The Flame and the Arrow

by Emigh Cannaday

  Chapter 27

  an old friend

  The scent of salty air hit Annika’s nose long before the pine trees parted, and when they did, they revealed a sizeable fishing village that catered to merchants as well. The frothy edge of the shore was lined with boulders and docks and a long boardwalk that led to different businesses, and most importantly, a pub. Not only was it a place to relax with a much needed tall glass of local beer, but it was the place to make inquiries and connections about crossing the Sea of Forneus. Annika and the samodivi weren’t even finished with their first pints when Justinian walked up to them, laughing and joking with a wraith-like creature dressed in Viking armor.

  “This is Captain Kovachev. He’s generously agreed to take us on board his ship,” the broad-chested paladin beamed. The captain’s sinewy smile faded as he looked at Sariel with a curious expression.

  “Sariel? Is that you?”

  “You two have met?” Justinian asked. Captain Kovachev looked astounded as Sariel stood up and stepped forward.

  “Silef, it can’t be. Is it possible?”

  “I thought you were dead!” they both said to each other at the same time.

  “What are you doing here?” they both said at once. They laughed and he reached out to touch her face with his bony hand.

  “Sariel…it’s been over one hundred lifetimes since I’ve seen you last.”

  “I know,” she breathed. “You’re still trading then?”

  “Yes, for an eternity. I wouldn’t give up the life for anything. My men and I belong on the water; you know that. Seeing you brings back ancient memories, but we’ll have plenty of time to catch up,” he said with a spooky grin. “We set sail in an hour.”

  Astounded by their good fortune, Annika and the wood nymphs watched as the men guided the horses and deer into the steerage. Konstantin waited until all the animals were secured below deck before boarding with the wolves in Captain Kovachev’s private quarters. The other sailors were curious about having a vampire for their passenger, but had nothing to fear since there was no harming those that were already dead. Just as promised, they set sail right away, designating separate sleeping quarters for the men and women. While everyone was getting situated and settling in, Annika walked out to one end of the ship, where Sariel stood gazing at the sea. Her fierce expression was long gone, replaced with a forlorn sadness. She glanced over at Annika, but didn’t move.

  “How do you know Captain Kovachev?” Annika asked.

  “Silef…” Sariel whispered. “Silef and I…we fought side by side when the children were babies.” Annika figured she meant Runa, Magda, and Hilda.

  “Do you want to hear what the world has done to me?” she asked. Her warrior queen demeanor had vanished, and they were now simply two women speaking to one another.

  “Sariel, I’m really sorry about what I said that night.”

  “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ve held onto this anger far too long. It’s tarnished my soul. Seeing Silef has made me realize that by remaining angry, I’ve only given them my power, not taken it back.”

  “Given who?” Annika asked. Sariel sighed heavily and looked at her with sadness in her eyes.

  “It’s a grim tale. If you’re willing, I will tell you. It’s part of your history.”

  “Maybe it will help you deal with things, if you talk about it?” Annika suggested.

  “I haven’t spoken of it in centuries, but perhaps it’s time.” Sariel’s gaze scanned the water, and then she looked at she began to speak. “When I was first taken as a new bride from my home on the river, the Viking who stole my clothes and brought me to his home was kind enough to teach me how to use a sword. I fought alongside my husband and Silef, defending our ship, and our livelihood. Back then women fought as shield maidens, and I had become as great of a fighter as any man. What I lacked in size, I made up for with agility.”

  “However, I soon had my hands full with three young daughters, and the sea was no place to raise them. It was a hard life, with their father traveling for months at a time, but I was always so happy when he returned. I was so in love with my husband and with our children, and we were expecting another. He and Silef had just returned from delivering their cargo, when their ship was ambushed by pirates. I had left the girls at home with a neighbor and went with Silef’s wife to meet him and my husband, but the pirates killed them before we even had a chance to greet one another. They kidnapped me and Silef’s wife and took us back to their ship.” Sariel’s voice choked and she stopped speaking.

