Authors: S.M Welles
* * *
Once Jessie and Mido finished cleaning up the galley, they headed out on deck for some fresh air and a stroll, since the cabins were full of ears. Sure Rammus or Scully would see them from the wheelhouse, and sometimes Ed and Ted joined their walks for the fun of it. The two were always enjoyable company, but tonight it was just the two of them. Shortly into their first lap, they spotted Dyne staring out over the stern, which he’d been doing a lot as of late. They usually left him be but tonight there was something about the way he braced his hands on the railing that gave Jessie pause. She led Mido over, then let go of his arm and stood beside Dyne, bracing her hands on the railing as well.
He glanced at her and smiled. “Back where we first met, but with our positions a bit reversed. Do you remember that day?”
“Somewhat,” she said. “I still cringe every time I remember oaring poor Scully in the head.”
He smirked. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“So why do you keep coming out here every night all of the sudden?”
“For thinking,” he said. “I’ve spent so many years being so focused on lifting my curse. Now that that’s done... I dunno. I’m so indebted to you. I’m not sure how to put it into words.”
“Then don’t try to. Just be happy.”
He nodded. “I can do that.” He looked back out over the darkened ocean.
“Well, I’ll leave you to just being happy.” Jessie turned to leave but a swish on the surface gave her pause. A stream of water rose up above the stern and spread into the shape of a woman with long, wavy hair. At first Jessie thought it was Amphitrite, but then she recognized who it was.
“Rhode,” Dyne breathed, his mouth ajar.
Rhode stood before them on the water, larger than life and emanating an otherworldly glow. “Sweet Dyne, I’m so pleased to see your curse lifted at last.”
“I never thought I’d get to see you again.”
“I heard your soul calling to the sea, so I answered.” Rhode glanced at Jessie, then spoke to Dyne. “Your soul is weary.” She held out a glowing hand. “Come. It’s time for you to rest a while, ye whose heart has been claimed by the sea.”
Dyne’s face softened into serene happiness. He took a glowing finger and kissed it lovingly, then turned to Jessie. “Thank you. For everything.”
A lump formed in Jessie’s throat and her eyes stung. She held her arms out and he pulled her into a gentle hug.
“Take good care of yourself. And keep up the good work guarding the crew and feeding them.”
“I will,” she said in a tight whisper.
He let go and turned to Mido. They clasped hands and wrapped each other in a one-armed hug. “Take good care of yourself and each other. And thank you for sticking by me all these years.”
“It was a pleasure, Captain--er, Dyne.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He stepped back. “Just keep up the great work. Make me proud.” He put a hand on the railing and watched them expectantly. Rhode stood near the railing, a hand on Dyne’s back. Both of them looked serene, so at peace.
Jessie’s throat tightened further as she realized what they were waiting for. She tried to say “let’s go, Mido” but the words wouldn’t come out. She clasped his hand and led him away, walking slowly and checking over her shoulder once. Dyne and Rhode patiently waited for them to depart.
She made herself go back to looking ahead, filled with a need to run back to Dyne and latch her arms around him. She didn’t want to let happen what she had a feeling was about to take place. It just couldn’t. Not so suddenly. Not to the man who’d given her the best gift in the world.
Once they reached the lockdown container, Jessie felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. She paused, putting a hand on Mido’s chest.
“What is it?”
Jessie whipped around. The stern was empty. Tears blurred her vision as she stared at where Dyne and Rhode had just been. She clung to Mido’s arm as her brain tried to register that Dyne was gone. And once it finally did, her knees gave out and she began crying. Mido sank to the deck with her, holding her tight and crying as well.
* * *
Jessie, Mido, and Rammus, who’d watched the whole thing from the wheelhouse, delivered the news of Dyne’s passing to everyone while gathered in the galley. Over the next few days, the entire crew mourned his passing before collecting themselves enough to hold a sailor’s funeral. They thought of holding it off until they returned to Newport or some other meaningful coast, but they all agreed it really didn’t matter where, since all the oceans were connected.
The first day after Dyne’s passing, O’Toole hid in the cargo hold, crying, then one day jumped off the bow. Jacobi dived after him, and the two were soon hoisted back aboard. Sam calmed the Irishman down enough to get him to stop trying to jump back overboard, but not enough to stop crying. Discussion on what to do with O’Toole cropped up, since his role was rather enigmatic. In the end, Sam decided he wanted to keep O’Toole around and continue to take care of him. He was like a son in a way, to him, one that never grew up. Plus it was because of Dyne that O’Toole ever set foot aboard the
Pertinacious
in the first place.
