Author's Note: Special thanks to Mithrigil, Alastair, AJ and MercWanderer for their help with various parts of this chapter.

Missing in Action
Chapter Ten

Chris was exhausted.

The trip she and Borus had made to Caleria had been long and she was just thankful it had been uneventful as well. Minutes after their arrival at the inn, the two of them had split up. She badly wanted a bath, and he a drink. They made plans to meet for dinner but she knew he would be late. Even when she was in the army, he never could get back from the tavern on time. She worried about Borus in that regard. Sometimes it seemed like his only friend was a bottle of wine and his love for drinking only grew worse with his age.

It took her no time at all to find the bathhouse in the dusty outpost town. It was a remarkably nice building and the woman running it wasn't very friendly, but certainly efficient. After quickly counting the money placed in her palm, she handed Chris a bucket of hot water, a towel, a sponge, and then directed her to the changing room.

Even the changing area was beautiful. The walls were made of teak and decorated linen curtains hung between stalls to separate them. Chris quickly chose one, removed her clothes, and put on the robe that had been carefully laid out with lavender scented soaps. Folding her clothing into a neat pile worthy of military inspection, she then took the rest of her necessities to the bath room.

Cobalt tiles lined the floor and walls giving a heavenly glow to the steamy room. On the rear wall a mural of the mythical war between Sword and Shield had been painted. Such detail was in it that the runes on both combatants shimmered and almost seemed to glow. Just under the mural were a dozen teak chairs for lounging but all were empty. Everything was vacant—even the huge wooden tub that dominated the center of the room.

To her left as she entered was the washing station. She took her bucket, soaps and sponge and settled down next to an ornate cerulean vase there. Thankful for the privacy, she removed her robe and began to wash her skin and hair. The water was still warm, the sponge was incredibly soft and the sweet scents of the soaps brought only more bliss.

Finally done cleaning, she walked over to the huge tub and sank in it up to her neck. Settling into the hot water the aroma of gardenias tickled her noise. And, in that moment of serenity, she finally smiled and relaxed.

Still wrapped in the stillness of the moment, she didn't open her eyes nor lift her head from the tub's edge as she heard another enter. The newcomer quickly rinsed off at the cleaning area and then approached the tub. As she climbed into the bath, Chris glanced at her through slit eyes. The woman's back was scarred with marks, and her mangled, filthy, red-brown hair was cut short at her shoulders. The sun-darkened skin on her arms and her blistered feet spoke of harsh work or long travel.

Lifting her head up to greet the person properly, she gasped. "Lilly!"

The other woman, now in the water, was equally as startled. "Chris?"

Sitting up, she nodded. "It's good to see you, Lilly."

The brunette sank down into the tub quickly. "What are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same," Chris said with a smile.

Lilly looked around nervously before she started to get out of the tub. "I need to go."

Chris grabbed her arm. "Lilly, please, I need to talk to you."

"What is there to talk about?" She asked, trying to pull out of the other woman's grasp.

"Please, listen to what I have to say--"

"Aren't you just here to capture me?"

"No," Chris said with a firm shake of her head, letting go of Lilly's arm. "I am not. I swear to you, I will not do anything of the sort. I'm completely retired from the army. You know that."

Lilly's eyes narrowed at Chris, but before she could speak, the bath mistress burst in.

"You! Thief!" She shouted, pointing a wiry finger at Lilly. "You owe me for two baths already! Get out of here you mongrel!"

"Please," Chris said, raising a demure hand to the woman. "She is my guest."

"You'll pay her debts?" The bath mistress asked, the wrinkles on her worn face stretching with doubt.

"Of course," Chris replied with a raised brow. "Provided we are allowed to enjoy the bath without any further interruptions."

"And how am I to trust you?" The old smarmy woman asked as she placed an indignant hand on her hip.

With a silent curse of woman's distrust Chris quickly removed the one piece of jewelry she always wore—a slim silver ring from her left hand. Holding it out of the tub she said, "Take this as collateral. I'll pay you as soon as we're done here."

The bath mistress considered the offer for a moment, took the ring, and left.

When she was gone, Lilly sank back down, letting the water hide the bruises and scars on her body. Stretching her arms out on either side of herself, she leaned up against the wall of the tub opposite Chris, but did not meet her eyes. "Thank you."

Chris nodded, stealing a glimpse at her friend's calloused and worn hands. "Thank you for trusting me."

