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56 - Let's Talk

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Senesio

Captured, then.

Not a feeling I was familiar with. The fearless Senesio Suleiman Nicolaou didn’t get captured, that just wasn’t how my stories went. But on the two prior occasions that I had found myself—temporarily, mind you—in the grips of my enemies, it’d only been a prelude to escape. A low point before a soaring comeback. An apparent loss that’d I’d spin into a glorious victory! A—

Gah.

Damned if my ribs didn’t hurt. I sucked in a sharp breath and gritted my teeth. That son of a swindler with the bludgeon had done a number on them. No doubt he’d broken at least two. A fact made all the more apparent as I squirmed my way into a sitting position.

A minute later, when I’d finally managed it, I found a good view of our surroundings. Or, a decent enough one, considering my vision was still flashing from the lout who’d tried to put his boot through my skull.

We’d been bound at the wrists with thick rope and tossed into what I now saw was the prisoner pen. The other Cyphites were on the far side, had been ushered away by soldiers. More soldiers were guarding our little group, though several paces away, bludgeons and staffs in hand should anyone get any ideas. Normally, I’d have been full of them, but it seemed they’d all been beaten out.

My ribs throbbed with a dull, deep pain. My head was still ringing like my brain was bouncing around, off one side of the skull then back to the other. Blood ran all down my shoulder, hot and wet. No doubt the wounds from the terror birds and the wendiguars had reopened. Great, I’d just gotten them to stop bleeding. And then there was my left hand. Some idiot had stepped on it, bending the fingers all the wrong way. Looked horrific, if I was being honest. Past what was acceptable for “well-traveled adventurer” and full-on into “disfigured cripple” territory. That wouldn’t do.

I grimaced, then clenched my hand. It was numb, didn’t want to move. I clenched harder, growling in my throat, and slowly, slowly, the fingers popped and cracked, but closed into a fist. Those that had been bent out of their joints snapped back in with a sound I was going to pretend was not the grinding of bone on bone.

“Emperor’s balls,” Maritza cursed from beside me. She’d taken less of a beating but there was still blood running from her scalp and down into her eyes. “You’re gonna need a physician to look at that hand.”

“What? No. It’s fine.” I splayed the fingers out and most of them managed it, with only a few sickening cracks. I smiled through the grimace. “See, just... like new.”

Maritza rolled her eyes, then sighed and leaned her head back against the fence.

“Who am I kidding, anyway? Ain’t a one of us going to be seeing a physician anytime soon. Not anymore.”

“Now, now, none of that. You know the old saying. ‘The night is darkest just before the dawn.’”

Maritza spoke without opening her eyes. “Doesn’t make any sense.”

“Come again?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“The saying, Senesio,” she growled. “It’s bull. Like everything else you peddle.”

She was distraught, it was obvious. And it was hard to blame her. But when things looked grimmest, that was when the true survivors rose up and proved themselves. That was when heroes were born.

“Dwelling on the negatives won’t do us any good.” I grunted as I adjusted, taking some of the weight off of the more injured side of my chest. “We have to focus on the positive. Right, Demetrias?”

I nudged the engineer but all he could manage was a pained grunt.

“I meant right, Theo?” I turned to her next, but she was out cold. Had taken a blow or two to the head.

“We’re screwed, Senesio. Can’t you see that?” Maritza said, eyes still closed and head still leaned back against the fence post. “No one’s coming for us. The bloody Bospurians won.”

“These are the soldiers that killed Elpida.” It came out in a growl and I couldn’t help but turn toward the guards, then spit a mouthful of blood in their direction. “No one needs to come for us. Give me back my sword and I’ll cut a swathe through them so bloody it’ll make the Battle of the Dardanelles look like a skirmish.”

Ah. Oops. I coughed, then shook my head. Must’ve taken a harder blow than I thought. My brain had to be still a bit scrambled to let my anger boil over like that.

“Apologies, that was impolite of me. What I mean to say is, escape isn’t out of the question just yet, eh? After all,” and I lowered my voice then, so the guards had no chance of overhearing—not that they seemed to be listening, “Suni’s still out there, hm? I threw her out the window, first thing. Saw her get away.”

Maritza’s only response was a shake of the head and a quiet curse.

See? This was the problem with the average person. They were too accepting. Too focused on what had happened to them instead of what they were going to do about it.

To hell with that.

Never roll over and die. Never accept defeat, or limitations. That was the motto I’d lived by and one day it’d be the motto I died by. But that day wasn’t today. Wasn’t going to be tomorrow, either. Things didn’t look good, sure, but this was far from over. And with Suni still out there, well, between her and I, the odds weren’t that bad. We had a chance. Probably. And that was all the hope I needed.

Let Maritza think we were beaten. Let the guards think it, too. Let the whole world count us out. That was where I thrived best.

Given, it would have been nice to have two functioning hands and a few more intact ribs, but if things were too easy, well, where’d be the fun in that?

“Prisoners!” a voice boomed, and a group of Bospurians appeared, led by a man holding a torch. He’d the look of a soldier, but a veteran one. Could’ve passed for retired, what with his gray hair and stubble-covered cheeks. But he wore a uniform. And not just a soldier’s uniform, but that of a commander. More braided cords and campaign medals than actual functionality. Must’ve been sweltering in that thing.

Heh. I smirked at the thought. The man probably had swamp ass like no one’s business.

“Name them,” he ordered, and Kamil appeared from among the soldiers.

Traitorous little—.

“Her I don’t know,” he said, pointing to Theo. “But if I had to guess, she’s navy.” He turned to Demetrias and Maritza. “They’re ship’s crew, no doubt. The frightened one’s an engineer. Could be useful.”

“And him?” the commander nodded toward me.

“Senesio Suleiman Nicolaou. No doubt you’ve heard of me,” I said, cutting the traitor off. Could introduce myself, thank you very much. I rubbed my chin against my shoulder, wiping some blood from my bottom lip.

“Nicolaou... ” The commander drifted off in thought a moment, then nodded. “I think we have a file on you.”

Ha! Of course they did. Finally, the recognition I deserved.

“Get them up,” the commander said, and the soldiers pulled Demetrias and Maritza to their feet while three others hefted the unconscious Theo between them. One kicked me in the hip, but I stayed sitting. Seeing this, the commander walked over and kneeled down.

“Master Nicolaou,” he said, staring me directly in the eyes. Had good poise, he did. Respectable. Like a man who knew what he was about. Comfortable with his command. “My name is Commander Ozdemir. I don’t wish to be unduly rough with you, but you’ve intruded in my camp and assaulted several of my soldiers. I’m sure you understand why this presents a problem. Now, come with me, answer my questions, and we can discuss how to move forward from here like civilized human beings, hm?”

“Civilization.” I lingered on the word. “Haven’t found much of that out here. No doubt some civilization would do us all good.”

“I’m glad you agree,” Commander Ozdemir said, then grabbed me by the elbow and raised me to my feet. “I don’t wish for us to be enemies, Senesio. Gods know this cursed place is hostile enough. Let’s talk.”