Tears of Leyden (28 page)

“I do…want to marry you…” I say it as I realize it is true. I see the muscle in his neck tense. “I…did…before…” I pause and glance up. “I just didn’t…expect it…so soon.”

He is watching me frantically, as though unsure of what to make of it and wanting desperately to do something to react. I try to look firm for him, though I would rather hide against him and let him take me close.

“I have already too many formal names…” I feel the need to be firm slip from my face as I feel sincerity fill my expression and a smile I cannot hide quivers onto my mouth. “I only hope to include yours.”

The whisper is like a hush between us. His face begins to shift emotions, and slowly it blossoms with longing. The longing becomes deprivation, and unconsciously, I feel the same.

It happens before I can recall moving, and suddenly we are on top of each other. We wildly jam together, and his lips rush to mine without control or hesitation. He kisses me irrationally, hungrily and messily, and I return it. I breathe gaspingly through the nose as we move, and push up into his mouth with mine, my hands absently wrapping around his neck. I lean forward into it, and slowly, the boat leaves the back of my head. His hands travel down to my waist where one of his arms lock around me, and the other hand moves up to my head where he supports me desperately.

Everything around us stills and is forgotten. All I hear, feel, see, want, and taste is Nadeje, and him me. My heart pounds so hard I am sure he can feel it through my clothes, and even as I resent my volatility, I use it to take advantage of letting go. I recklessly push up and into him and without any intention my hands rub up his neck and tangle in his hair. I feel my stomach churning and my body urgently seems to need to be closer. He brings me back with him as I accidentally begin to drive us off the boat and his hands grip me harder as I press for more.

Then, there is the sound of rippling water and a splash.

I gasp our lips apart. The world surrounds us again and my eyes open. Nadeje’s eyes are open and cast out into the darkness to my right; the side heading toward the shore. He automatically pulls me closer and my face is tucked into his throat. I turn my head a little to be able to see also, and there is a tiny miss of a beat in my chest. In the darkness of the shadows of the boat, a figure of a young man stands still watching. The water ripples a bit as he moves his hand, and through the faint light, I make out the form of Zenith. I feel my head begin to thud in crushed states of overwhelm. He is alone, but still he found me, and by what I can see his body is tense.

“Zenith,” I whisper, and to my horror, as though he hears it and takes it as confirmation, the water ripples in big rings away from him as he draws his sword. I feel my heart pound. I turn back to Nadeje’s throat and hide here, not wanting to see anymore. Nadeje draws me up as I burrow again, and I bury my face against his ear. “No violence,” I sob in a breath. “Please…no violence…” I feel my eyes blur with tears and it only worsens as my head pounds harder. Nadeje does not respond, but I feel his pulse steadily thudding under my hands. It is calmer than when he was kissing me. This is comfort. He turns his head against mine and I feel him readying me to be let go of. I let him resentfully.

“Stay where I leave you,” he orders gently. I pull back from his face and stare at him with teary eyes. When he does not pull me back, I come close again and huddle into him. He carefully grips his hands on my waist, and draws me off.

When we are half apart, there is a thrashing sound and suddenly Nadeje’s fingers brush me close again, then his hands grip me and thrust me hard. I am thrown back at least a few feet in the water, and swirls of the impact cause me to nearly go under. When I stable myself again, I have to steady myself with the current as find I am deeper. I look up for Nadeje, but he is gone. I frantically search the area for his body but he has vanished. My eyes catch on a flash in the water. I go on my toes to see it better; it is not Nadeje. I try to figure it out in the shadows and then I stop. It is Zenith’s sword. I look up to where Zenith had been standing and find him unmoved. I feel my heart batter. Nadeje had pushed me out of the way of Zenith’s throw, leaving himself…

I race forward before I know what I am doing. I splash and fight carelessly through the water in desperation to get to the sword. I am almost there, when I see Zenith start to move forward. That is not what stops me. What does, is a dark form rising from the water between us and out a distance from the boat; Nadeje. He silently splashes out and pushes his hair out of his face.

