For a fearful instant, Yanda thought she was again hanging over the bow by her wrist. It took a moment for the half-dream to retreat and reality fade in. The ship was swaying, the sea obviously angrier than when she retired. She rolled out of her sack of a bed, dropping unbalanced to the floor. She plopped on her backside rather than attempt a clumsy recovery. The gracelessness of the dismount irked her. After many months at sea, she had thought she mastered the task. Lucky there were no eyes to see it.

Yanda rose and massaged her side. It still ached from pounding against the front of the ship. It was a well-deserved punishment for embarrassing herself before that infuriating boy. It would have been better to fall into the sea and be pummeled to death by the hull, then have to rely on some scarred boy who thought himself her better. Owing him a life debt was the worst of all outcomes. Now the boy insists on adding to it as if it was desired.

It became clear to Yanda that she wasn't making it home again. Slavery was unacceptable, her body was no ones to own. Better to die in battle than live in shame. Thoughts of her mother never knowing what happened were the only drawback. In time, it would be assumed, and she meant it to be a dignified death. A Sorinnian always faced her death with pride. The afterlife demanded it.

Silly male rules placed Yanda in her predicament. She knew the laws outside of Sorinnia were different, but she had always thought they would be based on something logical. A ship being flagged or unflagged shouldn't make a difference. It did to men. In her experience, men never thought beyond a day. Always so quick to do without thinking. It was that ugly thing between their legs that made them so. To them, now was always more important than tomorrow.

Yanda's mother had assured her that men had their uses. A sly smile graced her mother's face whenever the topic arose. Yanda knew the mechanics of the task, but the mysterious joy in it was beyond understanding. Now, she would never know the secret. At least there was one benefit of an early demise. She wouldn't have to suffer a man between her legs. A debasing act to be sure.

Load orders, that unmistakenly came from the Captain, filtered through the deck. Yanda suspected the pursuing ship was nearing. She heard a thump followed by a groan from the direction of the scarred boy's bed. She grinned, selfishly pleased that she wasn't the only one who struggled to get out bed.

After donning the rest of her clothes, Yanda gathered the last of her meager wealth into a small leather pouch and tied it off at her belt. She sheathed a sword opposite of the bank and strapped her quiver around her back. Grabbing her bow, she walked calm and slow to the deck. Panic was born in quick and unthinking actions. She intended to be thoughtful and deliberate. Woe be the first who crossed her path, for she planned to extract what payment she could before she gave her last.

The deck was alive with activity. Blades were uncharacteristically present on the crew's waists, though Yanda could see the men's discomfort with them. These were not warriors, and those that chose to fight would not last long. Like she had the boy, she should have instructed surrender for those whose honor would allow it. It wasn't as if the outcome wasn't known. Men had little to fear from hard labor. It is what men are good for, and it should not matter that the work wasn't chosen.

Women, on the other hand, are the basket of life and should never be used as a toy. To create and nurture life is a woman's purpose. To foul that to sate some worthless man's desire is a horror beyond reckoning. Women create, men destroy. The world beyond Sorinnia is cockeyed, allowing the violent to rule only breeds more violence.

A thump behind Yanda made her turn. The scarred boy lifted himself from the deck, his stumble putting a redness in his cheeks that matched his unkempt hair. His eyes swam above dark circles caused by lack of sleep. Men are such fools. Drinking and singing when rest was most important. The boy bowed his head and said something to her in his strange language. She hated his hair. Such a mane should never be given to a man. There was a softness to it that demanded care, which was apparently not on the boy's agenda. If he were of Sorinnia, that would never have been allowed. A smile almost escaped when she thought of the boy cleaned, his hair braided in the way of her land. Almost handsome - for a boy.

"It is easy to see how you got that scar," Yanda said, drawing a finger down her cheek and pointing at him. He nodded and smiled, not understanding a word she was saying. He brushed off his pants and rubbed the elbow that took the brunt of his fall.

"You will stand behind me when they come," Yanda continued. "I do not want you hurt until I have paid my debt." The boy stared at her, then shrugged his shoulders and walked past her as if her words were useless. Infuriating. She would have to follow him about until the time came. These men knew nothing about what was coming. They would never recognize her battle prowess until it was too late. She expected the bulk of the crew to be cowering behind crates, crying to their Gods. The woman of Sorinnia knew how to fight, and it is with eyes wide open.

The boy went straight to the Captain, who was waving him forward. Yanda followed, annoyed that the Captain singled the boy in between his shouted commands. It was as if the boy's lucky grab at her wrist had elevated him in Sebastian's mind. Men put too much credence in the physical. It was nothing but chance that had incurred Yanda's debt.

Sebastian took the boy to the side of the ship. They leaned over the railing, and the Captain pointed at a large ship with three sails, each twice the size of the one that struggled on the mast above Yanda's head. The pursuers were still far enough away that the bulk of the ship periodically disappeared in the waves. A few specks moving on its deck were visible, though no features of the sailors could be discerned.

The boy concentrated on the ship, his eyes tightening as if it would improve his vision. After a moment, he conferred with the Captain, who nodded his head in resignation.

"There is more than twenty-five on the deck," Sebastian said to Yanda. "Twice that below. The outcome is foregone if we don't make the shallows before they can grapple our hull."

