Water (The Six Elements Book 3)

by Rosie Scott

  Jakan still slept against the orc's chest, without a care in the world. I was glad he had gotten drunk tonight, if only so we could speak to Anto like this. The orc had mentioned Jakan was living in denial, and I could see why. He'd had to endure multiple traumatic experiences within the span of a few short years. How would I move on if I had seen a loved one be cannibalized? I might try to forget it ever happened as well.

  “I thought about the possibilities of that story being true when we fought them,” I said, softly. “I hoped like nothing else it wasn't true. I'm so sorry that you went through that. I would say the same to Jakan, but if he's never told us this before, there's probably a reason for it.”

  “If he dwells on things, they bother him,” Anto said. “So he does not dwell. It is nothing against any of you.”

  Cerin sat up straighter beside me. “You never told us of the other time you went berserk.”

  “He might not be comfortable telling,” I said.

  “No, it is fine,” Anto replied. “I told you all about my upbringing. I was a loner in my tribe. I was weak, because I had Celdic blood. My father was a slave, and my mother was his rapist. One of them, I should clarify,” he added, sadly. “My father was handsome, so they kept him around for the women. He was an archer, so they mostly kept him in a watch tower on the mountainside to defend the camp from mercenaries. As I grew older, I was given more and more responsibilities, and one included taking him by the slave collar to his post, because he was my father. Sometimes, this gave us time together.”

  “I'm surprised they allowed you to bond,” Cerin commented.

  “Orcs do not bond. It is my Celdic blood that allows me to,” Anto corrected. “I think they knew this, because the closer I got to my father, the more I was isolated.”

  “What was your father like?” I asked him.

  “Resigned to his fate, but humble. He was proud of me for being different, and for desiring more. He was so happy to be my father, despite the circumstances of my conception. He told me nostalgic stories of growing up in Celendar, and I became fascinated by the idea of civilizations that could exist with little warfare. It was because of his stories that I realized I could escape and find a life of peace elsewhere.”

  “Did you plan that together?” I questioned.

  “In idealistic ways, nothing more,” the orc replied. “It wasn't realistic to me to try to escape a well populated camp of orcs with just myself and my weak Celdic father. I was still young at this time, and the taunts of my peers formed my identity. I, too, thought I was weak.”

  “But you did end up escaping,” I pointed out.

  “Yes. So,” Anto exhaled heavily, his brow furrowed as he thought through his next words. “I became of age at sixteen. At sixteen, every orc has to go through an event tied to their individualistic weaknesses. For mine, they dragged my father out, put him on his knees tied to a post, and told me to kill him. They'd only allowed me to grow close to him over the years so that they could claim my love for my father was a weakness. And it worked.” Anto's brown eyes glistened with unshed tears, and his voice thickened as he said, “I loved him.”

  None of us said anything. I found myself inwardly cursing at the world and its inhabitants for being awful to those I cared for. It seemed tragedy often abounded everywhere one could look.

  “I stood there for awhile, not willing to do anything. The tribe had been waiting years to see me kill him, because it was a spectacle, and they fed off my pain. My father was begging me to kill him, because his first concern was me. If I didn't, the tribe would instead murder me, and he didn't want to see that.” Anto visibly swallowed, squeezing Jakan a bit closer to him in a need for comfort. “Finally, my father said, 'Anto, I am imprisoned. Set me free.' Those were...” The orc shook his head, before wiping at his eye when a single tear escaped. “Those were my father's last words to me.”

  I found I could not look Anto in the eyes anymore as he spoke. I was thoroughly depressed by his story, and found that all I could do was listen.

  “I killed my father with the same arm blade I carry with me today,” Anto went on, his voice thick and heavy with emotion. “I decapitated him, because it was the quickest and most painless way I could kill him, and it ensured the tribe's spectacle lasted only seconds. And then, as I stood there over his body, I realized I'd just given in to the people who hated me to murder the only person I'd ever loved. To make things worse, I heard my mother laugh, and then she announced that I was still weak, because of the painless way with which I'd killed him. So it had all been for nothing.” There was a pause. Then, “That was the first time I ever went berserk.”

