“You fucking morons! She’s worth thousands, and you just killed her! Fuck!” Sulica knelt down next to her prize captive, checking for a pulse.
“I’m here,” replied their healer. She knelt down next to the fallen captain to examine her. The healer rolled her onto her stomach and concentrated immediately on pulling the shot out of her back. She allowed her mystic to flow through the woman’s veins, enhancing her cellular structure to repair the damage to her spine.
“She’s lost a lot of blood and her lungs still have water in them,” the healer said. Brisethi was rolled onto her back again so the healer could perform chest compressions. “Resuscitate her, Kanilas, while I work on inducing her neural system.”
Kanilas happily obliged to place his mouth upon hers and moments later, the Dominion captain was coughing up blood and water and weakly moving her limbs.
“Bind her now!” Sulica ordered. “How did this crew ever function without me?” she questioned aloud to no one in particular.
Kanilas restrained Sen Asel while another guard tied her hands and feet, removing the remaining knife hidden in her belt.
“You morons let her kill half of you off! How the fuck was she that hard to control?” Sulica shouted when the prisoner was fully contained. She paced back and forth, running a hand through her disheveled hair.
“Shut up, Sulica!” Kanilas finally replied. “Her father had just as much fight, we were just lucky to knock him out quickly.”
She glared at Kanilas mercilessly. “Should have captured her before she became an officer,” Sulica muttered to herself.
“The fuck do you want with me?” Brisethi asked when she was finally done coughing. She prayed that her father had enough strength to survive the return to shore.
Sulica smirked gleefully down at the beaten captain. “How the Dominion’s finest have fallen.” She placed a hand on Brisethi’s damp, burgundy hair. “You’re going to make me so much money, little ‘Sethi.” The nickname sounded like a curse when Sulica said it. “I hope you enjoy your new home in Pahl’Kiar. Take her away.”
“Bitch! I’m going to kill you!” Brisethi screeched. Her mind was empty of any other comebacks in her panicked state of mind. She struggled against the binds to no avail.
Kanilas and two of the crew dragged her below decks to the brig. “Now that you have no powers, I can finally do to you what someone should have done in training,” he told her in a menacing tone. He proceeded to begin removing her uniform, but she wriggled away and fell to the ground.
“Get off me!” she shouted, desperately trying to flare her mystics.
He crawled on top of her. She waited until he was in the right spot then head butted him in his nose. Kanilas fell back, yelling in pain and clutching his nose for the second time that day. He kicked her in the ribs, hard. “Finish removing her uniform. Sulica wants it in pristine condition for the trade and needs to repair the hole in it,” he ordered the two men.
“I wouldn’t leave only two guards alone with me,” Brisethi shouted at his retreating back.
The bigger guard held Brisethi tightly and rammed her head into the deck to shut her up, knocking her unconscious once more in order to remove her binds and her uniform.
“Not so strong after all,” he muttered.
Chapter VIII
Brisethi woke from what felt like the longest sleep she’d ever had. Her lower back slightly ached from where the shot once penetrated. Her ribs were tender and bruised where Kanilas had kicked her. The rest of her body ached from lying on the hard deck for so many hours. Her hand, no longer bound, rubbed at her bruised head, feeling for blood, dried or otherwise. She’d taken blows to the head before, from Etyne and various rival teams during hak’ii, that put her out for hours, but none left her aching so badly as this one had. But there was a healer nearby to soothe the pain each time the officers in training knocked one another out during combative training.
Her body sat up slowly, struggling against the painful dizziness that threatened to put her to sleep again. Her eyes wandered around, taking in the relatively clean space around her. A porthole far above let in the moonlight, lighting a tray of food just inside the barred door. Her stomach rumbled at the sight.
She examined the burnt meat and stale bread and sipped at the cup of water. Shivering without her uniform, she proceeded to eat the old meal before the rats could. As she chewed on the crunchy bread, she looked around the rest of the small cell. Only a bucket in the corner meant for human waste shared the space with her. Not even a mattress or a blanket had been provided. What century was this ship made in? She asked herself upon observing the primitive, barren brig. The wooden boards beneath her were soiled and warped. The creaky bulkhead behind her had her worried for the structural integrity of the old galleon.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had shivered from being cold. Her fire mystic had always been available to keep her body warm, but something was keeping her from summoning it. The rumors of mystic suppressing elixirs had proven true and somehow affected her without even physically being in contact with it. The thought of an entire Kiaran force using this potion against the Resarians frightened her terribly. With the elixir, it would have been easy for Sulica’s crew to capture her father, and she prayed to the spirits for his safe return to help.
