All of these words echoed through her like a ritual. Then he looked at her and his mind returned from whatever memories had come with the catechism. “I’m sorry, Adel, Halom has plans for you, my daughter, just as he had plans for me.”
The father, who had trained her to be tough, trained her to be unyielding, trained her to be stronger than all the others, the father who had forever been strict, and hard, and distant, stepped forward and hugged her.
It was everything Adel had ever hoped for, and with this unexpected act of kindness, the damn holding back the torrent of emotion within her let go. Her anxiety about leaving the only home she had ever known, her fear of the wide world beyond her farm, and the little girl she had never been allowed to be, caused her tears to flow unchecked, and her father held her.
“You walk Halom’s path now, my daughter.” His voice boomed within his chest. “May it be a better path than mine.” He rested his hands on her shoulders, and Adel looked up to see the tears in his eyes too. She had never seen him cry. “Now go get your things. We have to get to Blossom Bay by first bell and catch that ferry. Naira will be waiting.”
11 - A Fresh Start - Naira
The Corsairs were originally a mercenary group, headed by Captain Sarah Granger, which could be hired to protect and escort merchant vessels on the Broken Sea. Effective protection from Navutian Raiders was in short supply and the Corsairs quickly found themselves in high demand.
Captain Granger found herself exceedingly rich, which allowed her to expand her fleet so they were able to provide protection even beyond the Broken Sea. The Corsairs became the most formidable naval fleet in all of Salucia. Their discipline and tactical dominance soon began to match the overwhelming numbers of Navutian Raiders.
The conflicts between Navutia and the privately financed Corsair fleet continued to escalate in ferocity and brutality from generation to generation until the open seas were in an all-out war. Many believe this laid the foundation for the Unification Wars, during which Ronaston Mihane of Asgur rose to power, rebelled against his Navutian overlords, and convinced the then Corsair Protection Guild to become the Salucian Naval Fleet. However, all members of the Salucian Navy still refer to themselves as Corsairs despite the fact they are now nationally funded.
- Chronicler Simon Rathelson in A Common History: 1851– 2850 ATC, 5th Edition, 2850
Mother was home.
The demons which that particular thought dredged up within Naira O’Bannon had been haunting her for her entire seventeen years of existence.
She stared at the all too familiar tar-stained door in front of her, trying to steel herself to push it open for what would most likely be the last time. She had been avoiding this for as long as she could, but she could wait no longer. Naira took a deep breath and pushed the weather-beaten piece of wood aside and entered the dank hovel she had had to call home for as long as she could remember.
The horrible smell of fish-soaked leather and woodsmoke assaulted her as soon as the door had moved, but she had long ago grown used to it. It was the smell of mother, of anger, of vulnerability, of hurt, and of pain. It was the smell of home, and today was the day she was going to leave that behind. Already she could feel the lump in her throat forming. A large driftwood chair faced the fire, and Naira knew the interwoven lengths of gnarled bone white wood hide the hunched form of her mother.
“Thought you could sneak away without seeing me, did you?” The accusation held only a small portion of the usual venom, yet it still hurt as it always did. Every word from her mother was like another lash on her back.
“You know that’s not true.” Naira measured her words carefully, keeping a tight control on the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “Adel and Mr Corbin are meeting me at the port, you could come too if ... ” She couldn’t finish. Naira knew her mother would through the invite back in her face. She wanted to say so much more, but couldn’t. “I need to change, and to collect my things.”
“Humph,” her mother grunted. “Things my money paid for. Ungrateful is what you are. Ungrateful for everything you’ve been given. Go on then, run away to your other family. I know that’s what you want.”
Her mother leant over the thick wood of the chair’s arm to glare at her, challenging her to say different. Naira knew there was no point in correcting her mother. Naira had bought or made her own clothes ever since she was old enough to get her own shifts on the docks. Everything she had in her corner of the tiny shack she had bought and paid for herself, but her mother would never admit that. The only thing your money has paid for is the dozens of bottles of that swill Gregor sells, Naira wanted to say, but she held her tongue. Her mother however had sensed the concealed insult.
