Moonlight Waves

Surrender

"Wait!" Captain Nico hollers, finally jumping up and accepting Captain Dax has the upper hand.
Why would Captain Dax pull this card now? Weren't we winning? The battle was almost over wasn't it, I thought we were gaining the upper hand. But then again I've only been focused on the few in front of me and how many pirates we've taken out. Not how many of us they've taken out.
I look around to see just how many have fallen during the battle. There are many who are groaning and moaning as they clutch bloody injuries, but there is double that amount of dead—soaking in a pool of their own blood. There are some who are pirates I don't recognize but there are too many who I recognize as my friends, my comrades.
Closest to me is Weldon with an axe buried in his chest, his hands helplessly clutched around the injury in a hopeless last attempt to suppress the irreversible wound. I don't even need to check his pulse to know it's too late, I can tell by the distant look in his eyes, no traces of pain on his face only a relaxed look of nothingness covering his features.
There was no one to hold his hand as he passed from this life to the next, no one to hear his last words or give him comfort. No one had stopped to notice how he fought bravely till the end or even know at what time he succumbed to death. I don't even know what pirate had thrown the axe so that I might avenge Weldon.
I kneel down next to his body and pull the axe from his torso, a few pirates turning their gaze from Captain Nico crossing the gap over to the Moonlighter, to watch me brush the cork-screw curls of Weldon's hair off his forehead and close his lifeless eyes gently with my fingers. I lay the bloodied axe down next to him on the deck and place his hands over each other on his chest, to cover the red gash that was his exit from this world.
I stand up and happen to make eye contact with Sígrun, but she looks away just as quickly, guilt written all over her face. She should feel guilty, Weldon has left a young wife and infant twins behind him that will never hear his captivating storytelling voice again.
I feel just as guilty as Sí does—I asked Weldon to come, I asked him to risk his life for Roman and he didn't hesitate to help. I practically escorted him to his death.
Tears fill my eyes as I look at the faces of the men who are dead and those who are dying, even Captain Cutler's crew. I brought them here. I have lured them to their death. I thought only of what I might loose, never of what they could loose as well in the process. I may have sung a different song than Sí, but I am just as much a siren as she.
I gasp for air as tears spill down my face and I inhale the sharp scent of blood. The unspeakable horrors of mankind have covered the beautiful scent of the sea. I try to breathe shallowly through my mouth, and instead of helping I only taste it now. I can smell death, I can see it, I can hear it in the agonizing moans of the injured. Sam tries to help as many as he can, the only person not stopping to watch the Captains converse, but there's too many injured. Some of them will leave here with lifelong scars if they even get to leave here at all.
Captain Nico lands on the deck a few feet in front of Captain Dax and Sí with his hands in the air, the sound of his boots hitting the deck coinciding with a low rumble of thunder.
I look behind us to see we're exiting the black storm clouds and entering into less menacing looking grey clouds.
"Throw your weapons away." Captain Dax demands. Captain Nico reluctantly undose his belt with his rapier and takes out his musket, throwing them down at his feet. "Now kick them away."
He kicks the weapons and they skid across the deck, stopping in front of the main mast.
"Now order your men to return to their ship." Captain Dax continues, his voice neural and his hand steady with the musket against Sí's head.
Captain Nico merely nudges his head in the direction of his ship and his crew slowly picks up their weapons and makes their way back across, helping their injured cross the gap.
"Now you let my sister go." Captain Nico says.
But Captain Dax points at Captain Nico first and Abram and Tommi step forward and keep the pirate Captain at musket point. Captain Dax then slowly backs away from Sí and lowers his musket.
Sí doesn't move, she stays standing there, staring at Nico.
"Sí, go back to the Widower." Captain Nico orders.
"No," she says defiantly, "I'm not leaving you."
"I'm giving you an order."
"I'm not just your first mate, I'm your sister."
"And as your older brother I'm telling you to go." Captain Nico replies.
Sí finally moves, but not away from him, towards him. She stops when she's standing right next to him and facing the same muskets he is. "I'm not going to leave you to die alone."
"I surrendered so you could live." Captain Nico tells her angrily.
"If you're going to hang for your sins than I'm going to hang as well, I'm just as guilty as you are. We'll swing side by side, we won't be alone in death."
