Stemming the Tide

by Rosie Scott

  I hissed through my teeth. “Ouch.”

  “It's not an insult,” Neliah protested, glancing over to ensure she hadn't hurt me. “Would you not consider yourself perverse?”

  “In every sense of the word.”

  She chuckled and returned her gaze to the view. “Well? Then my assessment is correct. You never answered my question. Why did you come out to me, if not for wicked intentions?”

  “To apologize.”

  Neliah turned to me. Her gaze rolled over my face, down my torso, and to the hand I kept visible out of my trouser pocket. For a split second, I dared to dream that her stare was impure. Instead, she seemed to judge my body language. “You're not hiding your hands,” she began, “so I have the feeling you're being honest.”

  I huffed with amusement. “You think I'm lying every time I hide my hands?”

  “When you're uncomfortable or feeling introverted you hide your hands in your trouser pockets,” Neliah informed me. “With them out like this, it indicates you're open to discussion.”

  “I'm at a disadvantage right now, seeing as I can't move this hand at all,” I mused, nodding toward my sling. “Either way, I'm flattered that you pay so much attention to my body.”

  “You just couldn't help yourself, could you?” Neliah smirked.

  “No, and if you decide the same, my answer is yes.”

  She laughed shortly. “How easily distracted you are. I swear, the pirates could board and take our ship without a fight just by lining attractive women up on their deck.”

  “They wouldn't even have to be attractive, to be honest.”

  Neliah glared at me. When a mischievously smug grin grew on my face, hers relaxed from my humor. “Focus, Calder.”

  “Oh. Yes.” I cleared my throat and threw my gaze to the moon. Perhaps if I didn't stare in those troubled yet defiant red eyes, I could think. “I slipped up today. I called you love, and I didn't realize until it was out. So...I'm sorry.” When Neliah said nothing, I added, “I'm horrible at apologies, too. If that's not adequate, please let me know.”

  “I heard it and saw the regret on your face as soon as you realized,” Neliah said, her tone warm. “That alone was apology enough for me. Did you truly come all the way out here for that?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “If I made you uncomfortable, I didn't want you to dwell on it.”

  “Every time you're thoughtful it surprises me.”

  “Because they taught you in Eteri the Alderi are savages?” I questioned, slipping a cigarette out of my pocket like a distraction.

  Neliah stiffened. “Who told you that?”

  “Cyrene, back in the wildlands,” I replied. When Neliah summoned fire in reaction to seeing my cigarette, I held it out to her to light.

  “Was it not thoughtless of her to say?” Neliah pondered, dispelling her magic as I started to smoke. “You already fight with your identity.”

  “We were talking about Eteri's judgmental ways. When Cyrene mentioned what awful things they teach the Vhiri about the Alderi in particular, it made me think of you.”

  Neliah grimaced. “That's not exactly a compliment. Do you think I look down on you?”

  “No, but you were standoffish with me when we first met. You later told me you'd only recently fled Eteri, so you hadn't had a chance to meet many Alderi. I thought perhaps your preconceived biases of my race caused your distance.”

  “Oh, Calder,” Neliah breathed with upset. “No. I'm sorry I ever gave you that impression.” A rare self-consciousness settled in her eyes.

  “If it wasn't my race, what was it?”

  She glanced over at me, but her gaze faltered until she tore it away again. “I am distrustful of everyone. You were simply no exception.”

  “But...why?”

  The golden glow of Meir reflected in her red eyes, causing the irises to sparkle. Her chest rose and fell with carefully calculated breaths, but she said nothing.

  “Does it relate to your scar?” I suggested.

  Neliah straightened, and resolution flashed through her eyes until they went cold. “Let's change the subject.”

  I flinched unintentionally from her abrupt change in demeanor and stayed silent, digging in the sands with the toe of one boot. I listened as the heightened pace of her breaths started to regulate over time and hoped she would be the one to broach conversation again. Behind us, the muted echoes of rowdy late-night parties attempted to fill in the silence.

