Solomon Stone- Survival

by Diana K Potter

  Stone held a cup of water to her lips, one hand cupping the back of her head, helping her lift up enough to drink without choking. Her throat felt just as parched as it had in the desert after a few days without water. She remembered pirates boarding the ship and not much else. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. She had been angry with Stone when they spoke last—that much she was sure of—and they’d not had a chance to reconcile.

  “I wasn’t sure either,” she said, as he took the cup away.

  “The cook bound and cleaned your cut, threw a poultice on it, but the rest was all you. That’s not how it is where I’m from. There’s medicine for things like this, hospitals, doctors—not cooks. He had to take a man’s arm off after the battle. There was still blood on the table when I laid you on it.”

  Other than the story he’d just told, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him say so many words all at once.

  “The cut was old,” he said, nodding at her shoulder. The sharp ache had lessened since the last time she was aware of it, but it had been replaced by a burning sensation that remained constant and never seemed to ebb. The cook must have used fire to chase away the rotten bits, much like the story Stone had been telling. She was glad she did not remember it. “How did it happen?”

  The look he was giving her made her feel young and stupid. She had the wild urge to pull the thin sheet she was covered with over her head and hide from the question, but that would help nothing at all. It wouldn’t be fair to ignore his questions and then ask her own.

  “The quartermaster,” she said, and his face contorted. “Not Ambrus,” she added quickly. “The man from the slave ship. He was at the auction before we boarded the ship, selling slaves he’d taken in the desert. I followed him while you were selling the camels. I picked a fight. I killed him.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. “I won’t ask why you went after him—that much I understand. But why didn’t you let me help you? I know I’m no whizz with a sword, but hell, I could have watched your back.”

  She had no good answer other than this. “I wanted you safe.” It was true. The only other explanation was that she did not want him to see how filled with hatred she had become.

  “Apologies,” she said, hoping that the explanation was good enough to earn his understanding, if not his forgiveness. “I knew I had been cut, but I thought I cleaned it well enough.” She forced a sheepish smile onto her lips. “I was obviously very wrong.” She gripped his hand and brought it to her lips. “I am sorry to have frightened you.”

  “I’m sorry too,” Stone said. He seemed about to go on, but Alexis stopped him with a look. “When you told me of your story, of where you came from, I was angry. You may think it was because you kept it from me, but that is not true. I was angry at the thought of you leaving. I love you, Stone.” The words felt heavy, dropping from her mouth like a boulder. “I believe that we belong together. I know you don’t believe in them, but perhaps it was the gods who brought you here.” She nodded to the cup and Stone obligingly handed it over, waiting as she took a second drink, deeper than the first. “I cannot imagine being forced to choose between you and the world that is my home. It was unfair of me to feel anger toward you for needing time to make your choice.”

  Alexis had run out of words.

  “I should have told you sooner, explained everything,” Stone said, once he seemed sure that she was finished for the moment. “Whatever choice I make,” Stone said. “I will see you home. That much, I promise. And I do love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I just…I don’t know if that’s enough.”

  The pain in his voice was full and real, and she could not fault him for it.

  “I will not be home for some time,” she said, hoping that the threat of tears in her voice was not evident. “That‘s a good enough answer for now.”

  “Give me some time,” he said. “And I will have a better one ready.” He let go of her hand and made to stand up. “I should tell Ambrus and Captain Kyrios that you’re awake. And let the cook know his efforts weren’t for nothing.”

  She reached for him, arm stretching almost to the point of pain, and tangled her fingers in his tunic. “Stay for a bit,” she said. Conflict flickered across his open face. It was usually not quite so easy to read, but exhaustion had stripped away his defenses. How long had he sat awake with her, keeping watch in case her spirit tried to slip out in the night? “Please,” she added.

  Alexis did not beg for things, and the pleading in her tone stopped him cold. He studied her for a moment, before dipping his head in agreement and climbing carefully onto the bed. The hanging structure dipped rather alarmingly at his added weight and swung violently to one side. Were it not for his hand bracing itself against her hip, he may have dumped her onto the floor.

  “We’re going to break this damn thing before the voyage is over,” he said, and he sounded so much like himself, with nothing haunted dragging his voice down into misery, that she nearly cried tears of relief.

  Whatever the outcome, she could still have this for now—Stone, his body warm against hers, his fingers tracing absent patterns against her skin.

  “Will you finish your story?” Alexis asked him.

  “For you, I suppose I could.”

  She was asleep before he’d truly begun.

  Stone

  Daily work aboard the ship was taxing; it tired him out so thoroughly that he had not dreamed in days. There were other things about the ship, about sailing, that were growing on him rapidly. The sight of the sails unfurled and stiff with the wind filling them, the heavy smell of salt, and the way the sun blushed against the horizon, were all things that he had come to love. It was almost with disappointment that he greeted the sight of land growing ever closer on the horizon. A shout went up among the men, a joyous sound. They had delivered their cargo safe and sound and not without difficultly. They had won bragging rights; the women in whatever port they stopped in would no doubt be regaled with one thousand versions of the same story.

  “Stone.”