"You're so stupid." Captain Nico tells her, but the insult is used more as an affectionate endearment. She gives him a sad smile and takes his hand in hers to face back towards Captain Dax.
"Tell your men to cut the ropes and sail on." Captain Dax says, taking back control of the conversation.
"Sorry, Captain, but if we're going to die we'd rather die trying to escape than be marched through the streets as criminals." Captain Nico answers.
Captain Nico starts to move towards Abram while Sí moves towards Tommi, but Captain Dax is faster than both of them. He raises his musket and shoots Sígrun in the leg. She collapses to the ground in a scream of pain, blood already discoloring her dress. Nico immediately stops and turns back to her side, crouching down and pressing a hand against the injury. He turns eyes ablaze with hatred on Captain Dax and calls him an unmentionable name.
"Tell your men to sail on." Captain Dax repeats, ignoring his hateful comment.
Nico's lips curl into a sinister snarl but he simply turns to his crew across on the other ship and tells them to sail home.
"But Captain—" One of the pirates start to protest but Nico cuts them off.
"I said go!"
No one argues a second time and they set to cutting the ropes keeping us tethered together and preparing their ship to sail. In a matter of moments we're watching the backside of the Widower sail off for what is hopefully the last time.
"Tend to the wounded," Captain Dax orders, "tend to the girl as well."
"Is that it?" Henri asks, "Have we won?"
Captain Dax stops his ascent up the stairs to the helm and turns to look back at Henri. "Yes, my boy, we have."
A grin spreads across Henri's face and I find it contagious, the tears drying and a smile masking the guilt for a little while. Around me the sailors and Captain Cutler's crew hug and share handshakes with each other, celebrating our victory. Some of them hollering and whooping.
I look for Roman and find him near the forecastle, I make my way past the injured being tended to, and the dead, to stop in front of him.
He doesn't waste a moment.
Roman takes me in his arms, sliding his right hand up my backside and supporting my neck, his left hand pressing against the small of my back and pulling me closer to him. I drop my trident, letting it clatter against the wood at our feet, and wrap my arms around his neck, leaning in to meet his lips. We both try to pull each other closer, but we're already as close as can be. We straddle each other's legs and kiss in a new but familiar way. I'm only vaguely aware of a few people watching us, the only thing I see and feel is Roman.
My Roman.
My Alive Roman.
He even smells still a little bit like earth, of home.
He slowly pulls away, his blonde hair even more wet and tangly now that I've had my hands buried in it. His black eyes meet mine and relief seeps through their irises.
"That wasn't so hard now, was it?" Roman teases.
"You're hilarious." I deadpan, tilting my head in a invitation to kiss me again.
"I know." He murmurs, his eyes on my lips, unable to resist my invitation. Our bodies bend together as one, two reefs in the wind that stand stronger as one.
We've won. We can go home and see our families. I can marry Roman. I can have my wedding. We can start our own family, become the treasure hunters we've dreamed of becoming. I can kiss Roman like this every day, and I plan to. I plan on waking up every day as his wife and losing myself in his embrace.
As if from far away I hear a girl scream "NO!" and it takes both Roman and I a moment to pull ourselves out of our fantastical reality. I try to turn towards the girl who made the outcry, who could only have been Sígrun, but I find that I can't.
A pain starts from the middle of my back and slowly spreads outwards. Like hot burning tendrils starting from a blazing fire and spreading out over the terrain of my body. The tendrils climb over my shoulders and wrap around my neck and legs, a burning sensation that leaves me unable to move. My strength leaves me and as my knees start to give out, Roman catches me, causing my head to loll backwards and my eyes to meet his again.
"Sitara." He says. Not a question or a statement, simply my name.
He pulls one of his hands away from my back to hold in front of him, and I can see the horror settle into his features as we both look at a hand covered in blood. In my blood. Too much of my blood.
He slowly lowers us down to the deck, Roman the only thing keeping me up right. He positions me in his arms like I'm a small child, and cradles me to his chest.
"What is it?" I'm able to ask, my voice sounding weak even to me.
He brushes my hair out of my face and his lip trembles as he answers me. "A dagger...it's..it's a dagger."
