Flame of the Ocean - Chapter I
There were two reasons Kasumi was known as the flame of the ocean.
The first was her hair. It wasn’t long and luxuriant and raven like Mother’s or Namika’s. Hers was fiery hair, bright and wild in the ocean currents. It was hair that took care of itself, without all the primping and oils that Namika loved and Kasumi thought were ridiculous. But then, there wasn’t much about Namika that Kasumi didn’t think was ridiculous.
Namika wasn’t one person, but three – all three of Kasumi’s sisters, older and fairer and finer, everyone said so. They had come in a row, one year after another, with Kasumi five years behind. Namika had their mother’s hair, full blue tails, and black pearly eyes. They were so alike, and did so much together, that everyone just called them Namika, and left their proper names alone. Kasumi doubted if half the court knew their names.
Kasumi ran a hand through her fiery hair, from the back of her head to the end of her strands. She kept it short, just down to her shoulders, and didn’t bother with combs or ribbons. Then she rubbed her mossy green eyes, fanned her bony jade tail, and swam out of her room and into the courtyard of her father’s palace.
The dragon king’s palace was made of coral. The roofs and ceilings and pillars and doorways were all red coral, while the walls were all white coral. Pearls and seashells were the adornments, and the gardens around the palace were full of blue seagrass and bright pink water flowers. All through the garden, and by every door, there were guards – turtles, oysters, squid, dolphins, sea snakes, and other creatures serving at the dragon king’s call. None paid Kasumi any mind as she swam to the courtyard; they all knew her for a dragonspawn, free to go anywhere in the palace, anywhere in the East Sea.
In the stone gardens of the courtyard, an old fisher’s net served as a corral for livestock. “Good morning,” Kasumi said to the jellyfish inside. She greeted them in their own language, the sounds of pulsing bells and wiggling tentacles that only watery things can hear. The jellyfish greeted her back, all at once, though there were hundreds of them packed into the corral so tight that they couldn’t move.
“Poor things,” said Kasumi. No jellyfish in the palace ever had room to move, or to play, or to live. They were kept only as a delicacy, and the dragon king had grown overly fond of them. “It’s almost time, you know. You’ve gotten nice and plump, just as Father likes, and he’s very partial about his breakfast. That fat chef of his will be by any time.”
The jellyfish all rattled together, and a few in the back started to cry.
“Poor things,” Kasumi said again. She never ate jellyfish, or anything that didn’t have a chance to live free for a full span of life before a hunt. She had already had her breakfast, of sea melon and krill, and she knew Father had plenty of things to eat that were better for him than these jellyfish. “Are you strong enough to swim?” she asked.
The jellyfish all nodded, their whole bodies rocking together.
Kasumi glanced over at the nearest guards, two sleepy turtles who were older than her mother and grandmother together. Their heads were half in their shells, and their backs were turned to the corral.
Kasumi swam to the side of the corral, where a great wooden bolt locked it in place, and where the net holding the jellyfish down was weighted down with stones. She shoved and tugged until the stones rolled away, and pulled and strained until the bolt came up in her hands. The net floated up and away. All the jellyfish swarmed up, like a great purple bubble, and rushed out of the courtyard. “Thank you!” they cried on their way out. Kasumi smiled and waved them goodbye.
The turtle guards were still asleep. Kasumi gently lowered the bolt down to the courtyard floor and swam for the west wing of the palace. But before she could reach the door, it slid open from the inside. Namika, all three of them, swam out to meet her. They had matching combs in their hair and frowns on their faces.
“Kasumi, Kasumi,” they said, their voices as pure as whale song. “What are you up to today?”
“Nothing that’s your business,” Kasumi replied, her voice as sharp as shark’s teeth.
Namika all shook their heads. “Father will find new guards to watch those ugly things after this.”
“That wouldn’t stop me,” said Kasumi. “And I think they’re beautiful.”
“That will only mean more guards, and more trouble. You must mind the rest of us,” Namika scolded her, as they always did. “We all share this palace, after all.”
“I pay as much mind as I’m shown,” said Kasumi. She turned her back on her sisters and started to swim for the east wing, but the way was cut off by thick black coils. A massive horned head loomed above her, with snaking whiskers and searing eyes. It was Father, dragon king of the East Sea, and on his back rode Mother, sister to the emperor of the lands above.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mother asked.
“Out,” said Kasumi. “I’ve had my breakfast and taken my lessons. I have nothing more I need to do in the palace today.”
“Nothing but spoil our breakfast,” growled Father. “And make fools of our guards, and a mockery of your lessons. The porpoise tells us all your notes were shrill this morning.”
“He thinks my singing is shrill all the time.” It was true. The porpoise clicked and whined whenever she sang, and the starfish she was meant to soothe to sleep all cried. “Can’t you sing like Namika?” the porpoise would say. “That’s a sound lovelier than the sunshine through the surface.”
“This is the third time this month you’ve stirred up trouble,” said Mother. “Freeing jellyfish, frightening seahorses, and that foolishness with the eggs.”
“More than foolishness,” added Father. “Those serpent eggs were a gift for the dragon of the South Sea, and to free them was to break our own laws, in our own palace.”
“Do you forget who you are, child?” asked Mother.
“She is trouble,” said Father. “Ungrateful, obstinate, and wild.”
“She asked me, Father,” said Kasumi, who could have voiced Father’s opinion of her by rote. “And I know very well who I am. A princess of the sea. I keep my own name, have my own voice, and find my own amusements. And right now, none of them are here.” She flicked her tail out at Father’s face and swam up and away in the blink that bought her. There would be more scolding, and maybe a night in the pits or a swipe from Father’s claw, once she came back home. But she knew they wouldn’t chase her down over jellyfish. They would let her have the day alone before punishment.
Still, the dragon king roared after her, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Where I will!” Kasumi roared back.
That roar, often sounded in defiance of the dragon king, was the second reason Kasumi was called the flame of the ocean.
From a glorified blog to a repository for rejected articles, I suppose this has now become a place for any writing I don’t have a place for.
“Flame of the Ocean” was my first stab at novel-length fiction (or at least novella length). I’ve spent years revising and submitting it, but at this point, I just don’t think it’s ready for prime time. But I would like to have other eyeballs see it. So it’s going here, a chapter a week, with a quick doodle-illustration for each one. If it prompts any thoughts, please pass them on.