Adversaries Together

by Daniel Casey

  “Valid. But it’s odd that he should’ve gotten involved in the first place. He had no idea who we were, had no idea that we were even worth saving.”

  Jena pulled out a wedge of cheese and set the bag back down, she peeled away the cloth around it and cut off a bit with a tiny pocketknife. She was chewing, pointing the knife at Goshen about to make a point, “Athingani don’t think that way.”

  Goshen pulled his head back slightly in surprise, “He’s a gammon? Light be damned, I hadn’t even entertained that notion.”

  Jena laughed a bit, “You’re pretty mouthy for a paladin.”

  “Well,” Goshen pulled back harder on the oars, “I’m not a paladin anymore.”

  “You’ll always be a paladin. You can’t just switch that off because your lords decide not to call you it any longer.” Jena was grim but she held out the cheese to him. Goshen lifted the oars and pulled them in across his lap; he took the cheese, broke off a section, and handed it back to her. The gruel had weakened him, it had sickened him, and for the first few days with Declan, he had recoiled at the thought of food. But of late his appetite had returned and, he speculated, he appreciation for the wonderful tastes of even the simplest things. He chewed slowly and let the cheese’s creamy flavor cover his tongue. He missed eating, and when he got back to Sulecin, he would have such a feast…

  “I’ve got nowhere to go now.” He said, the realization wasn’t new but the reality of it was being beaten into him every moment he allowed his mind not to be occupied.

  Jena nodded, “There’s always somewhere to go.”

  “Spoken like a true free ranger.” Goshen tried to lighten his tone.

  “I was raised near Calla,” Jena’s tone was casual now and Goshen realized she was talking to him as a peer, “My mother died birthing me, father took me to Far Port and raised me like a son.”

  “Thought you hated the sea.”

  “And that’s why. Making a living by sea…it’s just vile.” Jena shook her head, “The stench, you’re always damp and never warm, you’re always just barely hanging on and at a whim the sea destroys all you’ve done. I don’t like it, I don’t trust it.”

  “Your father was a mariner?”

  “A whaler at first, then a crabber, then he shattered his leg.”

  “Then you became the mariner.”

  “For a bit,” Jena seemed lost in thought for a moment, “I loved that old man but I wasn’t a salt, I needed to be in the woods. He knew that but he had no idea how to be. Always just figured it was something I’d gotten from my mother’s half.”

  “Only boats I’ve known have been river barges, ferries. This here,” Goshen gestured around him, “Is the closest thing I’ve ever come to be a sailor.”

  Jena laughed, “You are not a sailor, you’re strong so you might make for a steady rowhand but that’s all you’ll ever be.”

  “At least now I know I have that option,” Goshen smiled, “A life spent in the dark below decks churning the sea from Dystos to Wick.”

  “Honest work but I doubt you have the mindset for that kinda thing.”

  “True. Maybe once we get to the Siracenes I’ll ask this Roth for some advice, learn a few tricks, and haunt a dead village until I die. Grow swedes and turnips till I die, maybe raise peafowl and sell the feathers till I die.” Goshen laughed to himself.

  “Again, that’s honest work.” Jena shook her head. “Good luck with that.”

  “What would you have me do?” Goshen wiped his hands on his thighs and took up the oars again.

  “You’re no poet that’s for sure.” She shrugged, “You’re a soldier, no reason to shy away from it.”

  “I fight for the Light; I don’t kill for pleasure or coin.” Goshen surprised himself with how repulsed he was at the idea.

  “No one kills for pleasure…except your kind.”

  “The Light never murders.”

  “Your indoctrination is farcical.”

  “What are you a heathener?”

  Jena shook her head, “That’s just what you call anyone who doesn’t want to buy into your cult.”

  “The Light is the world, Jena, it covers all things.”

  “I don’t need to hear your scripture, you’ll never convert me,” Jena raised a hand gesturing Goshen to cool down, “Light is the anomaly, Goshen.”

  Goshen squinted and shook his head, “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “Exactly.” Jena sighed, and untied her lines. The two didn’t speak for nearly an hour when Declan suddenly bolted upright.

