by Rosie Scott
An ache tugged at my heart. “I've already thought the same thing, Cerin, but to be honest...?” I laughed softly with embarrassment. “My head and heart fight over that idea. My head says he will lead armies fine without me, but my heart selfishly doesn't want him far from me.”
Cerin smiled as he rubbed my arm in a comforting gesture. “Appoint him as a general. At the very least, it'll be a flattering gesture. Then order him to stay with you.” He paused, then laughed. “As if you'd need to order him to do that. And besides, you've said that you'll want to join in every battle you can. He can be a general and fight beside you.”
“Did Azazel tell you of our conversation in Mistral?” I asked.
Cerin shook his head. “Why would he? I don't expect him to echo your personal conversations back to me.”
“I know, but this was important. You and Nyx have exchanged looks before that would indicate you both get exasperated with me at times.”
Cerin snorted a laugh. “Because you are bullheaded.”
I huffed in amusement. “Well, that's essentially what Azazel said. He pleaded with me to confer with him before doing a repeat of Narangar when I left you all to destroy the harbor.”
“Please tell me you'll take his advice,” Cerin said.
“I will, but he also told me he wouldn't control me. He only wanted me to let him raise concerns to be considered. Because he knows my plan was thought through and that you all wouldn't let me go.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Cerin questioned openly.
“Because I never want to keep anything from you again, so I'm pleading with you to offer me the same thing. If I have another crazy idea, I want you to trust me if I decide I want to go through with it.”
Cerin was silent a moment, watching me with two sharp silver eyes overflowing with love and concern. Finally, he sighed and looked off over the ocean again. “It seems I have two choices, then. Either agree and be privy to your plans or disagree and be kept in the dark. Either way, you'll go through with whatever insanity you want to do.”
I chuckled. “Seems like it.” After a pause, I added, “If you agree, Cerin, you can still voice your concerns. It may get me to rethink or change my plans. I want your input and opinions. If it weren't for your advice, I would have never gotten a separate agreement written up between the Sentinels and us, and I think that will help us in the future. Such advice is helpful to me.”
“Okay, Kai.” Cerin found my gaze again. “I won't try to stop you. Physically. You've succeeded in most of the things I haven't wanted you to do, anyway.”
I smiled and grabbed him in a hug. “Thank you. I love you.” I went to kiss him on the cheek, only for him to turn his face and catch my lips with his. As soon as we parted, I murmured, “Don't ever get tired of me. Sometimes I wonder how long you'll put up with me before deciding I'm not worth the trouble.”
Cerin looked over my face from our close distance and smiled softly. “You are powerful, deadly, arrogant, and sporadically insane, Kai. Your penchant for danger drives me crazy. But all of those things are part of your appeal. I love every part of you and wouldn't change anything for the world.”
I grinned with overwhelming attraction at his admittance and kissed him again. “Then I will give you the world, my love.”
HUUURRRNNNNN!
The war horn was so unexpected that I jumped a bit before trying to find the ship that had made the call. The farthest reaches of the Eteri Navy had come to a standstill in the ocean ahead. I spun back to the deck, catching Maggie's eyes from over the wheel.
“Stop the ship, Maggie!” I commanded.
“Aye!” The engineer reached down to the deck beside her, shoving the metal pump which led to the engine toward the hardwood. With one last expulsion of steam, the engine shut off. Sailors rushed around the deck to readjust the ship's sails as I hurried to the railing of the poop deck and sounded the war horn to the rest of our navy, alerting them to changes. The battleships behind us came to a stop.
Zephyr's galleon circled around her navy and came to float beside ours within minutes. The Sentinel put both hands around her mouth and yelled, “We're stopping to fish! The griffons are getting antsy, so we figured it's a good time to stock up!”
My golden eyes caught on the dozens of griffons flying through the air between galleons ahead. Many of the ships were preparing nets. “Sounds good to us!”
“How are you on supplies?” Zephyr called back.
“Doing just fine! You?”
“Same.” Zephyr pointed back to her navy. “I'll head back for now. We'll take a few hours, but I'll sound the horn a few minutes before taking off again.”
