many times Isaac tried to convince her that Blanche was a wonderful name, she cringed whenever anyone called her that.

“When I was a little girl, I was constantly teased about my name,” she would protest. “Blanche. It's something you do to a pot of vegetables until their skins fall off.”

“But Blanche also means white and shining – like a pure light of inspiration,” Isaac would sermonize.

“I'm not an angel yet.” Her broad smile revealed perfect teeth. “Billie is more like me. Good old down to earth Billie Nickerson.”

They buried her in the family cemetery, on a sea cliff jutting out proudly into the ocean. All the Nickerson clan, a century of generations, was buried there. But a large expanse of ground lay yet untouched, waiting patiently for the remaining Nickersons to come.

Looking over the white picket fence that neatly edges the cemetery, David studies the ocean surf below as it swirls and splashes against the sea wall. It occurs to him that his brain feels like that, a whirlpool of conflicts and emotions.

Unaware that he is doing it, David kicks lightly, rhythmically at the fence post while the same burning questions tear at him: Why did she die? Why didn't she hang on a little longer? She almost made it. Why couldn't she just will herself to live? How could she leave us? How could she leave
me
?

Sally's quavering voice breaks the painful silence. “Happy anniversary, Daddy. Happy Anniversary, Mama.”

Isaac drops to his knees and embraces his daughter fiercely. “Thank you, sweet princess. You're right. Mama would have wanted us to celebrate and not be sad today. Because I still have you and David, and years of happy memories.”

“Where would you have taken Mama for your anniversary? Twenty years is a big one, isn't it?”

Isaac clears his throat deliberately and breathes away all visible traces of sorrow.

“Well, let's see. It's a pretty big one, as anniversaries go. So, I'd take your mother on a moonlight ferry ride and to dinner on Lighthouse Point. We'd have the biggest lobster on the menu and listen to romantic music by candlelight.” A playful gleam now flickers in his eyes. “You know, there's a real mermaid there that plays the harp while you eat dinner, and floats atop the pond on a golden raft.”

Sally rolls her eyes back. “Oh, Dad. There's no such things as mermaids.”

“Bet me,” Isaac heckles her with her favorite expression.

“Bet me!” she squeals.

“Okay, I'll take you there and we'll just see. If I'm right, you pay for dinner. If I'm wrong, it's my treat.”

“You're on. Just be sure to bring a big wallet. Because I'm starving.” Sally waves David over to them. “Guess what, David. We're going to celebrate Mama's anniversary for her. Daddy's taking us to Lighthouse Point.”

“To hear the mermaid play the harp?” David guesses, knowing this is his father's favorite little deception.

“Yeah! How did you guess?”

“Oh, Dad told me the same thing when I was a little kid.”

“Who's a little kid? I'm not.”

“Bet me,” David needles her.

“Oh, the two of you are hopeless!” Once again the sound of Sally's laughter lifts Isaac's heart.

David and Isaac lift Sally up and the three of them walk arm-in-arm from the cemetery, each drawing strength from the other.

As they drive away, an unexpected whirlwind spirals around Billie Nickerson's grave. Its force plucks leaves and blossom petals from the bouquets Isaac and David placed there. They spin in the air, circling like dervishes dancing with joyous abandon. Finally, they settle in a halo around the little clump of violets, silent and still as the graveyard's spirits.

Isaac taps impatiently on the desk with his pen. For two hours, a Defense Department liaison has been lobbying Isaac and Janice Cole to build ships for the Navy, but Isaac isn't enticed by their lucrative offer.

“In all my years as a nautical engineer, I've never wanted to design military ships. It's a question of principles,” Isaac says, his jaw firmly set. “Besides, there are dozens of other shipbuilders who would give their eye teeth for such a contract. Why Cole Shipping?”

The liaison, a Navy captain wearing an impressive collection of combat ribbons, is undaunted. “Because even though Cole Shipping is a small company it's one of the best. And because we feel we'd get a better deal from you, under the circumstances.”

“The circumstances being that Cole Shipping is experiencing financial problems?” Janice volleys with equal candor. Isaac winces at the disclosure, but the Navy officer is obviously well-versed in Cole Shipping's profit and loss statement.

“Let's just say, because of your current slowdown in operations you would be able to devote full attention to the project, and be more flexible in your price negotiations.”

“He means,” Isaac says, snidely, “we could work fast and cheap.”

But Janice maintains an unemotional front. “That's not how we operate at Cole Shipping, Captain Sperry. However, we will take your proposal under advisement and get back to you.”

“Take whatever time you need,” Sperry replies, rising to leave. “But do understand that we have a timeline for this project to begin soon.”

“I do, indeed.”

The office door closes behind Captain Sperry and Isaac throws his pen down in disgust. “The nerve of that guy. I don't care if he's got fifty ribbons on his chest.”

Janice lets Isaac blow off steam, then suggests, “Ethics and personal principles notwithstanding, maybe we shouldn't be so quick to reject his proposal, Isaac.”

“You can't be serious. Cole Shipping isn't a munitions contractor. The Defense Department would take over this place. We'd hardly have any say so in anything once we signed a contract.”

“I know, I know. The thought is repugnant to me, too. But he's right about one thing, Isaac. We are in serious financial trouble.”

“It's just a transition period, Jan. It's only been three months since you've taken the company over from Nathan Fischbacher, and we can pull through if we hang tough.”

“Maybe. But this isn't just a decision that affects Cole Shipping and our stockholders,” Janice reminds him. “This decision could affect the economy of the entire town. So many people are hurting for jobs. Tourism is down for the last three years. A contract like this could change all that.”

Isaac's tone is incredulous. “It sounds like you've made up your mind.”

She wags her head ambivalently. “Yes and no. I personally don't want to accept the government's offer. But I don't think it's a decision that you and I should make in this room alone. “What about a town meeting. Let the people have the vote. It's their future, too.”

Isaac shakes his head and grins wryly. “That's very democratic of you. I just hope you know what you're getting into by inviting public comment.”

“Do you object?”

“No, no. God knows I'm democratic myself.” Smiling faintly, he adds, “As long as they all vote no.”

Janice purses her lips and nods pensively. Then she makes a sudden change in the subject. “Oh, by the way. How did it go? I mean, yesterday at the cemetery? It must have been difficult for all of you.”

Isaac nods, and his mood shifts from agitated to somber. “Yes. It was. But I'm glad we did it. It's a subject we find hard to talk about, especially David. And I'm pretty concerned about him. He's not dealing well with Billie's death these days.”

“What do you mean? Has he said anything disturbing?”

“That's just it. He doesn't say anything. He seems to be keeping something inside, especially these last few months.”

“Well, Isaac, don't forget what happened to Sally. Her recovery, then a relapse. That was pretty traumatic, too. He loves her so.”

“Yes, he dotes on her. And he's always up for her, like last night, going along with that gag of mine about the mermaid at Lighthouse Point.”

Janice's eyebrows shoot up. “Mermaid? A real mermaid?”

Isaac grins sheepishly. “I told Sally the mermaid played the harp during dinner. It's really some gal in a fancy fish tail. So I took the kids there to celebrate Billie's and my anniver -” Isaac's voice catches. “Sorry. I thought I could handle it.”

“It's all right, Isaac. You don't have to go on. Let's get together after lunch,” she says, changing the subject back to the business at hand, “and decide on a plan of action to organize a town meeting.”

“Of course. Only we may find ourselves adversaries on this one.”

“I'd prefer it if we were, what's the saying - tender comrades?