The day went briskly enough and before he knew it the evening patrons were crowding into the tavern. Stefan had the night off so he did a quick overview of the bar to sweep and wipe it down. By the time he finished, his replacement barkeep was arriving with the surliness that usually accompanied his manner.
Stefan left The Saving Grace and nearly ran into Xander on his departure. The soldier smiled and motioned for his companions to continue on their way. Ana and Saija gave the Gaian barkeep gentle smiles and walked into the tavern trailed closely by the smirking friend of Xander’s named Caedmon. Stefan looked to Xander and even if he could not read minds the ponderous expression on his friend’s face was enough to tell that something was up.
“Why don’t you take a walk with me, Stefan?” Xander said as more of a suggestion than a question.
They began a stroll down the main street of Triton. Passing closing food stands, the fresh aromas still lingering in the air, Stefan and Xander came to the end of the dirt street where the smells were not so pleasant. A strip of clothiers had established their trade there, the stench of urine for dyeing pungent. At last they came to the beach but Xander was reluctant to halt there. He continued to walk along the sand until the din of the port was reduced to nothing next to the lapping of Triton’s lazy waves.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Xander asked suddenly. He gestured towards the setting sun, its orange glow turning the waves to endless fire.
“Aw,” Stefan began with a grin. “Is this our first date, Xander?”
The watchman burst into laughter and Stefan smiled. Xander’s chuckles left creases beside his amber eyes. “I have to go soon. Sophia gets very cross when I’m late.”
“Aye,” Stefan replied. He looked at Xander and found his friend was still staring out to sea. What was this Thalassan so guarded about?
“I wanted to ask you something,” Xander said. Stefan only nodded. “I think this can’t be the life you have envisaged for yourself.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Stefan replied. There was a time when the son of a high councilor of Tellus would have found cause to complain, but the months that passed felt like years in his changing.
“Well, that may be true,” Xander said. “However, I know you. We’ve had our talks, both drunken and sober, on many a serious and foolish night. Being a barkeep can’t be what you are meant to do. It can’t be what you intend for yourself to do either.”
“There’s little choice in the matter, my friend,” the Gaian said with a shrug. “I can’t really hail the next transport ship back to Tellus, now, can I?”
“What if you could?” Xander asked. He turned away from the waves and his amber gaze pierced through the green of Stefan’s own.
“I’m not sure if I follow—”
“I’m saying what if there was a way for us to get you back on Gaia?” Xander asked.
“Well I suppose I would go…” Stefan said with uncertainty. This was supposed to be his closest friend? It sounded as if Xander did not even want him around anymore.
“What I figure is that there will come a point in time,” Xander started, “a point in this war where there will be more than sea skirmishes. Those do damage to Gaia and Thalassa but man’s ambitions know no bounds. There will be an invasion, trust me, and when that time comes it may be possible for us to get you back home.”
Stefan stared at the mud beneath his sandals. The tide was starting to come in. He looked back to Xander and saw that the night had begun to descend in full and there was little more than the shadows of his companion’s features before him. Nevertheless his mind was still there, and it flickered upon the possibilities of Stefan living in Gaia. His thoughts revealed that he wanted a friend there, close to Tellus’ workings, for selfish reasons but also at the sacrifice of having a good man nearby.
Stefan gave a weak nod. “What you say makes sense, I suppose. Your thoughts betray you, however. It’s one thing for me to reveal Gaia’s intentions when I have no choice, as I did just a few months ago… but to openly rebel against my people whilst being among them? That is something that I am not sure I can do.”
“Have you heard the reports recently of Gaia? Tellus, specifically,” Xander clarified. He gave no pause. “From time to time certain Gaians are taken for questioning after a sea skirmish. Usually their information is pretty boring. However, just the other day we found out Nicolette’s house was burned down with her, her husband, and two servants inside.”
“I had heard this, yes,” Stefan said cautiously.
“They said that it was some kind of accident. They were all burned in their sleep, from how they found the bodies,” Xander elaborated. “I cannot believe that to be true. All four individuals burned to death without anyone raising enough of an alarm for even one person to escape?”
“I think I’m beginning to understand,” Stefan said.
“There was some foul play going on there, and I would bet it has to do with Prince Daemyn’s killer,” Xander said. “Either someone in the High Council that thought she would talk or perhaps someone lower? I don’t know. This is the kind of thing I need you in Gaia for.”
“You shall have to let me think on it, my friend,” Stefan said slowly.
“It’s a bitter brew to swallow,” Xander replied calmly. He placed his hand on the barkeep’s shoulder. “I must take my leave now, and you probably have a lot to think about. Remember though, it was not Thalassa who had taken away the love of your life.”
Stefan cringed and he was glad that it was dark enough for his friend not to see it. Xander walked back along the beach to Triton and the Gaian watched him absently. His father had done him wrong in the past, yes, but that was all because he wanted what was best for him, was it not? Even still, these Thalassans were his friends and that was more than he could say for any Gaian. Their people had also been persecuted at the hands of his own people, and that had to count for something. Stefan’s mind was swimming and he found himself plagued for a moment by a befuddlement brought upon him by someone else. Life would just be easier if he stayed on Triton, but above all other things Xander was right about at least one. Could he really call being a barkeep on an islet a life worth living?