Zephyr's galleon pulled forward, and I looked over at Cerin. “You've got a job to do.”
He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Guess so.”
“You look frustrated,” I commented, backing up from the railing.
“Well, things were heating up between us before the call.” Cerin raised his eyebrows. “Didn't know fish could be such killjoys.”
I laughed. “Continue thinking about me, and it'll be that much better later.”
Cerin leaned over to kiss me once more. “I'll plan on it.”
I left Cerin to his fishing. Holter was no longer sitting in the musician's chair on the deck, and I couldn't find Nyx, leading me to believe both were below deck together. Azazel and Maggie were on the poop deck talking, so I headed there. Both quieted as I approached, and Maggie beamed at me.
“I envy what ya have with Cerin, love. One of these days I'll find a mate that looks at me the way he looks at ya.”
“Yes,” I agreed, before adding in jest, “and his name will be Hasani Samara, remember?”
Maggie laughed. “Perhaps. He's human, ain't he?”
“Full-blooded. Why?”
The engineer shrugged. “Most men don't like to be with big women like me unless they're other giants,” she explained. “I've had much better luck with women.”
“Well, Hasani's a pretty big man for being human. He's muscular. Stands at about six feet, which is tall for a human.”
“Six feet?” Maggie held a hand about four feet below her own height. “That's still tiny, love.”
“Tiny, perhaps, but maybe you'll settle for handsome,” I jested, to which she chuckled. I looked over at Azazel and asked, “Were you listening in on Cerin and me?”
The archer huffed with amusement. “No. Why, were you talking about me?”
“Yes, actually.” I nudged his arm with my shoulder. “All good things, I assure you.”
Azazel raised his eyebrows. “I'm sure. You know I don't try to listen in on you, right? In fact,” he waved a periwinkle hand to the poop deck, “that's why I stay back here sometimes. To give you and Cerin privacy.”
“So that's the reason, ey?” Maggie prodded. “Not because ya like talkin' to me?”
Azazel chuckled. “I like talking to you, too.”
“About anything interesting?” I asked curiously.
“I've been teachin' Azazel all about the steam engines,” Maggie said, kicking the lever near the wheel with a thick boot, calling attention to it. “How they work, how I built them. The engine's kept down by the giants, as ya know. They don't care about the noise since they can sleep through anything.”
Bang-bang-bang!
Rattling hit the floor of the lower deck, and Maggie lifted up two bushy blonde eyebrows. “Speak of the devil.” As she walked to the stairs leading below deck, Azazel and I followed her, passing through our own sleep quarters and storage rooms to get to the lowest floor of the ship. Once we started walking down into the giant deck, we found the occupants staring at us as we stood at the top of the steps.
“Ya called?” Maggie asked.
“Yeah.” One of the male giants sitting in the corner of the deck glanced up at us with deep brown eyes. He had a head full of identically colored hair and a goatee and looked to be a few years short of middle-aged. Then again, it was hard to tell age with gia
nts. “Is there trouble? Why have we stopped?”
“Nah, no trouble. We've stopped for fishin',” Maggie replied. “We'll just be a few hours. If ya hand me some of those empty crates down there with ya, I'll have Cerin fill 'em up.”
The giant nodded toward a woman closer to the steps. “Addy, hand up those crates, will you?”
“Sure thing.” The giant woman turned around, grabbing empty wooden crates and reaching up toward the top of the staircase, handing Maggie one at a time as the engineer put them up on the next level.
“Hey,” the male giant said, pointing at me. “You're Kai Sera, right?”
Even though I'd been around giants more often during my times in Tal over the past few years, I couldn't help but feel intimidated when one spoke to me. His voice was friendly, but given his race, it sounded as if it was deeper and stronger by the depths it came from alone.
“I am. And you?”
The giant smiled, putting a hand on his chest. “I am Marcus. Marcus Clay. I'd shake your hand, but I can't go up those tiny little steps.”