  “Damn it,” he said glaring at Goshen, “How long have I been out?”

  “Since you went to sleep.” Goshen smirked.

  Declan threw off the tarp and climbed over Goshen to the plank seat behind him. He stretched and picked up the oars, “You should’ve woken me.”

  “I was in a groove.”

  Declan dropped his oar in and fell into pace with Goshen almost immediately, “So how much longer now?”

  “We’ll likely make shore just after midday.” Jena said plainly.

  “Why does he warrant a straight answer?” Goshen asked with mock complaint.

  Jena smiled and winked, “Heatheners are hassled enough.”

  “Take what you can get, mate,” Declan whispered.

  “I think I shall.” Goshen pulled his oar in, “You alright to man this alone?”

  “Sleep, I’ll wake ya when the sun is high.”

  Goshen slide down to the hull and pulled the canvas tarp over himself. He was damp and he was cold, he could smell himself, and everything else reeked of rot and brine. Jena was entirely correct, but his body was too tired to let it worry him. He fell asleep almost immediately and dreamt of nothing.

  He woke with Declan kicking him through the tarp, barking at him to rise. Goshen pulled back the canvas and felt the warmth of the sun on his face. He barely had a moment to savor it before he felt Declan and Jena stepping over him going in opposite directions.

  He sat up, “Have we arrived?”

  “Yeah, well, sort of,” Declan had pulled in his oar and was frantically tying his pack, “Looks like we’re gonna get blowed up.” He gestured passed the bow.

  Goshen looked and saw a proper ship, a three-mast frigate rising high off the water. It wasn’t a Silvincian or Adrenine ship, maybe one of the Merchant Fleet’s, he thought. As he stood to get a better look, he saw some side panels open up and black iron poke out.

  “Shit.” He mumbled.

  “We’re already there.” Declan threw Goshen’s pack at him. Jena had taken down the sails and was strapping her own satchel to her back.

  “Bind it to you tight, tighter than you’ve ever tied it. Make it uncomfortable.” Declan told him.

  “We’re not going to try to out maneuver them?” he asked.

  Jena looked at him as if he was an idiot, “This is a fucking trimaran. That’s,” she pointed to the ship, “a damn corsair frigate. We lose.”

  “So we just wait until they blas…” A shot rang out from the frigate and not a moment later a huge splash not fifteen spans from them rose the boat up and nearly threw Goshen off.

  “We are leaving.” Jena said.

  “Leaving? How?”

  “You know how to swim, right?” Declan asked suddenly quite concerned.

  “Fuck.” Goshen realized.

  “Yeah, that’s about right.” Declan nodded.

  “We’re not that far out from shore, we can get there if we each take a different direction.” Jena was rushed, “Take off your damn boots.” She yelled at Goshen.

  “I’ll go left, you go right,” Declan was telling him, “She’s going right towards it I reckon.” Goshen turned in time to see Jena dive into the sea.

  “Try to stay deep, only come up for air when you have to and don’t stop swimming until you’re standing on sand.”

  “But how will…” Declan shoved him overboard. When Goshen came to the surface it was just in time to see Declan fly off the boat as i
t blew apart. He turned away and dove under the surface. He was heavy and it felt like he was fighting against some cold current. When he came up for air, he looked around trying to get his bearings. The frigate was still in front of him but he was closer now, he treaded water and saw that a tender was being manned on the side of the ship. Goshen didn’t hesitate; he dove under again and swam as hard as he could. He stayed under longer, almost to the point of passing out. When he came back up, he was just passed the frigate, the coast maybe three hundred yards out. He could make this. He didn’t check to see if the tender was out or if it was coming for him, he just went under again.

  When he reached the shore, he was spent, his arms were shaking and he couldn’t seem to get enough breath. He felt like jelly but he crawled up over the gravely shore and grey stones to the tree line. He collapsed at the base of a tree and looked out into the sea; the frigate seemed to stand in place menacingly. He heard noises in the woods behind him but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around, between the rowing and the swimming, he was spent. If it were a boar, then fine he’d be gored. If it were another bandit, fine he’d be robbed and stabbed. He closed his eyes; he was done.

