The Princess and the Blade

[Emora Deen]

Elias scrambled out of the way until he was pressed into the same corner as Tenara, staring at the book. “What the…”

“Get off me!” Tenara barked, shoving him off her shoulder.

“What is that!”

“A ghost. The boats haunted. Better take your chances on land,” she said, standing. She swayed on her legs, cursing them. She was so unbelievably frustrated with herself and the ghost and the stranger. She didn’t know which of them would hurt her first, and doubted either one of them was telling her the truth. She was trapped on a tiny boat with a fierce being conjured by a black mage and an Arken bastard. Her hopes for survival or making it home were dwindling by the second, and she was almost too tired to care.

“You know what? No. You said you knew how to sail? Sail. Go. Be useful.”

“My, someone’s adept at giving orders,” Elias muttered, still staring at the book warily. She was much too casual around it for him to truly fear it.

The icy wind blew over her drenched form and she shivered against the cold. She took the book from Havitharon and disappeared below deck, weaving through the cabin to the back room and hopefully some dry clothes.

She tossed the book and the sword on the bed, hoping Havitharon might have followed it down with her. Better to be with the enemy she knew—what little she knew of him.

“Fucking cold. Fucking Arken. Fucking… fuck!” She jerked the closet open and rummaged through the sorcerer’s clothes, shivering violently as she did. “What’s an Yru… Yurivis?” Her voice was a trembling whisper.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon stalked after the woman, keeping one eye on the man behind them until the stairs put him out of view. He was on high alert with the strange male on board. It had been a long time since he'd been in another male's presence without trying to kill him. In this case, he didn't seem to have the means to try, even if he wanted to. He was about to make a point to Tenara that he was NOT a ghost, when she suddenly asked him what a Yurivis was.

Was she deliberately humiliating him? She seemed too upset at the moment to be kidding. "You are a Yurivis," he growled. "A female who uses her power to control-" He broke off. Finishing the thought made his stomach twist. He wouldn't accept that. Not yet. "If your ignorance is a joke, it's not a funny one. Instead of pissing me off, you should be getting that man off your ship. Or do you intend to claim us both?"

[Emora Deen]

Tenara stopped digging through the closet, turning on him. “Claim you?” Now, she knew she was truly without her magic because if she was this angry without her tether the ship should have combust. “I don’t want you! Or him!!”

“That’s hurtful!” Elias said above them, his voice muffled by the wood. She heard the sound of the sail going up.

Tenara glared at the ceiling above them, suddenly aware of how thin the walls were. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she snatched a tunic from a hanger. “What would I want to claim you for anyway?” she hissed. “And turn around.”

[Soran Nightblade]

"Afraid to change in front of a ghost?" he sneered. "I'm not a fool. You may not have chosen me, but there's only one way a Yurivis can accumulate that much power."

[Emora Deen]

Tenara stared at him, biting the inside of her cheek. She snatched the belt off and shucked the sopping wet robe from her shoulders. It splattered against the wood cabin floor at her feet.

She stood before him a moment, eyes locked defiantly on the apparition of an alien being—albeit a very lovely one—before the cold sent a shiver through her and she dragged the tunic over her head, turning to hunt for some trousers.

“You are a long way from a Yurivis, Thvoros. No need to fear being claimed here. Apparently, I’m the only one who can see and hear you, and I’m not interested.”

[Soran Nightblade]

He paused at that, offering no quick reply this time. What if she was telling the truth? He studied her silently. The sight of a woman stripping before him inspired less animosity in him than usual. After all, it seemed true that she couldn't touch him. Still, he didn't feel at ease turning his back to her.

Her words stuck with him. No need to fear being claimed here. What if it was true? A tiny thread of relief began to unravel from the knotted rope that made up his insides. He thought about weaving it back in, but what harm could it really do to entertain one bit of comfort amidst this mess.

"If you want that man off board, command him. You owe him no debt. I can teach you to sail... if you're well enough to stand."

[Emora Deen]

Tenara dragged the sorcerer’s oversized trousers onto her legs, stumbling and falling onto the bed. She finished pulling them over her hips and laid on the bed, listening to Elias stomp back and forth across the deck, the jingle of metal, and the straining sound of rope being pulled taunt. It did seem like he knew what he was doing, but she didn’t trust him and Thvoros was right… she didn’t owe him a debt. He didn’t technically save her from drowning, as he claimed.

But what if he didn’t want off? What if he attempted to take the boat from her if she tried to make him leave? She glanced at the sword.