They had an honorary cheeseburger dinner in his name and swapped some of their favorite stories about him, and even talked about how Dyne had positively impacted each of their lives. The stories lifted everyone’s spirits, even Jessie’s. She was still sore about seeing Dyne and Rhode one minute, and then an empty stern the next. But she understood why he’d wanted to die in private. Souls had a tendency to cross when no one was looking.
Once talk had gone on long enough, they gathered on the starboard side of the stern. Sam handed out the percussion equipment, Jessie stood by the steel chest, sitting open and ready to accept their offerings. O’Toole hovered near her, quiet and subdued. Rammus stood on the other side of the chest, book of poems in hand and open to a choice page. Sam stood at the end of the line of drummers, a pair of bamboo sticks in hand.
Rammus took a deep breath. “This night is dedicated to Alan Lavere, better known as Dyne Lavere, and to all as Captain. Born July twelfth, 2135. Died many a time after. Finally found rest and peace on June sixth, 2413. He will be sorely missed.” The crew beat out a short rhythm and fell silent. Rammus took a carved object out of his jacket, then cleared his throat. The carving looked like a koi fish. “I’d liked to read ‘We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths’ by Phillip James Bailey.”
Jacobi tapped out four beats, and the drumming began. It rose and fell with each line, like last time, ebbing and flowing like waves on a beach.
“We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.”
Sam stepped away from the railing and deposited his offering in the chest: a bottle of whiskey. He handed O’Toole a leather-bound journal that’d been worn smooth with frequent handling. Sam whispered, “All good men have good mysteries about their lives. Drink loosened your tongue a few times, and I found your journals while cleaning out your drawers, Dyne. May whatever tales are in those pages rest in peace with your soul.” He walked back over and rejoined the drumming.
Rammus added his koi fish carving. “To one of the strongest men I ever knew.”
Sauna, Ed, and Ted threw in photos and two pairs of shorts with the parts that were supposed to cover the cheeks cut out. Ed said, “We’ll miss you, curse and all.”
“But especially grabbing your ass,” Ted added. “Your reactions were always priceless.”
Sauna said, “Thank you for being like a father to me, Captain.” The trio returned to the railing.
“And he whose heart beats quickest lives the longest:
Lives in one hour more than in years do some
Whose fat blood sleeps as it slips along their veins.”
Cancer added a bag of blood and a wedding band. “For saving you from a needless death, and for the rich life at sea you gave me, and for all I was able to give to my family.”
Jacobi added a folded up piece of paper and an empty gun holster. “A heartfelt apology for all the crap I made you put up with. You always treated me well and put me in my place when I needed it.”
Scully added ten arrows. “For all the enemy ships you had me sink with the Harpy. You taught me to step up to the plate and take on responsibilities I never thought I could handle.”
“Life's but a means unto an end; that end,
Beginning, mean, and end to all things—God.
The dead have all the glory of the world.”
Mido came over and added carefully-wrapped food, one item a cheeseburger and the the other a whole pie of broccoli and mushroom quiche. “It was a pleasure cooking for you. May you eat cheeseburgers to your heart’s content wherever you are now.” He returned to the railing.
The crew still drumming away, Jessie added the spare lockdown container keys and her studded sparring gloves. “For helping me become strong enough to help others, and for giving me the best gift in the whole world.” She glanced at a smiling Mido. “May you find peace and joy wherever you are now.” She closed and locked the chest. Sam detached a section of railing and set it aside, then joined Jessie and Rammus in sliding the chest to the gap. The three of them paused at the edge, waiting for the drumming to conclude. The boys finished with a flourish, and then the pushed the chest over the side.
Water in the shape of a giant hand and sleeved arm shot out of the water and caught the chest. The hand lifted it higher, over their heads, and more water rose and filled out the shape of a man wearing a trench coat. Dyne. He tucked the chest under a giant watery arm and looked at all of them in turn. He smiled and gave a
n informal salute, then poured back into the sea, taking the chest with him.
An excerpt from Strength by S.M Welles now available here:
Strength (Aigis Trilogy, Book 1)
Chapter 1
The Glass Bottle
That’s it. I can’t stand it any longer.
Roxie snuck up the basement stairs and crouched so she could peer through the gap between the door and wood flooring. The plan had been to wait until at least eleven, but she ran out of pen caps after chewing up a fifth one. She narrowed her eyes against the air flowing through the gap and searched for her grandmother, whom she hoped had gone to bed a little early. Roxie didn’t want to be told yet again, her grandmother’s eyes rolling skyward, “Rox, you’re not an alien.” She knew she wasn’t an alien, but from age six to somewhere around eight or nine, she had been thoroughly convinced she was one. Now seventeen, the “alien” idea had cropped back up as a half-serious, half-joking explanation for her latest odd behavior: a compulsion to travel a specific southeasterly route through her home city of Buffalo, New York.