  “I said before that I envy Hilly,” Neliah began, her tone still slightly strained. “She doesn't speak to me. I don't think she likes me because I am Vhiri, and I have to admit to feeling uncomfortable around a dwarf after fighting them during my time in the army. But gods, do I envy her. What a freedom it must be to be uninhibited and to view the world like everything is a joke rather than a threat.”

  I swallowed hard and slowed my kicking at the sands. “Hilly can be sincere.”

  “I don't doubt it,” she conceded, “but either way, she wakes up breathing easy and I do not.”

  “Something troubles you,” I commented, recognizing her denial and reservations all too well. “Don't you think it would help to talk about it? Share it?”

  “All the talking in the world doesn't change the past, Calder,” she said heavily. “You know that better than anyone.”

  “That's why you should talk to me. Because I understand that.”

  “Would you take your own advice?”

  “I already have. You know more about me than I know of you because I talk to you and answer your questions.”

  “What do you wish to know?” She asked it like a challenge.

  I finally turned my head to meet her gaze again and requested with confidence, “Everything.”

  Neliah's eyelids fluttered like she couldn't decide between looking away and maintaining our stare. She decided not to back down. While giving me a look that said I didn't know what I was in for, she rambled like the release of a burden, “I was born on the 47th of New Moon, 309 in the village of Esen to a soldier mother and farmer father. It was a cursed day, for my mother was a dual caster of fire and water, and her extensive magic use drained her vitality to the point that childbirth ended her life. She perished mere moments after they delivered me. My father did not want children despite my mother's insistence, so after her death he became hateful and resented me. I had no name. He refused to give me one and only called me 'girl' throughout my childhood.

  “Father grew crops and tended to cattle and fowl. As I grew up, I spent most of my time with the animals. I took care of them, trained them, and oftentimes slept in their pens. They did not resent me for the things I couldn't control. They did not beat me to release their anger. They did not insult me. Much like my father refused to name me, he did not name his animals. So I did. We became one and the same, resented and forgotten. I had no friends in Esen. It has a low population as it is, and everyone found me odd because I lived with animals and rarely went in the house.

  “At sixteen, my father cornered me one night in his house to chastise me. I don't remember what for, only that it had to do with training the animals in a way he didn't agree with. When his words failed to sway me, he tried his fists and then his belt. It wasn't the first time he beat me, and I knew it wouldn't be the last. I snapped with anger, grabbed a chair, and beat him with it until it broke over his back and he fell. I continued beating him with the chair leg until it splintered and I realized that the red I saw was no longer my rage, but his blood.”

  “Did you kill him?” I interjected hesitantly, not wishing to break her concentration.

  “No,” Neliah replied, her voice shaking. “But I wish I had. I knew he would report me to the authorities. They might have put him in the dungeon for assault, but Eteri's laws made it likely that I would go for attempted murder because I hurt him far worse than he hurt me. So I grabbed a few belongings and fled south. I passed by Reva and rushed through the famous Highland Pass before deciding to settle down in Makani. That's where I
met a man—Jabez—who welcomed me into his group of friends. When he asked me for my name, I told him it was Neliah. I'd heard it before and knew it meant strong-willed with a vigorous spirit, and that is what I aspired to.

  “I found work as an animal trainer in Makani, but it soon became clear that I was the only one of Jabez's group with a solid job. The rest of them were petty thieves and fraudsters. One of them illicitly knew illusion magic and would use it to charm people out of their gold by requiring down payments for services he had no intention of completing.”

  “You sound disgusted by their behavior,” I commented.

  “I was,” she replied. “I wanted no part of it.”

  “Then why did you stay?”

  Neliah exhaled shakily and averted her eyes to the ocean. “Because I had fallen in love, and it made me weak.”

  “With who?”

  “Jabez.” She cleared her throat. “He was the first person to call me by a name and offer friendship. He and his friends were the only support system I'd ever had. I turned a blind eye to the crimes they committed because I had finally found someone who made me feel safe and loved.”

