Rising

by C B Samet

  I looked up at the moons. From my vantage point between the last statue, Stallik, and the throne, I could see the Queen’s usual stoic face under a white mask. She revealed not a hint of anticipation or irritation that I had not arrived early. Her long gray hair was braided high into the air behind her, defying gravity. She wore a purple velvet gown that flowed around her. She was the Queen I had always recognized and would always respect, but I much preferred the company of the relaxed Madame Q.

  I descended the stairs and then walked into the courtyard—the blue-eyed warrior wearing a sheathed sword and carrying the burning ruby red Warrior Stone in one hand and my shield in the other. I had pieced together gifts from different people to create my outfit. I wore knee-high, thick hide brown boots. From there rose brown leggings. My brown tunic was covered mostly by fitted Ballik ore armor that curved over my torso, gleaming by the moonlight.

  I had removed the feminine blue ribbons and braided my hair as it had been on the battlefield. Behind me, the red Caballus cape flowed as I walked.

  I strode up to the Queen and knelt down on one knee. It was a fully subservient bow, and I held the position without raising my head until the Queen spoke. I surmised that since I was not wearing the out- fit she had chosen, perhaps I could at least show my respect in another way. My cape flared around me.

  “You may rise,” she said at last.

  I thought she made me linger a bit long, but I kept my face neutral when I stood.

  The Queen rose, and as she did so, the crowd knelt.

  Joshua stepped forward and took my shield and stone. Then, step- ping back, he also knelt.

  “Abigail Cross,” she began, with a booming voice. “You are this continent’s Champion. The Seventh Champion of the year 7077. In acknowledgment of your sacrifice for us, I bestow the following.”

  Aman handed her a gold medallion.

  “A Crithos Medallion for heroism in battle.” Her voice was strong and filled the courtyard. She placed the medallion’s blue ribbon over my head and let it hang down on my chest.

  Aman handed the Queen a small box.

  “You have already won the key to our hearts. Now I bestow a key to the castle. For the Champion shall never want for food or shelter.” She opened the box so I could see a large silver key laid in velvet cloth. It was polished to a brilliant shine. She closed the box and I took it in my left hand.

  Aman handed the Queen a sealed document.

  “You have also completed all course work for college. I submit to you your degree from Oxville University.”

  She handed me the paper and I stared at the diploma, reading it carefully. Thrilled, I clutched it in my right hand, holding it to my chest. An unrestrainable smile spread across my face. With forced calm, I bowed one final head nod and took several steps back.

  The Queen raised her hands into the air. “People of Crithos, I give you our Champion, Abigail the Bold!”

  I detected pride in her tone as though she was genuinely grateful and congratulatory.

  The crowd stood and cheered.

  I looked at Joshua and mouthed the words I love you. He smiled warmly in return with a slight humbled bow.

  The next morning I was beyond exhausted. I didn’t get out of bed for an hour after brunch was brought to my room. Instead I hid beneath the covers. Never in my life had I mingled for an endless night. At first, I was so elated after the ceremony that I spoke with everyone who came up to me. I answered questions about my past, my parents, my upbringing, my studies, my engagement and my horse.

  After dizzying hours the crowd seemed no thinner and ever un- relenting. I couldn’t talk about myself anymore. I didn’t want to talk about anything anymore. It took two goblets of spirits to revive my conversational side.

  Joshua tried to remain at my side but was pulled away into other conversations. At last, in the early morning hours I was able to slip away to my room. I had lost Joshua somewhere in the vast courtyard, but I was too weary to find him. Setting the castle key and diploma on the nightstand, I had taken off my metal armor and medallion and fallen into bed.

  There were three quick knocks at the door and it opened. I looked up to see Joshua enter, closing the door behind him.

  Every noise seemed amplified and the sun streaming through my window threatened to burn my irises. With a groan, I buried my head back under my pillow.

  “Abbey,” he said, setting down the Warrior Stone beside my bed.

  “Stop yelling,” I moaned.