The nightly news delivered its latest story and the living room was dimly lit, two signs to turn around, go back downstairs, and wait until later. But maybe the TV would mask the sound of an opening and closing door. Roxie shifted to one side of the gap and searched for a pair of slippers framed by the coffee table in front of the couch.
No slippers. No Grandma, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t in the bathroom, or had simply tucked her feet onto the couch.
Roxie raised herself to a kneeling position on the first carpeted step and touched the doorknob one finger at a time, trying hard to not let her anxious grip jiggle it. Old as her grandmother was, she had all her wits about her, eyes that noticed anything—so long as her glasses were on—and hearing that had only begun to fade now that she’d entered her seventies. A door cracking open, seemingly of its own accord, would garner as much attention as ringing a church bell.
For the last few weeks, Roxie had felt like she was standing at the beginning of a path she’d never taken, but had always wanted to know where it led. A gentle pull originating in her stomach urged her on her southeasterly route, as if a literal
gut instinct
was trying to guide her to someplace or someone important. Over the last few days the tug had gotten more insistent, so she tried walking around the neighborhood in hopes of discovering where this curious pull wanted her to go. She found herself taking the same turns, wandering a little farther, and a little farther each day, until she decided she’d travelled far enough from home. Stopping herself took some willpower. Turning back generated a cold panic in her chest. The only reason she never lost control was because she found her panic irrational. Yet each time she made it back home, she felt more restless, more out of place, and she didn’t understand why.
She needed to find the answer tonight.
Breath held, Roxie turned the doorknob and eased the door open. The couch lay empty. She exhaled and pushed the door farther open, then froze before she could let go of the knob. Staring back at her was Grandma, all the way from the kitchen table.
“What are you up to, Rox? Your eyes are glowing.” Grandma sounded like she wasn’t in the mood for nonsense.
The sudden surprise of getting caught was enough to cause Roxie’s eyes to glow; they glowed whenever she strongly felt sad, angry or frightened, an uncontrollable external indicator of how she felt on the inside. To her knowledge she was the only person on Earth with glowing eyes, which was why she’d never totally dismissed the possibility of being an alien. The problem with that theory was her parents, who were most certainly from Earth themselves, although they both died the day she was born. There were pictures of them all over the house, and she had spent hours with Grandma leafing through photo albums that showed her parents dating, getting married, Roxie’s mother’s belly getting bigger every month, and even copies of the ultrasounds.
Roxie glanced at the back door, which seemed to beckon to her with its dull brass knob.
“Just go back to your room and read one of your old alien books. It’s too late at night for this nonsense.”
Roxie meant to head back to her room, but instead rounded the couch and headed for the back door. “I’m sorry, I know this is a bad time for this, but I have to go. I feel like the answer is really close this time.” She reached for the door.
“And it can’t wait ‘til morning?”
Roxie thought for a moment. “Sorry. No.” Without realizing it, she’d already opened the inner door and had a hand on the screen door.
Grandma set her pencil down. She frowned and stared at Roxie over the rim of her glasses, her frown lined by wrinkles. “You thought the answer was close last night and the night before. Go back to your room.”
“I can’t!” Roxie blurted, then cringed. Defying her grandmother was something she lacked the gall to do. She respected her grandmother’s judgment, and right now understood that wandering around cities at night was stupid. But tonight Roxie felt like she had no option but to go out.
Grandma rose from her chair, put her fist on her hips, and scrutinized Roxie, who noticed her grip had grown slick on the door handle. She wiped her hand on her capris and braced herself for the incoming berating.
Grandma took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “You’re lucky your eyes glow, or else I’d never believe you.”
Roxie felt the warmth behind her retinas fade, meaning her eyes had stopped glowing.
“Be careful.”
Relief blossomed in Roxie’s chest, but was replaced by an urgency to get moving. “I will.” She slipped out the back door, which screeched in protest as it swung shut, and Roxie headed into the forest, her eyes aglow once again. No wind rustled the leaves, and the crickets and tree frogs hushed themselves as she traversed their part of the forest. Roxie shot her glowing-eyed gaze in the direction of any minute rustling and twig scraping nearby but, to her relief, no raccoons, foxes or opossums decided to give her a heart attack.
Roxie reached the other side of the woods and entered a run-down section of Buffalo, a part she knew well enough from all her recent trips into the city. She wasn’t a big fan of cities, even though she’d been through those particular streets a zillion times without incident.
The pull guided her past the soup kitchen and its flock of homeless people, a collection of ragged dogs waiting for their next meal.
Minutes later, Roxie found an intersection connected to an alley without working lights. She couldn’t recall walking past a lightless street on previous wanderings. Common sense told her to go find another way, but the pull in her mind implored her in that dark direction.
Okay,
now
my brain decides to lead me a different way!