“Go on, say it, you ungrateful little harlot, say what you mean. You won’t get away with swinging your hips and showing your tits in here.” Her mother’s eyes were half crazed.
“This again?” It was another of her mother’s common insults. Her other job was waiting tables at Johnny Blin’s betting house, something which her mother was no doubt jealous of. It was true she wore a somewhat revealing uniform, but men could think what they liked so long as they didn’t try it on with her. “That’s rich coming from you; you’re the one who taught me. Not that it would do you any good anymore,” Naira spat back at her. Too late: she had tried to restrain herself but failed. She knew her insult would cut deep, and knew it was petty, but it had slipped out, and a part of her was glad she hadn’t held back. The other parts wanted to cry.
Her mother had been pretty once, but years of drinking and the fists of drunk men had changed that forever. Her mother had never been kind, but she had shown Naira how to survive. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," Naira made herself say. She closed her eyes and forced herself to stay calm. She wants a fight; she’s trying to manipulate me, just like she always does. Yet Naira also knew it was the only way they talked anymore.
"Oh, don't apologise, I only gave up my whole life to raise a daughter I didn't want. Go on, take your cheap shots. Kick a defenceless old woman the world has beaten down. Leavin' me on my own to die in the damp and cold. Ungrateful. Ungrateful …" Her mother grimaced and trailed off as she reached for the greasy jug of what Gregor called wine. Naira knew that what was in that jug was so potent it would leave most grown men reeling, but her mother drank it down as if it were water. Don’t feel sorry for her, she chided herself, remembering the black eye she had received the last time she had shown her mother sympathy.
She turned her back on her mother, ducked behind the filthy curtain separating her tiny corner from the rest of the room, and pulled it closed behind her. If truth be told there was really almost nothing to gather up, for she had learned not to keep anything valuable in the house lest mother decide that Gregor’s finest was more important than food, clothes or Naira’s privacy. Most of what she needed was at Johnny Blin’s, and his betting house was really the only place she had needed to visit. She had clothes there too, but she had told herself to come here anyways. I have to say goodbye, Naira told herself. Whatever else she’s done, she deserves a goodbye.
She changed out of her apron and work clothes in silence, trying not to give her mother the opportunity to comment. Naira had scraped the thick leather apron as clean as was possible; her mother could still get a few years’ use out of it, and the clothes might fetch a few coins, though she doubted it. She would leave them anyways, just in case there was a use for them. She slipped on her tight breeches, blouse, vest and jacket, somewhat surprised that they were still lying on her hammock where she had left them this morning. She undid the tight bun of her hair and shook out her long dark locks before looking around for a final time at her little corner. I won’t miss it, she admitted to herself. Naira had thought there might be some feeling of nostalgia, but as she anticipated leaving it behind all she felt was excitement. She took a deep breath and pushed the curtain open and left it there.
Stepping to the door, she hesitated. It had to be now. “Mot
her.” Naira turned to look at the driftwood chair. “I’m leaving now ...” It fought against all the years of hurt and anguish she had suffered under this woman’s roof, but she made herself say it. “I love you.”
Silence followed those three little words, a silence filled only by the crackling wood in the fireplace and the pounding of her heart. Naira had never felt so vulnerable as she felt just then. She had dug through the tough and calloused walls protecting her heart to say those words, and now she waited, feeling so much like the scared little girl she had always been in this house.
Finally, the driftwood chair creaked as her mother shifted. "Naira ...” her mother started, still not able to look at her standing by the door “... when some bastard puts a baby in your belly, make sure you drink that blue tea.” Her mother finally turned and her flinty eyes met hers. “I wish I had. Kids ruin your life.”
