by Dawn Dagger
Levanine turned to Quinn as Guy disappeared behind a shore cliff, his footsteps all that showed he ever existed. They were quickly fading, however, as the tides brushed across them. It was strangely beautiful.
“Did all the sailors live, Quinn?” She asked, steadying her swaying as a wind blew against her. He did not respond, looking away. “Oh.” Her heart sunk and she suddenly felt panicked. What was of Silva and Rakifi? Eldred? Braxton? “Has there been a funeral?”
Quinn chuckled softly, almost bitterly. “I’ve been asking the Captain ever since we started this adventure. He’s always so busy going onto the next thing that he never stops.”
“Well,” Levanine cast a long look at the boat, “we’ll have a funeral now? We will probably be here for a moment.” Quinn rose a red brow. “We ought to send their families their share of the treasures, if we have contact with them, and a letter of apology.”
“Why do you think this is necessary?” Quinn asked. It suddenly seemed as if she was taking a test, which made her feel clammy.
She thought for a long moment before hesitatingly speaking, “Because their families might not have money right now, and I’m sure they’d want closure that their loved one is dead instead of always hoping. Um, because it is honorable, and part of the code… The pirate’s promise...”
Quinn’s eyes transformed into two green pools of deep regret and hidden secrets. They hardened in a moment, twinkling again with joyous and unbothered light. “Good reasons.” He pat Levanine’s head. “We’ll talk to Captain Guy?”
“Alright.” Levanine nodded.
They both turned toward the sea and watched the dull, whitish-blue waves wash up onto the colorless sand. Levanine found herself lost in thought, trying to drown the pain screaming through here with the sound of the waves. She had always imagined the sea as a bed of emeralds and sapphires, with the taste of salt and fish like a welcome friend, beckoning her onto new travels. These waters she had seen so far had been less than magical. They had been dangerous and angry. Exciting, but not in the ways she had hoped.
Sailing was definitely better than being a maid, but it wasn’t being what she always imagined, and it began to weigh on her. If her dream of all dreams wasn’t what she thought it to be, wasn’t what she had always heard about, than was anything else going to come remotely close?
Maybe elves were all ugly, and all wine tasted as horribly as it had on the ship, and all men were angry, and the world was dirty and bad. Maybe she had been wrong, all those years as a maid. Maybe she had already drank freedom, maybe it didn’t taste like she thought it would.
Quinn glanced at her. “You okay?” He asked, his red brows furrowing in concern. “Silva and Rakifi lived, you know. Braxton too. Kasha is hurt and so is Eldred, but we think they will be okay.”
He must have thought she cared not for Awla or any other of the crew. Levanine shook her head. “Quinn, is the world ugly?” He was a pirate. He would know. She suddenly felt foolish for asking him. She should have asked Rakifi. Would he say the world was beautiful though?
“What do you mean?”
“Is the world ugly?” She repeated.
Quinn was quiet for a long moment, his fingers moving up to stroke his beard. “No. I don’t believe so. We have been in rough seas. There are gorgeous seas, you know. One day, Levanine, you are going to see something that promises you that the world is beautiful.”
He suddenly began walking. He waved at her, telling her to stay put while he found where the Captain had gone off too. Levanine nodded and sat hard on the ground, feeling suddenly exhausted. She wished she hadn’t gotten out of the cot.
As Quinn stepped onto the beach, Guy appeared from behind the cliff and they began talking. Levanine could not hear them above the waves, but she did not much care too. Instead, she closed her eyes and let her mind drift away. She was in so much pain. Worse pain than she had ever been in.
Footsteps approached and she opened her eyes just a slit to see them climbing the path towards her. Quinn gestured to her, “Cap’n, Levanine here has had a request.”
Levanine felt her heart drop into her boots as the Captain’s icy eyes snapped to her. Cursed men and drawing attention to her, then forcing her to talk. She did not want to talk to the Captain, her head was pounding too painfully. Besides, he looked frustrated.
“Yes?” Captain Guy asked.
