The Gift of Battle (24 page)

Reece sat on the
deck of the ship, back against the rail, and holding Stara in his arms, as he
had been all night, still feeling as if he were in a surreal state. So much had
happened to him in the last twenty-four hours, he could barely process it.

He looked up,
bleary-eyed, at the rising sun, having been awake all night with dreams of
Selese reaching out to him from the water, melding with dreams of Stara. He
looked down now in the first light, feeling someone in his arms, and was still
amazed to see it was Stara and not Selese. Selese had truly left him.

And just as
shocking, Stara had truly appeared.

Their ship
sailed along at a steady clip, its sails full as they caught the morning wind,
bobbing up and down on the huge rolling waves of the open ocean, and as Reece
smelled the ocean air, he marveled at how mysterious life was. His mind spun
with the events of the last day. On the one hand, Reece knew, from the day
Selese had emerged from the Land of the Dead, that her time with him was
limited. She had always had an ethereal quality, and in the back of his mind he
knew that she would leave him one day. Yet he had allowed himself to slip into
denial, and had somehow believed that he could hold onto her forever. His time
with her was too short; he had not seen the ending coming so soon. It left him
with a feeling of sadness in his stomach.

It had all left
him even more confused when he had seen Stara appear. It was as if Selese had
sacrificed herself for Stara, as if each had taken some time from the other, in
some karmic cycle of destiny. It was an act of selflessness on Selese’s part,
Reece knew, the final act of selflessness from a girl who had loved him
entirely from the day they’d met. Selese had known she could not be with him
forever—so before she’d left this world, she had found him someone who could.

Stara,
unconscious when he found her, still lay unconscious in his arms, as she had
all night long. He wondered if she’d ever wake. It felt good to hold her again,
to keep her warm, to keep her alive. He held her limp body tight, a part of him
imagining it was still Selese. And yet he knew that this was what Selese
wanted: to love Stara now was to love Selese.

Holding Stara,
Reece slowly began to realize how much he had missed her, too, all this time.
Was it wrong to love two people at once? He wished it were otherwise, but he
had to admit he did. And now that Selese was gone, all Reece had left was
Stara, and he was determined to keep her alive, whatever the cost. And to learn
to love her once again. As much as he ached for Selese, Reece knew, after all,
that this was what she wanted.

Reece leaned
down and kissed Stara’s forehead, holding her, silently willing for her to come
back to him. He could not believe she had come for him, had crossed the world
for him, alone; he could not fathom the dangers she had faced, the sacrifices
she had made. He was beyond touched. He saw how much she loved him, how she
would literally cross the world for him.

“I love you,
Stara,” he whispered to her. “Come back to me, please.”

It was a
sentiment he had repeated often throughout the night, staring back at her eyes,
beautiful even while closed, and wondering, hoping.

But now, as he
stared in the early morning light, Reece for the first time thought he saw them
flutter. And as he sat there and watched, he was shocked to see her slowly open
her eyes.

Stara’s watery,
light-blue eyes stared up at him, shining, so filled with life, with love—and
as they did, he remembered how much he loved her. They were as beautiful, as
mesmerizing, as he remembered, those eyes that had haunted his dreams ever
since they were children—and he fell in love with her all over again.

Reece, his own
eyes tearing up, felt reborn again, and couldn’t believe how elated he was to
see her alive, back in his arms.

“Reece?” she
asked softly, her voice hoarse. “Did I make it?”

Reece smiled
with joy and a tear fell from his eye as he leaned down and kissed her on the
lips.

She lifted her
head and kissed him back, and he could feel her love for him.

“You did, my
love,” he said.

She reached out
and clasped his hand, and he held hers.

“Did you cross
the sea alone?” he asked in wonder.

She smiled and
nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I did,” she
replied. “I searched the world for you. I prayed to God that if I did not, then
to let the waters take me.”

Reece pushed
back his tears, overwhelmed by her words, that she would love him that much. He
felt once again the connection that they’d had since they were children. It had
never completely left. And though so much time had passed, it was as if it were
yesterday.

As Reece looked
into her eyes, it was the strangest thing—he watched something shift within
them, and for a fleeting moment, it was as if Selese’s spirit lay within her,
as though Selese looked through Stara’s eyes too. He felt Selese’s spirit
strongly, living through Stara, and no longer did he feel the conflict. He felt
to love Stara would be to love Selese, too.

“I love you,
Reece,” she said, sitting up, looking into his eyes and holding his cheek. “And
I always will.”

They kissed, her
warmth returning, and for the first time since Selese’s death, Reece’s heart
was restored again.

As they sailed
for the Ring, ever closer, he knew a great war lay ahead of them, perhaps the
greatest battle in his life. He hoped and prayed they could rebuild the Ring,
that he could start life over again in his homeland, with Stara by his side.
That they could one day have a family of their own.

But whether they
lived or died, for now, at least, being together with Stara once again, he had
truly lived.

