Beside the Rock and Cloud

by Pete Draper

  Her daydreaming eyes wandered. A Rocklander with a green marine uniform walked beside her with his head hung; he was as wide as a boulder.

  “What happened to him?” Cassi asked the Rocklander, she might as well talk to someone since she was alone.

  “He was killed by a Shade, after the Battle of Coraltin ended.” The man spoke so quickly, Cassi had to repeat it in her head, to pick out each syllable and form words from them. His old face had a big warty nose poking out, his cheeks looked like flabby rolls of fat. “The fighting was over, but there was one Shade left hiding in the castle.”

  “Bad luck.” Cassi shrugged, rubbing her cold wrist, her tanned skin had turned pink, the goose-bumps were larger than the bubbling froth over a pint of ale.

  “Terrible. I shoulda biyn there to protect him.”

  She paused again, trying to get used to his accent. “These things happen in war; you cannot save everyone.”

  The air was bitter, Cassi shivered, hugging her arms in a tight grip. Her teeth clattered together.

  “Here,” The man took his jacket off, “Take this,” He offered. Cassi slipped the huge jacket on. It was the size of a bedsheet; her hands were nowhere near the end of the sleeves and it nearly dragged on the floor. She pulled it tight, it was so warm.

  “Thank you…” Cassi extended the last word, trying to get his name.

  “Murta,” he said. “Though me friends call me Storr-el-Stark. Like the beer, y’know.” The big strong one, a fitting nickname. He was wider than Barolos and Taylan put together, and head and shoulders taller than Cassi. Despite wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, Murta didn’t show the hint of a shiver and the chill swept through.

  “What brings yous to Corov missy…?”

  “Cassi. I am in transport.” Cassi trudged along; the jacket was so cosy it felt like she was inside a tent.

  “Transport? A trader? Well met Cassee. So, are yous the Cap’in’s daughder?”

  “I was, he died. I’m the Captain now.” The wind swept in, making her teeth clatter again, each cold breath brought an icy sting inside them. The only weather worse than the unbearable heat of Kataly was the intense cold of Rockland.

  “It’s a big responsibilidy. ‘specially for a wee lass.”

  Cassi nodded, craning her neck to look at his old face. “It is difficult at times, but it was for my father too. Besides, I still have my brother.” On the good days anyway.

  “Aye.” Murta nodded. “It’s me Cap’in’s fun’ral today. He was a great Cap’in, had a strange sense o’ humour mind. But he always stood up for his crew when the higher-ups were lookin’ to kick shit and watch it roll diynhill. Thomasson used to say ‘treat your crew badly, an’ they’ll feed yous to the wolves. Treat ‘em well, an’ they’ll put the wolves to the sword.”

  “Very true.” Cassi trudged up the hill, scrunching up her nose at the smelly man in front. He was closer than she’d like, but there was no backing away due to the dense crowd behind. The damp stench of feet and arse oozed through the air. How was it so difficult to wash? The sea was right next to them.

  “He used to give us whisky from his own flask. None of the other officers ever did that. Anyway.” Murta wiped the tiniest of tears from his round cheek with a plump, wrinkly finger; his skin was dry and pale.

  He reached for an invisible pocket, realising Cassi had his coat.

  “Would yous mind passin’ the paper bag outta me pocket?”

  Cassi reached in; the thing filled her hand. She handed it to Murta, who opened it, sticking the stick in the corner of his mouth.

  “Liquorice?” He offered.

  “Sure.” Cassi took a stick; the salty liquorice was tasty.

  “Where are yous headed? If yous don’t mind me askin’.”

  “The Green Sea. The Rockland mainland.” Cassi looked into the man’s eyes. “Do you live here?”

  “No, I just came for the fun’ral. I’m retared from the navy nye. Me body’s tay old for fightin’ anymore. Say, would yous be able to drop me in Sholtorn on your way? I can pay yous, I’d be eternally grateful.”

  “For lending me your coat on such a cold day, I am the one who is grateful.” Cassi felt the warmth on her arms. “Of course.” A while passed, and all that could be heard was the heavy footsteps of the funeral procession. “However. If you’re looking for work, you could join my crew for our journey to Argosa. I’m always looking for people of honour and experience.”