His voice wavers, tears fill his eyes and drool spills out of his trembling lips. He takes his hand to wipe his mouth, but quickly goes back to holding me— his arms tethering me to this earth. The world seems oddly silent, everyone around us holding their breathe as I gasp for mine. Air exits my lungs easily but I have to work doubly hard to get the air back into them.
I look past Roman's shoulder to see Robby, Ian, and Charlie gathering behind him. Their own eyes are wet, we all know there's no saving me, if there was any chance Sam would have tried already. I can see Sam hovering a few feet away looking helpless with his "doctor's bag", my injury far beyond his amateur doctoring skills.
Captain Cutler is looking from me to Roman and then to Sam. "Do something." She demands of Sam, "Don't just stand there!"
"I can't, there's nothing I can do." Sam answers her quietly.
Roman's tears fall on my face and I try to focus my mind on him and not the searing pain emanating from my gut—the pain that only seems to increase with every breath I take.
The realization that these are my last and final moments hits me and my thoughts scramble as there is so much I want to say. I look over Roman's shoulder at my childhood friends, a sadness settling over me that Amadrya isn't here, that I'll never be able to give her a proper goodbye.
I look at Robby first, I need to say goodbye. God, please give me time to say my goodbyes.
"Tell Amadrya I'm sorry, tell my family I'm sorry." My voice but a whisper, but he seems to hear me. "And comfort her for me, will you? She needs you."
Robby nods his head enthusiastically, "I will, I swear I will."
"Charlie," I turn my eyes to him, "do me a favor and try to get those flowers to grow outside the Seaman's Cottage? I never could get them to grow."
Charlie stares at me for a moment before nodding his head slowly once, "I'll plant hundreds of them."
I muster up a small smile and turn my gaze to Ian, "Ian, look after Roman for me, please? Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
"Of course, I will." He answers, his voice breaking.
I let my eyes come back to Roman's, and it's the pain in his dark irises that break me. Tears slowly seep out of the corners of my eyes, to only become lost in my hairline. Tears not for myself, but for Roman, for leaving him when I'd promised him I never would. Tears for my family, knowing how heartbroken they will be. Tears for my childhood friends who have forever left their childhood behind them. And tears for the men who have died today—I shall be but a moment behind you.
"Please, don't go." Roman pleads with me.
I weakly raise my hand to the side of his face and he holds it there with his hand, still covered in my blood. He turns his lips into my palm and plants a kiss there. That small kiss an elixir fighting against the burning pain spread throughout my body.
"I'm sorry, my love." I say.
"Why do you have to die?" His question coming out in a bubble of emotions and tears in his throat. A innocent question befitting of a child.
"It's okay." I assure him, "I'm okay."
Because oddly enough I am okay. I don't want to leave Roman behind, of course not, but I'm okay with death. I'm okay because I know where I'm going and I know that this isn't the end, I know I'll see him again.
I send up a quick prayer to God before I follow behind it in a few moments. God, forgive me the sins I have committed and comfort my family. May I enter into your presence today. Amen.
I use my thumb to brush one of Roman's tears off his cheek. "I wanted to be your wife." I tell him.
There's no need for us to say "I love you". It's a fundamental truth woven into the very fabric of time and space that Callum Roman Matheson and Nereida Sitara Caldwell love each other. They were made to love each other. Not rain, nor storm, nor pirates, nor even death could break that love. Death will not strain it or leave it forgotten, quite the opposite. It'll preserve it, like a flower pressed between the pages of a book. I may pass away, but my love for him will not. It will remain here, my heart will remain with him.
"And I wanted to be your husband." He cries quietly, his words drowning in his tears.
By a silent, mutual agreement he lifts me closer to him so he can kiss me. It's a slow and delicate kiss, as if he's afraid that he'll hurt me with his show of love. I can feel it rising in my throat before I actually taste the blood on my tongue, more potent than I expected.
Without my consent, my strength leaves me completely and my lips begin to slowly pull away from Roman's. I focus on life instead of death. On Roman's breathing, on his future, on his warmth and aliveness.
Blood clogs my throat and all I can think, as if I'm telling a story to the children at the orphanage, is:
"With a kiss tasting of blood and heartache, the sailor and maiden said goodbye for the final time."