Sacrifice

The smell of blood and waste hung in the air like a wet blanket, smothering everything with its weight. Nelina Maefield wrinkled her nose, breathing through her mouth to keep from throwing up.

Dead soldiers littered the corridor, their bodies lying there like broken marionette puppets. Nelina had started this tour with her blue silk skirt lifted high above the carnage, but now a dark stain was creeping its way up to the point where it no longer seemed to matter.

The young servant acting as her guide walked stiffly, his face a pale shade of green. She pitied the boy, knowing that he was nearly of age to be called to die in a similar battle.

They entered the bridge of the starship, and Nelina’s breath caught in her throat. Half the room was blown away, leaving a gaping hole exposing them to the blackness of space. She knew there was a force field in place keeping the oxygen in, but the animalistic part of her brain screamed to flee in self-preservation. She resisted the urge with effort.

A young man stood at attention at the center of what was left. His uniform was splattered with dried, brown blood and his hair hung disheveled in his face.

“Ensign Newsy, I presume?” She spoke softly, knowing that all the senior officers had been killed in the first few minutes of the battle. “The Armstrong now falls under the command of Captain Marshall of the Black Dalia. His men will come on board and handle the rest of what needs to be done. You are relieved of your command, Ensign.”

The ensign nodded stiffly, but Nelina could see he was on the verge of tears. His hands clasped behind his back couldn’t hide the slight tremor. Duty had kept him functional for this long, but he was near falling apart.

Nelina turned to the servant. “Take the ensign to my ship. I will find my own way back.”

As the two of them walked away, Nelina felt obligated to say, “You performed admirably under the worst possible circumstances, Ensign Newsy.”

His voice cracked. “I ran away.”

“You saved the ship and nearly a third of the soldiers on board. There was nothing to be gained by the loss of either. You did the right thing.”

After they had gone, Nelina felt a familiar weight settle onto her shoulders. She stared out into the deep, empty darkness of space and rubbed the sides of her head, trying to stave off a headache. The truth crept its way in from the back of her mind—they were losing this war. It was an uncomfortable truth no one else wanted to admit, least of all her older brother, the king. But he didn’t walk these corridors or look into the eyes of the men who fought his battles. How could Rupert possibly know the cost of this war when even the sight of blood made him faint?

The Armstrong was the only surviving starship out of fleet of twenty-six sent to fight one battle. Her kingdom had the advantage in numbers, but the technology and brutality of their enemy was so superior, she knew it wouldn’t matter in the long term. Humanity was being exterminated, one fleet at a time by the Wraiths.

A decision began to take hold, one she had been vacillating on for nearly a year. This couldn’t continue. If Rupert wouldn’t act, then Nelina would do it for him—no matter how great the personal sacrifice. But she would need the help of an old friend to make her plan a reality.

***

“Your kind isn’t welcome here.” Beer sloshed onto the counter as the bartender slammed down the large mug.

Beryl Kane sighed and pulled back the hood that had hidden his lavender eyes. “Well considering I’ve already paid, it’s a little late for that attitude.”

“I hadn’t noticed your eyes before now. I’ll refund your money, but you need to leave.”

The thought of making a scene crossed Beryl’s mind, but he was tired, and he did not feel like fighting with this idiot today. He would still go away hungry and would accomplish nothing except for attracting more attention. The bartender tossed his coins back at him, and Beryl shoved them back in his pocket, stifling his protest.

He stood to leave but was suddenly blocked by a huge body. The overwhelming scent of body odor washed over him, Beryl’s eyes watering from the sting of it. He swallowed a gag and stepped to go around the brute of man.

“Purple eyes.” The brute’s breath was worse than his body odor, but he was surprisingly fast as he stepped in sync to block Beryl’s path again. “Wraith.”

“Congratulations on your grasp of the obvious. Half-Wraith, actually.” Beryl leaned back casually on the bar, disguising the movement of his hand to the hilt of the dagger on his hip. “I don’t suppose you’d mind moving just a bit to the side…”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Half-Wraith.”

Two other men came up on either side of the brute, neither any more appealing. It seemed he would not be able to avoid making a scene after all. Beryl’s grip tightened on the dagger, and he took a deep breath, preparing to fade away like the wraiths of legend his kind were named after.

“Stop.”

The single word was spoken softly, but with an authority that made everyone turn to see the newcomer on the tense scene. Beryl recognized the slight figure immediately, although he hardly believed it. His breath left his body as if he’d been punched in the stomach.

The brute sneered. “This is none of your concern, girl.”

“I am Lady Nelina, of the royal house. I am here on the authority of the king himself, so I assure you, this is very much my concern. I have business with Beryl Kane, and you will let him go so I may discuss it with him.”