  I watched her with a sideways gaze when the beach fell into silence once more. She didn't seem to want to continue. The arms crossed over her chest trembled.

  “There must've come a point when you left,” I finally commented, hoping to urge her to carry on.

  Neliah blinked rapidly and took a few deliberately measured breaths. “Yes.” The lone word lingered in the air as she gathered herself. When she continued, she left a gap in the timeline of events. “I joined the army a mere fortnight after my twenty-fifth birthday. They assigned me to Zephyr Lian's unit because of my extensive work with beasts. She is the Sentinel that trains and leads the griffon riders. I served for just over twenty years before they discharged me in 355. I promptly left for the wildlands, where I met you. That is everything you asked for.”

  It wasn't. Not even close. But I tried to remain respectful as I asked, “Why were you discharged? Specifically?”

  “While defending Makani from the dwarves of Narangar, I disobeyed direct orders to take a dwarven vessel and instead burnt it to a crisp. It wasn't my first infraction. Queen Tilda had ordered Zephyr to capture the vessel so we could try once more to replicate the dwarven engineering of their siege weapons. That I instead destroyed it looked bad on Zephyr. When she discharged me, she said, 'You make a terrible soldier but one hell of an army.'”

  “Zephyr said this?”

  “Yes. She liked me. Zephyr often told me I was at the top of her list for possible promotion to Sentinel, but then my bloodlust would take over my reasoning and I'd do something stupid. I don't blame her for discharging me.”

  I smoked for a few moments as I pondered over Neliah's story. The gap between her relationship with Jabez and joining the army stuck out to me as something of utmost importance to her anger issues and learned distrust, but she didn't seem ready to talk about that just yet. I was grateful she'd shared anything with me at all. I avoided asking about the disparity when I spoke again.

  “Your father...” I trailed off. Keeping the cigarette between my lips, I reached over to her jawline, just where the thick scar marred her bronze skin from below her right ear to under her chin. As soon as my fingers brushed by her dark hair, she flinched back, alarm flashing through her eyes. I abruptly pulled away and finished, “Did he give you that?”

  “No,” Neliah said tightly, “and I do not understand your obsession with it.”

  I stiffened with panic. I spit bitter curses at myself in my head for causing her hostility, even though I didn't understand where I went wrong. “I'm sorry.”

  “Enough about the scar, Calder. If I had known it would be the source of such contention I would've never joined your crew.”

  Confusion overwhelmed me. Neliah had opened up to me just minutes ago, and now she spoke to me like I was her enemy. Somehow, her rejection of my attempts to be understanding and friendly hurt far worse than her regular rejections of my flirtatious advances. I took a step away from her in retreat and threw my cigarette to the sands, squashing it out with a boot. Silently, I turned toward Killick, wishing to leave this awkward moment behind me before I could make it worse.

  I took only a few steps before Neliah called out, “Wait.”

  I stopped, but I said nothing and didn't turn back to face her.

  “I panicked,” Neliah admitted, sounding ashamed. “That anger wasn't meant for you.”

  “I'm trying to be understanding, but I need to know what I'm doing to cross a line,” I pleaded. “I struggle to understand you.”

  She exhaled heavily with stress behind me. “I don't want to talk about how I got the scar.”

  I turned around again and buried my right hand in my pocket, which she noticed with some upset since it proved my discomfort. “Then I'll never ask you about it again,” I promised, “but you should know that it is not a source of contention. Only curiosity.”

  Neliah nodded quickly. “Thank you for clarifying.”

  I walked back to stand beside her. We observed Meir's display together for a few minutes in silence, trying to recover from the awkward exchange. With the tension calming down in the air, I decided to change the subject. “According to Koby's map, Esen is on Eteri's northern coast. If you ever wish to pay your father a visit, you need only say the word and we'll go.”

  “To kill him?” Neliah asked for clarification.

  “Of course.” To lighten the mood, I added, “Considering your love of mutilations you'll create beautiful art out of an ugly man.”

  Neliah's expression relaxed just a bit. “I appreciate the offer, but my father is already dead.”