The pull had normally guided her to take a turn a couple of blocks ago, but not tonight.
Roxie made it to the middle of the intersection, half in darkness and half in light, when she saw the silhouette of a tall, muscular person that seemed to be looking straight at her. Was that a knife in his hand? The sight of blood all over a sidewalk flashed in her mind. She backed away, then started running.
Roxie just made it onto the sidewalk when someone grabbed her arm and forced her to turn around. She felt the delicate touch of something sharp press against her throat. Before she could contemplate her own mortality, or even how her attacker had managed to sprint across the intersection so fast, she almost went deaf. A thunderous bang from overhead echoed through the entire block, and a wave of wind swept out in all directions from where they stood. Streetlights flickered, then everything returned to normal.
What the heck was that?
She’d reached to cover her ears but dropped her hands. “Please!” she begged. “Don’t kill me!” She felt lightheaded and started to slump in a faint, but her captor’s strong grip caught her arm. She heard a shuffling sound from behind, and feared an accomplice joining in on the catch.
Without letting go, her captor pulled her behind him and brandished his weapon in the direction of the shuffling. Roxie peered around his shoulder, level with her nose, and saw an aged man fidgeting under a tattered blanket. The hobo regarded both of them with a fearful expression. He raised his blanket to his chin and scrunched lower against the brick building. Roxie regarded her captor with equal fear, who then turned his head to check the intersection behind them. She noticed his eyes. They were glowing red.
His eyes glow too!
She stared at them, unable to believe what she was seeing.
The big man released Roxie’s arm. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said in a voice that for some reason made Roxie feel safer. He secured his dagger in its sheath. “Is your arm all r—?” After taking a step back, he stood very still with his arms at his sides, and mouth barely open. He openly studied Roxie’s face.
Roxie gazed at the man’s face and watched his eyes lose their glow, just like she’d seen her own do countless times in the mirror. The first time she had seen her eyes glow was at age five, during a frightening thunderstorm. Her shocked grandmother had carted her to the bathroom to show Roxie her eyes. Young Roxie had blamed the glowing on the storm, despite what Grandma had said. Later on she learned the glow was linked to her emotions.
“Yeah, my eyes glow, too,” Roxie said. “Yours weren’t a trick of the street light or something, were they?” She sorely hoped not.
“No, mine work just like yours. Is your arm alright?”
Just like yours.
This time Roxie’s mouth fell ajar. “No way!” She looked into the man’s deep blue eyes. “All this time... I’ve never seen... Man, I wish you could show me again. You don’t have any control over it either, do you?”
He shook his head. “It’s caused me problems sometimes,” he said with a rueful grin.
“Boy do I know that feeling.” Roxie had resorted to home schooling through eighth grade in order to spare herself, her peers and teachers, and Grandma a lot of awkward grief. She studied the stranger with the aid of a dim streetlight. The man was a half a head taller than she, bore a clean-shaven face and scalp, and had broad shoulders and lots of muscle. He wore a T-shirt, cargo pants and combat boots, all black, and he had a backpack and canteen slung over one shoulder. His belongings, along with the small sheath strapped to one arm, gave her the distinct impression that he wasn’t from her part of the world. But that didn’t matter. They were two of the same… something. “Are we aliens?”
“Pardon?”
“Aliens. You know: people from another planet.” As soon as Roxie said it, she realized how absurd she sounded. She felt her cheeks flush.
The man let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “No. We’re Aigis.”
“But you’re an alien, right?”
“No; just an Aigis.”
“Are you from Earth?”
“No.”
“Then that makes you an alien. What planet are you from? And why do you speak just like I do?”
The man laughed again. “I’ve learned how to quickly adapt to contemporary dialects. What’s your name?” Then, eyes widening as if he’d just remembered something, he took off his pack and laid it on the ground. He unzipped the side and started rummaging around.
“Rox, sir,” she replied. “And yours?”
“Aerigo.”
Interesting name.
“What’s ‘Aigis’ mean?”
“Shield of the gods.”
Roxie stood dumbfounded, unsure how to interpret that information. “What’s that mean?”
“A lot of things. I’ve been looking for you for the past two weeks. I need your help.”
“Why?”
“I was instructed to find you and train you.”
“Really? By whom?”
“Someone named Baku. He’s our ally.”
“Bah-coo?”
“Correct.” Aerigo stood and turned to face Roxie, a glass bottle in his hand.
Eyeing the bottle, Roxie began to ask about what she needed to train for, but she cut herself off and instead said, “Wait! Two weeks?” That’s how long the pull in her mind had been bothering her. How much of a coincidence could it be if Aerigo had been looking for her just as long?
“Yes.”
“From which direction?” This was one of those dumb questions, but Roxie just had to know.