The first summer night

Twilight was gathering, turning into the first summer night of the year. Despite the clear skies, a strong northerly wind was blowing, so that the three-masted sailboat was occasionally tilting under the onslaught of the waves, straining the anchor ropes. Lights were lit ashore, the first stars appeared in the sky and it seemed to Elena, standing near the guard rail of the afterdeck, that land constellations were twinkling with heavenly ones. The rocking motion hardly troubled the elfin; she even held on to the bulwark with one hand, rather for convenience. When you've been at sea for hundreds of years, you get used to every conceivable hardship and inconvenience. Ships change from age to age. The sea stays the same.

The little boat, moving from shore to ship, often buried its nose in the waves, but time after time it emerged and persevered on its way. A burly sailor, skilfully working the oars, was in charge, and soon enough the boat came close aboard, bouncing on the crests of the waves almost under the mainsail. The midshipman in charge called out to the oarsman. He answered, and a lean young man, clad in a wet cloak, cautiously stood up from the bank behind him. With the help of the sailors and the boat's crew, the young man climbed to the deck, dragging his locker. The officer of the watch pointed him to the afterdeck. The newcomer hurried there, holding his hat in the palm of his hand. As he ascended the gangway steps the sailboat rocked with particular force. In his hurry he had missed a grip on something and landed on the steps, bumping his chin on the floor. His hat flew off his head, traveled slightly forward, and fell at Elena's feet.

- Hmm... - The elfish woman set her ears perked up and picked up the unwanted gift. Thus, holding the hat in her hands, she met her new officer.

- Captain, madam! - Climbing at last onto the bridge, the young man stood up straight and saluted. His face was crimson as the sunset, and his chin was marked by a bruise that was growing rapidly. - Ensign Karl Blanfeld has come aboard, madam!

- Well, midshipman... - the elfish woman handed him his hat, allowing herself a slight smile. There was no mockery or pity in the smile - the woman was making it clear that she was indeed pleased to see a new crewman. - Welcome aboard the “Third Star”, the privateer of the Grand Duchy of Anelon.

- Thank you, madam! - Slipping his hat on, the young man saluted once more.

Elena shook her head. The midshipman was in uniform. Although the “Third Star” was technically listed as part of the elven principality's navy (it was called a 'cruiser hunter', though everyone used the familiar 'privateer'), no one on board wore a uniform. Clothes had to be clean, intact and comfortable - that was all the requirements. The captain herself set the example - her usual attire was breeches, blouse, gloves, embroidered waistcoat and mid-thigh boots. Now she only put her cloak over them. For the first few centuries of her naval service there had been no such thing as a uniform.

- You are an Elvartian, aren't you? - the captain asked. - But you volunteered for the Anelon freighter, right? What motivated you, if it is not a secret? - She smiled again at the corner of her mouth. - Wasn't it that the captain was a woman?

There was usually no problem with that. The Anelon people grew up surrounded by elves and accepted their culture, but sometimes there was confusion with newcomers from other countries.

- Madam, I'm not going to lie - I made the request largely for your sake. - The midshipman, who was beginning to calm down, started to frown again. - But not because you're a woman. I mean... you're very, very beau... ahem... But... it's just that as a child I read books that talked about your travels across the ocean. They pretty much drove me to join the maritime service. And when I heard there was a chance to serve on your ship... Madam. - Still unable to find a way to end the awkward speech, the young man saluted once more.

- You may go now, Monsieur Blanfeld, - Elena decided not to torment the young man any further. - Ask to have your locker taken to the midshipmen's room. And be prepared that it will take a long time to get used to the crew. I suppose you can guess that this is no ordinary ship. Let it not shock you that your captain may not know the specific terms and call a rope a rope. Terminology at sea changes faster than the weather. From my point of view, anyway.

Descending from the afterdeck, midshipman Blanfeld fell once more. It occurred to Elena that his nickname was now inevitable...