Giving a glare of skepticism, the brunette asked, "Well, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Lilly, are you all right?" Chris said hesitantly, knowing the other woman's pride was crumbling by the moment. "You seem…tired."

Lilly laughed sourly, her sideways glance telling Chris that she didn't believe for a second that the Zexen had traveled so far just to exchange pleasantries. "Tired? Chris, I've been in exile for nearly three years! I lived in Karaya. I've lived here. I've lived in every forgettable town in between! I lived on the streets! I've been beaten by bandits! I had to take a job in a tavern where every perverted man put his hands on me!" She drew a breath. "And that wasn't the worst of it!"

"Lilly, why didn't you come to me? I would have--"

"What, Chris? What would you have done? Did you forget there is a war going on? Did you forget that I am President Gustav's daughter?"

Chris shook her head. "No, but still, I could have done something."

"No you couldn't! Your own countrymen hate you for not keeping that Rune! They took your money, your power, and just about your life! Come on, start thinking rationally, Chris!"

The former knight remained silent, shocked at the force of Lilly's words. Even the solid teak walls seemed to draw back at her anger and the water in the tub felt a notch cooler.

"I'm sorry," Lilly said, taking a long, drawn breath and wiping her face with shaking hand. "I'm so sorry. How are you doing? I haven't seen you since your wedding."

Chris pensively ran a hand through her wet hair before speaking. "All right, I suppose. I have two sons now. I want you to meet them someday."

"You have children?"

"Yes, I do."

Lilly laughed. "I'm sorry, Chris. I just never pictured you with kids."

"It's all right. Neither did I, actually."

"Since I know you didn't just come all this way for a social call," Lilly said. "Tell me what you want from me because I have to get to work."

"Work?"

"I serve drinks in the tavern. I have to eat, you know." She gave a smirk. "I bet you never imagined me doing that."

"Time changes people, Lilly."

"Yeah," she whispered. "It does. But anyway, what do you want?"

Deciding to just come out with her problem, Chris said simply: "Percival went missing after the last battle. I think he was captured."

"I'm sorry, but what does that have to do with me?"

"I'll pay whatever ransom you want for him."

Lilly scoffed. "I don't have him. Maybe you should ask the rebels who killed my father and took over my country."

"I'm sorry, Lilly. I didn't know."

"Well, be sorry all you want, but it won't change things," she said, starting to get out of the tub. "I don't know why you care anyway. I don't need your sympathy and I don't want your pity."

"Lilly, I care because I'm your friend. Now, please, tell me what happened."

The red haired woman took a long breath and dropped resignedly back into the water. "I don't know where to start."

"The beginning?"

"Yeah, I guess that would be a good spot. I'm sure you remember when Zexen soldiers attacked our men at the border seven years ago--"

"Yes, and the treaty was broken."

"It was. And for the first few years, everything seemed normal. There were skirmishes, but it was pretty much if you left us alone, we'd leave you alone." She paused. "My father never wanted an all out war, but it seems now that he had little choice in the matter."

"How's that?"

"The war had left Tinto very poor. No one really had any money because we were having trouble selling the gems we mined. Just about the time we were going to negotiate another truce, an uprising started in my country. The rebels who started it wanted my father removed from the presidency. They said they had proof that he was stealing money from the people. They said that while families were starving, my father was making frivolous purchases." She snorted. "My father may have been many things, but he was not a thief.

"But the people needed to blame someone and the rebels—they called themselves the Locusti—gave them license to believe these lies. They brought in huge numbers of men who were dedicated to winning the war with Zexen, they spread money faster than their lies, and soon my own countrymen couldn't be made to listen to reason." Glancing down into the water, she said flatly, "And then they killed my father."

"Lilly…" Chris said, moving to sit next to her friend in the huge tub.

"They murdered him, Chris. They dragged him into the street and beat him like a dog! Then they locked him up, along with me. Then the rebels built this insane contraption with a huge blade. They made him lay underneath it." She drew a haggard breath and fought the forming lump in her throat. "They made me watch as the blade fell. It sliced off his head and then one of them held it up."

Chris put her hand on the other woman's back, not really knowing what to say.

No amount of determination on Lilly's part was able to keep the tears from falling. In between quiet sobs, she went on: "The others cheered. I wanted to be sick. I have never seen people take such perverse pleasure in killing someone."