It was the final dagger. Naira had expected it, yet somehow she had hoped it wouldn’t come. The words cut right down to her core. She knew then that she would never see her mother again, but as much as she had expected that final parting shot to devastate her, she felt pity instead. Her mother would spend the rest of her life rotting in this shack like a cancerous growth upon the docks. It was sad, but Naira knew she had to leave it behind lest her mother’s darkness suck her down with it.
She found the steel in her soul once again, just as she had for so many years, the steel that gave her strength and made her strong. She stared back into those hateful eyes and made them submit, stared at them until her mother knew she would never come back. "Goodbye, mother." Naira opened the battered old door and walked out of her past and into the rest of her life.
The door closed behind her, and it was then that she felt the tears roll down her cheeks. She cried quietly there, with her back against the wooden door, shaking with the pain of the moment. It was done, she had said the things she had wanted to say, and had restrained herself from fighting as best she could. I tried, she told herself. I tried.
A pair of fishwives walked by and gave her a pair of sympathetic smiles. “Cheer up, love, the sun is up and Halom is smiling on us. You’ll see, mark my words, by the end of the night, a pretty young filly like you will have some handsome brute trying to sit you on his lap,” one of them said.
“Thanks.” Naira wiped her tears away and returned what she hoped looked like a genuine smile. They waved at her as they left. See, she told herself, not everyone is horrible. They were trying to be nice (although the last thing Naira wanted was to be sitting on some handsome brute’s lap by the end of the night). But they meant well, so she waved back, and with that Naira set her shoulders and strode down the docks towards Johnny Blin's.
The trip was only a short one and with each step away from her old house her excitement began to rise. She still felt raw from the encounter with her mother, but it felt like sailing out of a storm: you were battered, bruised, and exhausted, but the relief was so strong you felt almost giddy.
Naira turned the corner and saw the big painted sign with the white dice and playing cards emblazoned upon a field of red, with ‘Johnny Blin's’ written in scripted gold letters. On the boundary between the high town and the docks, Johnny Blin's was the perfect spot for the lowborn of the docks to gamble away their sorrows hoping to get rich, while also being equally equipped for the well-to-do of Blossom Bay's high town for nights of drunken debauchery. It was a taste of high-class accessible to the docks, and also safe, dirty fun for the rich, who didn’t have to worry about getting knifed in an alley. Naira was so glad to see the sign that she was smiling by the time she pushed open the door.
"Naira!" Johnny Blin bellowed at her, "Come to work one more shift before you go, my sweet?" The big balding owner wore his usual ridiculous outfit of matching red and gold jacket and pantaloons. Johnny's grin was so large it looked as if his extraordinarily waxed moustaches would touch the ceiling.
“Sorry, Johnny, not tonight, gotta catch a ferry.” She couldn’t help but smile at the extravagant man. He was as crude as you like, but she had grown to respect him.
“Such a sad day, I’m losing one of my best table wenches!” He held his hands up to the high ceiling as if he were lost without her. “Now come here and give your Uncle Johnny a hug.”
“You won’t be calling me that anymore after tonight,” Naira said as she shook a finger at him. “What’s the fine for insulting an officer of the royal navy?”
“Lucky for me then you have to actually be at the Academy for that to take effect.” Johnny said, smiling as he still had his arms outstretched.
Naira let herself be squashed by the big man’s arms. The kind gesture felt good, even if in the back of her mind she knew the hug was only half an excuse for ‘Uncle’ Johnny to have one last feel. He always made sure to push her chest up against him a bit too much. She sighed to herself, At least it’s a better reception than I had earlier. She had learned that all men wanted her, but Johnny at least paid her on time, kept her things safe, and was true to his word. She could surrender to awkward hugs for that.
After a bit too long he released her and put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm expecting you'll want your things." He motioned for her to step behind the bar, but then, like a bird of prey, he spotted something on the gambling floor.