  “How do you know?”

  “When I was in the army, Queen Tilda sent our unit out to Esen to investigate reports of an air serpent villagers spotted flying over the nearby Pedr Crags. We stayed the night there, and I figured out through some sleuthing of my own that someone else owned the farm because the prior owner—my father—had died. I only heard that his body was found in the barn. I did not dare ask more pointed questions about it for fear the others would figure out I was his daughter.”

  “The villagers didn't recognize you?”

  “Thankfully, no, but I spent most of my time in the army camp on Esen's outskirts to avoid them. Until I learned of my father's death, I feared he would expose my crime to the army. I'd had no name when I fled Esen, so he couldn't report me to authorities once I was out of his sight. That's why I feared returning to begin with, but that didn't matter as much when I found out he was dead.”

  “May he rot in hell.”

  “If I still drank, I would toast to that,” Neliah replied, before a soft, sad laugh.

  “Thank you for telling me about...well, everything,” I said.

  “Thank you for listening,” she replied, her voice calmer. “You were right. I feel lighter after talking about it. I keep everything to myself most of the time, and that isn't healthy. You probably know a lot about that. It makes you feel alone.”

  I nodded. I knew all about that.

  “How are you doing?” Neliah asked.

  “In general?”

  “You holed yourself up in the captain's quarters for days after the battle. I know Kali's death upset you.”

  A pain clenched my gut. “I'm doing all right.”

  Neliah didn't pursue explanations for my ambiguity. “I didn't know Kali well, but she was a hard worker. I particularly admired how well she fought in melee. Like you alluded to earlier, they teach the Vhiri awful things about other races. Kali was the first human to challenge the biases they taught me. Her strength matched that of elves.” She paused. “I feel awful for Hassan. Once he and Kali hit it off, they did everything together. He was so happy with her around.”

  “That's thoughtful of you to say, given he annoys you,” I commented with a hint of jest.

  “I'm hard on Hassan,” she admitted. “I just guard myself from him
because when I first joined the crew, his flirtations were overwhelming and constant. Kali flirted with me too, at first, but once she got the hint I wasn't interested she was respectful.”

  “Do you find flirting disrespectful in general?” I asked with concern.

  “No, because if I did, I would hate you.” Neliah's face brightened with a smile.

  “But you don't hate me.”

  “No. I quite like you, in fact.”

  “That's a start.”

  She chuckled. “It's a good thing you're charming. If you were ugly and repulsive none of your lofty ideas of summoning gigantic beasts to do your bidding would stick with anyone.”

  “So by standing here beside me prepared to take part in these plans,” I began, “you're admitting that I'm handsome.”

  Neliah stared at me with a facetiously unimpressed look. “You're fishing again.”

  “Because my bait is working.”

  Her gaze dropped to my smirk before she looked away, a smile fighting to reveal itself once more. “It is not.”

  “I'm willing to stand out here with you all night until it does.”

  Neliah laughed abruptly and bent down to collect her pile of things. “Then I suppose it's time I headed back to the inn. We have so much cargo to deliver to Rik tomorrow. We wouldn't want our poor captain to work on no sleep.”

  “Your teasing both excites and frustrates me,” I admitted, turning back to Killick with her.

  “That sounds like a problem I can't help with, Captain,” she replied as we walked, her tone light with humor.

  “Calder,” I corrected.

  She huffed in amusement. “Very well.”

  Twenty-three

  Under blue skies and a cascade of sunlight, Rik Sbarjo limped out of his warehouse, his arms spread with glee to see us. By the looks of it, he still hadn't washed his greasy brown hair since we'd seen him last two years ago. He looked over our crew members, who were all dressed and prepared for hard labor, and greeted, “Last time you were here, he had a broken leg—” he pointed to Koby “—and you were unharmed.” Nodding at my injured left arm, he continued, “Now you have an arm in a sling and he is unharmed.” Rik laughed and reached out to shake my good hand. “Thank the gods you are here, regardless. My warehouse is overflowing!”