Above the Storm

by JMD Reid

  “I love Ary,” she repeated, hating how nice Vel’s fingers felt, how . . . attractive his offer was. To have someone at her side during her four years of service. His words swirled around her. He burns for me. How did I never see it?

  Vel’s emotions stood unclothed for her to witness how bright his love blazed. His other hand cupped her cheeks, fingers stroking her in ways only Ary had. Tingles raced through her body.

  “He didn’t even bother to chase after you,” Vel pressed. “He doesn’t care at all.”

  More tears flowed, brushed away by tender fingers. Why, Ary?

  “You have to say yes now. If we’re not married by muster tomorrow, we’ll be split up. Assigned to different ships. Maybe even to different training camps. You don’t want to be alone.”

  She had to think. “But . . . I can still marry Ary. He’ll be with me.”

  “Where is he?” Vel moved closer. “You have to decide right now. Be strong, Chaylene. Make a decision. Be with the man who loves you.”

  “Ary loves me.” But where is he?

  Her heart labored so fast. Excitement beat in her. She’d leave Isfe. Four years at least before she’d have to return, if ever. Freedom. Even if it meant danger. Even if it meant risking her life, her health. But what if Ary didn’t want to leave Isfe? What if he wanted to stay?

  Is that why he didn’t follow? He doesn’t want to leave? Have I misjudged him? All those hugs, those touches, his understanding eyes, his shoulder to cry on. Was I wrong? Why is it so hard to know what someone else thinks? Why does there have to be such doubt?

  “Say yes, Lena. Please. There’s not much time.”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “I love you so much.”

  He leaned in and kissed her. The heat shocked her. Excited her. Confused her.

  ~ * * ~

  Ary rushed up to the petty officer. The grizzled man scowled when he looked up then spat to the side in disgust. This has to work. His entire body prickled as fear churned in his stomach. He didn’t want to lose Chaylene to the Navy. He wanted to be there for her, protecting her. His heart pounded too hard for him to think about his actions.

  “What do you want?” the petty officer scowled. “I don’t want to hear any bellyachin’. The draft’s final. Ain’t no changin’ it.”

  “Is it too late to volunteer?” Ary winced at the force of his words.

  For a moment, the petty officer stared at him in stunned amazement, then he threw back his head and roared in laughter. “You tryin’ to pull my britches down? ‘Cause, sonny, that’s the funniest stormin’ thing I heard all week.”

  “Please. I want to join up.”

  “Draft’s closed. The Autonomy’s got the bodies it needs.”

  “I need to,” Ary protested. “You have to make an exception. Please.”

  “Why do you want to join so badly?”

  “For Chaylene.”

  A sad look crossed his face. “Oh, sonny, don’t be making a decision this rash because of a pretty face. I get it. She’s got that Vaarckthian blood burning through her, and you love the way she warms you up. But it ain’t worth it.”

  Ary’s cheeks burned at the man’s words, but nothing would deter him. “I love her. And I don’t want to lose her.” He grabbed Shefe’s shoulder. “Please, sir, I’ll do anything. She’s all I’ve got.”

  “Then marry her and wait at home like a good husband. You’ll get to see your pretty wife between deployments.”

  “I don’t want that. I want to be there for her.”

  “Trust me, sonny, you don’t. Joining up for a girl is the worst reason in the world. I’m doin’ you a favor. You’d regret it. When it gets hard, when you’re suffering on half-rations and your bowels are turned to water because the storming jakes have seized your guts, you’ll come to resent her for stranding you in that mess.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You best let go of me and let me finish up my work,” Shefe growled. “I’m losing my patience with you, sonny.”

  Ary’s anger rose. “I’m not letting go until you sign me up.”

  The pins and needles irritating his skin intensified, building in his hand, itching to discharge his frustration into this obstinate, downy-headed sow.

  Shefe’s eyes flicked to Ary’s hand. A grin split his lips. “Discharging Lightning into a non-commissioned officer carries a sentence of ten years’ hard labor if you just stun me. Kill me, and . . . You sure you know what you’re doin’, sonny?”