My heart jars in my chest and I feel paralyzed.
What do I do?
I try to think of something brave…or smart…but I cannot process anything but that Nadeje is here, standing, okay, and most importantly with me. I remember the sword and look back to it, only a few steps away.

Zenith has stopped, but seeing me look again, he starts forward slowly. “Lyra…” it is warning.

I step towards it.

He steps once hastily through the water. “Lyra, no…”

I reach and my fingers brush the metal.

Suddenly, he rips forward. Before he can go half the distance, the dark form jumps him. The two figures splash back and land hard in the water, which thankfully cushions their fall. I stand frozen and unable to move as I watch them fight and roll over in the waves, each of them faceless and undeterminable in the dark. I let out a cry as one of them flops over the other, but the other ones arms strap around his neck and pull him under. I sob for it to stop and hurry forward but stop as I realize my incapability to help. There is a swing of an arm and a cruel crack and I feel my heart stop in my chest. Then, one claws at the other and somehow they twist over. One of them grabs the other’s head and as I stand here helpless, I hear a loud thump.

I scream and cover my mouth with my hands, dropping the sword. One holds the other against the boat, and knowing Nadeje would never be so cruel to hurt Zenith in that way…I watch as he cups his chin and thrusts his face up…then he unsheathes something from his belt.

I scream. “No!” I sob.

The figure against the ship jerks. There is a moment of blurred actions and I make out his legs going around the other, pushing him back and into the waves. I choke as I try to find where they went. They burst out still fairly ahead, and I can tell they are blindly fighting now; the silt and water in their eyes burning as they try to see in the darkness.

I shake violently as I watch them turn over in the water, splashing up foam and drowning each other with each attempt to get the better advantage. Then, one does. There is a loud thrash and I see a figure force the other to roll towards the boat. The one forcing then swiftly rises and drags the other over to the ship and bangs him back against the wood. The one holding the one pinned up holds a knife in his hand, and as he stables himself in a better position, the other limply remains unmoving. I whimper and move forward a step, but stop as I realize they had swapped places.

The one trapped against the boat is differently toned than before, and the shape of his body is thinner and shorter; Zenith, and the other, Nadeje. I breathe out and I try to not faint. I step forward once, and find I am close enough to see that Nadeje is soaked all over, and that somehow he managed to lose his collar laces and a few buttons in his shirt. I feel my head pounding but push the pain aside as I see Zenith’s hands clasped to Nadeje’s throat. I am not so frightened though, for they are lose and hanging.

“Spaniard,” Zenith spits it with a spray of sea water into Nadeje’s face.

Nadeje does not blink. “That I am,” it is calm, despite the last few minute’s activities.

I watch both of them, my breaths trembling and occasionally stopping.

“I will make her married life miserable,” it is a breath, a threat as Zenith looks up with loathing into Nadeje’s eyes.

Nadeje’s eyes are piercing. Even from this distance, I feel him staring daggers into Zenith’s.

“Not before I make it wonderful,” it is calm and firm, and it wins.

My heart, despite the moment’s conditions, flutters uncontrollably at his words. He tightens his grip on the knife which’s blade is pressed into Zenith’s throat.

I feel my heart waver…
no…Nadeje don’t…

“Nadeje,” I whimper.

He does not hear.

“You are not of right blood.”

Nadeje presses the blade. “Do you suggest I take yours then?”

It is warning, and it makes Zenith clench his hands at Nadeje’s throat. “Dare you.”

Nadeje pokes the blade in. “I am a Protestant.”

Without further conversation, he drops the knife, and grabs his hair, knocking back his head and letting him drop into the water. I let out a cry and cover my face in my hands. Through my fingers, I glance Zenith limply sink into the water. The sight is sickening, and I turn away from it. The sea breeze is faint and I breathe it only once before I am seeing spots. I try to breathe again to prevent it from happening, but I am too weak and I crumple beneath the surface. I am alone only seconds, for there is a splash and I am drawn up and out of the water. His arms go around me.