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m not yelling,” he said flatly.

  “I know,” I sighed, taking the pillow off my head and tossing it in his general direction. “Everything is loud. And bright. Everything is loud and bright.”

  He caught the pillow and set it down on the end of the bed.

  “You were amazing last night.”

  I turned to him, unable to suppress a smile.

  “Aside from the fact that you seemed to be more excited about a diploma than keys to the castle.”

  I ignored his remark.

  He was dressed in a maroon tunic and gray pants. His hair was neatly combed and he looked rested. I thought about my own hideous appearance. The makeup that I hadn’t bothered to wash off was probably smeared on my face. What was left of my braids hung in my eyes, and I was still wearing the same clothes, which meant I probably stunk. Then, I recalled that this was the man who spent ten days in the wilderness with me, sleeping under a carriage and fearing for our lives. I had probably looked and smelled worse most of that time, and he still wanted to marry me.

  He smiled back at me, which suddenly made me wish that his words were following a night spent together rather than apart.

  Joshua waited patiently for me to clean up and join him for a late breakfast in my room. I dressed in a plain gray dress and black sandals. Rather than take the time to undo the braids in my hair, I tried to tame the loose strands into submission by tucking and pinning them away.

  I sat down across from him and we ate boiled eggs, sliced avocado and diced tomatoes. The tea was somehow still warm.

  We were halfway done eating and talking about all of the different people who had attended the Convocation Ceremony when Joshua’s tone turned more somber.

  “We leave tomorrow,” he said.

  I set down my utensil. “So soon?” I said in barely a whisper.

  “It’s a three-day journey to Waterton. The moons will have parted by then. The sea will be calm,” he explained. “The boat is to be ready when we arrive.”

  The food before me suddenly became unappealing. I looked up at Joshua and the deepened lines of concern on his face. He didn’t deserve to have to contend with my phobia of the ocean or comfort me on another quest. I forced a smile and then forced a bite of tomato into my mouth.

  When I had swallowed, I said, “Then in four days I will be solely in your company on our journey.”

  His eyes narrowed, and I could tell that he was seeing through my attempt to mask my angst for the upcoming boat ride.

  “Besides,” I added, “the sooner we make this voyage, the sooner we return and the sooner we wed.”

  At that, he nodded, grinned and seemed satisfied that I would be all right.

  In three days, we were on the docks at dawn standing before Juniper. She was a sturdy, narrow wooden junk ship with blue sails. Her sleek bow appeared ideal for quick ocean travel. Devoid of extravagant decorations, her simplicity lent to her elegance. The captain stood at the helm, ready for departure.

  The Queen, Aman, Joshua, and I took in the sight of her on the tranquil water. A faint salty breezing danced in the air.

  Joshua broke the stillness first, picking up our luggage, bowing to the Queen and boarding the boat. I had struggled the previous days back in Marrington, trying to imagine what sort of practical clothing I needed on a ship. Everything about this voyage was vastly different from the last—there was preparation time, we were not hunted, there was no finite time limit to our destination, we had o
ne destination without detour, and travel was mostly over water. I had filled my bag with pants and shirts and tunics and undergarments, while keeping it light enough for me to carry.

  I had lain in bed alone before the train ride thinking about what to pack and missing Joshua. The light of Mother Moon filtering through a slit of the closed window curtains, I rolled the Warrior Stone around in the palm of my right hand. It illuminated faintly, the tiny imperfections in the stone coming to life and scattering the red glow. I had decided not to bring the stone. We weren’t going into battle, and the only thing I could accomplish by bringing it would be accidentally dropping it overboard. Although I didn’t think I had a need for it now that the battle was won, I did want to keep it and treasure it. I could not have been the Avant Champion without it.

  I started to follow Joshua aboard when the Queen grasped my forearm. It was a gentle but quick motion. Stopping, I turned toward her.