                             *                                 *                                    *

Twilight was gathering, turning into the first summer night of the year. Guns rumbled over the sea, and long tongues of scarlet flame reflected in the dark water. The Imperial frigate was approaching, bravely, not embarrassed that the enemy privateer it had encountered was fighting rather than fleeing. The two ships were of roughly equal size, and the frigate outnumbered the enemy in the number of cannons, but the “Third Star's” crew was better at firing, faster and more accurate. The Imperial captain was probably in a hurry to start the boarding, relying on a squad of marines and expecting to take the prize. Elena wasn't worried about that, knowing what her crew was worth in a close fight. If the frigate didn't sink from battle damage, she'd have the prize tonight.

- To board! - bellowed the woman into the tinny mouthpiece. - Ready!

The frigate and the privateer collided side by side with the deafening crack of wood. The Imperials came raining down from their forecastle on the “Third Star's” afterdeck. Marines in purple and yellow uniforms led the way, followed by a horde of sailors armed with sabers and blunderbusses. The Anelonians met them with a coherent volley of gunfire and immediately launched a counterattack, toppling the bullet-ridden front lines. Elena walked down the gangway without too much haste, drew her pistol, and shot a Marine in the chest who had jumped onto the gunwales. She trusted her quartermaster, and did not personally lead the boarders into combat, but tried to be at the forefront of her crew's eyes at times like these. Such a habit had its drawbacks, of course. After all, the captain was not only in full view of his sailors, but also of his enemies.

A bullet whistled nearby, jangling into the deck. It was fired from the frigate's masts. The elven woman took a few more steps to avoid being too easy a target. On the move she drew her second pistol.

The course of the skirmish turned a few minutes later. Having dispersed the Imperials, the Anelonians poured onto the deck of the frigate. Elena spotted the imperial sailors on the forecastle dragging the short-barreled coronade cannon away from the port, turning it toward the deck. The gunner turned the screw, tilting the barrel down.

- Shooters! - Elena raised her mouthpiece to her lips. The coronade was loaded with heavy buckshot, nothing to think about. Its shot would turn everyone fighting at the frigate's mainmast into meat jelly. - Fire at the coronade on the forecastle!

She raised her gun herself and pulled the trigger, aiming for the gunner. Someone had heard her - the mast gunners had unleashed a hail of lead on the coronade. And someone else's shot proved too successful. Elena didn't hear the explosion. Only saw a flash that split the frigate's forecastle. Then something hit the woman in the chest, lifted her into the air, tossed her with force...

Her eyes went dark, all sound was extinguished. All she could feel was a cold chill running through her whole body, and a pain in her chest, in her right thigh, in her shoulder - but not a sharp, muffled pain. The elfish woman's body still seemed to float in the thickened air, unable in any way to fall to the deck...

Something tugged painfully at Elena's arm. Then an unknowable force encircled her torso, squeezed until it crunched her ribs, pulled her upward. A few moments later the woman's head emerged from the water, and the captain coughed, blinked. Taking a convulsive breath, she coughed again. With the first gulp of air, consciousness returned to her.

- Ahem... ahem...- Elena blinked the salty water into her eyes and realized that she was bobbing in the waves behind her own ship. The “Third Star” was hurriedly backing away from the flaming imperial frigate, which was spraying men into the water. Frigate’s mizzen masts was already in the water, and the mainmast was lurching sharply to the right.

- I hope the lads can at least look for the captain for good measure before they set sail, - a mocking voice said over her ear. It sounded like through cotton wool - the elven ear was sensitive to loud noises. Like the explosion of powder kegs on the deck of a ship.

Elena turned her head (almost fainting again from the pain flaring in the back of her head) and saw that the “Star's” quartermaster, Lieutenant Blanfeld, was supporting her under her back. The young officer's lips curved into a wicked smirk, the saber scar on his cheek from six months ago, still purple, gave his face a rather menacing expression. 