“Th-the sailors, the ones who died, sir.” She could feel his gaze asking ‘yes, and what about them?’ She swallowed and steadied her voice as the pain buzzed in her skull. “We should have a proper funeral for them, shouldn’t we? We should send their families, if reachable, their share of the plunder. Give them an apology and closure.”
“And why do you say this?” The Captain brushed off his hat with an air of unconcern, his eyes examining the beach. It made Levanine feel unimportant, but she had learned by now that he only half meant it.
“S-sir, their families might spread rumors about you to harm your reputation. You may have assassins and treasure thieves sent. A reputation builder as well, sir. Shows you’re honorable so nobles will be more likely to hire you and not distrust that you’ll return what is promised... It is also pirate code, aye?”
Captain Guy did not turn his attention to her. “Very well.” He nodded. Levanine felt her eyes widen in surprise. “We’ll have a funeral tonight and I’ll figure out what each one earned, and if I know the location of their home, we’ll send the treasures.”
Levanine almost smiled, but she was feeling too tired to commit to it. He had listened. Quinn glanced at her and gave her a slight nod off approval. The Captain turned and began ascending the path towards the medicine hut she longed to be once more.
“What now?” Levanine asked Quinn. She tried to seem strong despite the black wavering at the edges of her vision.
“What now?” He repeated, looking over her. “Now, you go and get some rest.”
Chapter 22
Quinn hefted the frothing mug into the air, bursting into a boisterous laugh. He quickly chugged it down, catching flecks of tanish-brown bubbles in his beard. The man across the table from him glared and drained his own mug, slamming it down on the wooden surface.
“Three!” A recorder called, holding up three fingers on both hand. Levanine watched carefully, engaged. What Quinn had meant as ‘rest’ was a drinking contest with a fat man in the bar while she sat in a corner, trying not to fall over. She knew he had a good reason for not taking her back to the hut, but she could not for the sake of Saint Bermuria figure out what it might be.
The smoke of opium and pipes curled around the lanterns and collected in a large cloud on the ceiling, succeeding in giving Levanine a rather nasty headache. The men cheered and rallied around the two at the table, pushing each other and placing heavy bets with the last bits of gold they had.
Levanine sat on a barrel along one of the walls, watching the festivities. She hoped Quinn would win, just to prove the overconfident man wrong, not to mention the pirate’s bets would be useful in replacing the wine they lost. Besides, how much would supplies cost? How far was Avondella?
If she ever saw Silva, she supposed she would ask him. She had hoped that she would see someone else in the bar, but she could not pick out any familiar shapes.
Everything seem to thump out a musical beat to Levanine. The mugs slamming down, the popping as the pipes were lit, the cheering, the hissing food cooking in the back. Levanine tapped her foot to the internal beat, watching the going ons. The beat drowned out her pain. Quinn slammed a sixth cup down with a hiccup.
She closed her eyes and she could feel the salty air drifting through the cracks in the building. She breathed in the smell. Despite the stuffy tavern, she could feel the cool breezes like flowing water. She could almost hear the rush of the waves against the beach, slapping against the sand and rocks. It matched the pulse in the bar and she felt her breath pick up.
Levanine could see shimmering, blue water flick
ing behind her eyelids. It was beautiful, with filtered beams of butter colored sunlight drifting down toward the cold sand shifting on the bottom. She felt her breathing steady and she grinned at the sight.
Suddenly a hand grabbed her.
Levanine yelped and started, her eyes flashing open. Pain was pulsing through her body violently, making her groan and blink off tears. A flirtatious looking woman with shiny eyes had her painted hand on Levanine’s arm. The woman rose a plucked brow.
“Jumpy, eh? Would’ve thought Guy had trained you better.”
Levanine curled to herself as the buzzing resounded in her brain. “You know the Captain?” She asked softly.
“Lots of people know the captain.” The woman purred, then winked a suggestive eye at Levanine, her long lashes fluttering. “But he’s not as great as they all say.”
