Stemming the Tide

by Rosie Scott

  “No,” I said, the word brusque and edged in hostility.

  “Eventually,” Koby told Jaecar. Though his response was in direct conflict with mine, he said it as non-confrontational as possible. It didn't stop anger from rising up as a defensive mechanism until my head heated with fever.

  “Never,” I argued, glaring across the shack at a random point in the shadows. Koby sat right next to me, as he often did; never had that made me uncomfortable until now.

  The others in the room watched our restrained argument like an explosive ready to detonate. A ball of trembling ire rattled in my chest cavity, requiring just one more push to set off and take over.

  “Whatever I said that caused this contention,” Vallen murmured carefully, “I apologize.”

  “You gave nothing but encouragement,” Koby reassured him. “I should have explained that some subjects shouldn't be brought up around Calder. That's why I have to talk about them with others.” With some resentment, he added low, “We're allowed to talk openly about Calder's plans. Not mine.”

  Rage knocked out the rational side of my brain and took the wheel, directing me like a ship out to a world-ending storm. I scrambled to stand so fast I accidentally knocked over the magical lamp and nearly tripped over my always untied boot strings. I almost kicked Hassan on my way to the flimsy wooden door, trembling so profusely I was off-balance. When I reached the exit to this shack that had so quickly become a prison, I turned, caught Koby's gaze, and spat, “Fuck you.”

  I slammed the door so hard behind me that it cracked and stalked away from the shack like I escaped from the underground's tunnel exit. Overhead, stars suffocated in hazy indigo skies. Across the landscape, however, dozens of fires were tended to by beastmen and warriors that ate or played games nearby. The resulting orange glow crept surprisingly far into the swamps, highlighting the imperfections of demented trees with a flickering warmth.

  Gazes followed me with concern and curiosity as I walked aimlessly away from the lodge; perhaps these warriors had watched me slam the door, or maybe I exuded tension. I didn't know where to go or what to do. Too much was happening and demanding of attention that I was utterly unfocused and felt uncomfortable in my own skin. As confident as I acted about killing Cale around those who counted on me to do it, the impending battle already had me on edge. I'd faced Cale twice and hadn't beaten him yet; that his blood-kin could fly always put me at a severe disadvantage. If I lost to him a third time and someone I cared for got hurt in the process, I expected to lose my mind for good. On top of that, I was re-experiencing mourning Kali; not only because of the confrontation with Jayce, but because if I failed to kill Cale, her death would continue to be unavenged. As if that weren't enough to worry about, behind the scenes throughout the years Koby had been branching out to garner support for the same underground war plan he'd come up with the day we escaped that wretched hellhole. I had obtained freedom over five years ago by rushing out of the underground and into the rainforest. But how free could I truly be if my troubled mind remained in its prison?

  If the gods reached down from the heavens to smite me then and there, I would have lavishly thanked them for doing me a favor.

  The ferris wasn't working, and as attractive as the sweet nothingness of death was to me right now, I internally recognized my mind jumped to overreactions when I was this lost. I needed escape. Release. Something that would calm me down and get my mind off—

  “Cal, wait.” Koby's labored voice reached my back just before his fingertips grazed my arm as he tried to stop me.

  I violently jerked my arm away and spun, facing him with a glare meant for an enemy. He flinched back when he noticed it and kept a safe distance from me.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. It was a simple question with a myriad of implications.

  “Contemplating suicide, currently.” My sarcastic tone did not mask that it was the truth.

  Koby hesitated. He seemed to plan out possible responses in his head.

  “Why do you follow me?” I asked like an accusation.

  “Because I never know what you're capable of,” Koby replied. “You just admitted to—”

  “Why do you care what happens to me if you are so resentful of me?” I interrupted, ignoring the stares from the mercenaries nearby who watched our argument.

  “You know the answer to that,” Koby said evenly. “Just because we have disagreements doesn't mean I don't care.”

  “Yet you go behind my back to spout your plans of this stupid underground rebellion to anyone who'll listen, like you can't wait to leave me alone on the surface while you go and save the day and have the time of your fucking life.” I breathed heavily after my ramble, uncomfortable by how many of my insecurities I'd truly admitted to.