  “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to,” Annika said, but Sariel shook her head.

  “No, I want you to understand what made me the way I am. No one walks through life unscathed, and it’s how we react to being tested that becomes our legacy. So there we were on the ship, and all I care to say is that she and I were violated and tortured in the worst of ways. She was blessed to lose her life quickly, but not me. At first I tried to fight them, but that was what they wanted. Then I begged mercy for my unborn child, but they didn’t care.” Annika was overcome with horror and revulsion.

  “They ripped my body to shreds,” Sariel continued bitterly. “When I wouldn’t stop bleeding, they threw me overboard for the sharks. I don’t know how I reached the shore, but as soon as my feet touched the sand, I lost the baby I had carried for five months. The trauma was too much, and there was nothing I could do for my little boy…my only son. He was so small that he fit in one of my hands…he weighed nothing.” Sariel looked down into her palm and tried to fight back her tears, but they rolled down her cheeks until Annika was watery-eyed as well.

  “I buried him in the hard soil of early spring. Sometimes, at that same time of year, I can still smell the ground where my cheek rested.” Sariel took a long deep breath and was quiet for a long time. Annika couldn’t believe the story she was hearing. She couldn’t think of anything more dismal, more horrendous, more hideous to happen to another living creature. And yet, with every detail that Sariel shared, she knew it was true. “I cried until I was dry,” she continued. “And then I cried more. I didn’t move from my son’s resting place for a moment. I lay watch over his grave, waiting to die.”

  “But you didn’t die,” Annika said in a cracked whisper. Her voice seemed a vulgar thing to pervert the memory that Sariel was reliving.

  “No. Instead I was rescued. Her name was Nadira. She appeared before me, white and pure and beautiful, and she told me I must live for my daughters. She gashed a vein in her foreleg with her horn and demanded that I drink.”

  “A unicorn?” Annika uttered softly, drawing in her breath.

  “Yes. A creature so rare and pure, so sought after for her own precious blood—and here she was, urging me to take from her very life force. She lay by my side through the night to keep me warm, and told me to give a piece of my skirt to the raven you know as Cazadora. She brought the fabric back to Silef, to let him and my daughters know I was alive. He was my husband’s closest friend, and he alone knew my former life as a samodiva. This is perhaps why Nadira wanted me to have a second chance at life. My body healed quickly with her magic blood and she bade me to sit on her back, to ride her as if she were nothing but a common horse, and when she delivered me to the outskirts of my village, she disappeared as quickly as she had come to me, before I could offer any thanks to her. I gathered Silef and his crew and urged them to take me aboard their ship and hunt those pirates down, for I had sworn my revenge, and I was determined to see it through.” The sorrow in Sariel’s eyes had been replaced by an intense ferocity as she continued her story.

  “Our ship found theirs quickly, since we were carrying little cargo—only a bit of lamp oil, and as soon as we boarded we hobbled their feet so they couldn’t escape, yet they couldn’t bleed to death too quickly either. They repented for their sins against me, but for the crime committed against my son I never heard a single word. It was really quite compassionate of me to give them their deaths, since I was to l
ive through my nightmare for the rest of my immortal life. I cut off the vile organs that had violated me with such hate only days ago, every last one of them, until those beasts were nothing but a pile of useless flesh. We doused their ship with the lamp oil before returning to ours, and with one beautiful, blessed arrow, I set it ablaze. Silef’s crew and I watched as the ship burned every one of those bastards to ashes. I waited until their ship had sunk, and only then did I return to my daughters. I brought them back to my homeland just outside Srebra Gora and raised them where I knew they would be safe. We’ve never returned to the sea, until now.”

  The story was finished. This dreary window into Sariel’s past explained so much. It explained why she disliked men, why she was so passionate about tracking her children, why she seemed perpetually melancholic and angry, why she was so unyielding in her beliefs and opinions, and why she relished in violence. Every time her sword or arrow killed someone, it also killed a little bit more of the pain she’d borne for the past thousand years.