- Lei...ahem...tenant, - Elena said with a reproachful but faint smile in her voice. - You abandoned command of a boarding party in the middle of a battle?

To come to the woman's aid so quickly, Karl had to jump overboard almost immediately after the explosion.

- It seemed to me that the outcome of the battle had already been decided, and I do not want to be the new captain, - replied the lieutenant in tone with her. The fervor of battle was fading in him, but a crooked grin seemed to stick to the man's face. - Madam, the water around us is turning red too fast. Let's row on to the Star before all the sharks are baited.

The sun had finally set. The blazing frigate lit up the night sea. The “Third Star” was launching a skiff...

                           *                                  *                                      *

Twilight was gathering, turning into the first summer night of the year. The farewell party was not held in the wardroom, but in the captain's apartments, with their high windows - but even here it was already getting dark. At Elena's gesture her steward lit the oil lamps.

- Have you learned that making a career on elven ships is a dead end, Monsieur Blanfeld? - Second Lieutenant Sanito, who is already a little tipsy, chuckled. - We are very fortunate that our beautiful captain is the only representative of her kind in the crew. - The officer bowed to Elena as if to indicate that he did not wish to offend her. - A position held by an elf is considered permanently sealed.

- Elves die too, Monsieur Sanito - Elena reminded him, pouring herself a glass of wine. The woman really wasn't offended - she knew her officers. Sanito was not restrained in his words, but truly loyal to her and the team. - As much from old age as from bullets. Or from other causes. Seven years ago you almost went without me when I fell overboard.

- No such thing, - the second lieutenant exclaimed. He and Carl were the only two officers at the table who had been involved in that old affair with the exploding Imperial frigate. - And if we had, Karl would have charged after the Star in a breaststroke and given us a good thrashing. He'd bite the mast with his teeth for you, madam.

- But he won't stay with me. - The elf woman sipped her wine and glanced at her first mate, squinting slightly. - The uniform of the Republic fleet would appeal to him more than the possibility of serving with an elven captain.

- Madam... - Karl sighed, staring into his nearly full glass. Elena hadn't seen him this embarrassed since the day they first met, nearly fifteen years ago. - It's not about career... We've already gone off on exploratory expeditions several times, visited islands in the tropics, crossed the ocean instead of fighting. The Empire will not leave Elvart or Anelon alone. The war will last a long time. I want to defend my homeland. I know it's not that important to you. You remember dozens of these wars. But I...

- Don't make excuses, Karl. - Elena put her hand up. - It's okay. Believe me, I know how to let go. And I'm very happy to say goodbye to a team member, seeing him off at the ramp instead of the coffin.

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There was silence over the table for a second. Even those who hadn't participated in the conversation stopped clinking forks and tinkling glasses. Elena coughed into her fist. The wine seemed to have an effect on her as well.

- Captain, may I ask you a question? - Karl suddenly looked up. - I've been wondering, and if I don't ask now, I won't get a chance.

- Of course, Karl, - Elena nodded, setting her glass aside. She'd probably had enough for one day.

- Why you have a human name, we all know. - The first mate leaned back in his chair. - But why a human last name? The Elves simply take their father's name and add "Son" or "Dotir," as the Northerners do. But you...

- It's my husband's last name. - Without letting him finish, Elena shrugged her shoulders. - He was a sailor... the century before last. That's the whole story. Now, monsieur, how about a farewell game of cards?

                        *                            *                                       *

Twilight was gathering, turning into the first summer night of the year. There were lightning flashes on the horizon - thunderstorms over the sea were common in these latitudes. Flashes of light occasionally illuminated the dark points at the very line where the sky joined the water. The main forces of the Imperial fleet had not yet shown themselves, but scout frigates constantly loomed in sight of the squadrons of the Elvart Republic and its allies.