After rinsing her face with a few palmfuls of bath water, Lilly leaned her head back on the rim of the tub. Satisfied she had her composure, she sighed. "After that, they locked me up again, but Reed helped me escape. The two of us left Tinto and never looked back. We lived in no name towns for awhile, but eventually the Locusti caught up with us.

"I know I used to be a selfish spoiled brat, but I learned my lesson. I did whatever I could to survive out in those tiny villages. I kept a low profile. I cut my hair and even rubbed dirt into it to make it darker. I worked jobs just for a meal. I…" She closed her eyes. "And I fell in love with Reed. Me, the president's daughter in love with a lowly bodyguard! But I was. You know, when things were terrible, and nothing seemed like it could go right, he always had a way of making me feel better."

Her eyes focused on the mural as her tone grew ever more morose. "The day they found us, Reed held them off so I could escape. He told me to run and not look back, but I did. I saw them beat him. And then they shot him with arrows. He saw me glancing at him, and he frowned. He yelled at me to run. So, I ran. I ran like I'd never run before." She took a wavering breath as she glanced down into the water. "I've heard it said that he kept fighting. He held them back even when by rights he should have been dead. He didn't go down until they slit his throat."

"I'm so sorry," Chris whispered, giving her friend a gentle embrace.

After a long moment, Lilly spoke again. "And then I went to live in Karaya. I had nothing left. Sure, Hugo was kind to me—he always was—but I'll never have my father, Reed, or my country back."

Chris watched her reflection in the water as if she were going to ask it a difficult question. Returning her gaze to the Sword and Shield painted on the wall, she turned to face her friend. "I can't give you the first two, but I think I can help you get Tinto back."

Lilly gave a dry laugh. "With what army? That ugly old man is running it now. You don't just expect him to turn it over it to you, do you?"

"That 'ugly old man' is one of my oldest and closest friends," Chris said, her eyes narrowing slightly at the insult.

Lilly smirked as she rinsed her face again, clearly glad to have the subject shifted from her to Chris and Zexen quilting circle rumors. "From what I've heard he was more than that."

"You heard wrong," she snapped, her glare fixing on Lilly's taunting blue eyes. "I would think you would at least have enough respect for me to know that I didn't sleep my way into the knights! I had to work twice as hard as the men to earn half the credit, and just because Salome accepted me before the others shows only that he is truly a decent man and nothing more!"

Seeming to enjoy the anger the insinuation of impropriety had caused in the generally cool-headed woman, Lilly calmly delivered another barbed blow. "Then why all gossip that I heard when I was in Zexen all those years ago?"

Chris wasn't taking it as a joke. Fuming, she answered the question in a flood of pointed words. "Poison spread by my enemies in an attempt to discredit me. I didn't intimidate them while I was training; it was only when I graduated from the Academy ahead of all the men that suddenly I became a threat. At first, it was just 'she's Wyatt's daughter' but then the words became more vile and much more malicious. And believe me, Lilly, I've heard it all. You name a high ranking officer and I was his mistress." She paused for a moment to catch her breath and wring her sopping hair behind her head. "But none of those lies are true. I earned my rank, fair and square. Though, I will openly admit that I wouldn't have been—I couldn't have been—the knight I was without Salome's help. But I certainly never slept with him."

Lilly was almost giggling at the response she was getting. "I didn't say you were sleeping with him. I just heard that you two were--"

"Dammit, Lilly!" Chris snarled—more in frustration than fury. "The only time the man kissed me was when he gave me away at my wedding!"

Still laughing, Lilly splashed her friend in the face. "Relax, Chris, I'm just teasing you! No need to get so angry."

Chris playfully returned the attack. "This means war, you know!"

The two women circled around each other in the bath, continuing their splash-fight, and laughing like neither had in a long time. When the bath mistress finally peeked in and gave them a harsh look for their childish behavior, they settled down.

"Anyway," Chris said, standing up to be sure the bath mistress was gone. "Lucia wants you to come back to Karaya. She needs your help."

"My help?"

Chris nodded. "She and I both want more information on these Locusti people."

"Lucia doesn't want to be caught up in this mess."

"Yes she does, now that she knows these Locusti people are involved."

"Why, because the two of you think you can stop them?"

"Well, we'll have to get help," Chris said, stretching her arms back out to lean against the edge of the tub once again.