  “What is all this ruckus, Shefe?” an annoyed woman asked.

  Lieutenant-Captain Myxo stalked up to the table, standing even shorter up close. Her face glowered as dark as a Cyclone, her eyes boring into the both of them. Ary would have flinched and cowered like a minnow scurrying at shadows, but his anger howled too great for the woman’s hard gaze to intimidate him. His determination was too strong.

  He would enlist.

  “Nothing, Lieutenant-Captain,” Petty Officer Shefe answered. “The lad just had some questions.”

  “About?”

  “I want to enlist!” Ary blurted. “I want to join up as a marine.”

  “And, like I told him, sir, it’s too late for that. His head’s just full of down, but I’ll knock it out of him.”

  She eyed Ary. “And why is it too late, Petty Officer Shefe?”

  “I . . . eh . . . the draft’s closed, sir.”

  “How can we say no to a man volunteering with such passion?”

  “Regulations, sir?” Shefe asked, his voice growing uncertain.

  “Shefe, grab a volunteer form. Then select one of the two marines that were drafted and fill out discharge papers.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ary let go of Shefe, staring at the lieutenant-captain in amazement. “Thank you.”

  A smile creased her severe face. “I hope she’s worth it, son.”

  “She is, ma’am.”

  “Sir,” she corrected. “Officers are addressed as sir, recruit.”

  ~ * * ~

  For a moment, Chaylene exulted in the kiss. Heat blazed out of her nethers. Her eyes closed, her body swaying as his lips moved, caressing her mouth, his hands so tight on her hips, sliding, moving, reaching.

  Ary.

  She slapped Vel hard.

  “Is your head stuffed full of ostrich down?” she exclaimed. Anger boiled inside her. At Vel for sneaking a kiss, and at herself for enjoying it. Her knees trembled and warmth burned inside her.

  “It’s the only way I can watch out for you.”

  “I don’t need you to watch out for me!” she panted, trying to ignore that heat. “I don’t love you.”

  “So you need Ary to watch out for you?” His eyes bored into hers.

  “Of course not.” She took a deep breath, shame flooding through her at how hot her blood boiled. The kiss . . . awakened something in her—a realization. All these little things, the way he looked at her, hugged her, the way he’d danced with her on Wedding Day, all of them crystallized in her mind, a faceted gem reflecting truth.

  He really loves me. Pity stirred in her heart for a moment, realizing how her friend had hid his feelings.

  “Vel,” she said, trying to be gentle. “I don’t love Ary because I need him. It’s because he cares for me.”

  “I care for you.” Vel grabbed her hands—so warm—and looked her in the eye with smoldering heat. She hated how her blood responded.

  Why do I have to take after my ma so much?

  “He didn’t even come after you.” Vel looked around. “Do you see him?”

  Chaylene swallowed, peering at the alley. Her heart stung. Vel’s fingers stroked her hands, so gentle. He moved closer, his lips looming. Confusion stormed through her, two different desires swirling around each other.

  “I won’t abandon you like he did, Lena.” His words were so soft, so gentle. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. You’re a moon nymph, bathed in azure, reflecting back such radiance.” His hand moved to her hip, not grip
ping, just resting.

  Her skin tingled.

  She opened her mouth, not sure what she should say, her thoughts whirling. Having someone with me, even Vel, would make it so much easier. Someone I can trust and lean on.

  She glanced toward the alley mouth where the crowds streamed by, laughing, joyful, young women clinging to the arms of their betrothed or intendeds, flowers adorning their blonde or brown hair. Where is he?

  Vel’s hand pulled her a little closer. Her feet shuffled. His lips came closer. Eyes promised an end to pain. Her heart quivered.

  “I’m sorry he didn’t come,” he continued. “I thought he loved you, I did. But I do. I’m with you in this. Together. Ary wants to toss you away, let the Navy—”

  “No.” She stepped back, shaking her head. “No, I need to think, Vel.”

  “Lena.” Pain twisted his face. “Please. We’ll be split apart if we don’t marry.”

  “What about Ary? I have to talk to him. Maybe he’s looking for me. I can’t just—”

  “Chaylene!”