The “Third Star” was getting lost in the numerous fleet. Here were frigates larger than her, and certainly against the lineships the three-masted privateer seemed like a toy. For this battle, however, allied commanders were gathering their forces. The light maneuvering ship would have her work cut out for her as well. Sails furrowed, the privateer approached the flagship. Elena regarded her with curiosity. If you've been at sea all your life, even if it's been seven centuries, seeing something truly new is rarer than most people think. Ships, at their core, are always galleys and sailing ships, with new features and in new forms. But they are always galleys and sailing ships. Elvart's flagship had sails too. And there was a soot-blackened chimney in the centre of the hull. And black steel plates protecting the sides instead of the usual oak armour. This type of ship was called a "battery ironclad," as Elena knew, and it was propelled by a propeller hidden underwater. The flagship was a hundred and twenty metres long - a lot for a relatively modest number of cannons, but it had to hold a steam engine inside. And when a ship's sides are nearly invincible to enemy fire, she might not have much firepower herself.

- Launch gig, - the woman commanded, pulling on her waistcoat. In her usual costume she would stand out among the naval officers with their blue uniforms. But... if she wore the uniform, not much would change - the elf captain would still be stared at.

Despite the distant lightning, the weather was still calm and the sea was quiet. The gig brought the elfess aboard the flagship quickly and smoothly. Elena deftly climbed the rope ladder aboard, where the midshipman on watch saluted her:

- Captain Elena Viscarra of the Third Star!

- She is, - the elfess nodded to him.

- Please follow me, madam.

To Elena's surprise, there was only one person waiting for her in the flagship's aft cabin. And it was not Admiral Steinbrock.

- Madam. - A tall man in a captain's uniform rose from his desk and bowed to her quite formally. But his face, scarred with a whitish scar from a saber-rattling he had suffered decades ago, had a smile on it. - Good to see you.

- Carl. - Elena couldn't help but smile, too.

- I had the courage to invite you a little earlier than the other commanders. - Captain Blanfeld, commander of the flagship vessel, walked round the table and held out his hand to the woman. She shook it firmly, remembering to remove her glove first. - I think we have a lot to talk about before the general meeting.

- Would you like to hear the old woman's tales of warm countries? - Elena couldn't resist the quip. - I have just returned from an expedition to the equator a month ago.

- Women are never old, - Karl chuckled, gallantly seating his guest on a chair with a cushioned back. - At least, not according to them, anyway. And elf girls are always young, anyway.

- Where did you pick up such cheap talk, Monsieur Blanfeld? - Elena squinted. Even by human standards she didn't look young - a mature woman between thirty and forty. Most adult elves look like that from a human perspective. Only those who know where to look will find the signs of true age. Elena's once brown eyes grew more pale with each passing year, giving away her approaching old age.

- I read a lot of silly books, - Karl apologized as he returned to the table. - I'll give you a few as a parting gift. You'll be able to appreciate them. - He sighed. - I'm afraid we don't have time to talk about the past. I've been thinking that you've hardly changed in the years since we parted, madam. Which means I can consider that I still know you well. There's an uphill battle ahead, and I wish both our ships survived it. We can help each other if we discuss actions ahead of time - not as part of a common plan, face to face. Anyway, the Admiral will give you a free hand, I already know that.

- No doubt about it. - Elena leaned forward, leaned against the table, and folded her palms into the black gloves of the finest leather. - You can count on me, Karl.  But everything has a price, as a goddess I know used to say. If we both survive the battle, you'll listen to whatever tales I wish to tell you....

                                        *                                *                                *

Twilight was gathering, turning into the first summer night of the year. But the port of New Hope, the capital of the Maritime Republic of Elvart, had no intention of falling asleep. There seemed to be even more people on the streets. A lanternman - in a black cloak, a round hat with fields, with a long pole in his hands - was striding confidently in front of Elena. With this pole he deftly unlocked the gas lanterns, lit them with a small light, locked them again. The captain could have outrun him, but she did not hurry on purpose. Passers-by looked at the woman with interest - not at all because she was an elf. Elvart had been a friendly neighbour to the Duchy of Kornath for centuries, and elves were seen more often here than anywhere else in the world. However, the townsfolk had grown accustomed to the Kornath elves - light-skinned and fair-haired. Helena, with her dark-brown skin, curly black hair, and comparatively short ears, was noticeably different.