  Her face was more relaxed than usual. She had ridden on the train with us though in a different cabin. I realized that for two people who spent time on an intimate journey together, we had scarcely spoken since. I wasn’t sure if that was my fault for the disdain I felt in the part she had in my family’s undoing or her fault for the cold, stone barrier she maintained between her and—well—the rest of the world. Certainly, it was both. I still felt a strange bond with her, as I was one of the few people to know the turmoil she buried inside her soul.

  “Captain Kale is a respected oceanic navigator,” she said. “She is also a fisherman and a former naval captain.”

  I looked at the short woman with short, spiked hair and skin tanned from a lifetime of sun. She had disproportionately long arms and stocky fingers. They hung at her side, waiting for her crew to board.

  Then, I looked back at the Queen. While this was important in- formation to know, so I might show her the respect she deserved, there was something of an edge to her voice, as if there was more she was trying to convey.

  She lowered her voice, saying, “She is also a notary.”

  It was an odd thing to remark—a notary. It was hardly a designation relevant to an ocean voyage. That meant she could sign legal documents, moderate disputes, assume power of attorney, and ... and legally wed!

  I stared at her. Was she implying—?

  She arched an eyebrow.

  I arched mine in return. “Oh,” I replied.

  As she released my arm from her hand, she added, “Any action you choose to take based upon this knowledge does not obviate you from our agreement.”

  I nodded, barely hearing her cautionary words and unable to sup- press a grin. I bowed to the Queen, nodded my head at Aman and bounded onto the deck of Juniper.

  As we set sail, I stayed behind the helm, watching land slowly disappear, focusing on its stationary appearance, its solidarity and safety, for as long as it was visible. Waterton shrunk smaller and smaller, a tiny speck and then it was gone. We were surrounded by nothing but glassy blue water stretching to the horizon in every direction. Even scaling the cliffs of Mount Karn, I had not felt so small as I did now.

  Joshua joined me, standing beside me, radiating warmth from his body. We looked out into the ocean together.

  “How are you?” he asked gently, wrapping one arm around me.

  I hadn’t realized I was standing there, hugging myself and shivering. I rubbed my arms.

  “I’m well,” I assured him. Then I went on to explain how the Queen had made a special point of telling me our captain was also a notary. “And as a notary,” I pointed out, “she can officiate a legal wed- ding ceremony.”

  He was silent for a moment, and then turned me toward him. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  I chuckled. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  And on a boat in the middle of the ocean of all places!

  “Well, it’s hardly an original idea since I already asked you. But, I accept.”

  I punched him lightly and playfully in the chest, and then I wrapped my hands around his torso and squeezed.

  Captain Kale was unfazed at our request to perform our wedding vows, and I think she even expected the task to befall her. She gave us one hour to prepare and present ourselves at the bow for the ceremony.

  One hour later, I stood beside my groom, a gentle ocean breeze lulling past us.

  Captain Kale, having locked the wheel and letting the wind carry sails and ship forth, stood in front of us in battered overalls and rubber boots. Although she had agreed to our request, her demeanor was devoid of cheer and she treated this task as any other that might fill her day—hoist the sails, raise the anchor, marry a couple, and so forth.

  Her first mate, Arturo, stood to one side, and the second mate, Stic, on the other. Arturo was brawny and tall, taller than Joshua. He had a deep tan, especially on his broad bow and exposed neck, presumably from years of life at sea. Stic was wiry, sinewy muscles stretched over thin bones and covered in a layer of ornately tattooed skin. He yawned while Arturo appeared to be trying to find the right facial expression that wavered between curious smile and “how long will this take?”

  I was not to be deterred from my exhilaration, not even considering I didn’t have any wedding attire. I had only packed casual clothes intended for working on the vessel and withstanding the salt, moisture and sun of open sea. So I borrowed Joshua’s yellow tunic and wore it as a dress. It fell nearly to my knees. I encircled my waist and torso with a long and twisted piece of white cloth.

  He dressed in dark brown pants and a maroon shirt. Behind him, the sun had set and was emitting one last long purplish glow before bidding us farewell.