Erec stood at
the stern of his ship, Alistair by his side and Strom nearby, looking out as
the two suns began to fall on the open sea, and feeling alive with a greater
sense of purpose than he could remember. Not since his days in the Silver, in
the court of King MacGil, had he felt this way. He didn’t realize how much of a
sense of loss he had been feeling ever since he left his home, left the Ring,
left the company of his brothers, the Silver, left King’s Court and King
MacGil. Since then, he realized, a piece of his heart, of his soul, had always
been missing.

But now he had a
chance to have it all back again, to restore the life he once knew and loved.
Now, finally, he could see a future for himself, a place in the world that felt
like home. His future was not in the Southern Isles; he realized that now. That
may have been where he was born, where his people were—but that was not
home
.
Home, he realized now, was where he had been raised; where he had learned to
fight, where he had met his brothers and fought side by side with them; where
he had met and fallen in love with Alistair. Home was the land which he had
risked his life defending. It was his adopted land, perhaps—but it was
home
.

The thought of
returning there now, of having a chance to take it back, made him feel alive
again like nothing else had. Erec would risk it all just for a chance to return
to the Ring again.

The Southern
Isles, Erec felt, was no place for his people now. The Ring needed to be
rebuilt and the Ring needed men and women to populate it. It needed warriors.
And he could think of no finer warriors than his people of the Southern Isles.
The time had come, he knew, as King of the Southern Isles, to merge their
peoples. The Ring, anyway, would need them to take it back. They could help
fight for their new home. They had no option to remain isolationists now,
anyway; if the Ring was lost, they would all be lost. If the Empire defeated
the Ring, they would turn, with all their might, to the Southern Isles next,
the last bastion of freedom in the world. To lose the Ring would be to lose it
all.

Which was why he
would sail there first, rally his people, and convince them to sail to the Ring
with him, to join the battle with him and his people and help reinforce
Gwendolyn. It was why he had split off from Gwendolyn’s fleet—so that he could
return with an even greater army.

“Are we not
sailing north?” Strom asked, coming up alongside him.

Erec turned to
see Strom standing beside him, Alistair on his other side, very much pregnant,
and he could see the look of confusion in Strom’s face.

“But we must
sail south to reach the Southern Isles by morning,” Strom added.

Erec nodded.

“I know, my
brother. But we are not turning to the Southern Isles just yet.”

Strom blinked,
confused, and Erec looked out at to the waters ahead. In the distance, he saw
the Dragon’s Spine. It brought back memories he’d rather forget.

“Then where do
we sail?” Strom asked.

Erec gestured to
the horizon.

“An injustice
was performed here that must be rectified,” Erec said.

Erec gestured to
a remote outcropping of rocks on the horizon, shooting out from the ocean, with
dozens of ships anchored in its harbor. He could slowly see the look of
recognition in his brother’s face.

Krov’s isle.

“Those ships
once had to cower in the cover of darkness,” Erec said. “Now Krov anchors them
openly, with impunity, with no fear from anyone. That is because of the deal he
struck with the Empire.”

Erec raised a
looking glass to his eye and could see the ships, even from here, overflowing
with treasure. He handed the glass to Alistair, who looked, then handed it to
Strom, who peered through and whistled.

“Krov’s reward,”
Erec said, “for selling us out. Not only does he have Empire protection, but he
now has more riches than he could ever dream.”

Strom looked
through the glass, his mouth open in shock.

“And to think we
trusted him,” Strom said.

Erec sighed.

“All wrongs come
back to you, eventually,” he said. “The time has come for him to pay for his
betrayal. I never forget a friend—and I never forget an enemy.”

Strom’s look
changed to one of admiration, and slowly his smile broadened. He stepped up and
clasped Erec on the shoulder.

“I’m beginning
to remember why I like you, brother.”

Erec turned to
Alistair, whom he now consulted on all things.

“I know it takes
us out of our way,” he said, “and I know our time is short. But I feel
strongly,” he said.

He expected her
to try to dissuade him, to talk him into abandoning the idea, to going straight
to the Southern Isles, then to the Ring, to leave vengeance alone.

But instead, she
turned to him with a look of determination, a look of agreement that surprised
him.

“We live in an
unjust world, my lord,” she said. “And every wrong you set right, every small
piece of justice, can help set the world right.”

“Then you
agree?” he asked, surprised.

She nodded.

“You would be
wrong to turn away.”

He looked at
her, loving her more in that moment than he ever had, and he knew he had
married the right woman. A warrior, like he.

Erec nodded,
satisfied.

“We shall wait
for the cover of darkness,” he said. “Tonight, we attack.”

*

Erec sailed in
the dark ocean, lit only by the full moon, leading his fleet in stealth as they
cut silently through the water. His entire fleet disciplined, silent as he’d
commanded, the only sound that hung in the air was that of the lapping waves
against his boat, the wind at night, the occasional cry of a gull. And, of
course, of the waves crashing against the sharp rocks of Krov’s isle, looming
closer and closer as Erec approached it.

As Erec
approached Krov’s fleet, anchored in the harbor, his heart beat quicker and he
had the familiar feeling he had before entering battle. His senses were
heightened; he grew more focused, more intense. He blocked out all else but the
strategy before him.