"That's an understatement," Lilly grinned. "Well, you've fought bad odds in the past and won, so I won't put it past you."

"Good, so you'll come with me?"

Salome was doing better, all things considered. A few hours with the surgeon, some stitches, a bunch of bandages, a little help from a water rune, a good night's sleep, and he was at least upright. Now sitting at the table in his tent, he gently scratched at the wound on his shoulder. The stitches were fresh, and just starting to pull, but the itch felt deeper than that. In an effort to distract himself from this annoyance and the events of the day, he tried eating some fruit, meticulously peeling the rind and making a neat little pile of it on the table in front of him.

Throughout the entire ordeal with the surgeon, Salome had obstinately refused any medicine or drink that would cloud his thinking later on. This, however, left him with a throbbing shoulder and frail, uncooperative nerves. Still, despite the pain, he knew there wasn't time for hangovers or drug induced sleep, especially not when dealing with such devious opponents. So, despite the throbbing pain in his shoulder and leg, he fought on, trying to focus on the decisions that needed to be made in short order.

Leo sat across from him. He was drinking—he always drank after a battle—and offering some much needed company. Blessedly, he heeded Salome's decision and didn't offer the alcohol. After a long sip of his whiskey he asked, "You told the messenger who went to get Chris not to mention what was in that city, right?"

"Of course."

Leo scratched the three day old stubble on his chin. "You figure out how you're going to tell her?"

"No," Salome replied, pulling the last piece of meat from the fruit. "I thought it was bad enough news to bring once but now she'll hear it again, and this time there really is no room for hope, even if born out of denial."

"Roland or I, or even Borus could--"

Holding up a hand to the other, he said with finality, "No. I'll do it."

Leo gave a nod, a crease of concern following a wrinkle on his weathered face. "I guess that would be best. You always were like a brother to her." He paused, and then gave a long sigh. "You know, thinking back on all that's happened in this past month, I'm beginning to believe that the stars must just be against us."

"I think they're getting some help from associates of our Council or from within our own ranks." Salome said, closing his eyes as another wave of pain flooded his shoulder.

"That's a big accusation," Leo said with a raised brow.

Salome propped his chin up on his good hand and looked directly into the eyes of the other. "Tell me Leo, how would our enemies know that we would return to this place so soon? How would they know to leave a letter, especially out in the elements? And, most importantly, why bother naming Percival in that letter? If they had just wanted to execute our men, then why taunt us?"

Leo shook his head and filled his mug again. "I don't know. Playing politics is your specialty."

A brief silence held as a pretty brunette in her teens entered the tent and wordlessly handed Salome a letter. She gave a slight nod to Leo and then asked the captain quietly, "Milord, shall I prepare some tea?"

Salome nodded to her as he looked at the parchment she had brought. The seal was familiar. It was from Louis.

The girl busied herself with setting up the tea service and carrying it to the table before disappearing out of the tent with the tea pot. A moment later she returned, noticeably agitated and carrying a steaming pot of water.

"What's wrong, Calleigh?" Leo asked.

"The Nasal bird that brought that note is gone."

Salome gave her a gentle look as he asked, "Did you feed it?"

"Yes, milord. Of course," she said, placing the teapot down on the service tray. "But it refused the food and flew away."

"Don't worry yourself with it, Calleigh," Salome said. "It will come back."

Visibly relieved, the girl gave a bow, and then left.

After she was gone, Salome cracked the sealing wax open and began to read.

Leo smirked as the girl walked away. "Leave it to you to find the next Lady Chris and make her your squire."

"She's good at what she does," Salome said, not looking up from the letter.

"Smart, too."

"Yes," was Salome's dull and rather preoccupied answer.

After a long moment, Leo asked, "What's it say?"

Salome looked up and took a sip of tea before paraphrasing the note. "Louis received my letter about the murders here and is working to inform the families. He hasn't told the Council yet, but he plans to at the next meeting. He is also concerned about Lady Chris, and asked if we had sent word to her to return from her mission. And, his contacts in Harmonia are still denying any involvement with this war. So unless they are lying, I'm at a loss for who is really behind it." Pinching his nose, he sighed. "Plus, all letters both he and I have sent to Nash in the past three months have not been answered, which is very unusual."