Two royal guards appeared behind her in the doorway, emphasizing Nelina’s point. The brutes reluctantly stepped aside; even they were not stupid enough to pick a fight with royalty.

Beryl saluted them as he slipped through the gap toward Nelina. “Catch you next time, boys.”

Bright sunlight and broiling heat greeted him as he stepped outside. He squinted up at the two suns and sighed. He was so sick of being on this stupid rock.

“I see some things never change.”

Beryl blinked and turned to look at the girl standing next to him; except of course she wasn’t a girl anymore. Nelina Maefield, his childhood playmate, come back as a grown woman to haunt him. The intelligent brown eyes that studied him were the same as he’d known, but the thick dark hair which had once hung in a messy halo down to her waist was now pinned back tightly and the slender hands that once were in a constant state of fidgeting were clasped firmly behind her back.

“What are you doing here, My Lady?”

Nelina glared. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like we’re strangers.”

“I haven’t seen you in ten years, My Lady. We are strangers.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes and Beryl instantly regretted his harsh words. The first time seeing Nelina in ten years and he was apparently determined to start it off on a sour note. What a great tone to set. Moron.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asked again, softening his voice.

Nelina began to walk down the street and Beryl stifled another sigh as he followed her out of the shade and into the full force of the suns. Anyone foolish enough to be outside at this time of day skittered away like mice in sight of cat. Beryl wasn’t sure which predator they were fleeing—the Wraith or the Royal.

“You’re a mercenary for hire these days, right?” she asked finally.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“And you’ve been hired on both sides of the border, correct?”

 Beryl hesitated. “That depends. If I say yes, does this little visit end with me in prison?”

“No, not today.”

“Then yes, I’ve worked for a few people on the other side.” Beryl wasn’t thrilled at the direction this conversation was heading. “What’s your interest?”

“I’m interested in your connections, and possibly…your willingness to take a diplomatic party across.”

“Are you insane?!” Beryl wiped away the beads of sweat on his forehead. “I’m not taking an Lumerian Royal into Wraith Territory. I’d be signing your death warrant.”

“Don’t condescend to me, Beryl. I know the risks.”

“Then why would you want to go there?”

“To end the war,” she snapped.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” His eyes stung as the beads of sweat dripped into them.

“It does make sense.”

“Does it, though?”

“Beryl, I didn’t come here to bicker with you as if we still eight years old.” Nelina stopped at the entrance to the shipyard. “I came here for your help.”

“Why? We haven’t seen each other in ten years, and you show up out of the blue asking me to take you through a warzone to your sworn enemies’ doorstep. Surely you must have a royal smuggler you can order to do this sort of thing.”

“I don’t trust anyone else. I know it’s been a long time, but you’re my friend and I need you right now.”

Beryl cursed under his breath; the heat had finally cooked his brain. “I spent the last month clearing out a band of marauders who were hassling the salt miners here. I’m only waiting on this barren rock to collect my very overdue payment. Square their account, and I’m yours.”

***

Nelina shifted in the co-pilots seat. The cracked leather and hardened foam pad told her it didn’t get much use on Beryl’s ship. She looked around with a raised eyebrow, taking in the Frankenstein menagerie of technology, the clothes and dishes strewn about, and the general level of overall grime.

“Stop it.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I can feel your judgement. Stop it.” Beryl flipped a few toggled on the console, staring at the viewscreen with a look that could melt titanium.

Nelina decided silence was the best choice. She’d sent her escorts home, so it would just be her and Beryl for quite some time. She didn’t want him to change his mind and turn around.

The young man sitting next to her wasn’t the boy she remembered. He’d always been a bit unpredictable, even wild, but the lopsided smile and cheerful attitude had been replaced by a hard edges and cynicism. He was still handsome, with those light brown curls falling into violet eyes, and the jawline that had only gotten more defined with maturity. But there was nothing soft left exposed.

She didn’t blame him for being angry. Life as a Half-Wraith was hard. They were unwanted and disliked on both sides of the warzone. Add to that thinking you had a place you belonged, only to be abandoned like a piece of trash would make anyone resentful.

“How far to the border?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“We’re on the edge of Lumerian territory. It’ll only take us about an hour to reach the border; but you already knew that, of course.”

“Right.” Nelina swallowed. “Of course.”

He sighed. “Sorry, I know I’m being a jerk.”

“No, it’s fine. I get it. It’s weird, after all this time…and you have every right to be mad about seeing me again.”

“I’m not mad about seeing you; I’m mad about everything else.”

“Understandable.”

 A faint smile ghosted Beryl’s lips. All was not forgiven, but the ice was thawing.

“So, how is Rupert these days? Still insufferable?”