Dressed in only her black undershirt and undershorts, she shivered again, feeling more vulnerable than ever before. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her mind of her powerlessness to concentrate on a way to free herself. She scanned the cell bars of the brig, each one perfectly intact. She pulled at the lock to inspect its design and rattled the door. She stared up at the ceiling and found no vulnerability. She would have to devise a plan of attack for when the guards came down to hand her over to the Kiarans.
Brisethi lost track of how many days and nights passed, guessing from the four meals given to her, that it had been four days, but it was probably longer. She heard the light steps of someone walking down to the brig. She watched a hooded woman place a bucket of warm, soapy water in front of the cell along with a wash rag and a drying cloth.
“Hey,” Brisethi attempted to say, her voice dry from lack of use, but the woman ran off quickly, uninterested in making friends.
Brisethi knelt down in front of the bucket and dipped her hands in the warm, soapy water. It was scented with the familiar sweet smell of the pink blossoms that bloomed in Res’Baveth every winter. The destination was apparently near if they expected her to clean up. She contemplated refusing on principle, but the warm water was too inviting. Her underclothes were quickly removed, and she used the rag to scrub down her body with the hot water. She rinsed her hair and clothes as well, wishing she had her mystics to dry herself.
Some time later, Kanilas Trenn and four guards visited her cell. He shoved her repaired uniform through the bars and ordered, “Get dressed. The more presentable you look, the more gold we’ll receive.”
She complied, insisting that she wasn’t dressing to impress the Kiaran merchants for them; but to appear imposing, glorious. She would not be beaten by pirates and bandits. Dominion personnel retained their dignity and honor even while captive.
“Your hands,” Kanilas stated, holding out the manacles.
“Come in here and I’ll let you have my hands,” she taunted, knowing he couldn’t draw blood from her just before the trade.
He scowled. “Get in there and drag her ass out!” he ordered the four guards.
“Don’t hurt me,” she warned. “I’m sure the Kiarans aren’t looking to buy ‘damaged goods’,” she sarcastically replied and backed into the wall on the opposite side.
The cell door opened and all four guards hastily made their way in, charging at her. She faked that she was going to roll toward them and instead leapt upon their shoulders and darted behind them – a trick that Etyne had spent weeks teaching her to master. She pounced on Kanilas, giving him no time to react and beating at him with her fists.
“Get this fucking animal off of me!” he sh
outed, finally pushing her off of him. Her wet hair covered part of her face, giving her the appearance of a savage woman.
The four guards finally restrained her, placing the manacles on her hands behind her back.
“You’re so terrible at fighting, Trenn. You should have stayed with the division instead of playing scout for two years and missing out on combatives training,” she spat, fire dancing in her eyes.
Brisethi was escorted to the main deck where an entourage of Kiaran officers and merchants were gathered, turning their heads to look at their prize. Sulica argued with the lead merchant who wanted proof that the Resarian girl was as powerful as the claim stated.
“Sir, you do realize that if I relieve my suppression mystic on her, she will summon devastation upon us all,” Sulica said. She looked pale, and her eyes seemed more sunken in than the last time Brisethi had seen her.
Suppresion? She’s a suppressor! Brisethi thought, stunned. She’s the reason my mystics won’t work, not because of some elixir. Young suppressors were not allowed training in their mystics because of the dangers of disabling entire Dominion squadrons if they chose to defect. Only the most dedicated law enforcement officials and high ranking officers of the Dominion were allowed such training. Once a suppressor was trained, they were never revealed to the public for their own safety. Brisethi wondered where someone like Sulica had learned to summon such an impairing mystic.
