Mark My Soul

7. Mission Gone Wrong

Rylan

I was irritated that they didn't take me along on their mission, leaving me behind to help move supplies from the deck down into the hull. Minutes turned to hours, the moon crossing the sky before any sound disturbed the monotonous job a few deckhands and I were doing.

A shadow breezed by, and I saw Nox making his way towards the commotion. The urgency in his steps drew my attention. I lowered the crate of water on my end. "Hey," snapped one of the deckhands whose name I didn't care to know.

"Yeah, just a minute," I muttered before quickly deciding to follow Nox instead. The deckhand threw a string of curses my way as I left him with the crate. No one had explicitly told me not to follow the captain. The man made his way to where a few figures approached the ship. I hadn't seen anyone go by or into the captain's quarters to inform him of anything. Could the wind somehow carry information to him? If he indeed was gifted with some form of control over the wind, as I expected.

I had not yet had an opportunity to touch him and feel whether conjuring gifts stirred within him.

"What happened?" Nox asked as Elara came into view, bloodied. Tension coiled through me at the sight of her, freezing me in place. Her breathing came out in heavy sighs, labored. From what I could see of her, there was no obvious wound she actively bled from.

"For an idiot, he has the wherewithal to be more careful than I gave him credit for," she muttered, a hand wrapped around her side. Faint lines of pain etched on her face, and my fist clenched at my side. Despite her attempt to downplay it, it was evident that she was hurting.

I stepped forward instinctively, wanting to offer assistance, but a mix of apprehension and uncertainty held me back. Elara seemed fiercely independent, and I wasn't sure how she would react to my presence in her moment of weakness. I doubted she enjoyed being seen as anything other than a pillar of strength.

It had been four days since our encounter on the deck. Part of me had expected her to creep around the corners of the ship in waiting to throw more blades at me. Imagine my disappointment when that never occurred. She had been avoiding me.

Calix moved to her side, concern clear in the furrow of his brows. "I was fine," he grumbled, trying to offer her support.

"I am fine," she snapped, wincing as she jerked away from him.

"For fuck's sake, Elara, let me help you," Calix said in frustration, though his tone softened with worry. He reached out to her again, his hands hovering hesitantly, unsure of how to offer relief without overstepping the boundaries she forced.

"We're on the boat already," she replied, her tone brooking no further argument from Calix. Her eyes flitted over me, her lips thinning with recognition, before shifting her attention fully to Nox.

"I left the target subdued, but he had guards stationed around the entire building. Well hidden. They blended in perfectly with the typical citizens. We didn't clock them," she explained.

"How'd you manage to get away?" I interjected, drawing the attention of everyone.

Nox fixed me with a scrutinizing stare, his gaze sharp and assessing. I almost expected him to tell me to leave, but instead, he directed his focus back to Elara. "Answer the question."

"What's it look like? We sliced them up," Elara replied with a hint of defiance, moving her hands out as if to display the blood staining her skin.

Interesting. From our interaction a few nights ago, when she pulled a blade on me, and I took it from her, I was able to touch her skin long enough to feel the conjuring gift she harbored. It was strong, interwoven deeply into her entire being. It didn't feel like a shadow gift such as a seer or dream walker, or anything mental altering. I was fairly certain it was elemental and something she could have used to better protect herself, yet she didn't. Meaning she likely didn't want anyone to know what she could do. Was she keeping secrets from her own crew? The woman harping on trust.

"Are you hurt?" Nox's voice held a note of concern, his eyes scanning over Elara's bloodied form. Clearly, the captain favored her. Calix had just as much blood covering him, yet Nox didn't ask regarding his welfare.

"The blood isn't mine," Elara replied, her voice tight. Probably uncomfortable with the clear concern he showed her. The blood might not have been hers, but it was obvious she was injured. Her posture was stiff, arm cradling her side, her movements void of her usual effortlessness.

Nox's gaze narrowed. "That's not what I asked."

"She might have broken a rib. One guy sent a knee nearly through her while she was on the ground. I have no idea how she's even standing," Calix offered.

"I. Am. Fine," Elara ground out through clenched teeth, her stubbornness clear in every word. She shot Calix a look as if to tell him to keep his mouth shut. They guy responded with a simple shoulder shrug.

"I'll be the judge of that," Nox stated firmly, voice ringing with authority. "Wait for me in my quarters." He dismissed her.

Elara's gaze challenged him, and he met that deadly stare with one of his own until she finally pivoted and headed to where her captain instructed her to go.

The captain released a deep breath, one filled with anger. "Don't tell me you forgot to bring extra ammo," Nox focused on Calix, who rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"I never needed it before," Calix defended weakly, lowering his hand to his side.

The captain's jaw ticked. The breeze on the ocean died and everything went still in a way that was not natural. "But tonight, you did."

The captain's frustration simmered, his steely gaze boring into Calix with a mix of disappointment and anger. Calix, usually brimming with tenacity, now stood with shoulders slumped and gaze fixed on the ground. A picture of remorse.

"You jeopardized the mission with your negligence," he accused, each word heavy with reproach. "A mistake like this could have cost us everything." By everything, did he mean the money, or Elara?

Calix flinched visibly at the captain's words, a flush of shame creeping up his neck. "I didn't mean to..." he started, but Nox's stern glare silenced him.

"I don't want to hear excuses. I want actions, not apologies." Nox watched him, lip nearly curling with fury. "I should tie a boulder to your ankles and throw you overboard." The look in his eyes was cold, void of mercy.

Calix stared at the ground in pure submission, the fear of Nox's words evident in his posture. Did he truly think that Nox would carry out such a threat?

"Roran and the others?" The captain snapped.

"They secured the loot and should be here any minute." Calix's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Good. I don't want any more trouble tonight." Nox declared, his voice like tempered steel. He then turned his piercing gaze to me. "Get back to fucking work."