Clayton Emery: Jedit

Sergeant Murdoch, his naked torso sporting a dozen old scars and several new lacerations. Sister Wilemina, skinny as a skinned rabbit with arms and shoulders taut as bowstrings.

Jasmine Boreal, soaking a cloud of strawberry hair. Heath, gazing into the distance, dreaming wide awake. And Jedit, who stained the stream pink from an uncountable number of cuts and scrapes.

Adira's throat tightened fit to choke her. In her wake bobbed corpses as from a slave ship. Virgil, Simone, Peregrine, Whistledove. Why had she embarked on a life of adventure that brought so few rewards and so much destruction to so many?

She murmured aloud, "Because I know no other life. Shall I sit in a comer and spin my days away?"

"Beg pardon?" Magfire had doffed her silver fox mantle and loom-woven shirt. Revealed was a woman broad as a door across shoulders and hips with more scars than even Murdoch could boast. She bit her lips as she bathed a dozen nicks and dings.

"Nothing." Adira Strongheart used a handful of sopping grass to scrub her seaboots. "I wish we'd been friends."

"I also," conceded the war chief. "But when thunderheads butt, lightning flashes. I'm sorry your friend died but not sorry my brother lived."

"Nor am I." Adira sighed and resumed scrubbing. "Any road, you'll be shed of us soon. We must hie back to Palmyra, though we'll sail from Buzzard's Bay rather than trek overland. Walking's for horses."

The women were quiet, for once sharing time without quarreling. People fussed to clean clothes and tackle, glad for small tasks. A whistle piped through the trees. Magfire whistled back. Hunters from Magfire's tribe trickled in as the sun set. They carried partridges and rabbits and two barren does. Murdoch laughed for happiness.

"What more bonny sight can a hungry soldier see than food hung on the spit!"

The adventurers rested while Magfire's hunters kindled a pit fire and chopped roasts. Jedit Ojanen crawled from the water and sprawled on his back. For once Wilemina gave in to temptation and rubbed his furry white belly.

As the fire crackled and savory smells filled the night, Jasmine Boreal broke the silence. "With your permission, Adira, or without, I wish to remain with Magfire's tribe, if they'll have me. I'm not cut out for pirating, it seems. I've no use for a sword, so no worth to you. Better I spend my time sharing spells with the tribe shamans. Magfire, may I?"

Magfire nodded. Adira Strongheart only shrugged. The druid had proven prickly and aloof and would not be missed.

"If that's the case…" Taurion, the doughty trailblazer and thinker, blushed to find every eye upon him. "If you w-wouldn't mind, Adira, I'd like to join your Circle. I wish to see the world. Too, I feel an obligation. Simone's sacrifice gave me life. I would repay that debt."

"With your life?" Adira turned serious. "I fear to recruit anyone these days. My crew only learns new ways to be killed."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Magfire nudged Adira's elbow, a silent request on her brother's behalf. Adira waved a hand.

"Yes, Taurion, you're welcome."

"And me?" Kyenou, in her long leather shirt dotted with ermine tails, waggled her double-ended spear.

Adira blinked, for the female scout hadn't said ten words so far. "Uh, if Magfire will release your oath of fealty."

"I enlist only volunteers," said Magfire. "Like you, Adira. Then when the going gets hard, they've only themselves to blame. It cuts down the bellyaching."

"Well put." But the pirate queen's mind drifted, already charting their next course. She wondered what transpired in Palmyra and Bryce, and what Hazezon Tamar did.

She mused aloud, "Say your good-byes while you may. We shan't linger long."

Sighing, Adira clapped Magfire's knee. "Some good comes of this suffering. It's lucky we met the people of the pines. Luckier we became allies. With Johan loose, all of Jamuraa will be engulfed in his madness before long. That's my prophecy."

Strength sagging, Adira laid back on pine needles and watched stars wink on in a perfect autumn night. Worry later, she decided. She had work still.

Sitting up, Adira announced, "Jedit Ojanen, I appoint you lieutenant of the Robaran Mercenaries."

"Me?" The dozing tiger crooked his neck, looking so puzzled that everyone laughed.

"It's your own fault." Adira kept a straight face, but her eyes twinkled. "You've proven capable in combat and even at taking command when needed. You've saved every life here a dozen times. What d'ya say?"

"I say…" Jedit coiled upright. In evening firelight, his amber-green eyes sparkled like emeralds. "Thank you. I'm sure my father would be proud."

"He would. All your homeland shall be. You'll see." Adira cleared her throat. Damn sentimentality, she thought. "For the rest of you moss-back turtle-thumpers, while we wait on supper, drag out your blades and hone a fine edge. Wherever we go, we'll need three things for certain. Good beef, good ale, and sharp steel!"