  Koby read the pain in my expression and said softly, “Cal, I only talk about it with others because you won't listen to it. Everything I can discuss with you, I do. I don't go behind your back out of malice. I have to find ways to avoid setting you off. Based on what you've told me in the past, I thought this is what you wanted me to do.”

  Koby was right, which only made me angrier. I finally retorted, “I can't listen to it, Koby. I'm done thinking about the underground. I'm done.”

  “All right,” he breathed. “But I'm not.”

  His defiant admission convinced sarcastic laughter to bubble out of my chest and into the night air until I doubled over. Grabbing my head in my hands with intense frustration, I lifted back up and exclaimed, “Then why the hell did you ever leave? Did our sisters fuck you up so badly in the head you miss the abuse? You make for the perfect slave, Koby. You fought so hard for freedom just to fantasize about crawling back to beg them for more. I mean, look at you.” I motioned toward his torso. Though he wore a shirt that covered them, his tattoos remained a permanent reminder of his origins. “You've branded yourself.”

  The withdrawn look he gave me indicated I'd crossed a line and hurt him, but I was too upset to even consider apologizing. I simply braced for his retort.

  “Are you truly so selfish that the idea of someone doing something they don't want to do for someone else is foreign to you?” Koby asked, his tone trembling with anger. “Does it bother you that I want to free our brothers because it makes you think about the time you had a choice to wait for someone or save yourself and you chose yourself? Does it make you uncomfortable to think about how we both left Azazel and yet I'm the only one who wants to risk my life to go back for him and the others?”

  “Do not speak his name,” I snarled like a threat.

  “Ah. It seems all my digging has uncovered treasure,” Koby mused dryly. “Whether or not we speak his name, Azazel is underground as we speak, getting raped and beaten and humiliated. And where are you, Cal?” He dramatically motioned to the ground I stood on. “Safe. With a crew following your lead and gold in your pocket. You don't like thinking about Azazel because he reminds you of your worst decision and because you don't have to think about him. You're free. Well, he's not, and neither are thousands of our brothers. Every single gods damn day we're on the surface, I will think about them and I will plan to free them. You don't have to, but I will.”

  “How dare you suggest that I have the liberty to forget,” I hissed, trembling so bad my vision blurred. “You think I refuse to speak of our brothers because I'm selfish? Because I don't care about their plight for as long as I'm free? I'm not free. I have never been free. I'm not even whole. I struggle to even exist. I'm high all the time because sobriety is torture and I'm in constant pain from all the times I've transformed to try to keep you and our friends safe. All the things I'm motivated to do now—like taking on these pirates and freeing their slaves and aiding the wildlands—all of them stem from my two greatest desires. The first is to have a purpose so I'm distracted from all the things that have happened to me that I'd rather forget. The second? I want you to be happy, and I am ignorant enough to think that maybe, someday, after a string of endless mistakes that is my entire fuck
ing life, I will finally succeed at something and make you proud.”

  Koby said nothing, but his gaze softened at my earnest admissions.

  I swallowed hard; my heart pounded so rapidly from my rant and stress that I swayed. “But I guess the joke's on me,” I continued, my voice hoarse. “Here I thought I was becoming someone of importance. I thought that risking my life to defend our friends and livelihoods would mean something to you. That as long as facing these pirates meant freeing slaves and aiding people we trust, you'd be happy. But you'll never be happy. While I struggle to multi-task and do all these things, I'm constantly losing a war with myself in my own head. Yet, I will never be able to do enough. You resent me because I won't go back to free our brothers, but I can't. I am broken. The underground took my mind and my hopes and my identity and it smashed them all into tiny pieces that I'm too blind to find. I think about our brothers. I think about Azazel. Every. Single. Day. And it is torture. I care about their plight. But I am already broken. If I go back underground, I will be forever lost.” I took a few ragged breaths and continued sarcastically, “But forgive me, you're right. The world only deals with absolutes. I won't go back, so I must be selfish. Honestly, fuck you, Koby.”

