The Azure Bottle: Chapter 7

 Chapter 7

Thyra flopped onto the deck, coughing up pools of water. Her lungs emptied and refilled at blazing speed. She looked beside her to her rescuer. The king sat there, nursing a gash across his arm. Thyra didn’t thank him, but turned to her own wounds. They were deep and oozing blood onto the rough hewn deck of the ship. 

    Arne knelt down beside her, holding scraps of cloth. His wild eyes searched her face and tears filled his eyes. 

    He’d thought I’d died, she realized. 

    Relief that she was in fact alive flooded her, and she wrapped her bleeding arms around Arne's neck. The old sailor hugged her back and held her there. Tears formed in her eyes, and she buried her face in his scratchy coat. The material brushed her cheeks and smelled vaguely of rum. She could feel Arne slowly pull away.

    He pressed a cloth against one of the bleed gashes on her legs, trying to stop the flow of blood. It quickly soaked up all it could and the blood still ran. It pooled around her body, mixing with the ocean that had been taken from her hair and lungs. Black dots began to form in the edges of her vision, and her head grew heavy. 

    “Get a needle and thread!” the words sounded distant and far off. 

    She was vaguely aware of hands wrapping around her waist and hulling her to her feet. The feel of her wounds was growing less prominent. She tried to force herself to stay responsive, but she was slipping. She felt herself being laid down; she saw nothing. Words, distant and slurred, reached her ears as if they were under the frothing waves. 

    A sharp pain shot up her leg, then another. She tried to cry out but her mouth was slack and unresponsive. A cool hand brushed her forehead, and she tried to recoil, thinking for a moment that it was the touch of a siren. 

    Thyra winced as more pricks followed the first. Cool liquid slid across her lips and into her mouth. She could feel it run down her throat, it didn’t choke her. The world steadily began to reform. She saw only with tunnel vision and even still it was blurred. She tried to focus her eyes but they wouldn’t do as she willed. 

    “Rest, Thyra, rest,” The words sounded nearer now and less sluggish. Thyra surrendered herself to the world of sleep, allowing it to wash over her. 

    In the dream world she saw only talon-ed hands and fierce eyes watching her from beneath the waves. Yellow teeth gleamed, and she watched as they dug into her arms, letting out a flood of bloody tendril that curled around siren teeth. 

    She gasped and sat bolt upright, spitting up imagined water that filled her lungs. She pulled up her sleeves, trying to see the bite marks. There were only neatly done  bandages.

     She ran her fingers across the cloth. Rough and uncomfortable, yet better than the blood that had been gushing in her dreams. The images of sirens raced back to her. She saw them again, and she shuddered. 

    Pushing off her blanket, Thyra tried to get her feet. She was trembling and she grew instantly dizzy. Flopping backwards, she collapsed back on the bed. The door at the other end of the captain’s quarters creaked open and light poured in. She winced as her eyes adjusted. Two arms wrapped around her.

    “Oh, oh, you’re awake! For a while I thought you never would.” She could feel the hands move to her own and as her eyes settled she saw Hilda kneeling there. 

    “What happened? I feel dizzy and confused.” Thyra said, setting a hand to her forehead. 

    “After my- er Alistair dived in after you and pulled you out, you began to slip into a coma. You were pooling blood. Wretched sirens, the scallywags, followed our ship, but, in the end, gave up the hunt. Arne and I stitched you up back here, before your wounds went and got too much worse, still feel like we cuttin’ it close. There aren’t many survivors of direct siren attacks.” Hilda brushed a lock of her fiery red hair away from her eyes. 

    “How long was I unconscious?” Thyra bit her lip, unsure if she wanted to know.

    “Not long, only a day.” 

    Relief washed over Thyra. She’d been worried it would’ve been much longer. “We spotted land. Some of the ships are in bad condition, so we’re pulling into port, seein’ if we can get some of the damage fixed up.” 