"Cletus!" he shouted to the giant, boulder-shouldered brute meandering among the tables of gamblers. "Keep an eye on that table. Don't like the look of those kings.” He pointed to the playing cards on a green baize table top. The four men at the table all froze wide-eyed as Cletus trudged over to them drawing the thick cudgel from his belt.
Johnny smiled over to the four card players. “I’m sure you won’t mind exchanging that deck with Cletus on the next hand, gentlemen?” He waited for any objections, and there were none as Cletus loomed dangerously beside their table. “No? Then carry on, my good fellows.”
Satisfied, Johnny moved behind the bar, through the kitchen and into his small office at the back. Naira watched as he ceremoniously pulled a long silver chain from under his shirt to reveal a set of keys set against a leather pad. That was another good thing about Johnny Blin, he didn’t trust anyone either, and he had ingrained that wariness into her during the last few years she had worked for him.
“I take it you want everything?” Johnny asked as he selected a small key and unlocked a large drawer on his desk and pulled out a leather bag.
“I want my letter from the Academy, my clothes, my rucksack, my knives ... but only half the money.” Naira hesitated, seeing the questioning look on Johnny’s face. She would need to explain. “Sell whatever stuff I have left, and use that with the rest of my money to pay somebody to drop a pack of food around for my mother once a week. Nothing extravagant, the food needs to stretch as long as it can.”
Johnny's face softened a bit. "Very touching, my dear. I will see to it myself. Though in my opinion she doesn't deserve it."
Naira took a step towards him. As much as her mother warranted the remark, she still didn’t like others putting her down.
"Sorry, I know I'm not supposed to talk about the mother." He held his hands up in apology, though she doubted he was really sorry. Johnny's greasy smile returned as soon as Naira stepped back. "What will I do without you, my beauty? My regulars will cry in their cups at your departure."
“Not my problem anymore, Johnny.” She smiled and winked at him. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out, but it won’t be with me. I’m off to bigger and better things.”
“Don’t get too shiny now,” Johnny chastised. “Knights and Corsairs have to protect us slime right alongside them snooty nobles, as well you know.”
“No one said anything about protecting slime! That’s it, I take my application back.” She feigned shock. “Besides, I thought Corsairs were meant to arrest pirates, not protect them.” She winked at him flirtatiously. “You wouldn’t happen to know any pirates, would you, Johnny?”
“Me?” Johnny over-exaggerated his innocence, once he had Na
ira’s things on his desk. “I don’t even know what a pirate is.”
“You see.” Naira played along. “Nothing to worry about. I knew you were the good kind of slime.” She collected everything up into the rucksack he had retrieved for her.
“Oh stop flirting.” Johnny rolled his eyes. “Your charms have no effect on me, young O’Bannon.”
Naira just smiled. She knew that for the lie it was, but she let it go. It was not good to remind a man of what he couldn't have unless you wanted even more attention. "Well ..." She held out her hands. She had to get going, the ferry must have arrived by now and would be waiting in the port for only a few hours before casting off again. Time to say another goodbye, and this one was much different. "Thank you, Johnny Blin, for giving this smelly fish-gutter a chance.” She smiled. “You were good to me and I won’t forget that.”
"I would have been stupid not to employ you. Tips went up considerably the day you started wiggling through those tables." Johnny winked at her and moved from behind the desk to give her one last, overly familiar hug.
Naira sighed to herself, Men never change. Finally, she was released from Johnny's crushing embrace. "Right, I'm off. Remember not to be a pirate," she said, pointing a finger at him with a squint as she left the room with everything she was taking from her old life contained within the small rucksack on her back. The lack of weight felt incredible.
As she left, she stopped beside the card table that Cletus was watching, and jumped up and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Cletus!"
The four card players looked envious as they gawked up at the slow sentinel. She had never seen Cletus smile before, but he was beaming at her like a child. He deserved one, she told herself. Cletus had always protected her from grabby aggressive customers and had never abused his position.
Visions: Knights of Salucia - Book 1 Page 15