  With my mind desperately seeking escape, I roughly brushed past Koby, walking back toward the lodges. Neliah stood against the shadowed wall of one, watching our fight. Based on the concerned expression on her face, she'd heard every word of it. It would have embarrassed me if I could feel anything other than rage and panic.

  Koby's hand grabbed my arm again. For the second time, I shook him off and spun, my right hand balled in a fist. “Stop touching me,” I warned.

  Koby eyed my fist and lifted his hands to show surrender. “All right,” he agreed gingerly, “but you're running from me again and I still want to talk to you.”

  “Well, I'm done talking to you,” I informed him, “and I'm dangerously close to losing it and hitting you. And then I really wouldn't be able to live with myself.”

  A profound sadness entered his eyes. “Why would you hit me?”

  “Because I'm not thinking clearly and words aren't working. Leave me alone.” When I took a step backwards, then another, Koby made no move to follow. Finally, I turned away from him and stalked around tents and shacks toward Neliah, following the demands of my subconscious.

  Neliah straightened and stiffened once she realized she had my attention. She uncrossed her arms as I walked around the lodge's elevated floor, heading for the steps to its surrounding platform.

  “Calder,” she said carefully as I trotted up to her level, “I think you need to calm down and take a walk.”

  “I don't want to take a walk,” I replied, heading straight for her. Neliah backed into the wall, her eyes wide with surprise as I came to an abrupt halt before her, bracing my arms against the wall on either side of her shoulders. Her breathing picked up its pace to match my own as I stared at her parted lips and declared, “I want to kiss you.”

  After a short silence, I flicked my eyes up to meet and study hers. A confusing mixture of emotions fought for precedence in the red orbs: bafflement. Confliction. Sadness. Regret. Desire. For the first time, I recognized that Neliah wanted me, and the ardent energy making me jittery with anger instead focused on lust.

  Neliah's shaky breaths hit my neck, massaging it with warmth. Her eyebrows dipped together, and she murmured, “All right.”

  Elation flowed over me, giving me such a feeling of weightlessness it was like I floated up to become one with the clouds. I ducked forward, finding her lips where I'd left them in my dreams and claiming them at last. Neliah melted at my touch, giving all her weight over to the shack wall like she'd lost her ability to stand. While keeping my right hand braced against the wall, I moved the other to her hair, where it got lost in flowing locks of burnt umber. I scrunched it in my hand, getting lost in the sensation as she shivered with pleasure from the resulting soft tugs on her scalp. Her lips parted under mine like an invitation; I sucked her bottom lip between mine and let it slip slowly back out, my teeth gliding by her moist flesh. A moan of surprised thrill rumbled in her throat; the noise traveled down my spine on a tingle and convinced blood to rush to my groin. My fingers left her hair and trailed over the bumpy flesh of the scar just under her jawbone. As I stroked it delicately, I nuzzled the side of her face and pressed my hips forward, teasing her with my growing reaction.

  Neliah stiffened. Thinking it was due to the adoring attention I paid to her mysterious scar, I swept my fingers back into her hair. Thrusting toward her a second time, I pleaded, “I need release.”

  I nuzzled my way from her jaw to her lips, preparing to kiss her again. When she turned her head to the side, rejecting me, I stilled and stepped back, aware that something was wrong.

  Neliah stared off to the left, where only the ascending hillside awaited. Though she avoided my gaze, I noticed her eyes gleamed with unshed tears. Slowly growing horror rose to suffocate me as I recalled recent memories to ensure she had welcomed my affection. She had. Then why...?

  “You cannot get it from me,” Neliah said, her voice thick with upset.

  “I thought you...” I trailed off, flustered. Had I been so out of my mind from the night's traumatic events that I'd hallucinated her consent and her pleasure? I stumbled backward another step until the platform's railing hit me in the back. Trying to ward away my panic, I protested, “I thought I heard you say you wanted this.”

