Tales from Niveen

Chapter 8 - Vanya

Verulian Sea

59th day of Banem, year 146, Era of Ke'larri

"Hogshit! I've got three fours, no way you've got two!" Jorin yells, slamming his fist on the table. The cups clatter at the impact and he gives a broad, toothy grin.

I flip my cards over to reveal a nine and a six and shake my head in mock defeat.

"Drink up, Commander! The pile is yours!" another sailor shouts.

The men all cheer in agreement and I give Amos a sideways glance. He looks amused and lifts his mug towards me with a raised eyebrow. I make a show of rolling my eyes and begin to chug. The rum is a delicate balance of sweet and spicy as it goes down, and warmth spreads through my stomach. Caramel-colored streams spill over the sides of the cup and run down my chin. As I continue to drink, the mug somehow feels fuller than before. I choke a bit while trying to wipe the droplets from my face and a small cough causes me to spit out the last bit before I slam the mug down. I snatch up the thick pile of cards from the center of the table as laughter roars around me.

I don't mind the teasing - it's nights like this that keep us all happy so far away from home. Across the deck, sailors laugh rowdily over games of cards and dice, cast in the dimly glowing lanterns. Someone begins a drunken rendition of "Sailor's Folly", and the tune catches on quickly, the crew assuming their various harmonies quite well despite their raspy, untrained voices.

"One five," Amos says cheekily, placing his last card in the middle of the table.

"Hogshit!" I shout, flipping the card immediately. It shows five small flowers.

"Accept your loss, Balador," he says. He laughs heartily as we all throw our cards to the center.

"This one time," I say, "Next time you won't be so lucky."

With that, I rise from the table.

"Let us relieve Eilen, shall we?" I say. He nods and follows suit.

Eilen, a young half-vioran with long gray braids and gray-brown skin, is barely awake by the time Amos takes the helm. She mumbles a thanks and shuffles slowly towards the stairs before disappearing below deck. My eyelids suddenly feel heavier at the mere sight of her and I try to keep my time with Amos short.

It would be considerably easier for us to take separate shifts, but the excitement of the trip has me buzzing, even through my exhaustion. I look out over the inky black waters around us. I know that the ocean sprawls out endlessly, but at a certain point, my eyes simply see the void of dark night. The constant churning of waves bobs the ship around, all of us keeping ourselves upright through a subtle dance of sea legs.

It's this darkness and the quiet shifting of waves, dotted with the sounds of distant laughter and shouts, that makes me think of my father. I imagine a night like this, he and Amos on their way to Eporo for the first time. Amos says father used to sing all night, even as his head hit the pillow. He sang and sang until his eyes closed and sleep came.

I look to Amos to find that he is already glancing at me. He gestures with his head and, as I follow, I spot Dorophon and two crown guards making their way toward us with purpose.

"Not again," I groan, "What can I have possibly done to deserve this?"

Amos grins a bit, but it quickly fades as Dorophon approaches.

"Commander Balador, I must object to the excessive gambling and drinking aboard your... vessel," he says, "How am I expected to sleep when your men are still creating such a ruckus?"