  The voice came from behind him. He turned his head away from the sea and found Ambrus standing behind him. “Captain wants to see you before we dock,” he said. “How’s Alexis? Haven’t seen her on deck this morning.”

  Her trips away from the cabin were still few but growing slowly more frequent. “Fine,” he said. “Resting.” The past few mornings, she’d dragged herself onto the deck, pale and shivering, and presided over the sparring matches. She wasn’t yet up to participating, but she had settled so far on calling out encouragement from the sidelines, where she usually sat propped up against a barrel of grain.

  He found Captain Kyrios in his cabin, in just as high spirits as the rest of the men seemed to be. “Alexis is resting?” he asked.

  Stone nodded. “I know you prefer her to me,” he joked. “Ambrus said you had something to say before the ship docks,” he prompted.

  “Yes,” Kyrios said. “But nothing terribly pressing. I merely wished to thank you both for your help. I offered you passage because your wife is Spartan and the sight of her, the way she spoke, reminded me of home. But I think the two of you have helped us as much as we have helped you.”

  It was the last thing he’d expected. With the exception of Alexis’s illness, during which he’d offered advice and the expertise of his cook/healer, Captain Kyrios had only spoken to them in passing. Stone had been grateful, and still was, for the hospitality that had been shown to them.

  “That’s kind of you to say,” he said “We like to think we’ve pulled our weight.”

  “You have and then some. You have skill as a carpenter, and your wife as a swordsman,” Kyrios went on. “I know you’re headed home, to see your Alexis’s family, but in the future, there’s a job for you here if you ever have need of it—both of you.”

  Part of him was almost tempted to say ‘yes’, but he pushed the wild urge down and away. Even if returning to her family was not her ultimate goal, he didn’t think
Alexis would agree. She’d made it plain that she preferred other methods of travel, and though she seemed to get along well with the men, the same could so far be said of everyone they had encountered. She had a way of endearing herself to people with nothing more than a few words and a charming smile that he envied.

  “It’s a generous offer,” Stone said. “But I don’t think we can accept.”

  He would speak to Alexis, but he doubted her answer would be any different.

  Kyrios didn’t look at all surprised. “In that case, I wish you good luck on your journey.”

  Alexis met him on the deck just as the ship docked. She’d healed well, but the effects of the fever still lingered in the pale hue of her skin and in the weakness of her legs. She had been pacing the length of the deck several times a day in an effort to strengthen to her muscles, and though she was improving noticeably, it didn’t seem to be fast enough to satisfy her.

  “This is the port where I was given to the shipmaster,” she said. “They led me through the town, with my hands tied and a rope around my neck. All these people—“she gestured to those they could see milling about by the water front. “None of them would look at me. I am of Greece—the same blood as many of them—but once that rope was around my neck, it no longer mattered.”

  Stone had nothing helpful to say. He hadn’t gone through quite the same thing. The humiliation of being chained in the hold of a ship was traumatic enough. He was glad he’d been spared the indignity of civilians watching, indifferent to the sight of a man reduced to the status of goods. He listened. Sometimes that was the best and only thing to do.

  “Every time I think of it,” she went on. “It burns like there are coals in my stomach.”

  The ship docked, the sailors set about their rushed routine of unloading, knowing that as soon as the task was complete they would have leave to spend their time as they liked and with whom they liked.

  “We do not need to linger here,” Stone said. “If you like, I can buy the supplies and you can wait here. I’m sure the captain wouldn’t mind.”

  She shook her head in refusal. “No,” she said. “It will do me no good to hide from it like a child.”

  He held out his arm in the manner he had when they first met the captain, when they thought it might solidify the illusion that they had been married for years already. She slipped her arm through his, easy as breathing, and together, they strolled toward the gangplank and the waiting shore.

  ❖❖❖

  However, much time he spent in the past, he didn’t think he’d ever get completely used to the array of smells that assaulted him when walking through a town. Most of them were unpleasant and associated with the lack of plumbing, but as they strolled through the seaside market town, there were others that made themselves known. Unwashed bodies pressed too close around a stall; fish, both rotten and not, and something being roasted that smelled oddly good.

  “Dates,” Alexis said, at his curious look. “Shall we buy some?”

  He snorted. “With what money?”

  She lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Fine. Shall I steal some?”

  Stone was careful to walk slowly without making it obvious that he was doing so to accommodate her. They had already walked quite a way from the ship and he didn’t want her struggling to keep up with his slightly longer strides.

  “I didn’t realize you were an accomplished thief.”

  “I’m not. But it’s never too late to start.”

  Things had not remained strained between them for long. As she healed, they had fallen back into their easy banter, the companionship they’d shared before Alexis had first ventured to kiss him. They had not been together as lovers since he told her the truth, and he could harbor no hard feelings in that regard. She had needed time—they both had—and as yet, there had been no right moment to bring it up again.

  “I could sell my dagger,” she offered. “Keep the sword.”

