Adversaries Together

by Daniel Casey

  The men quickly assembled themselves into two parallel rows and at Carrick’s command began to walk apace to their berth. As the last troops were passing by Carrick, one paused and stopped at attention.

  “Soldier? You’re… I don’t think you’re where…” Suddenly Carrick couldn’t breathe and he felt his knees give way. He fell forward and felt himself caught by someone, there was a voice, then voices, then black. When he came to, there were four sailors hovering over him and he was lying on his back on the deck of the ship.

  He sat upright too quickly and nearly passed out again seeing stars. The sailors were telling him to take it easy, “What happened?”

  “Ya dropped to one knee, son.” An elder sailor said.

  “We saw you drop down as your men finished boarding.” Said another holding a cord of rope.

  “What?”

  “You blanked out, son. No worries, it happens to those unfamiliar to the sea. You’re just a bit queasy.”

  “What? No. I don’t get seasick. Not that fast.”

  “Well, it comes and it goes doesn’t it.” A third sailor seemed indifferent but grabbed Carrick’s arm and helped pull him to his feet.

  “No shame in it, son, and we won’t haze ya ‘bout it.” The old man said good-naturedly and slapped him on the back.

  “At least, none of your men saw.” The one with the rope said.

  “I was passed out?”

  “For only a moment.” The one that helped him to his feet said offhandedly and then went back to his work. The other sailor with the rope drifted back to his own work as well. The old man stood looking him over.

  “I fell.”

  “Head below, son, we’ll tell the First Mate you’re ready then.”

  “I, yes, alright.” Carrick felt dazed, what had he been doing? He couldn’t recall, he realized he needed to rest. Hopefully, Kerr wouldn’t hammer at him once he got below.

  Preparations were coming along well, and with the arrival of the marines, they were nearly ready to depart. The sergeant was your standard military dolt, insecure yet arrogant, and Riv truly hoped he came down with severe seasickness. Maybe he would have the cook slip some ipecac into the man’s stew. Petty, but definitely entertaining. Hopefully, once they unloaded these passengers Asa would be completely over the Essian slight. Although he wouldn’t admit it, Riv was bored with the Novostos. A new challenge or, rather, a change of scenery and a break from all the petty drama of the region was what he wanted. He was fairly certain he could get Asa to spend a few months in the Avostos, now that they had the supplies. Maybe even a trip around the southern horn to the Ashka Sea once his business in Wick was done. Now that would be an adventure. Few, if any, bothered to make that trip, likewise few bothered to sail The Deep—too lonely, too empty, and too unknown. Riv was eager for it and fairly certain that he could bring Asa around.

  Mulling this over as he made his way to the stern, he would pause to give instructions to crew, critique their work, and double-check the tasks he had commanded done. It was always an arduous walk from bow to stern and he regularly found himself waylaid; this was his second pass since the marines had come aboard. Fortunately, this afternoon most of the crew was focused. His attention was divided, between thinking of how to convince Asa of a new campaign and with dressing down a new deckhand for the poor rigging, when he noticed one of the marines ahead of him on the sterncastle.

  “Do it again, tight, Mason or else I’m going to come back here and let into you. Ya hear?” The boy nodded, but Riv had already turned away.

  “Hey, there, soldier.” He went up the stairs with a brisk step just in time to see the door close to the map room. Already he was composing the tirade he was going to level at the sergeant for letting his men wander about, a good scolding on lack of discipline would get under the mouth-breather’s skin.

  Opening the door Riv spoke, “Marine, you aren’t supposed to be…” The soldier spun around to face him, but in a chokehold with a dagger at his face was Asa, face reddening as his lips spurted for air.

  “Close the damn door.” The soldier barked, and Riv obeyed raising his hands.

  “Now, I don’t know what this is about soldier…”

  “Oh, I’m rather certain you do. Or, at least, can imagine.” Riv realized that this wasn’t a Spire grunt, too confident and his speech was odd. Moving backwards towards the long window, his grip on Asa tightened and the blade pressed his captain’s flesh enough to send a thin trickle of blood down his cheek.