Nelina laughed. “Oh yeah. I swear he gets worse every day.”

“Does he know you’re here?”

 Her laughter tapered off. “No.”

 “I didn’t think so. What was that charming thing he said—'It’s one thing have a Wraith around the palace as a novelty, but it’s another thing entirely to catch it in coat closet sucking on my sister’s face.’”

“Yeah, he was never your biggest fan.” Nelina rubbed the back of her neck. “But you have to admit it was fun while it lasted.”

He was silent for a moment, staring straight ahead. “I have no regrets.”

“I have a few,” she replied with a sad smile. “But the coat closet isn’t one of them.”

The two of them sat quietly for a few minutes, both lost in their own memories of childhood friendship and clumsy attempts at first love.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, distracting Nelina from her musings.

“What?”

“Your plan? You must have one. You were never one to do anything without a strategy.”

“Oh, right…my plan.” Nelina did have a plan, but she knew Beryl wouldn’t like it. “Prince Wyllen reached out to the royal council last year about a cease fire.”

“Okay, so what was the hang up?”

“Because the Wraith’s had a stipulation which was non-negotiable, and Rupert wouldn’t even consider it. In fairness, I didn’t encourage him to consider it either

Beryl gave her a pensive look. “What was the stipulation?”

Nelina ran her fingers through the grime on her chair’s armrest. “They wouldn’t agree to a peace treaty without a marriage alliance—between me and the prince.”

The reaction was swift and explosive. “Have you lost your mind?! You can’t marry this guy!”

“I don’t want to marry him!” Nelina shouted back.

“Then what are you doing here?!”

“Six billion!”

 Beryl froze, his face a mask of confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Nelina took a deep breath and made an effort to lower her pitch. “That’s how many soldiers and civilians died in the last year because of this war. That’s how many people I could’ve saved if I’d accepted the terms of their treaty.”

“That isn’t fair. You didn’t kill those people.”

“No. But I didn’t save them either.”

 In that moment, Nelina wasn’t thinking about the six billion. It was such a big number—too big for the simple human mind to comprehend its meaning. She was thinking about that young servant on the Armstrong, with his golden waves and big blue eyes. She was thinking about what he’d look like with that baby face of his blown off, floating forgotten through another battlefield.

“Don’t the Wraith’s pride themselves on blood purity?” Beryl’s voice held a desperate edge. “How could a human wife produce an heir?”

“Wraith monarchs aren’t chosen through bloodline. They’re sterilized when they’re selected as an heir.”

“Well, that’s a super fun fact,” he replied sarcastically. “Why does the Wraith heir apparent even want a human queen?”

“I guess he has something of a fascination.”

“So, it’s a fetish?”

Nelina rolled her eyes. “No, Beryl, it’s not a fetish.”

“It sounds like a fetish.”

“It’s not a fetish,” she snapped. “He wants to understand us. And to be perfectly honest, it doesn’t really matter. Lumeria is losing this war. A cease fire is our only option for survival.”

The heavy silence settled in between them once again. They didn’t speak as they slipped through a hole in the security net into Wraith territory, or when Beryl switched out the transponder. The minutes turned into hours, but neither of them could seem to bring themselves to break the quiet first.

“Why does it have to be you?” asked Beryl finally.

“Because it can be me,” she replied quietly.

He settled into his seat like a balloon slowly leaking air. “Why did you come to me then? We haven’t seen each other since I was exiled. Why would you ask me to do this to you?”

Nelina thought about it, trying to find the right words. “Do you remember that one time when I was about six and I had to read that poem in front of all those people at the midwinters ball? I was so nervous I thought I was going to puke on stage. I looked out at all those people and there wasn’t a single friendly face looking back—except yours. You weren’t even allowed to be there, but I could see you, in the shadows at the very back. It was like a shimmer of smoke or a trick of the eye, but I knew it was you. I needed you and you were there to help me. You were always there when I needed you.” Her voice caught in her throat. “And I need you now. Just one more time, I need you to be my friend and help me.”

Her vision blurred and Nelina blinked furiously, determined not to burst into tears like some helpless child. A warm hand slipped into her own and she gripped back tightly.

“Nelina, I would do anything for you. But you know if you do this, you’ll never be content.” The statement was said as a simple fact, without judgment. “Your happiness matters too.”

Nelina didn’t say anything in reply. There really wasn’t anything else to be said. She just held Beryl’s hand and stared out the viewscreen, watching the stars go by.

***

They reached the Wraith home world without incident. Beryl watched Nelina Maefield walk down the ramp and out of his life. His best friend and first love and the only person he had ever trusted, and she was gone forever—another sacrifice to a pointless war.

You fool, he thought to himself. You’re the one who will never be content.

She never looked back.