“If she’s as powerful as you say she is, then my anti-mystic will do no good to me and I’ll have to keep her unconscious until I get her to my customer,” the Kiaran replied in his best Resarian translation. He was a gruff-looking man, a full head taller than Sulica. He had dark brown hair and a full beard, a trait not often seen on Sariadne. “But I don’t even know what she’s capable of because as you say, you have ‘control’ over her. No deal, ma’am.”
“If I release her of my mystic, she’ll set both of our ships on fire!” Sulica repeated frantically.
“How do I know you’re not selling me a useless, weak Resarian! You’ve wasted my time, ma’am. Sink this ship,” he ordered his men as he turned to leave.
“No, wait!” Sulica pleaded. “I’ll do it. But I have to be out of her line of sight so that she doesn’t incinerate me. I’d move out of her way, too, if I were you,” she warned.
Brisethi smiled cynically at the event unfolding. She would have only one chance to summon the quickest but most devastating spell on only one of the ships. She still needed a way to get back – and a crew. She decided she’d rather take her chances with the more advanced Kiaran ship and its merchants in forcing them to take her back to Sariadne.
Sulica hid behind the helm on the bridge, peeking over at Brisethi and reluctantly stopped her suppression spell, anxiously waiting for the devastation she was sure would come.
“Well, what are you waiting for, Dominion soldier, summon a volcano from the sea,” the Kiaran merchant ordered. His brown eyes had no pupils, much like Etyne’s, though absent of any of his warmth.
Brisethi suppressed a smile. She shrugged and replied to him in Kiaran tongue. “I’m just a healer. She lied to you.”
She dodged his hand when he attempted to strike her. He then ordered his guard to pull out his pistol and aim it at her head. “Show me your fucking magic or heal this shot that’s about to puncture your head,” he ordered.
In an instant, lightning flashed all around them, striking the masts of the Resarian ship, setting fire to its sails and masts. She had aimed a lightning strike at the Kiaran leader, but something about him saying he had anti-mystic on him had actually proven true and deflected her lightning strike, hitting one of his unfortunate guards instead. She felt her spirit crush in on her once more as Sulica’s suppression mystic overpowered her.
The Kiaran merchant’s attitude changed immediately as he stared in awe from the clear sky above to the Dominion military officer who summoned lightning from the sky. “I’ll take you both!” he shouted to Sulica.
“She costs ten thousand frakshins – that was the deal,” Sulica reminded him.
The Kiaran shook his head. “I don’t think you understand, young lady. I can’t bring this powerful Resarian on my ship without someone to control her. I am paying your second in-command ten-thousand frakshins but I’m taking you with me as well. Guards, seize them both!”
Brisethi laughed maniacally at the outcome of the deal. Chaos ensued as both ship’s crews fired upon one another in the catastrophic turn of events.
Chapter IX
Master Chief Riquez and Lieutenant Vazeley anxiously waited for Sergeant First Class Kile and his scouts to return from the location that Captain Sen Asel had given them in her letter. The recruits milling around the camp started chattering loudly when Sergeant Kile finally returned, leading a black armored horse through the camp carrying a weary admiral. Captain Sen Asel was nowhere to be seen.
Lieutenant Vazeley and Master Chief Riquez rushed out of the command tent to meet the returning group.
“Sir,” Vazeley greeted the admiral, saluting him out of respect and helped him to dismount his daughter’s warhorse.
“Lieutenant, they have her. They took my little girl to Pahl’Kiar,” Admiral Sen Asel stammered, wasting no time with formalities.
Riquez unleashed his healing mystic on the battered admiral, easing his pain and healing his wounds. “Who did this? You’re certain that’s where she’s headed?” he asked as he worked.
Admiral Sen Asel nodded. “Yes, a group of Resarian bandits are selling her to Kiaran merchants.” He briefed the commanders of everything he had learned of the ex-Dominion soldiers, including the suppressor, and the merchant ship they resided in.
“Sir, I can make it to Res’Baveth in eight days – faster than any messengers, to relay the news to Dominion command,” Sergeant Kile said to the Lieutenant. His endurance mystics proved useful during the few days of tireless running to the southeast and then back to the north. His mystic was capable of enhancing both he and his mount to run faster and longer with only a quick rest once a day.
Lieutenant Vazeley agreed. “Leave as soon as you’re rested. I’ll have Chief Baderstoff and a handful of recruits escort the admiral to the nearest outpost to take him to Res’Baveth.”