  “I don’t know what your plan is here but you need…”

  The pseudo-soldier locked eyes with Riv, “You need to tell me where the girl is.”

  “The girl?” Riv was astonished, “I don’t…what do you…”

  “The girl I was with before you threw me into the sea,” he spoke with the measured cadence of an impatient schoolmaster.

  “Wait,” Riv’s eyes widen as he scrutinized the man, “You were the one from the marsh?”

  Asa was a hard red but this news seemed to enrage him, he tried to throw his weight around to escape Roth’s grip.

  “No, my friend,” Roth looked askance at the Asa, “that is unwise, you might get yourself skewered.” He raised his blade to Asa’s eye and pressed it flat; the tip dug into his forehead and raised a bauble of blood. Asa stiffened, ceasing for the moment to struggle.

  “Though perhaps taking your eye would give you an excuse for an eye-patch, fill out this adolescent farce your living. Eh, mate. Eh, pirate.” Roth looked up at Riv, “Where is the girl?”

  “We turned her over to the Rikonenese.”

  “How did you break the blockade?”

  “We tender to the pier, stay behind the chain. We unload some extra supplies and the guards there don’t ask questions about who goes where.”

  “Where in the city did you take her?”

  “About eight blocks in along the main road, west side, there’s a courthouse, remnants of the city government are there. We brought the girl to them.”

  “Tell me how much you’re lying to me.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  Roth pressed the knife to Asa’s face, “Again.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  Roth nodded slightly, “Alright then. That’s all I need to know,” never taking his eyes off Riv he began to whisper to Asa, “You know, I owe you for throwing me into the sea.”

  “Killing him only guarantees your own death.” Riv spoke with icy certitude, “There’s no way you’re getting by me and off this ship alive.”

  “No, you’re right,” Roth’s features softened then he suddenly tossed the dagger at Riv, wrapped the now free arm around Asa, and threw himself backwards, shattering the window and sending them both out into the blue.

  Riv bolted toward them, leapt up on the sill and leaned out. He saw a huge white ring of bubbles marking where the two men had entered the water. He spun around and ran out to the sterncastle, bellowing to his crew.

  Rikonen, 17th of Mabon

  Kira was alone in the courtyard. The seemingly impossibly high walls of the compound allowed light to pour in but kept the stench of the city, its ashen air, at bay. It was unnerving being in Rikonen, being treated well by such horrible people. That wasn’t fair, she thought. They weren’t horrible. They had been nothing but kind to her, desired to be nothing but kind. At times, it was unnerving.

  She still had terrifying dreams. They always started with seeing Roth’s face as he was thrown overboard. She would scream but no sound would come out. It would turn into a grotesque gargle as she thrashed in thick black water. She’d feel her throat tighten, she was beyond panic, and then she was Goshen. Riddled with arrows, her screams became new wounds as she was dragged through the marsh by Roth while seeing herself following, screaming and whining like a child. And just before she woke, it was all darkness. Voices, men’s voices, all around her, hot breath that reeked of lemon and yeast pressed on her face like a boot, she was pinned, she couldn’t move, struggling in absolut
e silence to keep the cutting pain a mere blunt hateful ache.

  Her eyes would open and she would be nearly hyperventilating, drenched in sweat and feeling nauseated. They had granted her a private room but it always took her a few moments to believe she was actually alone. Every morning she’d collect her clothes, change, and sprint out to the open garden. She felt an absolute need to get out into the open. The courtyard was easy to be in, the mass of hedges and the huge weeping willows, the white pebble pathways enclosed by lattices thickly laden with morning glory vines. And the quiet. She felt the silence around her and it settled her, made her feel like herself.