I smiled, immediately put at ease with his friendliness. “Then I will come to you,” I said, trotting down the steps. Azazel followed me into the depths of the deck until we walked over its hardwood, the ceiling over four stories tall above our heads. A few dozen giants watched us curiously. If I wasn't mistaken, some of them thought we were adorable. I had to imagine that many giants would feel such a way. Much like many found small animals or children to be cute, we must have been simply precious to many of the men and women who towered above us.
We finally reached Marcus, who sat up straighter as we arrived and stretched out an arm the size of a tree trunk. I held out my own, and Marcus touched my hand with just his pointer finger, shaking lightly. I chuckled at the gesture.
“I'm usually smaller than most, but you put me to shame,” I commented, watching as he repeated the gesture with Azazel.
“It's not your body size that counts,” Marcus replied, reaching up to his head and tapping it once. “It's the size of your brain, your motivations, your desires. From what I've heard of you, you put me to shame in that regard.” He smiled at Azazel. “Your name?”
“Azazel Beriah,” the archer replied. “It's nice to meet you.”
“And you.” Marcus tilted his head with curiosity. “The Alderi have such beautiful names. Ours seem primitive in comparison.”
“They are beautiful to the ears, but ugly in meaning,” Azazel replied. “Yours share common traits with the dwarves.”
Marcus grinned at Azazel's knowledge. “Do they? How so?”
“They all revolve around earth, metals, physical labor,” Azazel said.
Marcus nodded. “That they do. Our people are proud of our earth moving and architecture. So are the dwarves, I suppose. Ironic, isn't it? The situation we find ourselves in?” Marcus motioned to the floor beside where he sat. “Sit down. Make yourselves at home. I'd like to speak with you.”
Azazel and I did just that. The giant had both of his legs laying out before him, and even when flat on the floor they came up to my chest. I leaned back against the interior hull of the ship so I could look up at Marcus as we spoke. Though the sconces along the walls flickered with flame and the magical lamps glowed with alteration light from the beastmen, the giant's face was bright with natural sunlight as it filtered in through the high windows.
“What of your name, Azazel?” Marcus questioned. “What ugliness does such a beautiful name mask?”
Azazel huffed dryly. “My first name means scapegoat. My surname means in fellowship and envy, though it stems from evil and calamity.”
Marcus lifted up his eyebrows. “Damn. That's dark.” I chuckled at the giant's bluntness.
“Alderi names tend to revolve around death, shadow, bloodshed,” Azazel explained. “As for me, I think perhaps my mother destined me for failure. I'm sure you've heard of the treatment of males underground before its liberation.”
Marcus nodded. “It was common but hushed knowledge,” he admitted. “Did you ever ask your mother why she chose that name for you?”
“No,” Azazel replied, “because I did not know her. I'm told that as soon as she saw her baby was a boy, I was left naked and alone as an infant on the streets of Hazarmaveth. My name was found carved in the flesh of my leg, which is why I believe even my surname was chosen out of spite. Only when I began to cry did another woman take me to the kennel.”
I glanced over at my best friend. He'd never told me of this before, but I rarely asked him about his upbringing because I knew it was painful for him. “The kennel? That is a place for animals.”
“Is it?” Azazel questioned. “On the surface, perhaps that's true. Underground, it was where infant boys were kept until they were old enough to work in one capacity or another.”
“Did it scar you?” I asked him, frowning as I took in all of this horrific information. “The carving?”
Azazel laid his right leg out flat, before unstrapping his greave and tugging up the pant leg beneath. With one finger, he traced along a light scar that traveled beneath and between sparse dark hair. The cuts had affected the hair growth in certain places, leaving it patchy. “I,” he said, pulling a finger down over the mark on his leg, before moving on. “A, H. The other letters are higher up.” He glanced up at me, making sure I could see it.
“Where do the scars start?” I questioned softly, to which Azazel pointed to his right hip through his armor.
“The scars are less noticeable now. The older and taller I grew, the more they stretched out. I once thought that was a good thing, but if I am fully naked, it's still readable.” Azazel was a bit withdrawn as he met my eyes. “It allowed many of the women who frequented the brothel to remember me by name.”
