Chapter 39: The End of an Old Life

Morning had come but the celebrations didn’t end. After Ronan and his friends had received more seafood than they could possibly eat, the four were led outside by Ilia. She took them down a path coated in seashells as rough as cobblestone, and down towards the beaches at the end of the cliffside.

Ike and Clove were wobbling from the rum, and clinging onto each and laughing.

Ronan and Maritza hadn’t had as much to drink, and when bottles were passed to them, they mostly only held onto them for show. The two felt something toxic surging in the air, and knew they would need their wits about them.

But, in a silent agreement, they both also knew that after all their treacherous traveling, they were in much need of rest.

Besides, once Illia had gotten the Seahorses riled up on the topic of Black Blade revenge, she had shut the discussion down just as fast as she’d brought it up.

“Today,” she said over and over again, “is a day to forget all our troubles and enjoy ourselves. Without such time, no warrior can be successful, and we know a thing or two about creating the best Nightblades out there.”

The sand of the beach resembled powdered gold, and it was the softest thing Ronan had ever set his feet on. He and the rest of the group removed their boots, and then Illia along with several other Seahorses brought them towels and buccaneering garb.

Steam rose softly from four large pits in the ground. Warm water jetted out in each direction, leaving a foamy froth on the water’s surface.

“These are our famous Seaside Hot Springs,” Illia said. “They water is heated naturally by a wildfire in the mines, and the minerals burning happen to be an almost endless supply of Burnrock and Hazelstone.”

“Which means,” Ronan said, removing his shirt and tossing it to the sand, “that these waters would clean wounds, and remove toxins from one’s skin.”

“And it’ll do it so well that you’ll think it’s magic,” Illia assured.

She waved the other Seahorses away and said, “Leave the two group of lovers be.”

She and the other Seahorse Nightblades sauntered over to another hot spring. Men and women both removed their clothes, sat in the springs, and poured themselves cups of rum. They sat talking casually like old friends.

Ronan and Maritza glanced at one another, but didn’t have anything to hide anymore. There were no longer social restrictions or politics that they needed to maintain at the Temple of the Butterfly. They were no longer bound by a council that they couldn’t use The Shroud near.

All former rules were off the table, and the two felt freed.

Maritza slid her leather cuirass off her shoulder, then winced at the closed wound along her chest. Back at Augustate, she’d taken a surface level strike from a blade, and while her armour had absorbed most of the damage, it still stung red and raw and was in need of proper disinfection.

“Let me help you,” Ronan said, grabbing the straps of the cuirass and carefully peeling it from her dirt-stained shirt. At another time, the shirt had been white, but after their camping and many nights sleeping on the ground, the shirt looked more like it’d been found buried in the mud.

He unbuttoned the first button for her, then the second, and she undid the belt around his trousers.

With an excited breath, Maritza moved her mouth closer to Ronan’s.

Then the two were both soaked by a big splash of warm water.

Scindo had jumped into the hot spring in front of them stark naked. He whipped his indigo hair back and forth like a dog shaking water from its coat, and he ripped the braids out of his hair.

“Oh you Butterflies,” Scindo laughed, dunking his head under water. All the knotted and ratty parts of his hair completely smoothed out, and he for once looked rather elegant. “I take it that public bathing was against your cordial rules, and highfalutin councils, and all your other silly, pretend things.”

Clove stood nervously and nodded, but Ike was already shaking his trousers off his ankles. He jumped into the spring and covered Clove with a big splash.

She laughed and relaxed, loving the side of Ike that embraced nature.

“When I camped as a kid,” he said after his he’d emerged from the bubbling water, his muttonchops sideburns clean and shiny, “my father and I would bathe in water all the time.”

Scindo waved at Ike and said, “See? The Mountain Man has the right idea.”

“In the Temple of the Butterfly,” Clove said, "one was to remain covered in the presence of a Master or Elder."

Scindo laughed so hard he wiped a tear from his eye.

“Indeed,” he said, “there should be a level of respect shown to those who have practiced harder and for longer than you, but we’re all just people in need of a bath here. The biggest rule you must understand is the golden rule: stand by the person you fight beside so that you may both live to fight another day. Now please, make yourself at home. Jump in with your clothes on, if you’d be more comfortable. Doing so will even clean them better than they’ve ever been.”