“We can give him a ride to the next port and be rid of him. We’ll need a larger ship to get back to Hajara…” she said the last bit as a whisper because she did not want the stranger to hear. “I can’t just command him. He’s not a dog or whatever the opposite of a Yurivis is. It may be easier for you to understand this world if you imagine it as the polar opposite of yours. It is safer for me if I just let him have his ride and part ways.”

She eyed the sword again. Unless she killed him and dumped his body. But cold blooded murder was not in her nature.

[Soran Nightblade]

He sat back against the table and watched her quietly. She seemed beyond tired, even after sleeping through the night. It didn't seem like a good sign. Was she getting worse? He couldn't imagine how out of it someone would have to be to just let a stranger ride along with them. But then, she'd seemed pretty casual about his own appearance too. "I can't tell if you're levelheaded or clueless," he pondered aloud. "How far is this place from the next port? You say you need a larger ship... is 'Hajara' far?"

[Emora Deen]

Tenara sat up on her elbows, looking at him. She slipped out of bed, getting closer so she didn't have to raise her voice above a whisper. She pressed her hands against the wood either side of his hips and leaned into his space. What did she have to fear from a ghost... "Levelheaded or clueless?" she asked, angry. "I'm terrified. I was kidnapped from my home. I've been gone Gods only know how long, and nearly killed to bring you into this world. For what terrible purpose, I don't know. What would he want with you? Hmm? What dark deeds does the son of the Witch Queen want with you? And now, the only thing that would save me from you or him or anyone else is gone..." She flashed her gaze at him and then the ceiling above them. She didn't know how to tell Thvoros her magic was gone, either permanently or temporarily, without admitting she didn't have any control over it to begin with. "I don't know where we are or how far away from my home it is. I only know that it is farther than I like, and if we are where I think we are.. we're in an evil place and he," she glanced up at the deck above. "is an evil man."

"Lots of whispering down there," Elias said. "Your ghost is very talkative, but odd I cannot hear him. Perhaps you're just mad? Did you bump your head... Well, no, that doesn't explain the flying book..."

He didn't seem evil, Tenara thought, but if he was Arken it was in his blood... somewhere.

"I will play nice. I will be accomadating. I will get home, no matter what," she said to him. "But do not mistake my tolerance for weakness or niavity."

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon sat perfectly still, watching her like a predator wishing for an opening. This new physically aggressive behavior from the woman was more familiar for him. It allowed him to latch back onto his senses. They were not a team. This was a truce, not an alliance. And, it clarified something else. This woman had the cunning and foresight to bide her time, to wear whatever face her opponents needed to see, and would do what was necessary to preserve herself. She was not clueless. In their current situation, he supposed he should count that a relief.

"Keep the sword with you," he advised, his voice closer to a growl. He rose, passing through the arms that had fenced him in. "I'll watch your evil man." He climbed back to the deck and walked straight to the newcomer to see what he was doing with the lines.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara watched him go, sinking to sit on the table. She felt her heart thudding in her chest. Her hands trembled. She was fucked. She was so incredibly doomed. Between him and the other—very much able to touch her—man, she was in so much trouble.

Her gaze drifted from the stairs to the bed and the sword draped across it. She glanced to her palm and the shimmering white scars it had left behind. She didn't heal like that. She healed fast, but not that fast... Was she changed? Weak but... immortal? Maybe that would save her from this mess.

She stood, going to a drawer and rummaging until she found a paring knife. She lifted it to her hand, hesitating. She would need her hands if it didn't heal... So she rolled the sleeve of the sorcerer's tunic up and dragged the knife over her forearm until it drew a small red line. She hissed at the feel of it, and held the knife away, watching. Waiting.

But the wound didn't heal like it had when she cut herself with the sword. Which meant... Well, she didn't know what that meant. But it couldn't be anything good.

On the main deck, Elias was a diligent and very seasoned sailor. He moved across the deck with ease, with a bit too much ease, as if he knew the boat like the back of his hand. When he'd finished setting the rigging and adjusting course so the boat angled away from the shore and began to move further out into the water, he sat down near the mast and watched the shore fade away. He fiddled idly with the rings on his hand, a ring on every finger of his right, twisting and tapping them thoughtfully.

"Coming up to help?" he called. "I mean, no need to now. We're all good. Heading away from shore. Looks like a storm might blow in, though. We might have to anchor before nightfall."

[Soran Nightblade]

For the first several hours, Havitharon followed close on the man's trail across the deck. He scrutinized every knot, ever adjustment of the tiller. Honestly, it was a bit impressive he could manage a ship of this size with no crew. He couldn't see any sign of sabotage or incompetence in Elias's actions. He finally ended up sitting against the mast, studying the book again for some kind of explanation of how to return to his body.