  He held my hands and looked into my eyes without a shred of worry, doubt or reservation.

  “In accordance with Continental Law, please indicate if you accept or deny the marital responsibilities I lay before you. Do you accept that marriage is a commitment of love to each other?” Captain Kale asked, her voice without emotion.

  “I accept,” we both said.

  “Do you accept that you have a reasonable responsibility to sup- port your spouse in his or her lifelong pursuit of happiness?”

  “I accept,” we both said.

  “Do you accept that each of you will protect the health and wellness of the other and of any offspring incurred during this union?”

  Incurred offspring? It seemed such a negative way to say “children.”

  “I accept,” we said.

  “Do you accept this union is physical, spiritual and bound by law—not to be entered into lightly by either man or woman?”

  “I accept.”

  “Then in accordance with Continental Law, I pronounce this union final.” Then she added, “Official paperwork will only be provided after the public ceremony takes place.”

  Of course, I thought, the Queen wanted to be certain we would not elope out of her formal wedding. Was it still called eloping if we were already married?

  Then I felt Joshua’s lips upon mine and his arms wrapping around me. A swell of raw and savage desire coursed through my body.

  Please, take me now! I wanted to scream.

  But I didn’t have to, I realized, as he swept me off my feet and carried me below deck. I kissed his neck and ran my fingers through his thick hair. He lay me down, somehow sliding me out of his shirt as he did. He kissed my lips again though I could sense he wanted to kiss lower.

  His warm, calloused hand cupped my breast and I gasped. Ravenously, I pulled his shirt off and clutched his torso. I kissed my way back to his lips. In seconds we lay marvelously naked together. By the light of the bioluminescent lamp, I could see every muscular contour of his body.

  I slid my hands down his long back, to his perfectly round buttocks and finally his muscular thighs. His breathing grew more ragged. Then I brought my hand inward and grasped his manhood in my palm. He was so firm and so large, I worried for a fleeting instant that he wouldn’t fit inside me.

  Hungrily, he pulled me against him, my breasts pushing into his chest, and
kissed me with less restraint and more need than he had ever done before. Then I needed him closer. I needed him inside me. I rolled on top of him and guided him inside of me. He showed restraint, letting me set the pace, which only excited me more. He grasped each breast gently, then harder as I moved over him.

  I felt a tension and then a quick, sharp relief and stab of pain in my pelvis, but it was buried somewhere beneath layers of ecstasy. We moved together between kisses and caresses, until a tidal wave of sensation spilled over us.

  Mother Moon, if only this night could last forever.

  I lay on top of him panting, his arms wrapped around me. After several moments, I moved to slide off of him. He held me in place, kissing my neck, moving his hips, shifting inside of me. I gasped slightly. He ran a finger along my side, rekindling our fire. I moved to kiss him again and he rolled me over and took position on top of me. I smiled delightfully and savored his body into the night.

  The next morning I awoke to the smell of stagnant air in our cabin and the rocking motion of the boat. My stomach lurched.

  “Motion sickness,” I murmured. I fumbled around and managed to find Joshua’s large yellow shirt and pull it over me. I felt hot and disoriented.

  Joshua was already beside me, dressed, and pulling me into his arms. He got me out from below and onto the deck where the boat cut through wind and water as it sailed, creating a steady breeze filled with intermittent ocean mist. The cool air and cool water hitting my face helped the wave of nausea subside, but not before my stomach lurched again.

  I heaved over the side of the boat, my stomach balling into a tight knot, trying to eject some vile substance. But I hadn’t eaten in over twelve hours, so nothing surrendered to my convulsing organs.

  When my stomach was satisfied that it had purged itself sufficiently of nothing at all, I slumped to the wooden deck. The only thing it had succeeded in purging me of was my dignity.

  I looked up at Joshua who knelt beside me. “Sorry,” I said. I was certain this was not what he wanted to see in the woman he just wed, and certainly not after a night of passion.