Gaven Matthews was lying behind the large boulders that supplied him with his temporary hiding place. His head was pillowed on his arm and his right leg was propped on his pack. His ankle still hurt a wee bit, from twisting it wrong during the keelhaul drop.
All traces of the sun had long since abandoned the sky, hiding its face until morning. It was fairly dark, with there being very little moonlight and the clouds blocking out the majority of light from the stars overhead.
Gaven had been waiting for his comrades and the Leviathan to return for an hour or so, his throbbing ankle and myriad of thoughts helping to keep him awake.
He daydreamed about his family, what they might be doing at that moment. He calculated the time difference in his head, thinking it must be close to bed time.
He pictured his wife getting ready for and climbing into bed. He longed to be there with her, pulling her close and kissing her goodnight.
Gaven had been married to a wonderful woman for twelve years now, and every day he felt lucky that she had said yes to him. She was a wonderful partner, a true soulmate.
He closed his eyes and pictured Marianne; her glittering brown eyes and long black hair, her tall, slender figure and soft, pale skin. She was a beautiful, but striking contrast to his rusty-red hair and green eyes, tall and sturdy frame, work-roughened hands and sun-darkened skin.
He longed to hold her in his arms and pictured himself doing so. He hoped she could feel his arms around her at that moment, as much as he could.
Gaven shifted his mind to his child.
For years he and Marianne had tried to have children, but their attempts had ended in sorrow. They had been heartbroken when Marianne miscarried the first two times, but they were truly devastated when their third, a beautiful little boy with red curly hair, was a stillborn.
When Gaven and Marianne were warned by doctors that it would be dangerous to continue trying to have children, they had begun to lose hope.
After years of trying and three tragically lost babies, they began to think that they would never be able to have children.
Miraculously though, Marianne had conceived and successfully given birth at the end of September, the previous year. They had marveled for days at their beautiful, healthy baby girl, who had inherited Marianne's dark hair and fine features.
They named her Hanna Mari, because she truly was their beloved miracle.
She's probably learning to walk now, he wistfully thought to himself and tried to picture it in his mind's eye. He saw himself holding her tiny fingers as she used his hands to help her balance. A dazzling smile would be on her perfect, little face as she tested her wobbly and unsteady legs. He could almost hear her infectious laughter.
His heart felt heavy as he considered how much of his daughter's first months of life he was missing. He yearned to hold her and his wife.
It had been very hard to leave his family at the start of the war, knowing what he was leaving behind. However, he had a duty to perform and took great pride in protecting his family and his country. He also knew that his parents would take good care of his wife and daughter while he was away.
Gaven heard something and, suddenly, he was brought out of his reverie. His mind went immediately into soldier-mode.
He thought he had heard human voices. Gaven took slow and even breaths through his mouth, listening intently. In the distance he could make out the sounds of men's voices, very faint.
Then he heard...oh, no!
His breath caught and then his heart started to race.
It was dogs barking; two, if not more.
Dogs would be able to smell him and would lead the soldiers right to him. Gaven hoped that the animals would somehow miss his scent and pass on by his hiding place.
Matthews stayed motionless and silent for what seemed like an eternity, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart.
Several minutes passed by and he could hear the men's voices more clearly. There were several of them, at least five for sure.
They were talking in a language that was unfamiliar to him. As they got closer, Gaven tried to determine if it was German, like what he had heard the Clanker prisoners speak on the Leviathan. It didn't sound like that, so he assumed it was probably Turkish or another local language spoken in Istanbul.
Gaven tried to make a plan of action. He was certainly outnumbered and would only get shot if he tried to fight back or surprise them. Plus, gunfire would draw attention and bring even more soldiers. With his ankle being injured, there was no running to another place to hide. All he could do was pray they would miss the scent and pass on by him.
Suddenly there was a chorus of barks, howls and men shouting. Gaven's pulse quickened and his breath caught in his throat. He could see the flash of electrikal lights flickering in different directions on the far side of the boulders, near the water.
Gaven heard the shuffle of feet on the sand headed toward him, the shouts and barks getting closer. He tried to duck lower behind the rocks, but knew it was pointless.
In a matter of seconds, there were about a half-dozen Ottoman soldiers surrounding him. Their electrikal lights temporarily blinded him and ripped away the darkness of his hiding place.
When his eyes adjusted, he found himself staring down the barrels of several rifles and pistols, aimed directly at him. Behind the weapons were stern faces, though he also glimpsed a few angry ones as well.