  Every morning, she’d wake from her terrors and come out here. She could never catch the sunlight on her body but it was enough and she would pray hemmed in by the silent life awakening. Always just before noon, Fery would find her. She’d never call out or seem rushed; she’d simply wander the courtyard until she stumbled upon Kira. Fery was always looking for her, she knew, but she never made it seem like she was; she always seemed genuinely surprised to find Kira. At first, Kira had felt that they had shuffled her off to Fery to be groomed and taken care of. However, it became clear that Fery wasn’t there to be her maid; Fery was her equal, and something more.

  “I’m so glad you’re not hiding.”

  Fery’s voice startled Kira; she turned around and saw her standing smiling her guileless smile, “I’ve never hidden from you. Not once.” Kira was trying to be jovial of late.

  “Hardly,” Fery pursed her lips in a faux pout, “Just the other day you wouldn’t answer any of my calls when we were in the auditorium.”

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  Fery nearly snorted, “In an empty auditorium? Are you serious?”

  “I was thinking of something else.” Kira scrunched up her face in a playful manner.

  “I’m always thinking of something else. This place is dreadful; it’s driving me mad being cooped up here.”

  “Is the city that horrible?” Kira asked as they began to walk slowly side by side through the courtyard.

  “I can’t imagine it’s gotten any better.” Fery shook her head.

  “You’ve been out there?”

  “I haven’t always been in here.” She smiled.

  Kira smiled back, “You know what I mean. After you left your home…”

  Fery cut her off, “I didn’t leave my home, I was driven out.”

  Kira paused unsure of what to say as it felt that she had hit some nerve, “I didn’t realize. You fled? From looters?”

  “Looters is too kind a word.” Fery shook her head. “The mobs were just that at first but soon changed…they were more violent and then more desperate.” She shook her head as though she were trying to throw the memory from her mind, and then continued, “My father was gone. He had been trying to keep the ward hall together, trying to keep some order in our ward. He’d leave at dusk and return during the small hours, just before dawn.”

  “Why couldn’t he have delegated that to someone else?”

  Fery shook her head, “He created the civic system, crafted the ward structure. He refused to let it fall to panicked mobs.”

  “Were the gangs that bad?”

  “They would move in swarms through the wards. Tearing down fences, breaking through doors, flood alleys and streets, and eventually even barricades looking for food, fuel. They were desperate, wild. Some were more than that…they were clearly…flesh hungry.”

  “And the civics were the only thing holding them back?”

  “They kept the peace, policed but mostly managed the issues that arose in each ward. Such banal things but necessary for the city to work well. They weren’t meant…they couldn’t stand up to the mobs. It was…it made no sense how quickly everyone turned.” Fery’s voice stuttered.

  “I’m sorry,” Kira said, “I didn’t mean dredge up…”

  “It’s okay.” Fery patted Kira’s hand, “They came through our neighborhood, set fire to homes. Burst into ours thinking because it was so large it must be filled with food.” Fery gave a desperate sounding laugh, “You know, I hadn’t eaten for days. Father and I were rationing what little we had. Cheese mostly, and hard bread. But the mob didn’t know that. They found nothing but destroyed everything. I ran out, hid, and was able to wait them out.”

  “And your father?”

  “I went to the ward hall after they came through but the hall was burnt out, no one was there. I was too scared to head back home. So I was on the streets.”

  “For how long?”

  “Long enough.” Fery’s smile was pained, “One of the remaining civics found me. Actually, I ran into him. I was dirty, a skeleton really. They brought me here.”

  “How many are here? I hardly see anyone.”

  “Not nearly enough.” Fery sighed, “But most of the ward leaders, the council has been trying to figure out a course of action since the mobs arose. The city is choked off, starving, and already turned against itself.”

  “I didn’t realize the siege was so…destructive. We’re told of it in Sulecin as though it were merely a border being guarded.”

  “The Cathedral wouldn’t want the Lake folk to know what’s happening here, it would cause too many problems for the Patriarch.”

  “I don’t think it’s malicious. We aren’t against you; we aren’t the ones maintaining The Blockade.” Kira was half-hearted in her defense of her nation.