Over the course of the day, just as Elias had said, dark clouds began building like cannonballs overhead. He raised his gaze from his book as the man started moving again. Havitharon rose to follow him. Then he noticed something strange. As Elias locked the tiller to move toward the bow, the lock refused to set. Elias gave the side of the box a rhythmic tap-tap, and the device set properly. The action looked familiar, as if he'd had this particular tiller jam on him before. Interesting. "Oi, Tenara," he called over his shoulder to the woman resting just below deck. "Where'd your evil man say he came from before he showed up at this boat?"

[Emora Deen]

Tenara dragged herself up off the bed, looking at the stairs. She didn't like the question. It sent an uneasy heaviness in her belly. She stood, drawing the sword with her. He'd said to keep it close. Thunder rumbled overhead loud enough to send her jumping out of her skin. This day could not get any worst.

"Sorry," she said, as she came up the stairs. "I... had a rough night. I needed to lie down. Though, I suppose yours was a bit worst. Robbed?"

Elias nodded, standing with his hands in his pockets, looking up at the sky. The first splashes of rain pelted the wood and Tenara slipped back down into the cabin. She had no desire to get wet for the third time in twenty-four hours.

"I think we better stop for the night..." Elias said.

"Need any help?" she asked.

"No," Elias said. "I've managed this much... I am thirsty, though."

Tenara sighed. "You don't look too banged up for someone who got robbed," she called, peeking around the boat for something to drink. The water canteens were empty, which left a crate of whiskey.

"I've learned you get beat up less if you just do what your told," he said, his voice slightly drowned by the sound of the sails coming down. "What made your day so awful? Other than stealing a boat off some poor soul."

"Technically, you're an accomplice to theft," she called, digging out two glasses. She set them on the table and went to the magic stove, loading it with wood to burn to knock the chill out of the air. There was a clanking on the front of the ship, and then a wet thunk as the anchor fell into the sea.

[Soran Nightblade]

"You should ask him where he stores the water on this thing," Havitharon scoffed, sitting back by the door and crossing his arms.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara stiffened. Where he stores the water??

"No," she told Thvoros.

"I'm sorry?" Elias called. He appeared at the steps, his boots clonking down into the cabin. He looked around, gaze passing over the place curiously. Briefly, his gaze fell on the floating book near the stares. "Well, this is a mess."

"I can't find any water," she said, nodding to the crate of whiskey as she stoked the fire. "Take a look for yourself."

He didn't. He stood in front of the table, his back to Havitharon, and poured them both a glass while she fought the latch on the stove to get it closed. When she was done, she laid the sword on the bench and sat at the table. Elias took the seat across from her.

The ship rocked as the storm waves smacked against the wood sides. Tenara spared a glance at the wood stove and the fire swaying back and forth within, warming the room and threatening to burn it down all at once. Elias did not seem concerned. He poured her another glass of whiskey, holding onto it until her fingers could curl around it so it didn't slip from the table.

"Who did you steal the boat from," he asked, chuckling as he nodded to the rations tucked into the corners at either side of the stairwell leading up onto the deck above them. Some bread and jerky, a little bit of molding cheese, but mostly crates of liquor. She was so thirsty she drank the whiskey as if it were from a spring tap. "Those aren't your clothes either. They're a man's clothes, four sizes too large."

"What if I said I stole it from a really shitty sorcerer?" she asked, sliding the glass back to him for a refill. The whiskey burned in her barren belly. She should stop after this one. Best not to be drunk around him. She needed her wits, such as they were.

"It makes no difference to me," he said. "I'm not the royal guard."

"That's right," she said. "You're the royal cartographer."

He smiled. He had eyes so brown they were almost black, a warm void to fall into. "You know, this boat does look familiar. I think I've seen it moored at a private marina in Arroes. But who was it that owned it..." He tapped his chin. He wasn't even trying to play coy, he was purposefully toying with her.

"Speak plainly." 

His smile broadened into a wicked grin. He poured her next drink, slow and precise as he watched her. "Tenara," he said. "I think we can be honest with each other now, don't you?"

She stiffened, moving to draw away but his fingers curled over her hand as it held the glass. She hadn't told him her name... Her heart skipped a beat and the fear was evident in her widening eyes. 

"I'll be honest with you, if you are honest with me in turn."

Tenara glanced at Havitharon. 

"Tell your ghost to keep his seat," he snarled and released her hand. "Tell him."

Tenara swallowed. "Everything's alright," she said to Havitharon, meeting his black and gold eyes. "He says to... keep your seat."

"And don't think about reaching for the sword. Hands on the table." She stopped her hands' retreat towards the seat.