  Her head snapped to the alley’s entrance. Ary’s broad frame walked past the mouth, head craning as he peered through the crowd. The pain in her heart vanished as he called her name again, swallowed by exultation.

  “Ary!”

  Vel’s face fell.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as Ary stopped. “But . . .”

  Vel didn’t answer. Or if he did, Chaylene didn’t hear the words as she stared at Ary, tears building in her eyes. He didn’t abandon me. A huge smile crossed his lips as he rushed to her, arms spreading wide.

  She glided to him, hating herself for running in the first place instead of staying and facing her responsibilities. She couldn’t be weak. Not when she would serve in the Navy. His powerful arms crushed her to his chest. She rested her face on his shoulder, feeling the heat of him through his linen shirt rough on her cheek. She breathed in his scent, sweat and leather and dust. The scent of work. Of her Ary.

  “I’m sorry,” Chaylene said, her voice feeling tiny. “For being a thunder-scared sow and running.”

  “I understand,” Ary said, rocking her. “Thanks for finding her, Vel.”

  “Finding me?”

  “Of course I found her,” Vel said, leaning against the alley wall, face still dark, crushed by disappointment. He’d put his heart out on a picnic plate, and instead of her taking it, the field guppies feasted on it.

  “I thought you weren’t going to look for her,” Vel said.

  “Of course I was,” Ary said. “I told you to stop her.”

  “Misunderstood.” Vel swallowed.

  She gave her friend a sad smile. Maybe, in another life, if other decisions were made . . . But they weren’t.

  “And what was so important that you abandoned Chaylene?” Vel asked, voice light, masking hurt. “Did you need to use the jakes?”

  “I enlisted.” Ary said, voice flat and tight.

  Chaylene flinched, her eyes widening as she stared at him. “For me?”

  “Of course.”

  “W-what?” Vel stammered, swaying punch-drunk. “But . . . The draft . . . It’s over. Enlistments are closed.”

  “I convinced them.” Ary broke the embrace, stepping back. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a dried, pressed flower, its two green stems entwined together, the petals blue blushing to red.

  A moonflower.

  “Briaris,” Chaylene gasped, her heart fluttering. The tears building in her eyes spilled over the edges, running hot down her cheeks.

  “I hoped to do this in a better place than an alley,” he told her, taking her hand—so warm and strong. “I, well, I love you, Lena. And . . .”

  Her eyes misted.

  “Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  “I will,” she sobbed and threw her arms around his neck, holding him tight. His strong arms hugged her, hands stroking her back. “I’m so sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Nothing.” She pushed down her guilt for, briefly, enjoying Vel’s lips. “I’m just so happy.”

  Ary kissed her with passion. Wonderful warmth filled her. She clung to him. Such joy bubbled through her she could float away and carry them both from Isfe and the Navy.

  They both gasped for breath when they finished. She clung to his muscular waist, afraid her knees would buckle. She caught a glimpse of Vel vanishing into the crowd. Relief blew through her. Ary didn’t need to know about Vel’s feelings. His pain would only make Ary feel guilty.

  I didn’t meant to come between you two. I’m sorry, Vel.

  Ary tucked the dried moonflower behind her left ear. “So beautiful. My Eyia.”

  Chaylene smiled. Bronith let nothing stop his pursuit of the lovely Eyia dancing on her moonbeams. She leaned in and kissed Ary again. They were promised now, and adults, so they could kiss as much as they liked.

  “I think you’ve done that enough,” chortled Gretla. “You’re churning Jhevon’s stomach. He’s turning green.”

  “Shut up,” groaned Jhevon.

  Chaylene giggled as they turned and found Ary’s younger siblings gawking at the alley’s mouth. Gretla gave a shriek when she saw the moonflower tucked behind Chaylene’s ear, ran down the alley, and hugged her around the waist. “You’re gonna be my big sister!”

  Jhevon strode up to his older brother, and held out his hand. They shook. “Ma’s gonna gust a storm.”

  “When’s the wedding going to be?” Gretla asked, bouncing on her feet. “Ooh, I can’t wait. We’ll cover you in wildflowers, Chaylene. You’ll be so beautiful.”