  They were both decked out rather generously in the spare armor kept aboard the ship. It was nothing fancy, but the worn leather was better than nothing and studded with metal in places to make it as impervious in vital areas. Stone’s was a near perfect fit, but he was unused to wearing it and found it uncomfortable and awkward. Alexis’s fit a bit oddly, as it had been made for a man a fair bit larger, but she weathered any discomfort it caused without a word of complaint. The majority of the set was stowed in her pack for the time being, and, for now, she wore only the chest piece of the top half over her dress. Even this much deviation from the norm was drawing stares from those they passed.

  He traded his cellphone for a large amount of silver coins. Stone was worried that they might be accused of practicing magic by the merchant who took it off him, but the man had seemed far more amazed than frightened. The man stared after them, wide-eyed, as they took their leave. Hopefully, he hadn’t just inadvertently changed history. The device had lived in his pocket for more than two months now, alongside his increasingly battered wallet. He felt strangely off-balance without it, as though he were missing a limb.

  They moved through the market as the day wore on. Alexis took the lead in purchasing supplies for their journey. In this, she knew far more than he did. They spent their coin sparingly, as they would still need to buy horses, and anyhow, Alexis claimed, she and Stone could hunt and gather much of their food along the way. This was the land she was raised in, and her parents had made certain that she was not without skills to survive.

  Alexis inspected the horses with a practiced hand, checking their hooves and their teeth for signs of their age and poor health. She made remarks about their temperament and spent so long haggling with the stable owner that Stone was sure he sprouted a few grey hairs while he waited.

  “Done,” she said at last, approaching him where he had waited at a nearby stall, absently perusing the jewelry for sale and wondering whether any of the things on display were pieces that Alexis might wear. “And for a good price. I say we find the tavern Ambrus mentioned and see them off with a few drinks.”

  Her eyes were bright. The ice between them was thawing. Her hand grasped his, ready to tug him away, to lead him through muddy alleyways and back toward the roaring of the sea. Alexis froze, her hand still as a statue around his own. Her eyes had caught on something on the table before them. She reached out slowly, as the merchant watched, and picked up the necklace that lay there.

  “Where did you get this?” she asked.

  The merchant appeared unaffected by the menace in her voice. “Bought it off a traveler a few months back, as I remember,” he said. “My wife makes some as well,” he added, gesturing to the opposite side of the table, as if to entice them.

  Alexis was over the table before Stone could blink, the dagger she’d suggested selling just hours before against the man’s throat. Silver chains and beaded bracelets scattered to the muddy ground. Stone’s hand found the hilt of his sword. His eyes darted from one end of the alleyway to the other; it was not quite deserted, but no one was yet looking their way.

  “By traveler,” she said, “Do you mean slaver?”

  The man’s hands were up, his eyes wide with fear. “You think I interrogate everyone who wants to sell me a piece?” he said.

  Alexis seemed to be past hearing him. “This is not a large port,” she said. “You knew who you were buying from.”

  The merchant flinched at the words, but Stone had no idea whether this meant he’d been lying. He wasn’t a cop or anything like it. He was a scholar, as Alexis would say; it was not a bad thing to be, but he currently felt quite useless.

  “This man has sold you things before?” she asked, trying another route, one that sounded less accusatory. Her dagger remained against his throat; Stone knew the name of the artery it was resting against. Should she cut him there, he would be dead in minutes.

  “Yes,” the merchant said. He couldn’t have nodded without cutting himself.

  “How often does he come here?”

  “Not
much these days,” the merchant said, haltingly. “This time of year, they have routes up north. This is as I understand it,” he went on desperately. “I do not know them well, and I will swear to nothing.”

  “You know they are slavers,” Alexis said. “And you know they are selling you things stolen from your own people. You are no better.”

  Perhaps he wasn’t, but as Alexis leaned forward, her jaw clenched, her fist tightening and loosening around the blade, Stone found himself unable to watch silently any longer. He reached forward, careful not to startle her, and placed a hand upon her shoulder from behind. She half turned toward him, never removing the bulk of her attention from the man before her. Stone didn’t say a thing; he didn’t need to. The look on his face was enough to pull her from the spiral she’d fallen into.

  “I will take the necklace as payment for your life. It belongs in my family.” She stepped back and pulled the necklace in question over her head. It was a simple thing, in comparison with the jewelry of his own time, with only a single green stone set in what looked to be bronze.

  When she stepped away, the man collapsed, his legs giving way like a condemned building as he slid to the ground amongst the jewels that had been scattered there a moment before. Alexis walked quickly, in the opposite direction they’d been heading in, up the hill, away from the coast.

  It seemed that her appetite for company had dried up all of a sudden. Stone followed. If she was no longer in the mood for his company as well, she had the tact not to say so.

  ❖❖❖

  It was misty at the top of the cliff, fog rolling in as the evening turned slowly to night. Alexis stood too close to the edge, looking out over the sea. There were no more ships coming in; in the age before lighthouses, it was risky to dock on such a rocky shore at night. She stayed quiet for a time. While he waited, Stone built a small fire behind her, cursing his way through three failed attempts before flames finally bloomed beneath his hands. It was the longest she’d gone without sitting since she opened her eyes at the tail end of her fever, and it worried to him to watch her standing there, her muscles beginning to tremble from the strain.