  It felt like a long time, but who knew. He felt a hard kick to his foot and shot open his eyes. Declan stood before him with his smug grin, “You keep not dying.”

  “Not for lack of trying.”

  “Get him up, we need to get moving.” Jena walk passed the two of them at a hard stride not even looking at him.

  Declan reach out his hand, Goshen stood, wobbled a bit and then righted himself with the help of Declan, “She’s starting to come around on you, ya know.”

  “Don’t know how many iterations I can take before she counts me a friend.” He mumbled.

  Declan smiled and helped him along after Jena, “Well, let’s find out.” The two disappeared into the woods of the Stony Shore with the highlands of the Siracenes rising up before them.

  The Stony Shore, 27th of Mabon

  “We need to get going.” Riv was angry, but Asa kept his back to him as he watched his men set flames to the cottage and barn.

  “Don’t worry, the boy knows where to go, and I’ve made sure he’ll guide us true.”

  “I’m not talking about that.”

  Asa turned, “What are you talking about then?”

  “This stop-over is pointless. We almost lost two men. And for what? A boy? We have soldiers to unload and we need to head south. Now.”

  Asa leaned against the cottage wall and eyed Riv, “You seem pretty certain about that I need to do?”

  “You know I’m right.”

  “No, I don’t know that.”

  “This little revenge fantasy is costing us.”

  “It’s not a fantasy! He scarred me, lead me to be mocked by those Rikonenese, and then he dared to violate my home and threaten my life. He must die or else I will lose all face.”

  “No, pursuing him is what is making you lose face. The men don’t respect this, it looks like a tantrum.”

  “You can’t talk to me like that! This is my ship, these are my men, and this is what we are doing.”

  Riv let out a heavy sigh and shook his head slightly, “What about the soldiers?”

  Asa smiled, “I have a plan for that.” He reached into his tunic and pulled out a firm looking envelope.

  “Is that…”

  “A marq? Yes, it is.” Asa fanned himself with the paper, and then pointed in the direction of the anchored Kopis, “I will take five of my best men and ten of those soldiers, I will find him in the Siracenes, and I will end him all under the protection of the Cathedral and the approval of the Spires.”

  “The sergeant isn’t going to like that.” Riv suddenly looked exhausted.

  “It doesn’t matter what he likes.” Asa yelled.

  “How did you get that? When did you get that?” Riv returned his attention to the marq that Asa had magically produced, “And when were you going to tell me?”

  Asa held the envelope out to Riv but then snatched it back, “The forger in you wants to take a look at this.” He laughed and slipped it back into his pocket, “Just know that the contract with the civics wasn’t the only one that was offered to us.”

  Riv raised an eyebrow, “You took a second on the pair?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Asa couldn’t help but grin, “I was offered the opportunity to serve The Cathedral and that opportunity overlapped profitably with what the Rikonenese wanted.”

  “The Patriarch would never…”

  “This marq comes to me from the Vicegerent. It carries all the same weight. It was my payment for taking on the task.”

  “Of killing the two?”

  “Of making sure the two failed spectacularly.”

  “It still doesn’t make sense to go after this one man.”

  “I could make the case—and I will to the sergeant as I wave this in his fat face—that making sure he’s dead and that the girl hasn’t escaped is exactly why I was granted this marq.”

  “Fifteen men lead by a boy going after a lone rover.”

  “Lead by me, the boy is as good as a dog. And he’s no mere rover; no rover persists like he has.”

  “Well, that’s true.”

  “I need you to take control of the ship. I will be gone no more than a few days.”

  “You want me to take the rest of the troops to Anhra.”

  Asa nodded, “Then come back here, you shouldn’t have to be anchored too long. This will go quickly with the soldiers.”

  “I doubt.” Riv muttered turning away and heading towards the tender to return to the ship. He called back to Asa, “This is a bad idea.”

  “Just do as you’re told. I’ll expect the men here within the hour.”

  Riv was already sulking, the idea of dealing with the sergeant was flaming his anger. It was in the tender that he decided to take action.