As Erec neared Krov’s
half-dozen ships, bobbing unsuspectingly, he got a good glimpse: sailors
lounged on deck, asleep, drunk, feet up, as undisciplined as their commander.
Sailors sat slumped against the deck, empty sacks of wine in their hands, not
suspecting anything. The decks themselves were filled to overflowing with loot
and ransom, and no one bothered standing guard. They had no reason to; they had
the protection of the Empire now.

Erec burned with
indignation. These men had sold him and his people into captivity, had left
them all for dead—and all for a few piles of gold.

Erec directed
his ships right alongside Krov’s, his heart pounding as he stayed silent,
hoping they weren’t discovered. Each gust of wind brought them closer, and as
they neared, he could feel his men, feel his brother Strom beside him, getting
antsy.

“Not yet,” Erec
whispered.

His men obeyed,
waiting, getting so close they could see the whites of the sailors’ eyes, the
tension so thick one could cut it with a knife.

They sailed
closer and closer still, until they were but feet away, all awaiting Erec’s
command.

“Now!” Erec
called out in a harsh whisper.

Erec’s men threw
their ropes, hooks at the end, quickly and expertly over the rails of the other
ships, and as their hooks latched onto the rails of the other ships, they all
yanked, pulling their ships next to each other. When they were close enough,
Erec led the way, leaping over the railing and onto Krov’s ship.

As they ran
through the deck, slowly, Krov’s men roused, seeing the invaders, but Erec did
not give them time to react. The moment they did, he raced for them and bashed
them with the hilt of his dagger, smashing them on the skull and knocking them
out. He did not want them to tip them off to his presence—and he did not want
them dead, either, even if these traitors were deserving of death. His men did
the same, as Erec had instructed, knocking out men left and right.

Erec’s men, led
by Strom, fanned throughout the other ships in the fleet, striking other men,
knocking them out quickly and silently, overwhelming the ships before they knew
what had hit them.

Erec had chosen
the ship which he knew to be Krov’s, and sure enough, he found him where he
knew he would—sleeping by the bow next to an empty cask of wine, two naked
women lying asleep in his arms.

With all Krov’s
sailors contained, Erec walked slowly, confidently, right for Krov, his boots
echoing across the deck, until he stood over him.

Erec drew his sword
and lowered it until the tip was touching the base of his throat. He stood
there, waiting, smiling down with great satisfaction, as Krov suddenly opened
his eyes, feeling the tip of the metal at his throat—and looked up at Erec in
panic.

Erec smiled down
with great satisfaction, finally feeling vindicated.

“We meet again,
old friend,” Erec said.

Krov tried to
sit up, to reach for his sword, but Erec pushed the blade harder and stepped on
his wrist, and Krov lay back down. He raised his hands, trembling, while the
two women woke, cried out, and ran off.

“How did you get
free?” Krov asked. “I was certain you were dead.”

Erec smiled
wider.

“That has always
been your downfall,” Erec replied. “You’re too certain of everything. The
valiant do not die, my friend. Only traitors do.”

Krov gulped,
terror in his face. He licked his lips.

“Don’t kill me!”
he called out, his voice shaking. “I’ll give you everything I have!”

Erec grinned.

“Will you?” he
replied. “We’ve already taken all of your gold, your weapons, all that is
yours. What is there left for you to give?”

Krov gulped, at
a loss for words.

“As far as
killing you,” Erec continued, “I believe that would be too civil. I have quite
something else in mind. On your feet, old friend.”

Krov rose to his
feet, self-conscious, wearing only shorts, shivering in the cold, his fat,
hairy belly exposed.

“Please!” Krov
whined, whimpering, looking pathetic in the moonlight.

“You are
spared,” Erec said. “You can return to your home. You and all your men. We’ll
be taking your ships, though. Now go!”

Erec prodded him
with the sword, and Krov, up against the rail, looked out at the sea, shocked.

“You want me to
swim?” Krov asked, terrified.

He turned and
looked out at his isle, hundreds of yards away, the ocean black and cold.

“I have no
clothes,” Krov said. “Those waters are freezing. I would freeze to death. So
will my men. And there are sharks! We won’t make it back.”

Erec grinned.

“I’d say you’re
right,” Erec said. “The chances of your making it are remote. Practically none.
Just about the same chances you gave us when you sold us out. Now go!”

Erec stepped
forward and kicked Krov as he turned, and Krov went flying over the side of
ship, shrieking, splashing into the icy water, wearing just shorts and boots.
All up and down his ship, Erec’s men shoved Krov’s men overboard, stripping
them of their arms first, and their splashes filled the sea all around them.

Erec watched
with great satisfaction as Krov and his men started to swim clumsily, heading
back toward their isle, already shivering, barely able to catch their breath in
the huge rolling waves. Justice had been served.

Erec turned and
surveyed with pride all the new ships he had taken captive, all the loot, the
gold, the weapons, the armor…. He knew it would serve the Ring, their new army,
their new homeland, well. Very well indeed.

It was time now
to retrieve his men, to turn to the Ring, and to prepare for the greatest
battle of his life.