It was fun to walk around a town that was younger than you. Of course, New Hope wasn't built from nothing; there had been a town here before the Night of Flames, but what's left of it? Only archivists in dusty libraries remember the name. But the port could boast straight, wide streets and cleverly placed town hall, admiralty and other buildings. The map of the city resembled a ruled notebook, with streets crisscrossing at right angles or running parallel to one another. Even a child could not get lost in it.

She passed the Temple of the One Creator, whose doors were lit with golden magical lamps instead of gas lanterns, and crossed the square to the First Staatthalter. She paused briefly to admire the statue in the centre of the square. The founder of the Republic stood on a high pedestal, holding a spyglass in her right hand with her left against her hip. Elena liked the monument, though it was cast in bronze and lacked colour. The elfess still remembered the bright blue eyes on the painfully pale face. It had always seemed to her that a mad spark smoldered in the depths of those eyes - but that madness had never come out. The first Staatthalter was remembered for her hard work, unselfishness, intelligence and genuine concern for the people. Few rulers could boast such a set of qualities. However, Elena knew - that woman had once broken down, and reassembled her soul from the small shards. Gaping holes were left in some places.

From the square, the Captain's path led to Triumph Avenue, along which the famous Elvartian apple trees bloomed, and from there to a cozy, sleepy alley, where Elena finally sensed the coming of night. The lights were also on, but there were hardly any pedestrians. The windows of the houses glowed yellow, and she could hear the muffled voices, the clinking of dishes, the splashing of water.

She stopped at the right door and tapped on the bronze plaque with the door hammer. The landlord must have spotted her through the window as he opened the door for his guest himself.

- Commodore. - Elena touched her chest with her palm and bowed her head. - Good evening.

- Elena, come on, - Karl snorted, taking the woman's hand and inviting her into the house. - I'm not on duty now. Besides, you'll always be older than me, no matter how many ranks they give me. Come.

The elf woman did not take her long boots off, only shuffled the soles over the rug near the threshold. Together with Karl they ascended the stairs to the first floor. It was a strange sensation not to have the steps wobbling underfoot. It had once taken Helena half a century to learn how to move freely from the wobbly sailor's gait to the feminine walk from the hip. As far as she knew, no human sailor had ever been able to do such a thing.

The baby's room was lavishly furnished. Warm rugs not only on the floor but also on the walls, rows of toys, poufs and cushions in the corners, a magic lamp braided in bronze. The baby-sitter held a baby wrapped in a pink blanket on her lap, softly humming a lullaby.

- Augusta is in church now and will be back for dinner, - the man explained. - I'll introduce you at last.

- Won't she be jealous? - Elena asked, not taking her eyes off the child. - She'll say her husband's bringing home all sorts of elf girls...

- You come and go, but I married her. - Karl shrugged. - Don't worry, our family is fine. Augusta trusts me.

- Uh-huh. - Elena didn't voice the doubts on her tongue. After all, elves have their own ideas about family and loyalty, they don't fully understand human relationships. - So you haven't changed your mind? About your request?

- No, don't even think about it. - The man grinned. - If you won't let me give my daughter your name, at least be her sister-in-waiting. The initiation ceremony is the day after tomorrow, in the main temple, so you won't stay long.

- Well. - The elf woman sighed. Then she smiled. - You're gonna make me a member of your family after all, so...

                                    *                          *                              *

Twilight was gathering, turning into the first summer night of the year. The black steel side of the battleship loomed over the pier like a fortress wall. Electric floodlights shone down on the concrete tongue of the jetty. Seamen in ceremonial uniforms and white gloves lined the gangway as if they were planning a party on board. A young lieutenant in a new-fangled cap with a shiny visor saluted Elena:

- Captain Viscarra!

