DILLON

There is a familiar scent in the air this morning as I watch myself tread carefully into the thicket, holding tightly to the bow at my back. The damp forest floor is littered with decaying red and orange leaves, soon the trees would be barren, marking the beginning of a long winter.

I don't remember how I got here, hovering among the treetops like a wraith, unable to speak or move. Everything seems uncertain like I am watching my old life from beneath the waves. The colours and images distort, only a few things are clear.

I watch my younger self stalk a fawn through a forest. His golden hair is longer, tied with a leather trap, face unscarred, jaw sharp and smooth. Blue eyes scan the thicket for movement. There is a youthful innocence to his gait. He does not yet know how it feels to lose everything.

I watch him grab an arrow from his quiver and draw it to his bow. Silently, he nocks and lets the arrow fly through the brush ahead. With a yelp, the fawn falls. Only then, does he dare to let out a breath. The young man then looks up at the trees as if he knows I am watching. But then everything fades. It is always the same every night. I always dream of that goddamned day.

Someone nudges me roughly. Once, twice.

"Wake up, traitor." I can practically feel his smirk. I snap my eyes open to a wrinkly pale face. Roy. His one eye is open wide as if in shock, but I know that is just how he looks. Overcompensating for losing his other eye in a game of cards.

"Give it a rest, mongrel." I groan and swat him away like an annoying fly.

"You think he cares Roy? He wouldn't be here if he cared about his country." A short stumpy Nessaz man stalks up to my cot. His hair is wiry and red, coiled like a tight rope and hangs loosely over his head. It reminds me of a mop. His nose is too large for his face, making him look all the more ridiculous. I groan loudly.

"Look at him. A Khronish lad fighting against his own." They all laugh. As if they all haven't betrayed their kind before. But, it is easy to project your fears and hatred onto someone else. After all, I am the master of that.

"What do you want, mop?" I flick my gaze to him and he flinches. "You want me to admit I feel bad about killing Khronish thugs?" I scoff.

"I am a fucking thug. We are all fucking thugs. There's only one difference," I stand and grab my tunic from the end of my cot and stride past him. "We're just richer."

***

It has been one hundred and three days. I counted. One hundred and three days hopping from ship to ship, staring at this God-forsaken sea. I lean against the railing and stare at the deep blue waves crashing against the ship. On the horizon, over crystal clear waves, the sun rises slowly. I have made a habit of counting the islands in the distance. Illya's archipelagos seem cramped yet spacious all at once. I sweat under my tunic and frayed trousers. It is barely morning and the heat is sweltering. I hate the south.

"Azshker!" I hear my captain shout from below deck. "Get your ass down here and help us patch up! We'll be at the southern port soon!" The old man then grumbles something unintelligible. I head down. Below deck, it is dark, humid and musky. The smell of sweat and booze wafts through my nose. Captain stands at the corner, overlooking two men as they hammer and nail shut a hole in the side of the ship. When he sees me, he throws a hammer and a plank at my head. I catch it before he gives me a concussion.

"You're chirpy today." I raise a brow at him. Captain Rifco is a chunky old man, with a gnarly scar across his bald head. He's shirtless and soaked in sweat with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"Yeah, lad. I am. Now get." He shoos me. I pick up an inconspicuous bottle sitting on a bench and start to swig. It is almost empty. I scrunch my face in annoyance.

"Oi! Who said you can drink that? Could've been poison." I hear Luxus' uneven footsteps coming toward me.

"It's poison, Lux. You want some?" I chug the rest of the bottle down. He chuckles and shakes his head. I stare at his scrawny arms and caved-in torso. Not too long ago, there was meat on those bones. Seasickness has made him ghastly.

"You should make some friends, Dillon. If I'm gone, who's gonna watch your back?" He lowers his voice as he crouches to pick up a hammer and board. I pretend not to hear.

Luxus was a scrawny boy when he first joined The Black Company, all skin and bones and a hearty smile. That was almost three years ago. Now he nags me as though he is my senior. I throw the bottle into a crate at the corner and get to work. Below deck, there is not much air, except the small gust of wind that comes through the cannon hole. The one I am about to board up.

Luxus hands me a plank of wood as I peer through the hole at the side of the ship, I spot a pod of dolphins in the distance. They dance and jump through the waters, oblivious to the war of men. How long will I have to be out here? Living from battle to battle. When the war is over, what will I do? Most likely find another job. Breaking up petty squabbles between aristocrats or fighting in another war. Earn money. Drink booze. Forever it repeats. I'm tired of it all.

"Why do we need to do this again?" I say as I start hammering.

"The ship belongs to a merchant, captain paid good coin for it since it was ready for battle." Lux shrugs.

"Heard we'll be finally getting a new one," I say. Lux's only answer is a shrug.

"I heard a rumour about our little adventure." He leans in and whispers. "It's about Princess Arellia of Illya." He says her name and blushes as if she were his first love.

"Who?" I ask. But, I have heard the name before. The folk here whisper it as if she is some sort of God. I stare down at Luxus. His blushing expression is awkward to look at. He glares when he notices my expression. I laugh.

"Silver eyes, long black hair? The most beautiful woman in all of the south? You live under a rock?" He grabs a hammer and begins to patch the side of the deck. The loud thudding masks our conversation.

"Hear her brother is a little over-protective. But, she's now to be wed." He whispers.

"Since when do you care about what the royal family does? Are you her secret lover?" I tease and he almost nails his thumb to the board.

"N-no!" He glowers. "But I heard the captain talk about it."

I raise my brows.

"Aye, I was eavesdropping. Supposedly, whoever brings the head of Captain Ghükar of the Khronish army will win her hand." He giggles like a little girl. I feel the urge to hurl. Or maybe it's just my empty stomach filled with lukewarm booze.

"That's why so many people are fighting to be in the front lines. I heard that the Lorelai threw twenty men off-board cause they were causing a ruckus over this. Didn't believe it till I heard it from the captain's lips." He lets out a small chuckle.

"And… do you know what he looks like? This Ghükar?"

Lux shrugs, feigning nonchalance. But, I know what he is thinking.

"Forget it, Lux." I pat him on the back. "They kept this from us for a reason."

"They're planning for someone to bring Ghükar's head to the crown prince. So they can keep the prize for themselves!" He spits.

"She's a human being. Not a prize. I'm sure she had a choice in this." I say, sarcastically.

"The man who brings the head is to also be knighted! Have you ever heard of something so-"

"Ridiculous?" I laugh. "I don't know what kind of man would fall for a trap like that."

"It's no trap! By royal decree, they must honour it!" Lux's face grows red in anger. Or perhaps it is the heat. I sense a shift in his mood as he looks at me, brows furrowed. I fear for what he is about to say next.

"I'm going for his head, Dillon. I'm bringing Ghükar's fucking head to the prince. And then I'm going to marry the princess."