"Hmm…"

"That's not all. At the very bottom, Louis wrote this: 'The political fires have heated up and burned through Hell's Gate. I do not know how much longer I can beat them out and I implore your help. I must meet with you immediately upon your return from your current engagement. I fear that I need to ask you for your guidance and wisdom.'"

Leo took another sip of his whiskey. "Good excuse to go home to Zexay for a few days, at the least. You could use a break."

"I suppose," Salome said, trying miserably to ignore the ever-present pain in his arm, but not before yielding to a grimace. "But the way this is written, I can tell that something is dreadfully wrong. Louis is never cryptic, but this part of the letter certainly is, and the script looks quite harried."

"You sure you don't want any?" Leo asked lifting the bottle of whiskey from the table to pour more of it. "It'll at least take the edge off."

"I'm sure," he replied with a sigh as he propped his bad arm up on the table.

"All right. Oh, by the by, I let the men eat your horse. Hope you don't mind. It was done for anyway. Good as a friend, better as a meal, I always say."

Salome raised a brow at his trusted comrade, a sardonic grin tracing his lips at the other man's sense of logic. As he reached across the table for a clean piece of parchment on which to write a response, a sudden pain shot up his shoulder and he winced, falling back down into his chair.

Leo's tone grew serious and he stood up to pass the paper to the captain. "Are you sure you're all right? Are you sure you should be up?"

"You sound like Roland," he replied, reaching for the quill and ink with his good hand.

"We're both just looking out for you, my friend." He took a drink and then looked back at the captain. "I'm volunteering to stay."

"Are you sure?" Salome asked. "You're due for leave. I was going to assign Phillip to remain."

"It's the least I can do for Percival, and for Chris. Leave me some good men and we'll keep this city free from those animals."

"I don't doubt you will, Leo. I'll send supplies back to you as soon as we return to the castle. And, thank you."

Sipping their drinks, the two men nearly relaxed—until Roland came hustling into the tent. His stride was long and fervent, and his light eyes smoldering with scarcely controlled rage. He gave a quick salute to Salome and held out the weathered piece of parchment he had been carrying.

"You need to read this. Now."

Salome took the accursed document and unfurled it, the poor quality of paper cracking hauntingly in his hands. Gritting his teeth against a new deluge of pain rushing down his arm, he paused before trying to read. A moment later, his eyes flew down the page and his breath caught in his throat. For years, he feared his enemies would strike against his family, and now the nightmare seemed to live.

Harvey,

Word has reached me that you failed in your simple mission at Dubios. The Captain is not pleased and therefore he orders you to return to Zexen and finish the assignment. His home is never guarded, and the only occupants are elderly servants, a crippled woman, and a child. You should have no problems, and I expect no mistakes.

I will meet you in Zexay on the eve of the new moon. Your duty must be carried out before then as we must take advantage of the darkness to move the fleet. Do not be late unless you are dead. You know how that annoys the Captain.

Forever Loyal to the Captain,

Troian

"Where did you find this?" Salome demanded, his eyes blazing with fury, the letter still slapping him with confirmation that it hadn't been a battle, but an attempt at assassination.

"It was on one of the men we killed."

"We must send word to Louis—now," Salome said, dipping his pen into the ink and barely hiding his anger and dread from his fellow officers.

Roland sat down and refused Leo's silent offer of whiskey. "It could be a trap."

"Even if it is, we have to take precautions," Salome replied as he pressed the pen to the paper, the pain in his shoulder returning at the small force required to write. Cursing his sudden uselessness aloud, he shoved the parchment and quill onto the ground.

The others did not say a word. Few things could raise the fury of Salome to the point of irrationality, but not being able to perform such a simple and essential task was definitely one of them.

"Perhaps it would be wiser to deliver the message in person," Roland finally said. "The Council will have to take you seriously if you are looking them in the eye." He took a breath and looked directly at Salome. "The same can be said for Ardeth."

"Should we dispatch men to your house?" Leo asked. "They could either stand watch or escort your family to the castle."

"No," Salome said almost instantly with a wry shake of his head. "Ardeth would chase them away and refuse to leave. I'll go. She won't argue as much with me."

Roland raised a brow at him. "Are you sure you'll be able to ride?"

Running a hand over his tired face, he simply said: "I don't have much choice, do I?"

"With all due respect, yes you do," Roland replied. "Let me go in your place. Take some time to rest."

"No," Salome said adamantly. "But I would appreciate your company. The two of us should be able to ride straight through to Zexay in less than three days if we stop only twice to change horses."

