Chapter 45: Nightmare Celebration

At that night’s celebration of the Merchant exams, Maritza slow-danced with Ronan by the rumbling fire pit. She inspected him for the first time in a while; black stubble peppered his face, chin, and neck, and his hair had grown out to almost touch his eyes. He matched the Seahorse Nightblades in size and strength, and on his left arm were three black markings— first and foremost a snake, and coiled on each side of the snake was a butterfly and a seahorse. Beneath each marking was five tally marks.

Maritza suddenly felt overwhelmed with guilt. She couldn’t even recall when the last time he’d received a new rank, or what his progress had been since she had retreated to their room. She had been enveloped in such a cloud of darkness that she had not been there for him to support him through his training, or to celebrate his accomplishments.

In the light from the fire pit, Seahorse Nightblades twirled and spun their partners around, clacking mugs of beer and glasses of rum together. Ike and Clove waltzed in the center of the crowd, their smiles so wide and their laughter so loud it was impossible for them to not be the center of attention.

Ronan watched them, then looked Maritza in her dull green eyes and said, “It’s good to see you up and about.”

She hugged him tightly and said, “I’m sorry for sinking so low.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ronan whispered into her ear. “Just please try and understand that I’m here to help you with whatever it is.”

Maritza sighed deeply, and Ronan felt her ribs through her shirt. He wondered how long it would be for her to build back a fighting form, or if she’d ever even be able to again.

“I died in the water,” Maritza said.

Her words were flat and blunt, and as lifeless as she had been when she drowned.

“And you’re sure of this?” Ronan asked.

“I am. I know because of The Shroud. It’s made of people who died with our curse, and for a second in the water, right before everything went black, that’s all I saw— a wall of the faces of the people who died with what we have, some broken, some burned, some hacked away and some intact, peaceful even, as if they had died in their sleep.”

Ronan’s hands started to sweat, and he went to pull them off her hip, but Maritza kept his hands on her.

“That sounds horrible,” Ronan said. He didn’t know what else to say.

“It was,” Maritza paused and thought of the right word, “confusing. There was all that death and pain, and at the same time, there was a sense of unity, a completeness to all those who were like us.”

She shook her head, “Maybe it was just a vision. A hallucination from the lack of oxygen.”

Maritza looked at Ronan with tears in her eyes and said, “But I heard my father’s voice in my ear, leading the many voices of The Shroud’s whispers. He sounded just as drunk as the day he had hung himself, and he told me: ‘You are nothing special, and you will rot away with the rest of us.”

“By the gods,” Ronan whispered. “Of course you were so shaken after such an event.”

Maritza seemed distant, and from the corner of her mouth said, “Right after my father said that, his voice peeled out from the wall of other faces, and his hands snatched me by the legs, and started pulling me towards all the howling and screaming faces of The Shroud. It wasn’t until you touched me that I stopped feeling their grasp.”

“I would have never left you down there,” Ronan insisted.

“I know, dear,” she said quickly. “I know.”

Ike then bumped into Ronan, nearly bringing the two of them down.

“Sorry about that!” Ike said. He whipped Clove around by her hand, and she did an acrobatic twirl around his arms.

“Careful!” Ronan exclaimed playfully. “You’re the size of a boulder now, Ike! You nearly took us out!”

Clove smiled, a little drunk, and said, “I’ve missed you, Maritza. We’re all happy to see you again.”

“Congratulations,” Maritza said with a new life to her eyes. The sparkle was beginning to return, and Ronan could feel a shift in her energy.

That’s when The Shroud whispered to him, “Maritza is not worthy of you. She’s too weak. SHE IS NOT LIKE US. She will only get you killed!”

The Hellblade to Ronan’s side began to rattle loudly, though nobody seemed to notice. It was as though he were frozen in time, and when he looked at Maritza, he saw her face a foul yellow, and her cheeks were bloated and filled with oozing puss.

Ronan yelped and jumped backwards, knocking Ike and Clove to the ground, and shuffling back to his feet in terror.

Ronan blinked wildly, and saw that Maritza had a hand to her thin chest.

Her face, though gaunt from the weight loss, was still gorgeous and normal.

“What did they put in your rum?” Clove asked Ronan.

“Or do you just have two left feet while dancing?” Ike joked. He knelt and helped Ronan up.

Ronan pushed past them and went to Maritza. He touched her face and checked her pulse.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” Maritza replied. “But what’s going on with you? Are you okay?”

Ronan panted and wiped sweat from his brow. “Yes. I'm alright,” he muttered.

His forearm burned worse than when he had been subjected to the Norovir’s acid, and it felt like a rat was crawling through his veins. Ronan fell to his knees.

“You are chosen!” The Shroud screamed. Ronan’s ears rang. “She is NOT, and she will get you killed! SHE IS NOT ONE OF US!”

Ronan retched his dinner in a pile by his boots, and Maritza grabbed his shoulder. Ike and Clove rushed over,
their bootsteps just overpowered by the sound of clashing swords nearby.

Scindo huffed as he pushed past several other Seahorses, slapping the glasses of rum from their hands, pointing a finger in their face, and huffing some few words that made the Seahorses shift from relaxed to combat ready. Ronan's head pounded and he squinted at the shaking roar of a monster from beyond the temple's gate.

“Splash some water on his face,” Scindo said, rushing over. He slapped Ronan’s cheek, and Ike poured a bucket of water near the fire pit over Ronan's head. Ronan shook the drops from his eyes, then started to ease up. The burning in his arm retreated.

“Get your sword, Ronan,” Scindo demanded. He was speaking with an unusual fierceness. He looked at Ike, Clove, and Maritza next. “All of you, get your weapons.”

There was screaming beyond the temple’s gate, and the Seahorses inside yanked spears and lances off a rack.

“We’re under attack,” Scindo declared.