Blood Moon

Sydney Alexis

XVII

Miral rode in the saddle in front of me. I held her in place with one hand and held the horse's reigns with the other. Riding on Cali seemed to be the only thing that would lull her to sleep these days.

"Papa?"

"Yes, Miral?"

"Are you sure you gotta go back?"

I sighed. B'El and I had had this conversation the day before. I suppose she'd decided to call in reinforcements.

"Yes, poppet, I do."

"Why?"

"Because I made a promise and a good man always keeps his word."

"But Sara's daddy fought in the war and he doesn't have to go back."

"Sara's daddy was just a soldier. He swore to protect the kingdom during the war. I'm a knight, and I swore to protect the kingdom my whole life."

"But you swore before you met Momma. You didn't know you'd be swearing away your life with us. Besides, you promised to protect Momma too. You weren't here when that mean old bull, Silas, threw her off the harvester. She broke her arm and hurt her head. Ms. Nora had to come and help Momma around the house.

"Ms. Nora said she didn't mind 'cause it was doing Hestia's work."

I paused, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of me. B'Elanna hadn't mentioned any of this to me. And when had Miral became this insightful?

"By fighting in the war, we were keeping everybody safe. Not just you and your friends, but everyone."

Miral turned around to look at me, nose scrunched up in thought.

"But what if Momma had hurt herself worse? Wouldn't you have broken your promise?"

My heart started to beat faster and I pulled Miral closer to me seeking comfort.

"You ask too many questions, poppet."

I felt the ship lurch beneath me. The wood moaning as the wind pulled it back into the ocean. Before us, sailing out from the Cretan dock, were the three leading vessels.

In military tactics, the general always rides in the lead vessel. It allows for an unobstructed view and is easier to direct the other vessels. It also makes it a remarkably large target especially given murmurings of impending war and of troops gathering in the north. Enemies of Solomon--fewer in number than ever before were growing desperate according to gossips and Harry's own men.

Random guerilla attacks thinned out soldiers on border posts, but, for every man rebels killed, another was dispatched to replace them.

My troops represented the largest contingent heading toward the already fortified capital; it would be foolhardy not to attack our ships. Most likely, they'd hit at night. The forward and rear of our caravan were responsible for lookout--my men not Solomon's were in the crow's nest.

As we moved out of 'friendly' territory, our time at port grew shorter. Days became hours. Water barrels filled, food purchased--both tested on merchants and runners to check for poisoning--before setting off. Barely making land and never at a major stop. Never with a predictable pattern either.

I was acting somewhat paranoid and, on many levels, like a true general. My men said nothing--speaking little. They knew better than to question. Harry merely raised an eyebrow as I ordered us past several of the larger ports without stopping.

Most of my 'trouble' came from my wives and Harry's men who had hoped for fresher meals and baths.

Finally, after we passed the Straight of Gibraltar, Harry cornered me.

"Do you plan on landing anywhere for longer than a candlemark? My men grow weary."

I laughed brusquely. "Since your men grow 'weary' of servicing their own needs, perhaps they can help each other out."

He laughed at my statement, and I realized it was the first time I'd heard this sound in almost six years.

"So you haven't lost your sense of humor."

He said nothing in reply. Eyes merely looking me over as if he'd never looked at me before. It was unnerving.

"You grow more cautious as we near our homeland." Statement not question

"There is rumors of war." Bait

"If there is, so be it." Ignored.

"So you see it as just another fight?"

"Aye. I pledged myself to Solomon. If he orders me to fight, I will."

"And if he ordered you on a suicide mission..."

He shrugged. "I will die when the Gods wish it. When my tasks are done."

"And yet you pray to them. Make sacrifices to them...do you always do what is expected of you?"

His eyes narrowed and grew darker. Trained on the ocean in an unwavering stare.

"Not always."

"So there is hope for you yet."

He smirked. "Maybe an age ago."

"You've mastered every standard weapon."

"Aye."

"In fact, I've almost taught you everything you'll need to serve as a lieutenant."

"Oh? What's left to learn, sire?"

"Warfare on sea."

Harry paled as I said this, and I tried not to laugh at this fact.

"I'd always just assumed we'd wait for them to land on shore."

"And when Solomon asks you to expand his territory?"

"We march there."

"And if it were shorter by sea?"

"It would give the men endurance training."

This was all said with such certainty. Poor Harry. I was trying so desperately not to laugh when I asked my next question despite the fact that I had already sussed the answer.

"Harry, are you afraid of water?"

"Nay. Just get seasick easily."

I laughed. "That was something that my master cured me of quite quickly"

"Oh?"

"At the time he took me out to train me, my head was filled with tales of marauders and pirates and storms at sea.

"He had them take us out until there was no land and no ships visible for miles. Then, he turned to me and said, 'It's time to learn not to fear the sea.'

"He threw me overboard with one, big push."

Harry gasped. I turned my gaze to his and offered him a smirk.

"Which, of course, I didn't take well..."

Harry's gasp turned into a laugh. I'd imagine it was one of the few times he had allowed himself to see me as something other than the larger than life fighter and more of the hapless squire.

"He was waiting for me to call for help from him..."

"But, of course, you didn't want to be involved with any of that."

My smirk broadened into a smile. Harry knew better; I'd already taught him this lesson in a less direct method.

"So I swam around the ship, looking for a way to climb up. The whole time, he was watching me, smirking, waiting."