“Why would they...?” I asked, cutting the question short because I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
He shrugged before looking away. “To taunt me. To request me over and over again. It was a piece of me I couldn't keep from them, and having that power over me pleased them.” Azazel hesitated, before looking up at Marcus. “I apologize for going off topic, but your questions reminded me of why I am so obsessed with names.” He ran a finger down the length of his leg. “I was a slave for about one hundred and sixty years, obsessed with escaping everything about my life underground. My name is the only thing I cannot escape. For some reason, I clung to the negative.”
“I am really sorry if my curiosity brought you pain,” Marcus offered, looking a bit shocked.
“Don't be. Sometimes the best way to move past something is to talk about it amongst understanding people.” Azazel smiled over at me.
I couldn't help myself. I grabbed the archer into a hug, squeezing him tight. “I'm so, so sorry.” I kissed him on the cheek. “I love you,” I reminded him, hoping to bring him comfort. “You mean the world to me.”
Azazel held me in turn. “I love you too, Kai. Thank you for always listening and being supportive.”
When we separated, Marcus was watching us with humbled eyes. “Are you the necromancer?” He asked Azazel.
The archer managed a short laugh. “No, that's Cerin Heliot. He's the fisherman.”
“Ah. Well, you two are extremely close,” Marcus commented.
“Azazel's the one always yelling at me not to do anything crazy,” I jested, grinning over at the giant with an arm over the archer's shoulders.
Marcus chuckled. “Then it's not working,” he joked. “Taking on Chairel? The underground? Narangar's harbor? Glacia?” He glared teasingly at Azazel as if telling him to do a better job.
“So you have heard of my exploits,” I mused.
Marcus lifted up one brown eyebrow. “Who hasn't? You were already somewhat of a whispered legend years ago. Now that you're traveling the world upheaving every country that exists, it's impossible to miss news of you. Even for us.” Marcus motioned toward the rest of the giants spread across the deck. “We tend to remain out of politics as much as possible, but we've kn
own of you for some time.”
“You like to remain out of politics, and yet all of you are here,” I replied, as an invitation for his explanation.
Marcus prepared to reply, but Maggie's voice called out from the steps. “Mind if I join ya?”
“Come on down, short stuff,” Marcus called back, making the engineer chuckle. Maggie sat down on the other side of Azazel, smelling of fish from handling the crates.
“Whatcha all talkin' about?” She questioned.
“Politics,” Marcus said evenly.
“Ah, our favorite topic, innit?” Maggie chuckled, wagging a finger at Marcus while grinning at me. “This one has issues with the queen.”
“Maggie,” Marcus protested, eyeing me carefully.
“I am Tilda's ally out of circumstance, not camaraderie,” I commented. “Trust me, anything you say about the queen is safe. If anything, I'll appreciate any stories or info.”
Marcus was quiet a moment, his large brown eyes moving over the other giants on the deck before coming back to me. “Back in Tal, it seemed you were very friendly with the other Sentinels.”
“I am,” I said. “I love Altan, Cyrus, and Uriel. I look to become closer to the others while in Hammerton.”
“Nothing I say will be repeated to them?” Marcus asked.
“No, if it is confidential.”
Maggie leaned forward, saying with a low voice, “Ya know how the Sentinels have treated ya, Marcus. Even if particular ones learned of your distaste, they wouldn't mind. In fact, they might sympathize.”
I frowned. “How have you been treated by the Sentinels?”
Marcus exhaled heavily and turned his attention to me. “Some years ago, after Pillan abandoned the Sentinels—”
Maggie turned to me. “Pillan was the name we all knew Vertun by. Before you came along.”
After I nodded, Marcus continued, “Before Ciro arrived in Mistral, the Sentinels were all told to suggest soldiers for promotion in Pillan's—Vertun's—place. One of the suggestions Altan made was me. I used to be a miner in Reva, but I would always fight alongside the army when they were sent out to combat the beasts that would sometimes bother us. I'd fought with Altan many times. We like each other. Altan told me he was suggesting me, but a giant has never been a Sentinel before, so he also warned there was little chance of the queen seriously considering me.”