Maleah retched overboard as the ship pitched and rolled upon the rough sea. Several sailors laughed as she clung to the rail, not trusting the strength of her legs. She mumbled a steady stream of curses as she gathered her strength and will. She had not eaten since they set out, taking only water, but it seemed even that would not stay down.

The sailors continued to laugh at her nervously amongst themselves, eager for any distraction. It would be difficult to break a thousand-year superstition, especially amongst sailors. They had spent weeks in that crumbling temple, Osric communing with the demons and delving into the crypts for hidden repositories of knowledge. She had almost been relieved when they left that damned island. Almost.

It had been two days in open water, and the curse had yet to claim their fleet. Osric alleged that the entity that enforced the curse ceased to exist when the sorceress Avamecia froze the Sea of Sorrow two hundred years ago, permanently lowering the temperature to near freezing level. Still, old habits die hard, and the atmosphere would certainly be less tense should an Aes Sidhean man the helm.

She felt another sick spell come on as they rose upon another swell and dropped sharply. More sniggers went up as she dry heaved, she held her hair back with one hand, clutched the rail with the other. Not willing to endure any more humiliation, she made her way unsteadily to the cabin.

* * *

Maleah shared the captain’s quarters with Osric and Renata, whom her brother kept chained up beneath the window. Whenever he was topside or otherwise away, she allowed Carmen and a captive nun to attend the priestess. Now was one such occasion.

She had been near death at Therion, both from loss of blood and her beating at the hands of Osric. However, through countless healing sessions, she returned to her beautiful self. The only wound that failed to heal was the tragic loss of her child. Her eyes always held a distant, dull, faraway look as Carmen did her best to make Renata look prim and proper again. The only time she spoke was to reprimand the attendants for calling her “Priestess,” for as Osric was always quick to point out; she was a whore who forsook that title when she spread her legs in fornication.

He was also kind enough to remind her it was the blood of her unborn child that opened the gate for him. Of all the nightmares and horrors that stepped forth from that gateway to hell, the true beast was the man who opened it. Maleah shuddered at the memory, particularly the black rider. What horrors have I served accomplice to?

“Please Lady Priestess, your wounds need healing.”

“Don’t call me that!” Renata snapped as her cleric tried to mend a fresh batch of bruises.

Maleah was usually able to stop her brother when he went on his tirades and vented frustrations on the poor woman. Last night she was too overcome by seasickness and was out of the room when he decided to remind Renata of her inferiority.

“But our hostess seems to be suffering from nausea, she would benefit more than I.” Renata gave Maleah a fragile smile, her eyes full of pain and sorrow.

The attendants, however, did not attempt to conceal their disgust at the idea.

“But Priestess—!” The nun exclaimed.

“If you insist upon calling me that, then do as I say.” Renata replied coolly.

She motioned for Maleah to take a seat on a nearby chest, she obliged, and the nun placed her hands-on Maleah's stomach as she connected to the source of light. Queasiness and fatigue left her instantly, and Maleah found herself starved.

“It is the least I can do for your kindness.”

Maleah blushed and averted her gaze; Renata was still prisoner and “kind” was hardly the appropriate word. She was as guilty as her brother was, even if she was not the one who actually struck Renata.

“I can tell you are the fruits of very different trees, even if you are siblings.”

“I’m afraid you are mistaken.” Maleah said definitively as the cleric finished her healing and returned to her priestess.

Renata shook her head. “No, I am seldom wrong about these things. The greatest proof is that you still stand by him despite all his atrocities, even when his cruelness is directed at you.”

Maleah looked out the window, regretting it instantly. The cleric resumed her healing touch before Maleah disgorged whatever remained in her stomach. Osric had changed; often, he wandered the ship in a dazed or even confused state. Sometimes he disappeared entirely. She hated the way her brother had taken to belittling and berating her, especially how he threatened violence when she defended herself. The last incident, she struck back, splitting his lip. The look of pure unadulterated hatred upon his face as he readied a spell hurt and frightened Maleah more than anything else he’d ever done. For one reason or another—she hoped he realized that it was his baby sister before him and not some enemy to be destroyed—he dropped the spell and left. Since that day, she avoided him at all costs.