A man held back two dogs, which barked and lunged against their thick leashes at Gaven.
He raised his hands slowly, in surrender, not wanting to do anything to make the dogs attack or the men use their guns.
One of the soldiers spoke in heavily-accented, but clear English, "Who are you? Why are you here?"
Gaven pointed a finger at his right ankle and said "Injured." He said nothing more, not wanting to reveal anything that might expose the Leviathan's or his comrade's plans or location. He was suddenly grateful that he had not been told the sensitive details of the mission, but he was still determined to say as little as possible.
The soldier looked at Gaven's ankle and then said something in the foreign language to the other men.
The dogs were pulled away a bit, but several of the men still had guns pointed at him. Two of the soldiers holstered their pistols and quickly disarmed Gaven, removing all of his weapons and his pack from his reach.
The two soldiers helped him to his feet, but quickly tied his hands behind his back. He didn't dare put any weight on his ankle; it had already started to throb spitefully, gravity pulling the blood to the affected area.
The man who had spoken to him earlier asked him a stream of questions. Who was he? What was he doing there? Were there others? What militant group was he with? And on the questions went.
Gaven stayed silent, not answering any of their questions. Even when one Ottoman soldier struck him hard across the face, he resolved to stay silent. He wasn't going to give away his comrades positions or do anything that could lead these soldiers to them and jeopardize the mission, more than he already had.
The men all looked frustrated with him, like they were ready to put a bullet through him. He hoped they would not do so. He could take some blows, but he didn't like the thought of never seeing his family again, or of making his wife a widow and his child fatherless.
One of the soldiers—and from the patches on his uniform, Gaven assumed him to be a ranking officer—said something to his men. Before Matthews could react, the soldiers holding his arms led him forward, none too gently.
Gaven hobbled forward, being forced to put pressure on his ankle or fall on his face. He winced with each step, but he stifled any cry of pain, although it took great effort.
The dogs, which he recognized as German Shepherds, excitedly followed a scent trail along the peninsula, their noses close to the ground. Gaven had seen the soldiers letting the dogs get a good whiff of his pack and canteen, so he assumed the dogs were now locked onto the scents of Sharp, Robbins and Spenser.
Matthews stayed silent, knowing the dogs and their handlers might be misled and lose his comrades scent, or at least, he had confidence in this possibility.
He dared to hope the soldiers would be led off course and away from the goal of the mission, the Dardanelles strait. However, the dogs kept picking up fresh scent trails that zigzagged along the peninsula of Gallipoli.
Gaven's heart sank every time the dogs would suddenly surge forward, their excited barks and howls filling the night and breaking through the silence.
As Gaven was forced to hobble down the path that his commanding officer and comrades had likely taken, he hoped that they would see or hear the soldiers coming. Perhaps they would swim the strait to the other side, so the Ottoman's dogs couldn't follow them; then they could double back, to reach the Sphinx.
He was willing to sacrifice his own freedom and safety—especially if it meant the mission, whatever it might be, could be completed and the other men could safely reach the Leviathan.
Suddenly one of the soldiers shoved him forward—he had evidently paused for too long—and Gaven stumbled forward. His tired and throbbing ankle gave way, refusing to hold his weight any more. With his hands tied behind his back, he couldn't catch himself. He wound up falling face first into the rock hard earth.
He felt suddenly dizzy and could feel blood, from a cut on his forehead, trickle down his face. He couldn't get up on his own and felt too despondent to try.
One of the officers helped him sit up. Gaven looked at the man and thought he saw a look of pity in the man's eyes. The soldier took out a pocket handkerchief, knelt before him and dabbed at the cut over Gaven's eye until it stopped bleeding.
Then the man said something in the unfamiliar language to one of the other officers, who promptly handed over a canteen of water. Gaven was appreciative for the man's momentary kindness and drank gratefully.
He figured that the group had traveled close to two miles and he assumed they were quickly approaching Gallipoli, since he could hear the water slapping against the shore.
As Gaven was gruffly helped up by a different, less kind soldier, he could see from his peripheral vision another Ottoman soldier behind him. A gun was pointed at Gaven's chest and a fierce look resided on the man's face.
The soldier was ready to fire, if Mathews chose to do something stupid.
Gaven swallowed and hoped that his wife and daughter were safe. He prayed that he would, perhaps one day, get to see and hold them again.
Note: I chose the name Hanna Mari because the name Hanna means "miracle or gift" and Mari means "beloved."
I hope the story is enjoyable! All credit goes to the amazing Scott Westerfeld!