Roland's tone was incredibly skeptical. "You don't plan to stop? Even at night?"

"No. We don't have time for that. The new moon rises in only four days."

"What about the Army?" Roland asked, too obviously looking for an excuse not to see his injured friend try and make the ride. "They just can't march themselves back to Brass Castle."

"Phillip and Melville will have to do that."

"Trial by fire, eh?" Leo said with a grin as he finished the last of his whiskey. "When are you going to leave?"

"Right now," Salome replied, forcing himself to his feet despite the constant pain in his arm and leg.

Before Roland could give another protest or excuse, Leo got to his feet. "I'll go find you a horse then."

When the large man was gone, Roland ran a hand through his short lavender hair in obvious disapproval before looking Salome right in the eyes. "Very well. But let me say this: as your subordinate, I'll follow your orders and I'll gladly ride at your side. But as your friend, I think you're an idiot."

A storm was brewing over the ocean and Kylan apparently didn't plan to avoid it. As the skies darkened and the waves swelled, the cries of the men on the various decks sounded more like whimsical shanties than orders. Despite a looming urgency, Percival didn't look up from his job of gutting fish in the galley. Although his status hadn't changed as a prisoner, cooking did relax him a bit. Besides, the semi-privacy of the galley between meals gave him a few chances to offer devotions to Sadie, which always managed to put his mind a bit more at ease.

As a rather ribald song broke out in the adjacent dining hall, a grin formed on his face. It was strikingly reminiscent of the ballads he and Borus would sing after a few too many drinks. The sour notes of the sailors kept him smiling as he sliced the head off a particularly large mackerel. As the fish's head bounced off to the side he noticed a hook still in its mouth. An idea struck him. Glancing around to make sure he wasn't being watched, he reached down, pried it out of the animal's head and put it in his pocket.

Suddenly the song in the other room was drowned out by shouts of "all hands" followed by the scurrying of men towards the deck. Percival ignored the cry for help and just continued preparing the fish. He had no allegiance to these people and whatever their problem was he figured they would solve it.

Another fish was decapitated before Zachary, another member of the galley crew, grabbed his arm. He was an older, rotund fellow that kept watch on Percival—particularly when he was using knives. "Come on, Andrew!"

Pulling away from the man, he asked. "What do I care?"

"If it is what I think it is, you'll care when we're captured by these bastards!"

"You seem to forget that I am already in that predicament," Percival said with a smirk.

"I was just like you once," the man said. "Lady Kylan was kind enough to spare my life. But I'm telling you, no matter your feelings on her, you don't want to die at the hands of these dogs."

"Who are they?"

"The Island Nations Federation. They'll show no mercy for us."

"What are they doing all the way up here?"

"Looking for Lady Kylan, no doubt."

Percival raised a sarcastic brow as he took the head of another fish. "She seems to make friends wherever she goes."

"Come on, Andrew."

"Fine," Percival said, tossing down the fish and handing the knife to Zachary. "But my sword is sworn to Zexen."

"Whatever lets you sleep at night."

Percival followed the man up to the deck. The skies were nearly black and the ship's slack sails blustered aimlessly, sounding like a cavalry charge as they flapped in the errant gusts of wind. Dozens of men were climbing the rigging, trying to furl the sails as the boatswain shouted orders over the rising ire of the sea. On top of the chaos of battening down, he heard the lookout scream: "Vessel approaching—straight ahead!"

Looking around, Percival realized he was the only one standing still. Even old Zachary was climbing rigging. Wind whipped his hair as the rain matted it down, such that when it slapped into his face, it burned his eyes. After wiping it away, he noticed Kylan and Troian coming towards him, shouting their words over the wrathful weather.

The woman's hair snaked about her head as the storm pulled at it. "Why the hell are they pulling in?"

"Captain," Troian pleaded. "Surely you don't think it would be smart to sail through this storm!"

"Well what the hell should we do, Troian? Wait it out? I don't have time for that. Besides, there's nowhere to put into port."

"Vessel approaching—off the port bow!" The lookout cried again.

"Dammit!" Kylan shouted, now just steps from Percival.

The knight started to walk astern, and away from her. He wasn't sure what he could do but the men were having trouble with the sails on the mizzen. As much as he didn't want to climb the rigging, anywhere was better than in the presence of that witch.