Sometimes she cursed herself for not going with Séverin, but how was she to know he would become what he is today? She was certain that even Séverin could not have predicted this change in demeanor. For if he had…

“He wasn’t always like this.” Maleah spoke almost reflexively, unable to shake the filial loyalty she held for him, defending even the indefensible. “It most likely started after mother’s death and he left for Asketill, but even then, he was only distant. Never cruel. I was always able to see glimpses of the Osric I grew up with; Séverin said it was because mother often doted on him.”

Renata’s expression did not change, and who could blame her for not having sympathy for the devil that tormented her? Maleah wished things could be like they were before, when Osric was a teacher at the academy. She recalled how he would return with scrolls and several stacks of paper to grade during the harvests and St. Luighseach’s week. Séverin was often gone on some mission or another; they were often left to celebrate the holidays alone, but despite his reticence and often being preoccupied it was always her favorite time of the year.

“How did she die?” She asked, attempting some emotion for Maleah’s sake.

Maleah froze, her eyes wide as her heart began to race. Their mother was not something she liked to talk about. As a child, she did not even make a mention of her after her passing. And certainly not since that night. Maleah shuddered and closed her eyes, shaking her head to force the thoughts from her mind.

“One day she was with us, the next she was gone.” Her eyes were squeezed shut as she vomited out the canned line. “Séverin said she had collapsed in the field by herself. If only someone were around, she might have made it…”

There was a sudden draft and Maleah felt a presence behind her. The two attendants shrieked and shrank back as Renata recoiled into the corner. Maleah slowly turned around to meet her brother’s cold eyes as he glowered down at her. His face was as stone, but she felt the enmity wafting off him. She felt sick, for she knew the cause.

“Séverin lied to you,” Osric said at length before crossing the room to set down his documents, “though for good reason I suppose.”

Maleah felt her muscles untense somewhat but was still on edge. She had not heard him enter, in fact, she had not seen hide nor hair of her brother for at least a day.

“Our village was run by brigands who took tribute from the citizens for, protection.” He shuffled through the papers, setting several aside. “Their leader was a demented pervert who saw you playing outside with the village children one day, and decided he had to have you for himself. You, Maleah, a girl of no more than six for his deviant sexual gratification, our mother convinced him to take her instead.”

“She was a devout member of the church, did no wrong by anyone, only sought to raise her children right and give them a future better than her own. The reward for her faith was to be thrown to the wolves, literally, as that is what the bandits called themselves.” His tone was contemptuous, but pain was evident even in his callous retelling of their mother’s fate. “That is the idea of justice for the god children who sing and fraternize in their paradise amongst the clouds.”

Maleah shut her eyes and covered her ears with her hands. Each breath was forced, and she felt like she was suffocating. Her fingers and toes tingled with numbness; it was as if they belonged to someone else. The sound of her racing heart pulsing in her ears was a welcome relief, as it drowned out most of her brother’s words. She saw herself rocking back and forth, as if she were floating overhead, removed from the trembling wreck before her. She was vaguely aware that her brother and the nuns were speaking, but neither heard nor cared. She felt trapped and an intense desire to go somewhere, to hurl herself to the sea if need be.

“For there sits the leader of the campaign for false hopes and inequality,” Osric pulled several books from his satchel and slammed them on the desk, “a whore covered in jewels whilst her adoring followers starve and suffer, praising her name.”

Someone was speaking to her, but she did not know who, and it did not matter. Her heart was going to explode, and she was going to die. Maleah was suddenly aware that someone took her hand, and she snatched it away. That was the only explanation. She was dying.

“Sister,” Osric said in an oddly soothing voice. “Tell me what you need.”

She was a gibbering wreck, and her heart was still imploding, and the air was still being sucked from her lungs. The air was thinning, soon it would be gone, and she would suffocate, and then her heart would explode.

“Concentrate on your breathing.” Her brothers voice was soft and familiar, reassuring. “The air isn’t going anywhere. Just take deep breaths.”