  “A kind offer Cassee, I’ll consider it.” Murta’s face creased in thought. “I’ve always wanted to see the New Woruld I s’pose.”

  At last, the never-ending path ended, an empty road appeared beside. Cassi turned towards it. Remembering she still wore his jacket, she began to remove it, feeling the bitter chill on her goose-bumped arms immediately.

  “Keep it for nye,” Murta said. “I’ll retrieve it after the fun’ral. I’ll join your crew, at least until we get to Sholtorn. See yous soon wee missy. I mean, Cap’in.”

  Cassi smiled. “You are a true gentleman.”

  “I wish that were true.” Murta looked at his huge feet, then followed the funeral procession. “See yous soon Cassee.”

  Darkness seeped through the door of the pub; the tone changed from happiness to misery. The funeral must have concluded.

  A young lady entered, wearing a long black dress. Black mascara streaked down from her eyes. A tall Rocklander in green military uniform offered her a handkerchief.

  “Do not mention my name in front of the locals,” Carilyo whispered to Donal, though a few heads turned. Shit, that was too loud.

  Donal exploded into laughter, causing the heads to focus in on them again. “How’d you manage to steal so many barrels of Storr-el-Stark?” He whispered. “Yous were so drunk.”

  “I have my ways.” Carilyo tapped his nose. “It didn’t last long; I didn’t share a drop of it with the crew. Who is she by the way?”

  Donal turned his head. “That’s Tenny, the Gove’nor’s daughder. Be careful, she’s-”

  Carilyo leapt up, straightening his shirt the best he could, it looked more creased than ever. His long shorts were scruffy and sandy, and he still had the stupid manbun.

  He strolled to the bar with the premise of getting another round, puffing his chest out, and sucking in his gut. With his most confident grin painted on his face, he met eyes with the beautiful woman for a split second, right before his knee slammed into a chair, nearly knocking him from his feet. There were a few laughs.

  Carilyo wiped the beer froth from his chin, too bad he couldn’t wipe the egg from his face. His cheeks flushed red a moment.

  Tenny was sat on a high stool at the bar; the military escort flanking her. Carilyo attacked from the other side, speaking his best high Levacian. “Did you hear itt? Hwile you were outsiyde?”

  “Hear what?” Her voice was crisp. Her face was so smooth, dark oak eyes considered him carefully like he was less of a person than her. I’ve started now, might as well go the whole way.

  “If you look at the flahg, high up in the cahstle,” Carilyo said, catching the barman’s eyes uneasily. “You can hear itt.”

  Tenny’s dark eyes softened a little, light appeared through them; the faintest lift showed in her shiny lip. “Hear what?”

  His face was close to hers now. The military man scowled at him like something on the bottom of his shoe. Carilyo managed to close his mouth when a tiny burp came out. If he’d not caught that in time, he might’ve thrown up all over her.

  Lowering to a seductive whisper; Carilyo rolled his words more than ever, slapping on the Katalian accent as much as possible, “The might.” The words left his tongue like hot steam, her supple skin sizzled. “Of Rrrrockland.” Carilyo rolled the R like a mighty wave, then grinned. His skinny arm put on its best flexing performance; he leaned his head back on it.

  Air slowly raised from her tiny, round nose, her skin was pale and soft. The smile on her red lips lifted; her lipstick brightened.

  “
Leave us Erik, I am among friends,” Tenny said.

  “Yes, My Lady.” Erik impressively saw off his pint in less than three seconds, then hopped off the stool and vacated the pub.

  “What’s your name sailor?” Tenny asked, leaning towards him.

  “I am-” Carilyo nearly blurted his real name out. He smiled. Then he thought for a while, trying to think up a name. Closing his eyes, the figurehead from the other day was all he could see. “I am Zernan.”

  “Zernan hmm. A nice name, it rolls off the tongue nicely.” Tenny licked her juicy lips, staring intently at him.