    Thyra almost cried. She loved the sea, no doubt about it, but it wasn’t calm. She wanted to sleep without the waves tossing her and be able to take a bath. Her eyes brimmed and she felt stupid for it. “Oh, don’t be upset. We’ll be back on the ocean soon enough.” Hilda said clasping her shoulder, she looked sincerely concerned. Thrya couldn’t help but laugh. 

    “I’m not worried. I’m ready for a break.” She said amidst her laughter. Hilda’s concerned expression melted to a grin. 

    “Good cause we’re gonna have fun, you trust me. I’ve been at this port before, I know all the best places.” She good naturedly slapped Thyra’s back. Thyra winced, then grinned. Land, she never thought she’d like the sound of that word so much. 

    “Can you help me get on deck?” She asked. She was longing to see green grass and cottages. Hilda nodded and wrapped her arm around Thyra’s waist. Thyra hobbled and stumbled, but the two women managed to get onto the deck and flop down near the edge. Mountain’s smiled at the visitors and the trees that were tall enough to be seen from the ship waved leafy arms in welcome. 

    Thyra watched them as a smile settled on her face. Ships can and went from the ports and smoke billowed from chimneys. She had survived the first league of the journey, and now she would rest. 

    Some of the sailors stood beside them, pointing at the land mass and whispering amongst themselves. Most sailors still went about their sundry tasks, only those who weren’t on a shift stood near the edge. 

    Thyra rubbed her bandaged arms gently as she smiled out at rolling hills. Hilda didn’t speak, but she followed Thyra’s gaze, a smile of her own on her lips. The king eventually joined them, his brown hair hanging in a tangled mass. One of his arms was bandaged as was one of his legs. He looked down at the two women and met Thyra’s eyes. She wanted to say thank him, but her pride forbade it. She closed her mouth and nodded her thanks. He returned the gesture, lips pursed. 

    Hilda stood and leaned against the railing, the sunlight casting odd shadows on her sharp features, and bringing out the blonde highlights in her hair. Thyra tried to force herself to her feet, her legs were shaking and her knees buckled beneath her weight. She reached out her hands trying in vain to steady herself. Her fingers found the railing and she leaned her weight against it. Though her legs trembled and her arms were sore, it felt oddly pleasant to stand, like she was being freed of a burden. The sharp edges of the wooden beams supplied adequate hand holds, and she had no need to rest her weight on her unfaithful limbs. 

    The sun beamed down on the world around her, warming her face with its cheerful rays. It felt like such peace and bliss after the icy, dark world beneath the waves of the siren’s nest that had touched her, like she'd been brought back to life after death.

    Thyra let out a long sigh and slumped down deeper. The stitches on her back and arms were eased into more restful positions as she relaxed. The images of the siren’s flashing teeth and yellow eyes, filled with malice, faded from her mind, and the sight before her replaced them. 

    The rippling waves that beat against the sides of the ship were lavished in sparkles. She watched as they glimmered, the lights reflecting in her eyes. 

    The ship neared the port and ropes were thrown over the edge to the waiting men below. 

    “Haul!” They cried as they pulled the ship into port. The sails were rolled up and the ramp was waiting above deck. Thyra almost forgot her pain in her excitement and almost offered to help with the ramp, then closed her mouth. 

    As the ramp was dropped, the sails gathered around. The slab of wood seemed to almost hang in the air, like it wasn’t ready to let the sailors descend. There was a heavy crash as the edge of it hit the port. The sailors began to leave the ship like an army of marching ants. Thyra looked, smiling, over to Arne. He smiled back and hurried over to her side. His calloused hands wrapped around her waist, and she used him as a support, as the two descended the gang plank. 

    When her booted feet fell on the wood of the deck she felt shockingly distressed. It didn't move and for some reason that felt wrong. The sensation of solid, unmoving ground was weird after so long on the ever moving ship. Thyra felt herself growing ridged. 