Her hand was in his and she was squeezing with all her might but couldn’t feel a thing. Osric looked stupid, taking exaggerated breaths. But his voice was comforting, calming. She found herself mimicking him, and the air began to fill the room again. But it was still too small, and her heart was still exploding. But at least she could breathe now.

Osric stroked her cheek, brushing the hair from her face. “Do you need a glass of water?”

Why the hell was he being so nice? He had been this way before, when he had been talking about mother when they were kids, the prick. And again, when the blonde girl came, after the forest…. Her eyes black like infinity, skin like loamy soil, hair like spun silk. She took him away that time, for what he had done, for the laws he had broken. The air was leaving again. The pins and needles shot up her arm. Heart attacks cause numbness in the arms, that’s how old man Kristoff had died. His fucking heart blew up in his fucking chest.

“It’s not a heart attack sister.” His voice was a beacon in the dark. “Stay in the present. None of that matters now, you’re here with me now.”

Her mouth was dry and her throat raw, was she talking?

“Yes sister,” He chuckled softly, the first time she had heard him laugh in weeks, “you are talking, though it is a bit difficult to understand you. Do you know where you are?”

On the fucking ocean. The vast, blue, nauseating ocean. Water, water, everywhere, but nary a drop to drink.

“You, nun, please get my sister a glass of water.”

Everything was spinning, she wanted to throw up.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Osric said as he placed the glass in her hand.

The air was back, and she had not noticed its return. Her arms still tingled, but she could feel her heartbeat slowing.

“You’re going to be alright Maleah.” Osric stroked her hand again with his soft, effeminate hands.

She felt his hand upon her back and knew that he spoke the truth. Kristoff was old and fat as fuck, that is why his heart blew up. She was young and did cardio.

“When have you done cardio?” Osric teased.

“When I get the chance…” Hearing her voice and recognizing it as her own was startling.

“You’re fine.” Osric said reassuringly. “Do you need to go outside? Get some air?”

She needed to go home. Why the fuck were they on the ocean?

“Yes.” Her words startled her again.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Osric asked.

Yes.

“No.” she said.

“Are you sure?” He asked with genuine concern.

No.

“Yes.” She spoke reflexively.

Osric rubbed her shoulder as he looked over her. He was such a familiar stranger, she wondered if she truly had died. Nothing felt real. She had gone through this before, the all-consuming panic, and had thought she had outgrown it. Apparently not.

“You two, escort my sister to the deck.”

The two women hesitated, looking from Renata to each other.

“Your Priestess will come to no harm; I give my word. Now take my sister to the deck.” Osric said evenly.

Still the women hesitated. Still Maleah’s fingers tingled, and her head swam. Yet her heart, no longer racing, now trotting, had not exploded.

“I could just as easily kill you both and brutalize her till we make shore. I gave my word she will not be harmed now do as I say, or I shall do just that.” Osric snarled, finally giving the women cause to move.

Maleah felt the women gently lifting her to her feet and felt the warmth of the Dawn wash over her. The pounding in her ears had subsided, but the enveloping light did little to calm her. He had done this to her, and he knew it. He had done it before, by talking about mother like that, by lying. He lied when he said he could bring her back too.

“Who is the golden-haired woman she spoke of?” Renata said meekly.

“You needn’t concern yourself.” Osric said tersely as he watched his sister carried from the room.

“It sounded like a-”

Osric waved his hand and the door slammed behind them. Maleah was shocked, why would Osric dare to lie about something like that? He was lying, of course he was. Merely thinking on the matter filled her with a sense of unfounded dread and fear. She leaned against the wall, feeling another sick spell coming, though it was not from seasickness. The nuns embraced the Dawn again, and she swatted them away.

Maleah did not check to see if the women followed her, she did not care as she flung open the door and let it slam behind her. As soon as they reached land, she would leave and search for Séverin, to tell him of the atrocities she and her brother committed and ask how their mother really died. The thought caused her heart to flutter once more, and she turned her thoughts to standing on solid ground once more.

As she opened the door to the deck, the ship hit a swell and pitched sharply to the left. Maleah stumbled over to the railing and dry heaved again, sobbing between retches.