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At first, she had only dreamt of the glorious moments at Cartenau. How she’d pulled herself together amidst the carnage, and with a show of total confidence, ordered the retreat of her forces and the protection of… she couldn’t recall whom. And of her last moments with her loyal Vicki.
In time, several months perhaps, these dreams faded. But instead a reprieve in her nights, it was the decidedly unglorious moments that now came to her. Of the moment the dreadwrym emerged in such a fury, even its presence seemed to taint the air around them. Of the infernal flare it brought forth, so complete its destructive power that it was it was almost beautiful as it delivered complete oblivion to the helpless souls below. She had felt so sure those moments would be her last, that she began reciting her final prayers to the Navigator. I am the waves that bear, I am the winds that guide…
Of how it was almost worse when she was denied the release of death, and instead was forced to continue to lead her soldiers in the midst of all this. Of Rhoswen naming her dead Sirens. Every time she dreamed that one, more names seemed to be added to her list. Of the light and heat from a Magitek cannon. That one always left her with a headache in the morning.
Many of her comrades had commented on how “harrowing” and “traumatic” the experience of being there must have been. If they were talking to a less proud woman, they may have tried to get her to talk about it. But her talent for closing herself off emotionally was downright legendary. She revealed only what she chose freely to reveal. No one even tried anymore to determine what she might be holding back. No one but that sorry bastard Eynzahr. To his credit, he was the only one for whom — occasionally — it worked.
This particular night, when she awoke in a cold sweat, she was alone. Moonlight streaked into her room from unshaded bay windows and shone onto the patch of ocean in the view outside. Why should that matter?, she thought. She was alone most of the time. What was she going to do —tell someone? Let her weakness out into the open? Impossible. Wasn’t she capable of dealing with this alone? She debated the question internally, staring out into the night sky from where she lay.
She continued the debate all of the following, sleep-deprived day. She kept telling herself her desire for Eynzahr’s company had nothing to do with the nightmares. As it always was when she initiated (which she always did), when they were as finished with their work as they could hope to be in a single day, and they were inevitably the last ones around, she simply looked him in the eyes and quietly declared, “I’ll see you at midnight,” and turned to leave. Just this time, not following it with the usual saucy grin.
When midnight came, Merlwyb sat on her bed in a comfortable hempen camise and trousers, with one arm holding up her chin, looking out of one of the bay windows. The only one without the shades down. Eynzahr entered quietly, dressed also in simple hempen attire, through a back door that was usually kept locked. Her room was sparsely and plainly decorated, all wood and stone. No words of greeting were really necessary. He did, however, have an unusually serious expression of worry. The fact that she refrained from immediately sauntering over and grabbing him close by the collar upon his arrival must have told him something was amiss.
He knew to close the shade on the last window from the door before entering. She didn’t move as he slowly sat down on the bed at her side. Nor for some minutes after that.
“It’s about Cartenau, I reckon.“
She spun around and gave him a piercing glare. How did he so often know what she was really thinking about, when she went to such lengths to conceal it? She hated that.
“Yer not as difficult to read as ya think. Ya can barely speak of it aside from the bare facts. Yeah, this happened, that was wrecked, these people died. But ain’t said a damn thing about what you remember ‘cept the mystery of them retreat orders . …Hells, woman, I saw it too. No one goes through a godsdamned hell like that and doesn’t have it get under their skin.”
She scoffed, but finally turned her entire body around to face him. She took several more silent moments before finally speaking. “Have ya ever been sure, surer than anythin’, that yer life was going to end? … Well fuck, of course ya have. But, I mean…” A long pause. “Even when I’ve had some scoundrel put a knife at my throat, or put a barrel to my head, I knew I could outwit ‘em, or out-muscle ‘em. But… whadya do when the whole world’s burning’ around ya, when there are so many godsdamn screams that ya can hear ‘em from a malm away… Whadya do in a moment like that?“
She held her head up again, but this time from the side. She felt like she couldn’t hold it up anymore.
“Shit, what’d we do back then? We just tried as to push away the dark thoughts for a bit, and just keep movin’. We had a job to do. We had too many folks countin’ on us.” He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ”Ye did a fantastic job of it. Ain’t nothing to regret.” He paused. ”But that don’t mean we come out the other side without no wounds for it.”
“It was…” Her voice was unusually quiet. “It was more than fear. More than despair. It was like nothin’ was real anymore. It was like I was walkin’ outside of me own body. Like me soul was already floatin’ away back to the sea…“
She didn’t even look at him, could only just … stare into space. She shivered, as though a non-existent cold breeze had flown in. What was happening? Was she … shaking? Godsdamnit, what is wrong with me…
He put his hand gently to her cheek. “None o’ these words really help ye, do they. Ye just needed to let it out and tell someone…”
Her body was still shaking, but now… he had his arms tightly wrapped around her. What the hell was this about? She wasn’t a child. She didn’t need to be held. But she couldn’t bring herself to protest. Now she even had her head resting against his shoulder. She screamed at herself internally. This is pathetic, this is embarrassing, this is useless. Yet, slowly, her shaking calmed. His hand was gently stroking her hair. She still couldn’t bring herself to talk, but now her body was blessedly still. It worked; maybe that was all that mattered.
With no more willpower left to resist, she stayed there. There was a warmth that seeped in, deeper than the heat of their bodies close together. A warmth that went deeper than her skin. She allowed it to seep in, to envelop her.
She stayed inside that warmth until she drifted into a blessedly, gloriously dreamless sleep.