Storm Surge

Winds, rain, and thunder all came down outside at once. The extra-humid, extra-warm tropical zone that was Aeirun allowed for storms far larger than any hurricane on Earth. At any rate, it was likely why the coastal mage’s college tower was built higher, thicker, and sturdier than any equivalent tower on Earth.

To save on the portal-crafting energy latent to their excavated blood-obsidian, Grog shut down the door between worlds. As it folded up with a whoosh, Skott couldn’t help but notice that there was a counter-clockwise swirl to the portal’s mouth on this end. Perhaps it was officiating of where the ‘origin’ of the portal came from, or perhaps it was similar to how swirls drain in different ways in the northern and southern hemispheres.

“Hmm. Your world appears to have many more years of advanced statecraft under their belt,” Lamora said as she read through a hefty tome on institution-building. “Yes. This tells of how a rebel movement could build its way up towards a functioning state. We could have used this back in the day.”

“I saw it in the airport book shop and thought of you,” Skott said. “Keep it.”
With a nod, Lamora shut the book. “I’m sure it will. I’ll pour over it in the next few days. Thank you once again, Skott. I always find myself in your debt.”

“It’s nothing.” Skott’s cheeks turned rosy. “Been mulling over the political situation here and, well… we based your Senate after the one back home. There’s not enough constituent states though, such that Elvwood and a few outlying areas are enough to keep you from even making quorum. Maybe we can find some reforms amidst these books to help?”

The laboratory was dimly lit only by candlelight. Lamora had a thick pair of orcish reading spectacles that Skott had never seen her wear before. Grog wore a more modest pair as he peered deeply into a gemstone of refined blood-obsidian.

“Well, the School of Weather Magic over in tower B predicts the storm will pass by morning,” Grog said. “I’ll stay here and continue my work. The sound outside helps keep me focused. It’ll be another all-nighter.”

Lamora got up and left the room, ready to attend to some more ministerial duties. Skott watched her go. She was wearing some kind of orcish nightdress that sashayed as she left.

With Grog’s head in a book and Lamora gone, that left just Skott and Lucy in the sleepy portalmancy laboratory.

“You must tell her you’re ready to mingle, Father of Omaha,” Lucy said.

“I’m—t-there’ll be no mingling,” Skott stammered. “Once she has some free time, I simply wish to tell her that I’ll be free to help out long-term now.”

Stress over mortgages and the like continued to nibble at the back of his mind. But the moment Skott returned through the portal he felt a great weight lift off his shoulders. After all that time spent fretting over Nessa’s reaction, it had all worked out for the best. Now he could spend at least a month in Aeirun without a care in the world. Together, they could sort out the remaining political situation, while Skott could spend some more time getting to know the kids better.

Skott yawned. “Gah. Haven’t gotten a proper sleep since before we got to the dig site.”

“What a coincidence, Father, neither have I,” Lucy said. “Is this some human ability? Does Earth have abnormal day-night cycles?”

“It’s not that. I slept on a plane.” Skott kneaded the base of his back, which had turned stiff. “It’s just not a very high-quality sleep. I’m going to turn in.”

“Well, I’m not…” Lucy yawned as well. “Sleepy at all. I could… stay…”

When Lucy did not finish her sentence, Skott looked over to her. She’d fallen asleep sitting up. She snored softly—well, softly for an orc. It was actually rather loud for a human.

“I’ll get her a blanket,” Grog said. “You get to bed. We offer storm shelter bunks free of charge on levels two, three, and four.”

Skott made for the door.

“Oh, and good job, looking after your sister,” Skott said with no small amount of pride.

“That’s what littermates are for,” Grog said. “Before you go, say, I really must request that you take me on one of these ‘planes’ you speak of.”

Skott stifled a laugh. Back at her desk, Lucy let out another snore.

“If we can keep steady portal access, sure,” Skott promised.

I imagine Lucy would like that quite a bit as well, he thought as he retired.

+++

By morning, the storm had passed. The wind was still, and the atmosphere had a certain eerie calm to it.

Water had flooded the town port, with storm surge lapping right up against the walls. Flood waters had taken out the road heading south towards the excavation as well as partially swamped the road heading north that they’d taken to come here from Elvwood.

Lamora and other government functionaries were busy for quite some time with post-hurricane storm cleanup, disaster relief, and the like. Skott didn’t see her all day. This left the human with a strange feeling of loneliness. Despite being the only Earth-human in Aeirun, he’d seldom felt like that before.

Water flooded the college on all sides, hugging the walls and ensuring the mage college was an artificial island until it all flowed out to sea.

I suppose there’s some natural crisis or disaster at least once a year, Skott thought to himself. Lamora’s been raising the kids and has served as the buck-stops-here leadership role responding to every single one for a decade and a half…

The sudden post-storm calm came with an even more stifling humidity than Skott had ever experienced before. He stayed near the upper levels of the mage’s tower, where at least a slight breeze still reigned.

“Ah, with the roads out we won’t be able to get relief supplies in,” said a ministerial aide rushing by in a spiraling hallway. She was heading for the Prime Ministresses’ office.

It was there from that high perch that Skott noticed a trio of faint dots far out at sea. He squinted, noting that his eyes weren’t quite what they used to be, and before long noticed a trio of mastheads.

“Ships incoming!” he blurted out, but the particular room in the tower was empty.

Skott ran down the stairs, telling all who would listen that there were ships inbound.

The docks were, of course, in no position to be used. Likewise, there were no expected cargo ships inbound. Who would be brave or foolish enough to pilot these ships right through a storm?

Quite a crowd followed Skott down to where a bit of the college town seawall was just barely holding on against a lingering high tide from the hurricane. Two of the ships held back while the lead—and swiftest—ship approached right up to the wall.

“We’re not under attack by pirates, are we?” Skott muttered to himself.

He looked about. While Lamora did have armed guards courtesy of her security retinue, and the college had some martial-inclined mages in its ranks, there wasn’t exactly an armed garrison out here to greet the ship.

The boat towered over the wall with some particularly high railings and a massive interior. It was made from the trees of the northern forests, not unlike those around Elvwood. At any rate, a figure leaped down to the wall with only a knotted sailor’s rope to break their fall.

“Avast!” said the figure as she came to an acrobatic landing.

This mystery woman wore an eyepatch not unlike a pirate. She had a peachy skin tone that trended towards a faint green-yellow undertone. Slight pointy ears—small and compact, unlike Lucy’s. Most strikingly of all was a big old patch over her left eye. She was definitely young, right at the cusp of an Aeirunian adulthood, if Grog , Lucy, and the others were any indication.

“Aye. Have returned from the edge of the world, have we,” said the pirate lady. “Have it on good authority that ye have need of some emergency supplies and a lift to high and dry land?”