- Good evening, - the woman nodded to him.

- You are just in time, - was all the young officer said.

The two of them made their way up to the deck, ducking through one of the bulkhead doors. Helena found it hard not to crinkle. The battleship pressed on all her senses at once. It smelled of metal and grease, gunpowder and sweat, stovepipe, coal dust. Something rumbled and clattered in the steel bowels, though the boilers of the steam engines should now be extinguished. The cramped corridors led them to a spacious, well-lit living quarters, where an old gray-haired man lay on a broad bed. His body was shriveled up like a splinter, his sparse hair whitened, his cheeks sunken. Even the scar from the saber-rattling was lost among the wrinkles. But his eyes were the same. As they had been in all their previous encounters, vivid, stubborn, the colour of bright summer greens.

- Hello. Good to see you, - the man said in a husky voice.

- Hello, Karl. - Elena took a seat in the chair beside the bed. She didn't call him "Admiral," though the uniform with its gold epaulettes was now hanging on the wall, in the most prominent place. - I thought you were going to invite me home. Why are you here?

- You know, the sea and the family are not compatible,- the man said quietly, as if not in response to her words. - You always have to choose between them. I chose the sea. If it comes to an end, my place is here. - The pale lips curved into a grimace that faintly resembled a smile. - Cunning of me, eh? They didn't have time to ship me off, so I have every right to stay here...

Elena removed her glove and gently took Karl's hand. The man's face relaxed slightly.

- You're part of the sea, Elena, - he almost whispered. - Just like the wind and the foam on the waves. I came to the sea because there was wind, waves and you. Now there's nothing to hide.

- I'm not eternal, Karl, - the woman reminded him. - I'm already seven hundred years old, elves rarely live longer. I think you'll be meeting me before you know it. Then I'll tell you all the stories I know. There's so many of them piled up...

- And now... - Karl took a deep breath before he continued. - Will you tell me something now? Something I haven't heard?

- Of course. - The captain squeezed the man's fingers a little harder. - Listen now...

...It was getting light when Elena stepped down on the jetty. In her hand she clutched a small box lined with velvet. A parting gift given by the adjutant at the gangway. Karl had asked that it not be opened on board. The woman dutifully stepped away before lifting the lid. On the silk backing lay a silver brooch in the shape of a cherry blossom. Elena frowned. The brooch seemed familiar. She wore a similar one, usually fastened to her waistcoat on the left. A moment later, the elfess realized. It was her brooch. Elena had missed it years ago. Right after Karl had left her ship for the Elvartian fleet. The woman laughed softly, hiding the box in her breeches pocket...

                             *                                     *                                          *

Twilight was gathering, turning into the first summer night of the year. Though the skies were clear, a northerly wind was blowing hard so that the steam-powered patrol craft that stood at the roadstead occasionally lurching against the waves, straining the anchor ropes. Leaning against the railing of the open bridge, Elena watched as a young man in a blue navy uniform climbed the deck near the forward installation of a hundred-millimeter gun. The rocking was considerable, so he was assisted by the sailors of the patrol boat and the oarsmen of the boat in which he had arrived. He dragged the locker on board and asked the midshipman on duty something. The officer pointed to the bridge. He nodded and rushed over there, leaving the locker to the care of the sailors. As he came up the gangway a gust of wind kicked up and the gunwale tilted particularly hard. Something stirred in the elfess' memory, and without even thinking, she jerked forward almost reflexively, reaching out a hand. No help was needed, however. Young man grabbed hold of the railing and held on to his cap, which was about to come off his head. Sniffing his nose, he climbed to the bridge. He straightened up in front of the captain, saluted bravely. Elena smiled at him instead of saluting him back. She knew those stubborn, lively bright green eyes.

The end.