She didn't let him have the satisfaction, though. After shouting at his adopted name, she added in a much too pleasant tone: "Don't forget my promise to you! If you disobey me or betray me, your sons' heads will be mine!"

With a submissive sigh he turned to face her. "What do you want?"

"Many things that you can't give me, Andrew," she snapped. "But at the moment I'll settle for your company. Stay put."

Again the lookout shouted, warning of the approaching ship.

"Troian, give me my glass!"

The fat man fumbled to remove a spyglass from his belt. Drawing it out to its full length, he handed it to the Captain.

Kylan glared into her scope with the ferocity of a starved tiger. "Those bastards have no respect for the laws of the sea!"

"What? What are they doing?" He asked. "Surely the Island Nations haven't followed us all the way up here."

"Apparently they have. It's very interesting that they're sailing south, though."

"Your current--"

"He hates the sea."

Percival raised a brow at the entire exchange, but said nothing.

Kylan smirked. "I know what those idiots want and I'm going to give it to them." She grabbed Percival's right hand. "I've heard that you are rather talented with a water rune."

"You took that from me when I was chained up," he replied, pulling his hand from her firm grasp.

"I know, but that doesn't matter. We're going test your skills in runic warfare. Come with me."

"Captain," Troian said. "You aren't going to fire on them, are you?"

"Why the hell not? They don't even practice common nautical courtesy. We're on starboard tack and they will not yield the right of way!"

"I don't know that warrants--"

"Shut up, Troian. I pay you for your voice and your seamanship, not for your opinions."

"Yes, Captain," he said, defeated.

The pirate captain grinned with a twisted haughtiness as she latched onto the knight's arm like a debutante at a ball. "Come along, Andrew. It's time to put you to good use."

Kylan led the two men down three staircases to a small room on the bottom deck, just about midship. Dark but dry, it smelled particularly odd to Percival, as if the air rarely changed. A strange old man stood in there as if he were guarding all the treasure under the sea. He gave a quick bow to Kylan, the few white wisps of hair on his head falling forward over his crooked nose.

Percival noted that as odd as the man looked, even more peculiar was the room itself. It spanned the width of the hull and despite how low they were to the water, it had windows that opened. They were small, square shaped panes of glass reinforced with iron and they dotted the two walls of the hull that brushed the sea. One was open, and a long, cylindrical device pointed out of it. There were a few more of the tubes placed around the room and a large stack of rock-like objects on the floor. For a ship as big as the Desdemona, it seemed like an unusual waste of space.

"Good to see you again, Nychold," Kylan said. "I need you to put a water rune on Andrew."

"Why?" Percival asked.

"Don't waste my time with questions. I know for a fact you are very talented with water runes and if I want one put on you, then you'll wear it."

Nychold retrieved a crystal from a small purse he kept tied to his waist. "Come on, boy," he said, his voice cracking like a rotten floorboard. "It won't hurt one bit."

Percival glared at Kylan. "Why not get one of your lackeys to do wear a rune?"

"What do you think you are?" She asked with a smirk that quickly faded. "Now don't make me remind you of my promise twice within the same hour."

With a sigh of resignation, Percival held his right hand out to Nychold. A moment later the old man's crystal broke over the knight's hand. Holding perfectly still as the rune settled itself under his skin, Percival closed his eyes for a moment as to not be blinded by the light the process produced.

When it was over, Kylan said. "Give me your hand, Andrew,"

"Now what?"

"Don't be difficult!"

"Captain," Troian said, looking through the glass. "It looks like they're in range."

Kylan grabbed Percival's hand. He struggled against her clutch, but she dug her nails into his wrist. She sneered at him. "If I have to jog your memory a third time I will set a course for Iksay immediately!"

He simply let his hand go limp in her grasp.

Still holding onto him, she said, "Now concentrate like you do when you use your rune in battle."

He closed his eyes and began to speak to the rune, asking it for assistance.

Before he was done with the incantation, Kylan slammed his palm onto the back of the cylindrical object. Percival grunted in agony as something ripped from his soul. His eyes opened in shock and his entire body trembled with a bizarre force he'd never felt. It was at least ten times worse than the exhaustion he normally experienced after using a rune, and it lingered, painfully. His rune hand still quavering as he fought to catch his breath, he watched in abject horror as a blue streak of light leaped to the other ship, snapping its mast like the neck of a mouse in a trap.