Saija
Saija and Caedmon were standing together on the Victory taking a quick lunch break while the ship made its rounds patrolling Triton. Saija had packed an apple, some rye bread, a large unpeeled carrot, and a canteen of water. Caedmon’s lunch was much the same, but he also thought to bring a small flagon of mulled wine. When he lifted it to his mouth to take a swig, Saija raised an eyebrow skeptically. It was quite the picture to see a man coated in mail and wearing the grey cloak of his rank disregarding the caution constantly briefed before these patrols. Perhaps he thinks I’m quite the picture too, she thought with a glance down at her ragged tunic and dirty gray trousers.
“Are you really drinking wine while on duty?” She asked, putting a hand on her hip. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re ridiculous if you think I’m the only one. It’s not like I’m getting drunk at The Saving Grace here, Saija. It’s a small bit of mulled wine with my lunch. I thought you were out to prove what a tough little thing you were to all of these men.”
“That has nothing to do with this!” Saija scolded him through her teeth and looked around for eavesdroppers. “I just don’t understand why a man stationed here to protect our land would risk being impaired if a battle happened.”
Caedmon chuckled heartily and took another gulp from the flagon. “Hah! We’ve been coming out here for weeks and the most we’ve seen were a few large ocean dwellers. That’s hardly a danger to us. So, how ‘bout it, want a swig?”
Saija stared at his outstretched hand in offering. She looked around nervously again and shook her head haughtily. “I can’t risk that. It’s not because I’m not tough, because I am, but I am also small and it will go to my head.”
“Well, that I can respect. You know your limits. I really didn’t want you to accept my generosi
ty to begin with because now there’s more for me.” He winked at her and took another long gulp.
The sailor stared at her companion and laughed. He was entertaining at least while they were on these boring trips around Triton. Plus, he was right. They had not seen much action as of late, not on her shift anyway. Just as she was thinking this, somebody yelled from the crow’s nest. She could not quite make out what he said, but Caedmon repeated it at her side. A ship was spotted in the distance.
The sailor and the guardsman looked at one another with an amazed expression. No later than a moment after they were thinking of their lack of battle opportunities had one arisen. Caedmon’s face suddenly went from shocked to excited and finally to serious. He tossed the clay flagon of mulled wine overboard and sighed heavily. “You should get below deck.”
Saija snorted incredulously. “Excuse me? I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay and fight, that’s my job.”
“You would do better to be out of harm’s way. It’s dangerous,” Caedmon retorted.
“I will not flee just because I am a woman. I’m part of the crew.”
Murchadh came charging up to them with a rifle. He tossed it into Saija’s waiting arms and shouted for her to make ready for battle. Caedmon glared at Murchadh with contempt, but obviously realized he was not going to get his way. He grabbed Saija and towed her by the arm to the room below deck where the armor was kept.
“Here,” Caedmon said as he grabbed a cuirass of rusted iron mail off a shelf to protect the woman’s torso. “This should work.”
“Thank you,” she said reaching for it, but he moved her hands away and began to pull it over her head himself. She resisted and yanked the armor away from him. “I can manage by myself.”
Caedmon shrugged and leaned back against the frame of the shelving unit watching her struggle with the heavy mail. He chuckled when she straightened to reveal just how big it was on her small frame. Then as the frustration on her delicate features turned into fury at his amusement, he laughed even harder. She could have hit him but for the sweat beading along his brow. He’s nervous too, Saija realized in desperation. The sloop shuddered with the firing of several cannons. Even below deck the smell of sulfur penetrated the air. A few more shots were heard in the distance and two holes opened up in the bilge. Splinters of wood exploded around the pair and Caedmon said nothing before he ran up the stairs.
Since the rifle had been placed in Saija’s hands she had experienced a torrent of thoughts. One after another they came, each one only vaguely connected to the next, as her mind frantically tried to accept that perhaps she would die this day. Her stomach was a tumult and she did not know whether she wished for a latrine to retch in, shit in, or both. Saija grabbed her rifle and stormed onto the deck.
Once above deck, Saija strung the rifle on her back and climbed up the rigging to get to the crow’s nest. The armor was heavy and restricting and she was unused to the weight but she pushed past the burning in her arms and hauled herself into the barrel at the top of the Victory’s mast. She was only twenty feet or so from the deck but the soldiers down there looked like children massing about in waiting for the battle.
It had felt like mere moments since the Gaian vessel was first spotted and it was now close and circling their own. It looked like it was its own entity, predatorily looking for an opportune place to strike. Saija readied herself in the crow’s nest by emptying her musket balls against the wood. She took the ramrod from the rifle as well and set it aside, it would only delay her reloading to take it out over and over. Four more blasts sounded from below deck and were almost instantly replied with four from the Gaians. A pair of Thalassans screamed for their mothers.