  “There’s more happening between The Cathedral and the Spires than you or I know. The council think they’re looking to split all of Essia between them.”

  “What does Wynne think?” she asked.

  “Father doesn’t agree, nor does he argue against it. I think he sees something else in this siege, but he tells no one.”

  “Is that why he spends so much time in the athenaeum?”

  “After burying so many bodies out at the lighthouse, I imagine he spends time there because it’s so quiet.”

  “Why did he do that out there? Why did he keep fishing those bodies out? It must have been soul crushing.” Kira shook her head shuddering as she thought of it.

  “We Rikonenese hold burial to be a sacrament. Your birth, your death, these are the two most vital moments in life, for yourself and for others.” Fery said coolly.

  “I can’t lie; I’m surprised by how seriously you take both. I don’t know of any nation or people who don’t honor the dead or celebrate birth, but you all are…different.”

  “We have just enough of a devotion to beginnings and endings to be felt to be quite foreign. Especially to you Cassubians.” Fery nudged Kira in the ribs.

  “I was raised in Sulecin but my parentage is Silvincian.” She said in her defense.

  “So, you’re not purely Cathedral?” Fery was a bit surprised, “You’re both our adversaries in one.” Fery made a face.

  Kira rolled her eyes, “For an adversary, I’m a bit hapless. The Cathedral chapels were all I knew until they sent me off with Goshen.”

  Fery was quiet a moment too long, “I’m sorry you’ve ended up here.”

  Kira gave a weak smile and touched Fery’s forearm, “Being here is…” Kira gave a hard swallow, “This place has been the closest thing to home I’ve experienced since I left.”

  “Far too much has happened in far too short of a time to far too many.”

  Kira stared at Fery and then burst into laughter. Fery laughed a bit uncomfortably, which then just sent Kira into a further bout she seemed to lose herself in it. When it became clear that she was nearly crying from it, Fery spoke up.

  “What? What is it?”

  Kira collected herself with difficulty. She was red-faced and short of breath. “Why do you all talk like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “You’re all so solemn, as though everything you say is meant for some academy.”

  Fery feigned offense and spoke in an affected Ardavassian accent, “Hardly, dear girl.” They both laughed and continued through the courtyard loosely hold
ing hands. When they had come back around to the entrance, Fery turned to face Kira, taking her other hand in her own.

  “Kira.” She was serious, but her tone lacked any anxious edge. There was an easy intimacy between them. It was this that led Kira to realize this girl actually wanted to be her friend, not her keeper or casual companion. The thought nearly made her cry again, but she kept her composure and let Fery talk, “We need to go talk with the Alders today.”

  “Why so solemn, I’ve done that before.”

  “Yes, but this time…this time there will be…”

  “Be what?”

  “I shouldn’t say. You need to talk to the Alders first. But I can’t send you to them completely ignorant.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “They are going to. They’ll show you. And you’ll need to hear a lot from them, a lot that you may not like to hear. It may make you…”

  “Make me what?”

  “Hate us.” Fery was shaking, “Hate me, and hate my father.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “We sent those corsairs after you. We’re responsible for what they did.” Fery’s face was red with shame, he voice uneven.

  Kira was solemn, “I know. I know this already.”

  “But you don’t know why we sent them. You don’t know…you don’t know so much.”

  “Then tell me. Just tell me.”

  “It’s not my place to. But, you need to know. Things are done here.”

  “Done here?”

  “This,” Fery gestured to the courtyard, nodded toward the terraced apartments that looked down upon it, “It’s ending. The Blockade is choking it off. We’re going to have to leave the city, leave our country.”

  “This is what the Alders will say to me?”

  “That and more.”

  Kira leaned in and hugged Fery. She whispered, “I am prepared to do what I must.”

  “I know.”

  “And I won’t lose any more friends.”

  “I hope not.” Fery was teary eyed. She wiped her eyes, regained her composure, and said brightly, “We need to go practice.”