  “Well, I know who you are Tenny.” Carilyo leaned back, trying to rest an arm on the bar casually, more strands of hair escaped his manbun. “My crew did not want to stay here. But I said we must.” He banged on the table with his elbow, harder than he imagined it would, forcing Tenny to jump a little. “I said I must see this beautiful island, in the hope that I would see the most beautiful Lady in the Arrizean Sea.” Carilyo gripped his hand tight, like he was squeezing a ball. He wondered whether he’d gone too far, but there was no walking away now.” He gave her a sideways glance. “And here you are, as beautiful as ever.”

  “Very flattering.” Tenny whisked her head away with a smirk. “So, tell me Zernan. What does your name mean?”

  “Zernan.” Carilyo thought for a second, his brain blurred from the pool of alcohol. Another violent, gassy belch was rumbling in his stomach, he managed to hold it there for now. “It means…” He needed another drink; he took a gulp of the lager. “It means…” The sauce inspired him, the lightning bolt in Zernando’s hand became clearer. “The lightning rod.” Carilyo accompanied the words with a somewhat vulgar roll of the hips.

  Tenny cackled. Carilyo looked at her uncomfortably, then thought about getting up to leave. Something bubbled in one of her nostrils. She wiped the snot bubble with a handkerchief.

  “Mmm haha,” Tenny giggled some more. “Perhaps I can…” Her eyes lowered to his crotch. “Feel the power of your lightning rod a little later.”

  Carilyo felt his forehead raise in a puzzled look. What the fuck is she talking about? After a moment, he realised she was flirting. “If you are lucky.” He smiled.

  “So, what do I have to do to be lucky?”

  Tenny’s body was on all fours. Carilyo thrust into her from behind, grabbing her hips, pulling her back onto him vigorously. They both groaned in excitement.

  Whilst he pulled her back, Carilyo focused his eyes on her bony bum, it bounced as it slapped back into him.

  Then the alcohol hit him. No, not now.

  He opened his eyes wide, sliding his hands up her waist. The blood gradually drained from him. He hardened a little, but the inevitable shrinking continued. He shrivelled up inside her. He tried to thrust harder in the hopes to grow it again, but the moment was gone.

  It slid out, he lifted it, trying to shove it back in. It slid in, but it was limp. He pushed, but to no avail.

  “You’ve lost it.” Tenny slid out, rolling onto her back with a disappointed sigh.

  Carilyo sat back, an embarrassed pink glow lit his face. “I think I drank too much.”

  “You think?” Tenny said sarcastically, she raised a hand next to her smirking face then rolled her eyes.

  “Give me a minute, it shall come back.”

  “Is that what you say to all the girls?” Tenny smirked, leaning with her back against the pillows. Carilyo couldn’t take his eyes off her body. How the fuck can alcohol stop me being attracted to her?

  “Only the most beautiful.” He stroked his hands up her thighs, up the sides of her chest until their hands were held. Blood rushed through him like molten lava. He kissed her smudged lips, feeling the erection grow. Tenny’s eyes closed, she inhaled deeply as he slid inside her.

  Your Round

  The grey streets were duller than the great sharp rocks at the top of the hill, water dribbled down the flat cliff edges. Wind splashed the rough, choppy sea. Black waves slashed at each other, every last one trying to have the first stab at the island. Now was not a good time to leave. Time for another drink.

  “Good to see yous again Carilyo,” Donal said. He looked shitfaced already, his tweed jacket was crumpled and covered in ginger hairs. “How long’s it biyn?”

  “We drank together. In here. Yesterday.” Carilyo rolled his weary eyes, then tucked hair behind his ear. “Perhaps you should lay off the strong stuff today, it’s turning your puny brain to mush.”

  “Are ya sure?” Donal’s eyes lost focus, his head moved in strange instalments like each feature was being controlled by a puppeteer’s strings. “I mayn, I tink I’d remember seeing yous. I never forget seeing Carilyo D’Silva.”

  “Shh.” Carilyo pressed a finger to his cracked lips. “Don’t use my name. If the prisjagar in the corner hears you, my lifeless body will be hanging from behind the rocks come tomorrow afternoon.”

  There were some shady looking characters smoking pipes on the other side of the bar. One of them had to be a prisjagar, one of Rockland’s bounty hunters. A couple of other men in green Rockland marine uniforms stood chatting, sipping from their steins.