  I could understand. I wished I could go back in time and help him.

  “I killed so many of them that most of what I remember is blood and limbs strewn everywhere. I do remember I saved the worst for my mother. I hated her, because her hatred for my father and I was palpable. I hung her from a meat hook and disemboweled her, and did not offer her the relief of death. She was gasping for air and in absolute shock that I had bested her, and those words of anger and pain fueled me into killing even more. I did not stop until the pain and trauma of my many wounds pulled me out of the rage. I left the rest of them and ran as quickly as I could down that mountain.”

  “How did you heal your wounds?” I asked him, finally meeting his gaze again.

  “I came across a shack near the bottom of the mountain that I think belonged to an alchemist, and they were out for the day, possibly foraging. I entered that shack and grabbed as many of the herbs as I could recognize for my ails. My father had taught me a few things about plants, which unfortunately, I have since forgotten. But I made salves as best as I could. I got some of the recipes wrong, which is why I still have scars. I...” he trailed off, looking upset. “I felt horrible for breaking into that man's home, and I did my best to clean up after myself. I would have left something valuable there as an offering, but I hadn't looted from my tribe because I'd run from it so quickly.”

  All these years later, and Anto still felt guilt over stealing some herbs. His appearance could not be more deceiving when it came to his personality.

  “If you did it, there were likely others,” I commented, softly. “It was probably an inconvenience to him, nothing more.”

  “Yes, but it was still me who caused it. I don't know,” Anto rambled, frustrated. “There were so many ways I handled that day poorly. I ended up killing most of my tribe, which has since made me wonder if I had simply planned an escape with my father, perhaps we would have succeeded together.”

  “You might not have had the rage, then,” I pointed out. “And it sounds like it was imperative to your escape as it was.”

  “Yes...” Anto trailed off, mostly unconvinced.

  “Thank you for telling us about this, Anto,” I said. “You didn't have to, but hopefully it helps you to share it.”

  “You are my friends,” he replied. “And I have had few. Too many fear or avoid me because of my appearance. I hope that this conversation will convince you all not to feel like they do.”

  “I do not fear you,” I told him, and it was true. Knowing the trigger of his rages meant it was unlikely to ever happen again, and even if it did, we would not be his targets. I was glad we had talked about it. “I'd love to have you with us in Eteri.”

  Both Nyx and Cerin nodded in agreement, and Anto visibly relaxed a bit. Jakan fell forward over him as a result, nearly tipping over in his leaning chair.

  Anto chuckled at his lover's antics, before he said, “Then we will be there. For now, though, I think I need to put this cutie to bed.”

  Five

  I awoke the next morning confused, because it was Nyx in the bed beside me, not Cerin. She grinned as I peered up at her through fatigued and blinking eyes.

  “Morning, horn-dog,” she greeted. “Happy 24th, you colossally old fart.”

  “There were so many nicknames you used there that I don't know where to begin,” I muttered as I slowly turne
d in bed to start to sit up. “Horn-dog? What even...?”

  “We went to bed late last night after all was said and done, and Cerin and you still had to do the deed,” she explained.

  “You have to stop listening to us,” I complained.

  “I wasn't. I can smell sex, friend.”

  “Uggh. Why are you in here?” The question was more of curiosity than irritation.

  “Well, I love you too,” she replied sarcastically, before she stood from the bed. She had something pink and round in her hand that she tossed up in the air repeatedly out of boredom. “Cerin didn't want you following him, so he sent me in here to mislead you and cause shenanigans. Besides, we'll be able to go out on the town today, just us women. Anto and Jakan are off doing cutesy couple stuff, and your man is busy, so you're stuck with me.”

  I stood from the bed, stretching dramatically before the window. We were fifteen floors up in this inn, and it stood tall beside the ocean. We weren't right beside the water, of course, but from this view, we might as well have been. Nothing but ocean stretched out far in every direction. Far off in the distance, the glimmering red of a Naharan sail slowly crawled toward the peninsula as the ship prepared to dock. Even from this high, I could smell the water's salt.