    “It’s an odd feelin’ ain’t it? For the ground to stay still.” Arne whispered to her. She nodded, suddenly growing less aware of the ground and more aware of the many eyes that watched her. She would’ve imagined all gaze would be on Arne, as he was the obvious captain, but as a woman sailor, she seemed to provide far more of a spectacle. She had the sudden will to disappear. There were next to no interested glances, or simply startled ones, they were almost all disapproval. Thyra looked ahead and could see Hilda was receiving similar looks, only she seemed to take them like a badge of honor that she was privileged to wear. Her chin was thrust high and her shoulders were back. Her wild hair was flung about her shoulders and back. Where people looked at Thyra with disapproval, the glances they gave Hilda were complete reproach, and seemed to be more aimed at her pants than anything else. 

    Thyra tried to hold her head as confidently as Hilda did, but it was harder than she would’ve liked. She hated the eyes that watched her every move, like she was some pest, some misfit. She hated being seen that way, but if it was the price of following in her father’s footsteps she’d accept the burden. Hilda came back to her and supported her other shoulder. Arne and her led the way through the swarms of people to a nearby inn. It was near enough to the port that Thyra could see the ships sitting at rest in the harbor. Their bobbing sails, rolled up and awaiting further use. She cast a smile to the ships as she ducked in through the door. The first thing to hit her was the aroma. It wasn’t necessarily bad, at least not anything she wasn’t used to by now. Fish, rum, and the smell of something cooking from the kitchen that made her mouth water. 

    The tables were packed to the brim with sailors, many that were from their voyage and others she’d never seen before. They must have come at the same time as another voyage. The innkeeper bustled over to them. His hands rested on his plump belly and his red face was mostly made up of very full cheeks. He gave Thyra the odd impression that he looked vaguely like a chipmunk; he squealed as he saw her.

    “My! What has happened to you? Oh, oh, well I’ll get you lot a room and some warm food to eat. Just you wait right here. Oh, oh and I’ll send for a nurse, if you’d like Captain Arne?” Arne nodded silently as the innkeeper hurried off. It was an odd sight to see a man of his magnitude run.He was surprisingly fast, yet completely unagile. In his hurried attempt to get behind the bar and to the kitchen, he upset two tables and let their contents fall to the floor. 

    “He’ll send someone to come show us to a room, Thyra, and he’ll forget to get us food. He’s an odd man, Mr. Codder as we call ‘im, but he’s a good man if nothing else. Come on, let's sit down while we wait.” Hilda said, already moving Thyra over to a nearby table. 

    The room was oddly warm for the time of year and the constant sound of laughter rang throughout the inn. It was a tavern of sorts although it seemed to play many roles. Inn, bar, restaurant, and for some of the workers even a home. Arne sat down beside the two girls, his fingers playing gingerly with the rim of his captain’s hat. Thyra watched the bustling swarms around her with interest. She’d never been in a tavern before, and the whole feel of it now was quite stuffy. Too many people. 

    A young man came up to them, he had an apron that was splattered with grease or something else very much like grease. His hair was an oily mat stuck to the top of his head. He beckoned the company to follow him as he led the way up a set of stairs onto the second floor. The air was notably cooler and the stuffy feeling almost evaporated. Arne was shown to his own room without a word. The oily man led the two women to another room, which they were to share. There was a bunk bed pushed up against the back wall with a nightstand on one side. A plush red carpet covered the floor and nets and pike hooks covered the walls. A bathroom branched off to the left out of which a small spider scurried out of. The man quickly marched up to the little devil and ground his heel into it. Then he nodded and left with an attempted smile that looked to be more of a grimace. Hilda led Thyra over to the lower bunk and eased her down onto the thick mattress. The plush blankets cuddled her legs and she felt instantly tired. She was sure that she could collapse right there and sleep for a week if she were allowed.

    “Oh, beds feel so nice after weeks in a hammock.” Hilda said with a sigh as she climbed into her top bunk. Thyra nodded.  It was wonderful to just be able to sit there and rest. “We’ll have fun tonight. You just wait and see. Of course we’ll both need something to wear.” Hilda announced. Thyra was confused now. Wear? 