“Aye, Sir,” Kile replied.
“A suppressor,” Chief Baderstoff muttered. “When’s the last time one of those were around?”
“Not in our lifetime, that we know of,” Riquez replied.
“It’s hard to imagine the poor captain without her mystics. Hopefully she put up a good fight,” Baderstoff added.
“After the show she and Captain Vorsen put on a year ago, I’d say she did,” Riquez said. “Can’t wait till she tells us the story when she returns to us.”
“In about two weeks, eh?” Baderstoff hoped.
-:- -:- -:-
Sulica stared at the sky that could barely be seen through the porthole. Hearing a noise, she turned and watched as Brisethi woke up. “How can you sleep so long on this hard deck?”
Brisethi rubbed at her eyes, sitting up in her rack and stretching. “How long was I out?” She unraveled her uniform coat which she had used as a pillow to refold it and keep it stowed away.
“I don’t know, you sleep a rather long amount every night,” was Sulica’s reply. Her golden hair looked bedraggled and there were shadows under her hazel eyes.
“Well, one of us has to get beauty sleep,” Brisethi retorted. The two women were being held in separate cells in the slightly nicer Kiaran brig per Sulica’s request. She had pleaded with the Kiarans, claiming that, if Brisethi had the chance, she would kill Sulica with her bare hands and the suppression would be lost. She wasn’t wrong.
“How long does your suppression last on a mystic, anyway? You need to regenerate sometime, don’t you?” Brisethi crawled out of her rack to the deck. She laid on her stomach and placed her hands on the deck, shoulder-width apart. Though drowsy, she felt the need to retain her strength and proceeded to do push-ups,
forty at a time.
Sulica shrugged, staring at the odd Resarian through the iron bars, containing her and protecting her simultaneously. “You’re the tenth or so person I’ve used it on and never for more than a few days at time.” She rested her head on the side of the cell not covered by bars. “I can feel the strain of it though, you’re trying to overpower me.”
Brisethi halted mid push-up to smirk up at Sulica. “I wouldn’t want you to slip up, even for a second.” She attempted to flare her mystic and watched Sulica flinch.
“Brisethi, I’m sorry! I realize the terrible mistake that I’ve made!” Sulica pleaded, already tired of having enemies all around her. “You’re a very rational person, will you ever forgive me?”
“No!” Brisethi swiftly stood up and stormed over to the bars that divided them. “You suppressed my father, abducted him, beat him, threw him overboard – I don’t even know if he’s alive! If he managed to survive and swim to shore while still in binds, he’s now mentally suffering knowing that his only daughter has been handed over to the Kiarans, betrayed by his own people. He has to tell my mother that he lost track of me and send her into a worried frenzy. And you’re sorry? Fuck your apologies, Sulica. You’re fucking dead.”
Sulica sighed, realizing that trying to converse with Brisethi was pointless. “You always were the dramatic one with all your shouting.”
Brisethi didn’t deign to answer. She went back to her push-ups until her arms and chest were too weary to do more. Her focus would be on retaining the strength in her legs the next day. She sat down on the deck and leaned against the wooden bulkhead behind her. The swaying of the ship listing back and forth on the sea relaxed her, though she’d prefer it if she were in the open berthing instead of in the brig. She could hear the sound of rain and thunder outside, reminding her of the last storm she’d weathered. She yearned to return to the plains of Sariadne to finish training her recruits.
Her last memory of the stormy plains was when her division had integrated with Etyne’s for two weeks. They had spent their last full day sparring from the crack of dawn until the evening when the two captains sat in Etyne’s command tent, filling out logs and final memorandums to Dominion command, reporting the success of the integration. Massive cell clouds had rolled in from the sea that afternoon to cool off the arid plains, bringing a cool breeze through the tall grasslands around them. The cottonwood trees applauded the camp with their audible leaves. The two captains had remained oddly quiet, listening only to the drip-drops of rain as it poured down on the tent. At one point, they ceased all their paperwork momentarily to enjoy the small comfort of one another’s friendship. They had walked out of the tent to stand under the covered entryway to watch the storm clouds casting lightning and thunder all around.
Spirits of Falajen Page 27