  It was a beautiful day. The sun was bright, and dozens of white seagulls perched upon the masts of ships. The murmur of the crowds far below on the streets met my ears dully.

  “I don't feel stuck with you, Nyx. I look forward to our day together. I just get—”

  “Yeah, I know. You're cranky in the mornings,” she waved off my excuse, before tossing the round object in the air once more, and then bringing it to her mouth for a bite. It was clearly some sort of fruit, but I had never seen it before, even in T'ahal.

  “Out of curiosity, what's Cerin planning?”

  “It's your birthday, what do you think? He's going shopping for you. I tried to get him to hire some strippers, but he didn't seem to like the idea. I told him it would literally make everyone but him happy, since he's the only one who isn't attracted to men, so it'd be a selfless act.”

  I blew air between my lips in a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “I'm pretty sure you were asking him to get you a gift. The rest of us are pretty happy in our relationships.”

  “Well, now you know my request for when it comes time for my birthday,” she mused.

  “We might not be in a city by Dark Star,” I said.

  “How wonderfully convenient for you,” she teased.

  Nyx informed me that the plan was to meet for dinner again tonight at a restaurant we hadn't yet been to. Until then, we were free to explore the city. As soon as I was dressed and equipped with my bag of gold, we left.

  I followed Nyx as we made our way down the building to the ground floor, since her exploration of the inn the previous night had led her to discover an outdoor staircase that zigzagged up the sandstone wall closest to the water. She knew I would enjoy the view, so that was the path we took. As we trotted down the steps, the distant echoing of a bell announced a new arrival in the harbor. One of the smaller Eteri trading ships pulled slowly up to the coast, one Vhiri elf perched up on its netting, one arm around one of the boat's masts. I found myself excited for our trip. It had been intense fun to ride the Naharan hyenas, so I had to assume traveling above the water would be freeing as well.

  “I wonder if the Vhiri have any problems passing Narangar's port,” I commented, as we were halfway down the staircases.

  “Hmm. I don't know. They're not technically enemies of Chairel right now, are they?” Nyx replied, walking somewhat sideways so we could talk.

  “No, you're right,” I agreed. “Eteri and Chairel hate each other, but it's been a few decades since they were at war. Narangar would be stupid not to realize their ships were coming to trade with Nahara, but to sink the vessels would be hostile and invite warfare with Eteri when they need to focus on Nahara.”

  “Then I suppose you answered your own question,” Nyx said.

  “Sirius would have to know I would seek Eteri's support, though,” I continued, thinking aloud. “They are the only experienced mages I would be able to ally with, other than the Serans.”

  “The Icilic are mages as well,” Nyx pointed out.

  “True, but the Icilic will not involve themselves with me while I'm with Cerin,” I argued. “I wonder, then, if Queen Edrys will try to come to terms with Eteri, or at least negotiate for them to remain neutral.”

  “It's your birthday, Kai. Don't concern yourself with diplomacy,” Nyx said, before a small chuckle.

  “I have to concern myself with it. I have to try to plan out what Chairel is doing, because that is what they are doing with me. I have already gained Nahara as an ally. The next logical step would be to gain another. The beastlands are free of civilization, Hammerton is an obvious ally for Chairel, and the wildlands have nothing for me. Eteri is the only other option. They know this. And since they know it, Nyx, they will have planned for it.”

  “What are you saying?” She questioned, as we finally came to the ground, our legs aching with their efforts.

  “I'm saying we need to be careful. Our agreement with King Adar last year ensured we would be kept in a single place for nearly a year. If Sirius sent anyone to keep tabs on me, they likely have already succeeded.”

  “We have fended off all attacks,” Nyx protested. “All of the Alderi assassins sent after you were killed. The cultists are the only other ones who attacked, and I'm pretty sure that had nothing to do with Chairel.”