Levanine tasted something sour in her mouth. “I’m sure you would know.” She hissed, holding her tongue despite the want to call her a choice word.
The woman chuckled, her eyes glimmering as if she had been trying to get under Levanine’s skin. A smirk was stretched across her red lips. “You know, rumors are powerful things.” She glanced at her long nails. “There’s a rumor that you and the Captain are a… nighttime couple. That you’re his whore. It's been said that you absolutely squeal. Just like a dog.” The corners of her lips tipped up expectantly.
Levanine felt her face flush and she felt a sick heat in her belly, but she took a shaky breath, fighting the urge to knock the woman out. She couldn’t start a bar fight. Not with Quinn half drunk.
“I don’t see why he would try you, though. You’re hardly fatty, and definitely not pretty either.”
Levanine felt anger clog her throat, but she swallowed. This bar whore dared suggest that she wasn’t worth the Captain’s attention, much less not attractive? If the bar whore was worth his attention, than Levanine must be. She tried to act like the teen aged girls she had cared for. She imagined herself as one of them, wearing petticoats and huffing about boys. She felt a cocky, confidence that begged for a fight prickle her belly.
Levanine tossed a windblown curl over her shoulder and grinned at the woman. “That’s not a rumor.” Levanine winked at the woman, causing her face to flash with disbelief. “It’s quite true. Except, you’re wrong about who’s squealing. In fact, I just got this wonderful golden necklace that he took when he stabbed a lying bar whore through.”
The disgusted, shocked look that painted across her face made Levanine smirk triumphantly. She stood, turned wordlessly, then left the tavern, swallowing pain. Along the horizon the sun was setting, staining the grey with dark crimson.
She wobbled up to the Captain, who was staring out at the rising tide of blood. Levanine stood beside him quietly and watched the ocean. There was a long stretch of silence before he finally addressed her.
“Is Quinn drunk?” He asked, giving no effort to turn toward her.
“Yes, sir.”
The Captain shook his head in what seemed to be amusement. “Is he at least winning?” The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“Far as I can tell, sir.”
“Maybe we can send his earnings to the passed sailors.” It was slightly a jest, Levanine could tell. She nodded in agreement anyways. “Yes,” he stroked his chin, nodding to himself, “I think that is what we will do.”
Levanine nodded, then continued to watch the bloody waves that murmured of murders and sea serpents. She wondered if the Captain had taken bar whores before. She couldn’t imagine he would; he seemed to smart for it.
The Captain looked down at Levanine. “You feel it, don’t you?” He whispered.
“H-hm?” She tore her gaze away from the ocean and glanced up at him.
“You feel the waves. The salty air. The rhythms of an entire kingdom under that water, pulsing with your own heart, begging for you to come and sail it, to adventure it, to find all of its secrets and treasures.”
The ocean was so magnificent as he said, even while being nothing but waves of blood. Levanine’s heart pounded in her ears, matching the slapping of the waves against the rocky shore. Oh, yes! Nothing had been more true. She longed to be one the sea. To sail, to swim, to fish. To find every trove and crevice the expanse of the waters had ever held. To be free and to know everything there was to know.
Although she wanted to shout, Levanine said nothing.
She hadn’t realized she was trembling until Guy put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, and saw her reflection in his cobalt eyes. Both their gazes had the same dreamy, longing look.
“No, honestly, I just mostly hear a buzzing in my head,” she jested weakly. The Captain’s dark lashes came down and broke their gaze before he smiled softly.
He hooked arms with her and turned around, facing back up toward the huts and the forest behind them. “Let’s go have that funeral, shall we? I’ve got a lot of writing to figure out while the ship is being repaired. I should warn you… Ah, Eldred did not make it.”
Levanine felt breathless for a moment, but did not let it show on her face, pretending she was strong. She nodded, and they began to follow a path to the right of the nestle of buildings, to a rocky patch before the forest. They crested the top of the hill, where the few sailors left stood, holding lanterns that cast their faces in strange shadows.