  Neliah turned back to face me, looking sick with upset and shame. “I did say that, and I did want it. Please don't think you did anything wrong. I shouldn't have let it get as far as it did.” A single tear escaped her eye before she lifted a hand to impatiently wipe it away like it never existed. “I am like you, Calder,” she confided, her voice shaking so hard her words gained extra syllables. “No matter how hard I try, I cannot escape my past.”

  I watched in uncomfortable silence as the strongest woman I knew broke down into sobs for reasons unbeknownst to me. I had no idea how to comfort her. I cared for Neliah immensely, but she'd rejected my attempts to show her that in the only way I knew how. Still, as she cried by herself in the shadow of the lodge's overhang, she looked so lost and alone, and sympathy overcame me. I neared her again, but this time I simply pulled her to my chest and held her. It was something I had witnessed surface-dwellers do to comfort others, but I'd never had the courage to hold someone because it felt awkward and foreign to me. It evidently worked. Neliah cried into my shirt until it dampened with her tears and squeezed me tight like a simple hug was the antidote to her undiagnosed yet fatal condition.

  Somehow, comforting her calmed me as well. I held her close and stroked her hair until her sobs slowed and dissipated, leaving only shaky breaths and hiccups. When it felt appropriate to speak, I only murmured, “I'm sorry.”

  Still holding me tight, she softly replied, “Me, too.”

  Twenty-eight

  Soft clinking of metal tools in metal cups woke me up. All the tumultuous events of the night before came back to me in an onslaught of regret. Raw energy simmered in my gut, hopelessly unspent from a lack of any release, sexual or otherwise. After Neliah and I had separated, I searched for Hilly, only to find she was spending the night with Vallen. With a lack of options and not wanting to look at or talk to Koby, I'd ended up seeking refuge with the one person who felt safest.

  I turned my head toward the chimes of metal. Sage stirred steaming tea in a tin mug, paying careful to attention to the water as it tinted colors with the steeping herbs. He glanced over at me, his face brightening a bit with a smile when he noticed my eyes were open.

  “Good morning, sir,” he greeted. “I hope I didn't wake you. Would you like tea?”

  I reached up to rub at my tired eyes. “Forgive me if I'm off this morning. I'm not used to waking up next to men.”

  “If anything untoward happened between us last night, I am sorry to say I have no recollection,” Sage jested lightly. “It seems the women h
ave over-exaggerated your skill.”

  I laughed softly, though I quickly sobered and held a hand over my eyes in shame. I had sought refuge with Sage last night because I knew he was the one person who wouldn't prod or ask questions; he would only offer support and a friendly ear. Yet, I'd never considered that I unintentionally hurt him by endlessly pursuing Neliah. Sage had gone out of his way to befriend Neliah, and the two were often together. It suddenly dawned on me that there might be a reason for that.

  I cleared my throat. “What all did you see or overhear last night?”

  Sage continued stirring his tea. “Your argument with Koby was so loud I couldn't avoid it,” he admitted. “I came outside to see if there was anything I could do, but it was ending by that point. I went back indoors once Koby left and you joined Neliah.”

  He had obviously seen us kiss. It was impossible to tell if any of it bothered him. Sage was so calm he never had averse reactions to anything. “I'm sorry,” I said.

  “For what?”

  “You like her.” After a hesitation, I clarified, “Neliah.”

  “Why does that require an apology?”

  “You have pursued her for over a year. Like an idiot, I just realized that.”

  “A person cannot lay claim to another person,” Sage replied calmly. “As ex-slaves, we both understand that.”

  I understood his point, but I still felt guilty. “Monogamy, and its rules both said and unspoken, do not occur to me. If I have bothered or hurt you with my careless pursuits of women, I am sorry. I don't realize it unless someone who does care brings it to my attention.”

  “You haven't bothered or hurt me,” Sage said simply.

  “Then am I imagining your attraction to Neliah?”

  “No,” Sage admitted. “Neliah is beautiful and interesting, but she is also deeply troubled. You say that I have pursued her for over a year, but that isn't quite the case. I've understood from early on that she is not ready to even consider romance, so I've never confessed my attraction. She may never be ready. There are unsettled issues in her past she may never come to terms with.”