  “Not all attacks are made with weapons,” I reminded her. “As you said, the Alderi were clearly not working, so perhaps Sirius decided to send a spy, who will either report back to an assassin, or attempt to isolate me and kill me themselves.”

  “Well, we can't know for sure,” Nyx replied. “Even if that's the case, we're all protective of you. I'm pretty sure that's part of the reason Cerin fetched me this morning. It wasn't just to keep you off his trail when he went shopping. He probably figures the same.”

  “That would make me feel great, if I weren't still worried that he is in danger,” I muttered.

  Nyx chuckled. “He's not. You're the one daddy dearest wants dead, remember? The Twelve didn't give two shits about Cerin during our escape, and Terran offered to wipe all our slates free for you alone. You're the special one here.” She stopped facing the street, before grabbing me from the side in a warm squeeze.

  “Oh, yes. I feel sooo special,” I joked.

  “You are. So where does Miss Special want to go?”

  My best friend and I traveled through the streets of Al Nazir, taking our time and seeking out the shops that looked most appealing to us. We traded our loot in for supplies, and searched through the markets for new and interesting foods to bring with us on the upcoming trip. We stopped at a bookstore, but I could not find any spell books there. Given Nahara had never been a country of magic before our arrival, this did not surprise me. I did pick up a beginner's guide to alchemy, since I hoped it would become useful for us now that we could no longer rely on Theron. The book held all manner of recipes and ingredients, including drawn pictures of them and where best to find them in the wild.

  I picked up some handmade hair ties from a street vendor who made her own. I rarely used them, but both Jakan and Anto put their hair up regularly, and Jakan often was losing his during our travels. I figured it would be a nice and practical gift for the two of them. Nyx stocked up on lotions at an alchemy shop, and we both bought extra toiletries and practical clothing items to replace some of the things we owned which were either depleted or worn out.

  Finally, we found ourselves attending a free event we could both enjoy, where Naharan dancers dressed in exorbitant, flowing robes adorned with dozens of jingly, shiny paillettes moved along to the native music. I enjoyed listening to the music, and Nyx loved watching the male dancers, though she lamented the fact she had no gold left with which to tip them. Free tea was served to the onlo
okers. It was the first time in awhile that I'd seen Nyx drink something which wasn't alcoholic. The tea was a delicious unique mix of herbs and salt, which matched the coastal location perfectly. I ended up drinking more than my fair share of it, and had to excuse myself to the restroom more than once.

  Nyx and I headed to the restaurant once the sun's rays of light darkened to a golden orange, signaling the slowing of an eventful day. The crowds in the streets were thinning as people turned in for the night and stores began to close.

  The restaurant my friends had chosen sat on the corner of a wider construction, and was brightly lit with sconces aligning its outer sandstone walls, the fire light waving over surfaces in flashes of orange. There was a hum of words and laughter that met my ears before we even went through the door. Ye Old Salty Cove was embroidered upon a thick blue flag that hung outside the entrance, just above the image of fish and barrels.

  Nyx held the door open for me, and I followed her inside. Ye Old Salty Cove was wider inside than it appeared from outside its walls, for the floor stretched for what seemed like a city block, spotted with tables and chairs. There was a bar that was etched from sandstone along the entire far end of the building, attended to by three separate bartenders to meet with demand. One of the bartenders was pouring drinks like it was a show, flipping bottles in hands before pouring measurements of various liquids into glasses in such a way that spoke of years of practice.

  There were musicians here, and though they utilized the same Naharan instruments I loved, they played their music with energy and gusto, creating an exciting beat for the few people who danced nearby. Even some of the customers who remained seated bobbed their heads along to the beat, or tapped boots upon the floor.

  My nose picked up on a unique smell I'd never experienced before. It smelled burnt and herbal, and during my search for it I realized it probably came from the wisps of smoke that rose from the pipes and haphazardly rolled papers of the surrounding mercenaries and sailors. The smoke from all of these men and women collected in a hazy fog near the ceiling of the room.