Clove was hesitant, but Ike smiled and held out his hand. She stepped barefoot into the water with all her clothes still on. In an instant, all the dirt and grime from horse riding and roughing it out by rocks and grass was lifted from her clothes. The water was murky for a half a second, then went right back to its clear, bubbly, refreshing state.

“That’s amazing,” Clove said, observing her hand. All the soil caked beneath her nails had been removed, and all the tiny cuts across her arm were cleaned and closed, as if they’d been healing for days.

Scindo stretched out for a moment longer, closed his eyes, then patted along the sand.

“No rum,” he muttered, before leaping out from the spring.

He nudged his head in the direction of the Seahorses in the other spring and chuckled, “I see my wife has the bottle in her talons. Excuse me while I spend a little more time with her before she leaves for her next expedition in a few days.”

“Where’s Illia going?” Maritza asked.

“She and her crew,” Scindo responded, strolling naked past Maritza and Ronan, “are going to be eliminating an encampment of Black Blades a week’s voyage to the East.”

“But I take it that won’t be discussed tonight?” Maritza questioned playfully.

Scindo winked and said, “You catch on quick, Black Butterfly.”

He snatched the bottle out of Illia's hand, and then she tugged him by his arm. He toppled into the spring and the other Seahorses laughed and cheered.

That left only Maritza and Ronan by themselves, out of the water and in each other’s arms.

“You’re eager to get back into the fight,” Ronan said, continuing down onto the third button of her shirt. Maritza exhaled sharply and set her hands on his waist.

She pulled his belt out from the rungs on his pants and replied, “Ronan, they have a way to defeat the monsters that destroyed your temple.”

But her words trailed off, and she was lost in his dark brown eyes.

They stared at each other intensely, and around them the world stopped existing. While Ronan peered into Maritza's sparkling green eyes, he knew what he'd known from the moment he met her-- there was something otherwordly connecting him to her. He read of love but never had experienced it, though he didn't think what he felt for Maritza was love as it was described by those writings books in the Serpent library. No, even the fanciest arrangements of words on parchment could hold no merit to the way she made his heart race with excitement, and Ronan could feel magic between them, in almost the same way fire surged through his markings and out of his fingertips.

Maritza too was overcome with a desire for Ronan. There had been lovers in her past years ago, short-term arrangements that she had cut off after seeing that the men were not on her level of maturity or strength. But with Ronan, he was an equal if not somebody who pushed her to be better than she had thought herself capable of. He was someone that pushed her to continue to achieve excellence, and he was a man she could trust to be there for her through anything.

Ronan and Maritza's passion could be felt throughout the air, and the hot springs boiled especially hard as they got even closer.

“You’re right,” Ronan said, moving his fingers down her stomach and near the next button on her shirt. "the Nightblades here have ways of defeating the Hellsworn."

He opened Maritza’s shirt and dropped it to the sand. “But tonight more important things take precedent.”

She smirked and nodded, and the two finished undressing. They stood looking at each other’s bare bodies for a moment, their skin tan and perfect save for a few scars they didn't know the other had.

They looked forward to hearing about them, at another time, when they were meant to do something other than rest and restore.

Ronan and Maritza entered the spring and sat together.

“Look over there,” Ronan said. Clove was balling her wet clothes up and tossing them to the sand. Her black hair had been tangled, but now was like silk. Water rushed over the sides of the hot spring as she hopped onto Ike, and the two released much pent up passion they hadn’t been able to indulge while on the road.

Maritza smiled for them, and moved closer to Ronan.

“That gives me a few ideas,” he said, putting his arm around Maritza. They kissed long and hard as the water jets melted away their aches and pains.

“Only a few ideas?” Maritza asked, setting both her arms around Ronan’s neck and sitting on his lap.

She went to kiss him again but stopped.

“What the hell is that?” she asked, pointing to the cuff of the beach, where black, slimy water sludged its way onto shore.

Ronan stood up and grabbed his sword, his eyes searching for a target.

“Hellsworn!” he declared.