    “What do you mean?” She asked. Hilda laughed. 

    “Do you think all that sailors do is climb up the ridging and unfurl the sails? Oh no we have some fun too. I’ll be back in a bit. Will you be okay waiting here?” Hilda asked, popping her head down over the side of the bunk. Thyra nodded and Hilda descended down the ladder and hurried out the door. 

    The heavy burden of exhaustion settled over her, and Thyra decided it would be best to lay her head down for a moment. The second it touched the pillow she was asleep. 

    She woke an hour later to someone knocking gently on the door. 

    “Thyra, it’s Arne. Can I come in?” Thyra rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and called back groggily that he could. The door swung open and in walked Arne and a woman, who Thyra assumed to be a nurse. She looked like a prim woman with her pale brown hair done back in a bun, and her dress smoothed out without wrinkle or blemish.

    “I heard about the event with the sirens. May I tend to your injuries?” the woman asked. She had a sweet smile and soft brown eyes. Thyra nodded. The woman came up to her as Arne cast a worried look then slipped away, giving the nurse privacy to work. The small woman undid the bandages and inspected the stitches. 

    “What’s your name?” Thyra asked as the woman worked. The nurse looked up at her and smiled. 

    “Hallie, and I hear yours is Thyra. Quite the nasty business getting involved with sirens. I’ve really only heard the outline of the events. Would you mind telling me the whole story?” Hallie settled into her work as Thyra began. The story felt like it had lasted longer while she was enduring it, but as she told it she realized just how short it had all been, yet just how terrifying. Hallie winced at her descriptions and sighed with relief when she mentioned how Alistair had gotten her out. 

    “That sounds like it must have been awful. You’re lucky to have survived. If you hadn’t been stitched so promptly you likely would have bled to death. Some of the wounds are over an inch deep.” Thyra winced as the nurse prodded one. “I can numb them for a few hours if you want. You’ll need to remember to put this on once every morning after rinsing off each of your injuries.” She pressed a small glass jar into Thyra’s hand.

    “What is it?” 

    “It should help prevent infection. I put some on your worst wounds just a moment ago.” Hallie said as she took out another bottle from her bag. Thyra nodded her thanks and set the small jar on the mattress beside her. Hallie began rubbing on her numbing ointment. Her hands were warm and the medicine worked quickly. It was alarming at first as most of her back and legs grew numb, along with a good portion of her arms. Hallie moved hastily, but thoroughly and was soon done. 

    “Thank you for all your help.” Thyra said as the nurse began to pack her bag. Hallie smiled up at her again. 

    “It’s a pity the sailors are always on the move. I think we could have been good friends. You’re quieter than Hilda, and yet rougher than other women,” she laughed, “Sounds kinda like me. Farewell, Thyra.” Hallie gave her a departing smile then left the room. Thyra watched her go, glad that she had some connection here. She might need it someday. Hardly that the thought entered her mind to rest again when Hilda exploded through the door. She had a bag in one hand and was grinning. She handed the bag to Thyra and plopped down beside her. 

    “I saw the doctor leave, are you all fixed up for tonight?” Thyra cocked an eyebrow at her; she still wasn’t sure what was so exciting about tonight, but she nodded all the same. Hallie’s ointment had numbed her wounds entirely. She couldn’t feel any pain. “There’ll be sea shanties tonight and dancing. There always is when a new convoy arrives in port, but I didn’t think we’d want to wear our smelly sailor clothes.” Hilda said, grinning as she pointed to her bag. Thyra opened it and let her eyes fall on the two dresses inside.

. . . . .

    Whippeeeee! Chapter 7! The longest one yet! Please make sure to comment and subscribe. If you would like to join my email list, then again, subscribe. I have an email that sends out to new subscribers; just let me know on their if you want to join. Please let me know what you thought of today's post in the comments. Thanks again to my Alpha readers and Beta readers. (this chapter was such a mess; thank you for dealing with it!) 

    Have a blessed day, and happy April Fools!