The men made a circle around a pile of rocks and wood, and atop the wood lay scraps of cloth. She caught sight of Rakifi and Silva standing behind the pile of driftwood, as well as Palae, who was sitting on the ground beside Kasha. Braxton was nowhere to be seen.
Levanine did not wonder what had happened to Eldred’s body. She knew. Pirates only belonged in one place.
The Captain cleared his throat, picking up a lantern from the ground. Quinn, standing towards the back of the circle, hiccuped loudly. The Captain tilted his head away, suppressing a smile in the quickly falling darkness, then began to speak,
“Tonight we honor the sailors that have lost their lives on our ship.”
He nodded Awla, who tossed a sprig of light blue flowers atop the kindling. “The Ocean Song is to represent the deep blue ocean and the open sky to which they pledged their lives to. We burn this wood as their remnants, so they may forever be free.”
He grabbed Quinn’s mug of ale and dumped it atop the wood. “And this represents the loud and drunk lives they all lived!”
The men burst into uproarious laughter, and Levanine realized very few of them looked sad. Rakifi, of course, but Silva looked more unsure than sad. The rest looked indifferent. Guy had anger swimming on the edges of his eyes.
The Captain stepped forward and threw the lantern onto the fire, shattering the glass. The orange flame leapt out of its cage and devoured the wood, the alcohol, and the flowers, casting shadows and sending up smoke as the stars began to twinkle in the never ending expanse of sky.
Levanine watched the fire burning as everyone else did, one by one the sailors blowing out their lanterns. Rakifi and Palae began to hum as some of the men walked away. The fire twisted and writhed like great orange whales. Quinn and Awla joined the humming, and soon Captain Guy joined the sound, leaving Levanine longing for them to sing whatever lament they were all caught in.
“For what treasure I do choose
I’ the ancient, starry night
A night like a shadow
Of a great bird of prey
That carries
The waves of ice
Against the groaning wood
Against the stern
Against the vessel of freedom.
Away, away
I’to that night
On wind and waves
On starboard and sail.
Freedom, freedom
Forever free
On the blue expanse
Of liquid sapphires.
The treasure of living
Of dying in waves.
Free for
ever, wandering spirit.”
Levanine looked up at Guy, whose pupils glowed with the light, and whose iris were like the molten sky of a hot summer’s day. He smiled at her, before he began to sing the song himself, his boot tapping to the beat like a drum. Levanine didn’t sing, she just observed the men in silent awe.
They continued the song until the fire was nothing but glowing embers. Then, without anything as indication to leave, the rest of the sailors dissipated, leaving only the Captain and Levanine to stand in the cold. Quinn was asleep on the cool ground.
The Captain sat cross legged next to the pile of ashes, pulling off his cloak. He tucked Quinn into it and then stilled himself like a statue, watching the quiet embers. “Are you not coming to bed, Captain?” Levanine asked softly, wondering if she shouldn’t stay up herself.
“I’ll keep watch to make sure their souls rest and are left free.” He murmured in quiet tones, picking up a nearby stick. He set it in his lap and pulled out his dagger, then began to careful peel the bark off of the driftwood.
Levanine glanced at him, then at Quinn’s mountain of a sleeping form. “‘Two’s company keeps at bay the wandering spirits.’” She murmured.
Guy glanced at her, looking surprised. “Aye. Do you remember the rest?”
“‘Solemn loneliness flees at the sight of two, and quiet words spoken kill silence.’”
He nodded, then glanced up at the stars shimmering across the sky, his hands still moving methodically across the driftwood. He then sighed and turned his full attention to the stick he was carving.
They were silent for a long while, but it was a calm silence. A comforting one, interrupted only by the rush of waves against sand in the distance, the popping of fading embers, and the hushed scratching of the blade whittling away against the wood, like water at stones.
Levanine missed Eldred, though she had not known him well, and sincerely hoped that Braxton was well. She shivered as a breeze caressed their bare skin. Levanine shifted closer to the Captain until their legs were touching, trying to absorb any body heat radiating off of him.