  Aboard the Kopis, Riv called for the lance. While waiting on deck, he paced barking orders at the men, kicking barrels and ropes, and shooting dagger-like glares at nearly every man. He finally stopped at the rail, gripped it with both hands, closed his eyes and tried to calm down. Riv was stone still for nearly ten minutes before he opened his eyes again. When he did, he let his white-knuckle grip in the rail loosen and let out a long, loud exhalation.

  “Sir,” one of the men approached him, “The lance is here.” The Silvincian lance had shown himself to have better sea legs than what Riv had expected. In his more wistful moments, he thought about pouching the youth to add to the crew.

  “Master Riv.” The lance stood at attention.

  “Yes, lance Carrick, good.” Riv was sorely hoping the sergeant was still ill enough that the lance would be the one to make the decision. “Captain Asa will need a unit of ten of your men.”

  Carrick blanched, “Excuse me?”

  “The captain has a marq from the Cathedral charging him with pursuing certain criminals.”

  “Is that the reason why we’ve anchor here?”

  “Yes, quite right,” Riv hoped he could push through this quickly, “We were able to discover the criminal’s location here but we need to pursue him a bit in the Siracenes. The captain has decided to exercise his marq with your men.”

  “I’ll have to discuss this with the sergeant.”

  “Yes, yes, of course, but the captain needs the men within the hour.”

  “The sergeant isn’t…he’s not quite well enough just now…” Carrick was stumbling and Riv saw his chance.

  “Still shitting and puking himself, is he?” Riv said conspiratorially. Carrick reddened a bit and nodded. “Well, then that leaves you lance Carrick, this is your decision.”

  “The sergeant won’t be happy with me when he’s well again.”

  “The captain has assured me that the pursuit won’t take more than a few days. We will deliver the rest of the regiment to Anhra and then come back to pick up the rest.”

  “So it’s really not too out of the way.”<
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  “Exactly.”

  “And the captain has a marq, you say?”

  “He has it with him ashore and will be more than glad to present it to you.”

  Carrick thought on it and then seemed to brighten a bit, “I shall grant the men and include myself in the company.”

  Riv’s smile tightened a bit and he nodded, “Thank you, sir.” Carrick snapped himself to attention, nodded, and spun on his heel back towards the hold to assemble the unit. Riv turned back to the railing and cursed toward the sea. As he looked out, he saw a black speck. Leaning forward he squinted.

  “Ryan,” Riv called and the sailor came running up to him, “Give me your monocular.” The boy sailor pulled the spyglass from around his neck and quickly handed it to the first mate. Riv turned the monocular to focus it on the mark he had seen the shimmering sea. His vision poured over the waves and then he found it. Barely even a boat, a small karve with a triangle sail and what looked like oars. That was odd, he thought. Looking closer he tried to count the bodies in the boat. The oarsman’s back was to him but he could see the man controlling the sails. It wasn’t a man; it was a woman. It was the free ranger from Anhra.

  “Light be damned.” Riv spat.

  “Sir?”

  “Man a cannon, Ryan.” Riv said coolly.

  “Sir?”

  “We need to destroy that boat.” Riv slammed the monocular into Ryan’s chest and pointed out toward the sea. Ryan raised the monocular to his eye to see what Riv had seen, “Now!” Riv barked and the lad shook startled, he ran towards across the deck and disappeared below.

  “Cameron! Lennox!” Riv called as two more sailors came up, “There’s a trimaran out there that needs to be gone, go man the cannon with Ryan.” The men nodded and went off after Ryan.

  “Light be damned,” Riv cursed again as he strode to the bow, “Aels, get the tender ready to hold ten of the soldiers in full armor. And get it done ten minutes ago. Sharin, come with me.” Riv put out his hand once he reached the bow and Sharin put into it a monocular.

  “Problems, sir?” Sharin asked.

  “Not for long.”

  The karve had seen them, the sail was down now, and Riv could see there was a third body in the boat. “Are you ready Ryan?” Riv bellowed and a high-pitched ‘aye’ came back to him.