I paused and turned toward Harry. My eyes caught his and held them. There was a morale to this story, and I would be damned if he wasn't going to get it.

"It was a test. One that I was meant to fail. One to keep me in my place, but I wasn't in the mood to be 'taught.' So, I dug out my ankle daggers, and used them as grips to climb up the side of the ship."

Harry's jaw dropped. I expected him to issue his usual 'No shit!' as was per usual when I regaled him about my time spent in purgatory.

"He watched me, face red with anger. I knew he would rail on me the moment that I was in range."

"I take it he did?"

I smirked at him. Rhetorical question.

"Not until after I showed him up."

Never mind the fact that he threw me overboard and made me swim to shore that I was nearly dead from exhaustion and thirst. When I arrived back at the palace, he threw me in the stockade for a week.

My 'master' was the fourth man I killed after I became Proteus.

"He wanted to prove that we are all dependent on each other. I proved to myself I was capable of saving myself...and I learned that even those you are supposed to be able to trust will eventually turn on you."

"That's where you're wrong. You know what it's like to be betrayed by your mentor. I know it would give you pause before you threw me overboard," he said, with some mirth to his tone.

"I wouldn't throw you overboard, Harry; family members don't betray each other."

Two weeks into our voyage, I grew restless. I was trapped on a vessel with six 'wives' and soldiers with nothing to do beyond sharpening my blades (which I had completed within the first two days) and sparring on the deck with random soldiers.

By three weeks, I grew silent. Morose. Time was slipping by slowly and yet quickly at the same time. The waking hours seemed extraordinarily long, but the weeks past quickly. Accents went from deep and heavily colored to that of our homeland. Deserts disappeared and the weather turned tropical and humid. Humidity thinned and the days grew colder. It was winter back home. Deep snow, rain, and bitter cold. Each day that passed, I felt my ill ease growing. Somehow, I knew this would be my last ocean voyage.

I found myself on the bridge, seated on the railing day after day, reviewing my plan, rehashing memories. Memories and ghosts of the past that were haunting my thoughts. Normally I would distract myself to avoid thinking about the past. My fingers itched for a parchment to read or sketch on, but those were interests Thomas held not Crycus. In close quarters, surrounded by advisors and wives, I was under great scrutiny. Under normal circumstances, I'm sure Crycus would take every opportunity to rub his lifestyle--pagan beliefs included-- on anyone within shouting distance. He would stop at every major port for several days, walking through town with his entourage. Concern for guerilla troops and rumors of growing discord be damned; the Fates choose when to cut his thread not some idiot with a sword. Then again, Crycus never did what was expected which worked in my favor.

"Brooding again, my Lord?"

Sorteria eased herself on the banister beside me. Over the months of our captivity, her olive skin had been tanned to a deep brown. She'd taken to pacing the deck seemingly as lost as I as to what to do with herself. For the first time, I began to wonder just what she and the other wives did when in the palace.

I scowled at her to which she laughed.

"You might feel better if we stopped somewhere. Had a good meal. A nice, hot bath..."

I snorted in laughter. She'd given up hinting and came right out and asked.

"Ranvier is not more than a few hours from here. I'll signal the other ships to stop."

After a hug of thanks, she left me to my thoughts again.

"It's an amazing barn."

"It's just a barn, B'El. Wood and thatch."

"But it's large enough to house all our animals and supplies. I'm almost glad that old thing didn't weather the storm."

"My father built that 'old thing.'"

"True. He might be handy with a sword, but, sadly, not a hammer."

"Should I mention how convenient it was that my father's old barn fell apart while I was here to do something about it?"

"What can I say? The Gods were smiling down upon me."

"Maybe housing Silas in here will put him in a better mood come harvest time."

B'Elanna turned toward me, jaw dropped in shock.

"Miral has yet to learn when to reveal the truth and when to keep silent."

I snorted.

"Sometimes I think that Silas will be the death of me."

She said this with a joking tone, but something in the statement didn't sit well.

"Somehow I doubt that," I replied, wrapping my arms around her and drawing her in for a kiss.

Ranvier had served as my home for several weeks after I left my home village, Atreus. In all the years that had passed, little had changed save the new tavern near the dock. The town was still mid-sized with homes dotting the edges leading out to the forests surrounded the area-- perfect for training.

As soon as we pulled into harbor, I announced we would be staying for a week and left them to search for rooms to house my wives and myself--preferably in a different and remote location.

Within a short span of time, suppliers were spoken to, rooms were found, and night had fallen. With the moon riding high, I left the inn I had booked a room in and made my way down to the 'new' tavern. It was constructed of old ship timbers, and, based on the amount of sound pouring from its interior, it was filled with drunken soldiers.

I opened the door and was instantly struck with an odd feeling of deja vu.

Timbers and boards latched in place with peg construction. Y shaped pillars for extra strength, and Z shaped door braces. Girders, grey with exposure, were formed from salvaged ship masts. My eyes locked on the largest one that ran the distance of the tavern. It was splintering with years of use and suddenly I couldn't look anywhere but at it. I couldn't hear the drunken singing or the clop of whores' heels on the floor planks.

White noise followed by silence. My heart hammered in my chest as my mind fought against itself to keep the imagery at bay. I closed my eyes, willing it away, but it came. The creaking sound of a rope, taunt with weight, swinging its burden like a pendulum. Her face bloated and disfigured. Barely recognizable...

I turned, stumbling from the barn...bar and down an alley. I lost what little I had to eat that day.

TBC