  “Oh yeah, sorry.” Donal’s head drooped, like the puppeteer who lifted it had loosened a few strings. “Still not forgotten about that business with the Storr-el-Stark?”

  More strands of hair escaped the manbun when Carilyo shook his head. “They were so angry; I was chased around here for a while after. We had to hide the Dragon figurehead.”

  “Well, we Rocklanders are precious about the big strong stuff. Your round?”

  “Yesterday I bought the drinks, now it’s your turn,” Carilyo said, rubbing his hands together near the roaring fire.

  “I’ve heard that one before.” Donal toddled off to the bar.

  Behind the veil of smoke, a man with a haggard face looked over, his cloak was tattered and grey. Carilyo covered half his face with a hand, trying to fix the manbun with the other. One of the marines stared for a good long while, then continued his conversation.

  Donal returned with a couple of steins. “Where to next?”

  “The Passage of Corsov,” Carilyo said, remembering they’d already had this conversation.

  “Ah yes, make sure you go over Mount Cyborn, when you reach the rock that looks like a sword hilt.”

  Carilyo nodded. “Already you have told me this, I will not forget.”

  The chatter hushed, men entered in crisp dress uniforms with square yellow collars behind their backs. Tenny and Erik followed her entourage. She smiled and approached, “Good to see you again Zernan. You keep some…interesting company.” She shot Donal a disgusted glance.

  “Good to see you too Lady Tenny,” Carilyo said, kissing the back of her smooth hand. “The most beautiful lady in the Arrizean, I am glad I got to see your beauty… first-hand.” Carilyo stroked her fingers as she removed the hand, much to the surprise of her bodyguards.

  “You are too kind Zernan. When you stop by Corov again, make sure you pay me a visit.” Tenny sat on a different set of chairs behind them by the fire with her companions. Erik’s sharp stare focused on Carilyo for a while before their conversations started.

  “Where are you going next Donal?” Carilyo asked.

  “I’m staying here for a few days,” Donal replied, getting up to leave. “Well I must be going nye. Off to bed.”

  “See you next time.” Carilyo’s eyebrows raised, it was barely past lunchtime.

  “Safe travels Carilyo. Until next time.”

  Carilyo sat back. Gulping his stein; he enjoyed the warmth of the fire. The prisjagar’s outline filled the corner of his eye, embers sizzled from the pipe when he puffed on it. He looked a vicious one, despite his age.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing the name he called you.” Tenny leaned her head back over the chair Donal had vacated.

  A smile raised Carilyo’s cheeks, then he saw the guards either side of her, and gulped. Erik leaned to one side with an eyebrow r
aised and the smile of a violence addicted man about to get his fix. Another of the men wore a smirk on his skinny face.

  “Carilyo D’Silva?”

  “Erm, no.” Carilyo shook his head; trying to look innocent, but his eyes watered. “I am a different Carilyo.”

  “I thought you were Zernan?”

  He gulped again; a cold shiver crept up the hairs on his legs. “I mean, I think he mistook me for someone else. He is very drunk.”

  The smell of tobacco had emigrated towards him. Carilyo turned, feeling the huge hand over his shoulder. He saw the grey face of the smoking man; the cracks in his skin looked like the delta of a river.

  “Going somewhere?” The prisjagar’s stark eyes showed no emotion.

  Carilyo’s brain ached when he thought about how to approach this, he tossed beer over his shoulder into the man’s face. A hard hand wiped froth from his pink eyes.

  “Get him!” Tenny roared.

  Carilyo kicked his chair over and rocked into the smoker’s knee, making him plummet like a felled tree. Erik tripped on the chair; another guard fell over the smoking man. The room turned into a mob-ball scrimmage and Carilyo had the ball. In their scramble to get up, the three of them shoved each other over again.

  Running, Carilyo felt the smoke fill his nervous lungs. He coughed several times, then headed for the door. One of Tenny’s guards caught him up, slamming him into the bar with a ferocious tackle.

  “Yous’re not goin’ anywhere!” The guard yelled.

  From his position laid on the floor, Carilyo booted the soldier right in the gut, winding him and sending him sprawling onto his back. Erik and the smoking man blocked the doorway. Carilyo tossed a chair at them, but Erik caught it easier than a ball, placing it neatly beside himself.