“Lyra…” he breathes it to me softly. “It is alright, you’re alright…my Lyra…come back.”

I feel distant and my head is spinning, but as I waken against him, slowly my head clears. As it comes back to me, the sickness returns from Zenith’s body sinking, and my hands involuntarily move up and cover my face. Nadeje feels it, and worriedly let’s go and instead lets me lean against him for support and carefully cups my face, tilting it up with his hands. I drop mine as he does and let him look at me. I feel tears stinging my eyes and he seems to see them as well as the sickness in my expression.

“L…”

I drop my face down and he leans in, once again lifting it. I resent it and push at him, but he does not let me go. “You…hurt…killed…him.”

It is shaky, trembling, angry and close to tears. Though I do not want to marry Zenith, it does not mean that I wanted him hurt…or killed. He didn’t deserve it…not after I broke off the engagement…not after he had tried to save my purity not a month before now. I feel him force me up and I look into his face as I bite down hard, clenching my jaw.

“Lyra…I…”

I look away from him, separating his hands from my face. “You did…God, Nadeje you did…I can’t…” I feel my tears almost fall.
It is too much to take in…far too much…

He takes me by the shoulders and draws me close, hovering his head right beside mine. “No…” I pull back wishing him not to see my tears, but he towers his face right above mine and retains me. “Lyra, I had to do what I had to do …” I stop, then push at his hips. His hands catch mine and trap them in his. “I knocked him out cold…he isn’t dead…I wouldn’t have done that.”

I am stopped. My muscles and mind relax. My heart lightens its burden and he seems to see it. “He is unconscious?” it is scared and cracked.

“Yes…it will leave him a headache.”

I let out a trembling exhale and look to his throat, a place where I regain myself. I feel my heart ease and I feel here again, not lost in a world of fear or grief, of sin. “I…was scared that if you had killed him…I…they…could…”

He lifts me with a light nose brush to mine. “I do not blame you…it would have been wrong…I agree fully.”

I tuck my head under his chin a bit. Then he stops. I feel him bring my hands up between us and it separates our bodies. “Lyra…” it is concerned and gentle, and as I look down through the faint light, I see my hands cupped in his. He stops where we are able to see them better. I feel my stomach churn as I notice they are wet, but not only with water. I stiffen. They are covered in blood. “Lyra…” it is worried now. He wraps them in his, then stops and lays them out to see their wound. “You are hurt…”

On one hand there is blood stained across the fingers, and on the other across the palm is a sliced gash in a line, still wet. I don’t remember hurting myself, but it is not imagined.

Nadeje has them tucked away against him and is urging me up. “How?” he asks breathlessly. His eyes are storming and worried. “What happened to you?”

I feel a pulsing begin in my hand as soon as he is nurturing it and I try to ignore it. “I…don’t know…”

He gingerly turns them a little in his and I bite my tongue. “You are bleeding quite a bit…” he glances past me. “Was there someone who hurt you…?” it is protective and slightly angered.

I feel it pulse harder, and as though trying to tell me how it happened, the wound sears in pain as though being cut again on repeat. It is like a slip of sharp metal. “The…” it brings him back to me. “I must have cut it on the sword,” I move my hands a little in his and it burns.

He seems to relax a bit, but still is protective. “Do not move it…” he instructs me tenderly. “It could get worse if the scab breaks…”

I weaken at his words and he gently releases my hands and instead takes my waist and pulls me back in. “Keep it warm with the other, and as soon as possible I will dress it.”

I feel a little relieved with his soothing words. It is apparent he has taken care of many medical damages before. I am too shaken to respond to him, but he doesn’t wait for it either.

“You must have gripped it hard,” he whispers. It is one of those spoken secrets to himself and me, but mainly to himself. “We must go,” it is spoken gently but surely.