Somassa

1 - A Cabin on a Ship

     "Behold, wretched fiends, the king of kings, the uniter of Somassa who has brought peace to his subjects! Behold! And beware! His deceit and cruelty permeate naught but his wretched stench of rye and sodomy. Look upon the face of your suffering! Too long have his epithets of good deeds and heroism been ill-gotten. 'Kinslayer' I deem you! Watch as your mighty ruler bows to the will of the bastard he scorned. Watch! And all your trials and tribulations shall be reconciled. Let him atone for the destruction he has brought upon this land! May his sins be punished! Behold!"

•••

     Saf woke with a start, his sea-soaked clothing now washed with the cool sweat he had been lying in during his slumber. Had the crash of a wave awoken him? A creak in the walls of the cabin he lies in? No, he thought. That dream. It's happened again. That voice I've heard for countless nights has come back into my head.

     As the sleep left his eyes and his surroundings came about him, the snores of his cabin mates and churn of the ocean reached his ears again. Sea spray and rain from a nearby thunderstorm pattered on the window of the porthole next to his bed. Slowly, but almost just as quick, his dream began to leave his thoughts as he sat up and stretched his weary joints. The journey across the sea had left its toll on all the passengers of the rocking, groaning, and roaring vessel.

     As he stretched his sore legs off of the side of the bunk, a face appeared in the dim candlelight at his side.

     "Can't sleep?" whispered the face. A woman's voice.

     "You could say that, I guess," Saf replied, his voice trailing into a yawn as he finished his stretching.

     "I'd say a lot of things, but for now, I say you need to focus on resting up." She yawned in agreement. "The bosun says we're less than a day's journey from port. We're getting right to work as soon as we get off this death trap and on solid ground. Best you don't go head over heels on the first day."

     As she spoke, Saf had lifted the candle by his bunk and lit it with a match, illuminating them both.

     "I know. Just had a bad dream is all," he said. "Can't really avoid those when you're getting the wind knocked out of you with every wrong sway of the ship, Dua."

     "You've got that right," Dua replied. With a careful leap she sat next to him on the edge of the bunk, one leg on, one leg off. As the candlelight reached more of her face, her dark skin shone with gold, but not nearly as brightly as her shaven head. "You look like shit," she said, as she examined his face in the light.

     Though true, with the dark circles under his eyes starkly contrasting his pale skin and his forehead caked with sweat and grime, he frowned at her. "That bad, huh?"

     "Take it from me," she chuckled, combing the mess of fiery hair out of his damp forehead, "with all the money in the world you couldn't get a rub from a starving whore."

     Grabbing her wrist, he pulled it from his head and wiped his face with a rag that was hanging on his bunk. He threw it to the ground, satisfied.

     "Tell me about this nightmare you had," she said, crossing her legs and lying on her elbow.

     "It's nothing," he replied. "Just a bad dream."

     "Bad enough to wake you up in a cold sweat?" she asked, sneering at her elbow, which was now moist from his bedsheet.

     Saf sighed. "It's this dream I've been having since I signed on to this job. It's only happened a couple times but when it does it's always the same." Dua leaned in, interested. "What happens?"