"How do you know this? I can barely see one or two of them?"

"Kelton knows," Sebastian said. "He sees without eyes, not that it will serve us to know the size of our enemy."

"It is nonsense," Yanda said, angry that the boy's lies were so easily believed. "No one sees without eyes. Mayhap the count is lower, and you run from a falsehood."

"Believe what you want," the Captain said without incrimination. "We are running. We'll shoot blindly into the shallows. Mayhap they will follow with that deep hull of theirs and find the bottom before we do."

"You must set up a defense," Yanda insisted. "Bows behind cover, men ready to engage those that board. They must advance, and we can use that exposure to fight."

The Captain yelled something to the man steering the ship. He pointed at the sail, it's lower corner flapping as the wind shifted. The boat turned, and the sail once again stiffened, its billow grabbing all the wind it could find.

"I have only two warriors. The rest have only held swords in their dreams. Would you command them to throw their lives away?" Sebastian shook his head. "They will be lucky if their hearts don't burst when that ship comes alongside. Most will surrender and I won't stop them."

"Give me the two warriors, and I'll make taking this ship cost dearly," Yanda said. Sebastian laughed. It was a strained laugh full of the impending calamity.

"You are one, and Kelton is the other," the Captain said, pointing to the red-haired boy.

"Kelton?" Yanda said, looking at the boy. Kelton's eyes widened at the mention of his name.

"Aye. Simbawla and I will fight. That makes four against the horde." The Captain shook his head again. "It's best to hope the shallows gobble their hull. Or mayhap, we can make land and hide."

"Kelton?" Yanda repeated. The boy was tall enough, but he lacked something. That killer look, or maybe it was a lack of confidence. There was no bravado in the way he stood. It was as if he was always searching for something to smile about. No determination. No goals. Warriors are serious, not frivolous.

The Captain exchanged words with Kelton. The boy smiled at Yanda. It was an irritating grin that seemed to be at her expense. She never liked the way he looked at her, a mixture of ignorance and insincere respect. It was as if he wanted to trick her for some unknown benefit. He had the Captain fooled, but not her.

"I told him he shouldn't throw his life away, but he insists that if you fight, he will as well."

"Tell him I will pay my debt to him, then he will surrender. If he must, he can wait until I fall." There was no need for him to die. Not that Yanda cared one way or another. Someone who tells people that he can see without eyes doesn't merit concern.

"I am done being in the middle," Sebastian said. "If you wish to save his life, then surrender. If not, fight, and he will fall with you. I won't blame you for choosing either anymore then I blame him for his choices."

"You will tell him what I said," Yanda insisted.

"Nay," Sebastian said, then began yelling about the sail again. Yanda's face warmed as her anger tried to rise over her self-control.

"You will tell him what I said!"

"This is my ship. I am captain," Sebastian in a tone that was on the brink of anger as well. "I have allowed what I could. Now, I do as I see fit and you will accept it, or you will leave my ship." He pointed to the churning sea, its waves angrier than the both of them. Yanda wanted to strike him, teach him respect. No one, besides her mother, had ever spoken to her in such a manner. It just wasn't done. Her hands clenched and she gritted her teeth as her fury grew.

Kelton again traded words with the Captain. Yanda took a deep breath. She was outnumbered, and unlike her land, her sex was considered a weakness. She was told it would be that way, but up until that moment, Sebastian had indicated otherwise. It was humiliating, as bad as when the boy saved her from being torn apart underneath the hull. The remembered fear of that event sent a shiver up her spine to mix with rest of the feelings. She didn't feel well at all.

"Kelton says he's going to fight. He figures that your bow will be the biggest threat and he intends to use his sword to give you the time to fire every arrow.," the Captain said. "He wants to know where the best position for you will be."

Yanda's anger fled. The boy had more intelligence than she had thought. She hadn't been expecting a tactical question. He recognized the true combat power on the ship and wanted to be part of it. A sound deduction. That and the question seemed to say he didn't think less of her for falling off the ship. Of course not - it could have happened to anyone.

"The bow," Yanda replied. She pointed toward the front of the boat for Kelton's sake. "It's not the most stable, but we can only get attacked from one direction." The Captain interpreted, and Kelton nodded, pursing his lips in studied agreement.

"He asks if he should lash some crates together, something to block their arrows," the Captain passed on. Yanda smiled. Maybe that scar was earned. She nodded and pointed toward the crate of ropes.

Together, without words, Yanda and Kelton worked together to build a barricade on the bow. The small fort was constructed from four crates laid out like two arrowheads facing away from each other. There was no telling where the initial attack would come from, so this allowed protection on every side, with a gap down the center for egress. Simbawla used iron pins, driving them into the deck to secure the crates in place. Atop of these, they placed another set of crates, lashing them to ones below. It wasn't stone, but it would stop an arrow.

Yanda was impressed that Kelton didn't shy away from the labor. He wasn't as foolish as she had first thought. Maybe the lack of direction she noticed before was just that. Nothing was pending in his future. Given a task, he seemed willing enough to execute. It pleased her that he realized she was his tactical superior and that it was best for her to lead the final battle. Her mother would be proud to see her take command in this male-dominated corner of the world. She smiled at the thought. Kelton smiled back, and for the first time, it didn't bother her that he thought the smile was for him. In a way, it was.