She peeked over the top of the barrel when an arrow slammed into the mast just above her head. Saija ducked down again and felt her breath constricting in her chest. The Gaian ship was closer though, that much she had learned, and the cannons were done for the moment while grappling hooks were gathered up. Soon the two vessels would be connected, railing to railing, and men would try to gain ground and flood over the sides to either add to their personal reputations or tally their names amongst the dead.
Saija popped up swiftly and took aim on an archer who engaged in conversation. She fired and watched the side of his face explode before ducking back down in her protection. Within a second an arrowhead slammed through the crow’s nest. She stared at the iron barb and exhaled slowly. The shaft had been able to travel through over an inch of oak and continue on for half a foot before coming to its final rest. She tried to hurry with the reloading of the rifle but her hands were shaking as though she were dehydrated.
The shouts came then. First those of men trying to taunt one another as the ships gradually moved closer. The soldiers on each side were trying ineffectively to bolster their own confidence by exclaiming profanities about their opposition’s women, or men in some cases. Saija laughed without feeling the humor, her throat dry and crackly from a lack of saliva. She finished the reload and popped up just as the two ships came together. She was jostled in her high position for an instant and another arrow flew past her. Saija took careful aim at another bowman preparing to loose in Brennus’ direction and fired. His armor took the brunt of the impact and although he looked able to survive the blow the Gaian vomited suddenly.
Saija ducked back down as the shield walls clashed. Brennus had gathered his men into a wall of protection with their wooden shields interlocking one against the other. It gave good protection against the remaining archers while it also served to counteract the Gaians’ shield wall. When they met between the vessels there was a chorus of shouting and grunting, the sounds of metal against metal and wood against wood. The shouts quickly turned to screams however as the more ambitious blades found their marks. Saija scrambled to reload the rifle, dropping the lead ball twice before finally ramming it into position.
The Gaians had gained ground against the Thalassans in the moments she had been in the nest’s protection. They were now massing over the Victory’s railing and onto their enemy’s deck. Saija guessed there were about fifty of them, which boded ill for Brennus’ force of forty. Their archers appeared to have lost interest in the sniper above and they now spread themselves along the back of their shield wall in attempts to look for open spaces to plant their arrows. One aimed at the heart of the line where Caedmon was holding his position and Saija took aim at the man’s unprotected face and fired once again. His body fell against the Victory’s railing and the other two archers took aim at the crow’s nest. A succession of gunfire erupted then from the men in Brennus’ line. They had retreated one step back and fired their pistols into the Gaian line, felling half a dozen enemies along with the two archers in the back.
Without the threat of arrows Saija maintained her position and watched the shield walls clash again while she reloaded the rifle. Brennus was barking orders and swinging his steel shortsword back and forth as though warding off his enemy. They balked before him and along the line a few more of the enemy was slain before there was a clatter of weapons hitting the deck. The Gaians had surrendered and now stood with their hands revealing nothing but open palms in the face of the Thalassans. Saija finished loading the rifle and trained it on the best-armored man in the bunch who she presumed to be the captain.
There was a hush that descended over the bunch as the Thalassan soldiers moved forth cautiously to take their enemies’ weaponry. They gathered it all and placed it farther away from them and Saija used the silent time to count the dead. Twenty-three Gaians were dead in comparison to six Thalassans. There were nine wounded on the Gaian side as well, including the archer she had shot in the belly who was still vomiting bile off the side of the ship. Eight Thalassans were holding wounds of their own and had separated themselves from the battle. The rest were still lined up perfectly. Brennus moved to speak with the enemy commander and while he did so those with discharged pistols loaded them up again, cocked them, and took aim at the captives.
“Their
captain here believes we should let them go,” Brennus informed his men in a booming voice. “I wonder if they would have done the same for us.”
The remaining twenty-seven Gaians looked nervously to their right and left as though expecting death from any angle. Brennus walked calmly along the back of their line like a cowherd examining cattle. Finally Murchadh shouted, “If we had surrendered our arms we would have been massacred by the whole lot of them. Either that or worse, sold into slavery to their highest bidder.”
“You can bet that that would be the case,” Brennus replied. “What’s the best way to kill a serpent, Caedmon?”
Caedmon had his pistol trained on the man before him but motioned with the barrel towards the Gaian captain. “Cut off its head.”
“That’s right,” Brennus acknowledged, and with that he spun and drew his pistol to fire into the agape mouth of the Gaian captain. The man fell to his knees, clutching the back of his neck where the round had torn a hole the size of a grape. Blood cascaded down his back and he twitched twice before collapsing on the deck. “What of the rest of them?” Brennus demanded. The Gaians were a scene of terror then, wringing their hands and looking behind their shoulders in the hopes of an allied ship coming their way.
“Kill them all,” Murchadh shouted. Others took up this idea while a few vehemently declared that it would only lower them to a Gaian’s level. Caedmon was on the side for the entire crew’s destruction. Some shouted Prince Daemyn’s name and soon the entire Thalassan vessel minus three or four men took up the chant.
Severance (The Sovereign Book 1) Page 29