  “Tonight,” Ary answered.

  “What?” Gretla blinked and frowned. Then she hit her brother in the arm. “You can’t have a wedding that fast. We need to make plans.”

  Ary looked at his siblings, his smile fading. “Chaylene was drafted, so I volunteered.”

  Gretla’s face blanched, and Jhevon straightened his back, nodding to his older brother. “Good luck, Briaris.”

  “But, but . . .” Gretla protested. “We need you at home.”

  “You have Jhevon. And you’re getting old enough to do more around the farm.”

  “It’ll make Ma happy.” Jhevon forced a laugh.

  Gretla punched him. “Don’t say that. I don’t want you to go, Ary.”

  “It won’t be forever.” He stroked her blonde hair. “We’ll get leave and come visit, and in four years, we’ll be back in time for you to be almost grown up.”

  Gretla threw her arms around her brother’s waist, burying her face into his stomach. “You better come back. Or I’ll go looking for you and drag you back.”

  “I promise.”

  “I’ll watch out for him,” Chaylene said, touching Gretla’s shaking shoulder. “We’ll watch out for each other.”

  “Come on,” Ary said, prying his sister’s arms from his waist. “Me and Chaylene need to get married before muster tomorrow, or the Navy’ll split us up.”

  ~ * * ~

  Vel’s insides almost rebelled.

  Ary threw him aside and seized Chaylene, trampling his proposal into the muck of the alley. Just heartbeats ago, she’d kissed him. Their love had blazed. Her lips were soft and warm, her body curved and lithe in his arms. He could still feel her fire on his skin.

  He couldn’t watch the enthusiastic way she kissed Ary.

  Vel stumbled into the throngs streaming by the alley’s mouth. His dream gone, crushed by the uncaring boot of his friend. Ary could never let him have anything. He always had to take, always had to lead. He could have had any of the other dull-eyed sows in the village.

  Why’d he choose her? Vel demanded of the sun. Why the one beautiful daisy that sprouted on Isfe?

  Vel wandered through Ahly, passing the festivities. Young girls, nearing adulthood, danced in colorful dresses while the young men clapped the beat. Drums and zithers filled the air with music. Motley performers stood on almost every street corner. Children laughed and dashed about, pla
ying their silly games. In dark corners, men and their sweethearts exchanged heated kisses. Riasruo’s glory would shine longer today than the rest of the year.

  Life was celebrated in the city.

  He appreciated none of it.

  How could he when he’d offered to share his burning life with Chaylene? Ary had snuffed out the flames beating in his chest. Now he faced four years of suffering in the Navy, shipped off to some Theisseg-damned corner of the Autonomy all the while knowing his beautiful Chaylene shared her fires with Ary.

  He ached for the courage to punch Ary in the face. To swoop down on his friend like a hungry shark and tear him into bloody chunks.

  How could she choose him over me? His footsteps lurched. He replayed their conversation through his head, the way her face twisted, the way she kept looking around the alley, searching. She’d feared Ary would catch them.

  He might not hurt Chaylene, but me . . .

  People died in cities. Criminals prowled the streets. Everyone in Isfe knew to be careful walking through Ahly’s streets at night. She’s protecting me. He took a deep breath. Of course she is. Why else would she choose him over me?

  And though this realization was sweet, it did little to ease his pain. He’d still lost her to Ary. Worst, she faced the misery of a sham marriage. A prisoner to that brute, suffering to protect the man she really loved.

  The crackle of a bonfire drew Vel’s attention. It blazed in the center of a neighborhood marketplace. Smoke rose thick in the air. Men, women, and children threw effigies of wicker, cloth, woven reeds, and even flowers upon the flames.

  “The fire cleanses us all!” they shouted before tossing their sins onto the pyre to be consumed by Riasruo’s flames.

  To be purified.

  It wasn’t enough to pray to Riasruo, he needed to demonstrate it. Vendors lined the square, premade effigies hanging from strings before their stalls, twisted figures of wood and twine ready for the flames.

  Vel didn’t hesitate at the cost. He slapped down two sapphire pennies.