Thaddeus Nowak's Blog: Thoughts and Observations, page 16

A little bit of kindness

Photo © Depositphotos.com/maximkabb

Last week I went out for dinner.  Unfortunately, my appetizer didn’t come out until after I had finished eating the main course.  The waitress apologized a couple of times for the delay and I knew it wasn’t her fault, so I just sat and talked with my wife as we waited.  Even though I was hungry, I was not starving and it was not the end of the world, so I simply accepted the apologies and went on with my evening.

Lately I’ve found that these type of things don’t bother me as much as they might have at one point in time, and honestly, I wouldn’t have thought any more of it.  However, what the waitress said as she handed me the bill before we left really bothered me:

She thanked me with some emotion for not ripping her up one side and down the other because the kitchen forgot to cook my food.  She said many people would have been quite angry at her for it.  She took off the appetizer and gave me a discount.

She was not a new waitress and I’ve eaten there a few times before where she served me dinner, so perhaps she felt more comfortable in saying something like that to me as compared to a complete stranger.  However, I was still stunned at the statement; for her to vocalize that means a lot of people have really be mean.

I have worked in various service industries over the years (I started working at 12 or 13 with a paper route) and I know it can be rough.  At another job, I had someone whistle and then point at me to get my attention.  He then used his fingers to summon my presence as if I was a dog.  The thing I most remember about him was his shirt that said: “It must really suck to be you.”

I’ve also been on the other side and experienced significant (and in my opinion, righteous) frustration with situations.  I know I have not always been perfect in my responses, but I try to only take out my frustrations on those actually responsible for the issue and only when it is through a lack of caring on the person’s part.  Mistakes happen and if the person is trying to rectify it as best as they can, I really try not to make it worse for them.

I’m not advocating being a doormat, but I think we could improve the lives of many people by taking a moment to consider if rude comments are deserved before issuing them.  I know one waitress that might smile even more (and perhaps brighten other people’s days) because I chose to show a little kindness instead of berating her for something not in her control.  In the end, I still got my food free and we both went home without either of us having hard feelings.

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Writers: Don’t forget your mats!

With my first major show of the year coming up (Planet Comicon), I thought I would share a few tips I’ve learned with my fellow writers (aspiring or otherwise).  Even if you are not a writer, you might find this useful.

When doing a show, don’t forget your mats!  I have had a sit down job for a number of years and standing in one small area for 10 hours straight can leave me a bit worn out.  Believe me, standing is worse than walking (or hiking 18 miles with a heavy pack).

At my first big show, I stood on the hard concrete the whole time and by the end of the three days, I was miserable.  I went out right after that show and bought some relatively inexpensive floor mats ($25).  I am not specifically endorsing Dick’s Sporting Goods, but the image above is exactly what I purchased.  They are four 2′ x 2′ squares and you can configure them to cover a different amount of area depending on what space you have behind the table.  While only 1/2″ thick, they do not weigh a lot or take up a great deal of room when you are bringing your things onto the floor.  (For actual exercise mats, I bought a 3/4″ thick version.)

I’ve used the set for a while now and it has held up even on asphalt and rough ground.  Most of the time, I configure it to cover 2′ x 6′ (or 2′ x 8′ for larger tables).  However, I will likely buy another set of four so I can cover 4′ of depth both behind and under the table.  While I will advocate standing most of the time, when you are actually signing a book (or taking a break) being able to scoot the chair easily under the table, and not off a drop, is nice.

A word about standing.  You might ask: Why should I stand the whole time?  They give me chairs for a reason.

Well, my response is that when you are standing, you will appear more approachable and engaging.  It helps to be able to converse with people eye to eye and standing facilitates that.  In watching other tables, and from my own experiences, tables where the person stood had more people stop than those where the person sat the whole time.  And to be able to sustain standing for 3 or 4 days straight, I really recommend the mats.

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Owin #35 — A path through the weeds?

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

With just the three of them functional, Gwen and Owin had to provide much more in the way of assistance. Initially reluctant, Arn finally acquiesced to teaching Gwen how to use the tiller as the realization grew on him that both he and Owin would need to man the oars.  Owin could not keep the grin from his face as Arn realized just how far she had exceeded his expectations.

Two days after the brothers had initiated their attack, Owin and Arn struggled to row The Needle toward a sandy beach while Gwen held their course through the choppy waves. Facing backwards, neither Arn nor Owin could see the rocks between them and the shore. Owin trusted Gwen and held his eyes toward her, but the urge to watch for potential threats still filled him. Arn’s frequent head turns betrayed the large man’s fears. However, the ship eventually plowed its way into the sandy shore without encountering any rocks or having any holes ripped in the hull.

“Good job, Girly,” Arn said as he jumped into the surf with a heavy rope in hand.

Owin smiled back at Gwen before turning to watch the shore. The land here lacked the steep rises of the cove where they had picked up the bulk of the cargo.  Instead the land sloped gently up for as far as the eye could see and there was no obvious person in sight.  However, all the crossbows in the boat sat ready at his feet just in case someone emerged from the tall grasses.

“How long do you think it will be before someone comes?” Gwen asked as she moved around the cargo and past Calvin. The bald man had woken for the landing, but he appeared to have fallen back asleep.

He’s deteriorating, Owin thought before shaking his head. “Hopefully not long, though I’d like to stretch my legs on solid ground for a bit. We’re less than a day from Ertawi. We should be there tomorrow and then Calvin can get some healing.”

Gwen scratched at her scalp and then realized her arm and side also itched. “My skin’s so dry from the salt. I really want to get a bath in something other than the sea.”

Owin did not reach out and pat her shoulder; his sight remained on the tall grasses that covered the shore. “If we can find a stream, I am sure you can get cleaned. If not, after we reach Ertawi.”

Arn moved back across the beach after having tied The Needle to one of a handful of large boulders that were scattered in the sand. “To unload, we’d need at least one more person. We’ll have to wait and hope the tide doesn’t come in too quick.”

Owin nodded his head in agreement, the chests were heavy and they really needed four people to move them. Owin had not bothered asking about the contents or even tried to sneak a look. There had been a time he would have checked to see if there was something useful for him, but I won’t risk Gwen.

Arn waded back into the surf and climbed into the boat. He took a glance at the shoreline and then turned back to Owin. “Look,” he said, his voice low enough that Owin had to struggle to hear him. “I’ve known Denton for a while and he’s a good man, but he’s a hard man. He spoke highly of you and I know whatever he’s got you working on is going to hurt the Duke, and I’m all for that.” Arn glanced back at Calvin, who remained unconscious. “But with you bringing the gir–Gwen along, I am guessing he’s twisted your arm some.”

Owin took a deep breath and then nodded his head. “I’ve known Denton a while as well. He helped a friend of mine and I’m doing this in exchange for that help—that and for some money.”

Arn smiled. “There’s a pirate in you, I knew it.” Growing serious he continued. “You saved my life and have done more than you needed aboard. What I am saying is, when you are done with what you’re doing, if you need passage away to get you and Gwen out, I’ll sail you anywhere you want…within reason.”

Owin pursed his lips. Could Denton be testing me? He knows I want out of this, but this isn’t like him. Making up his mind, he responded, “Arn, I’ll tell you what. I will take you up on that, but not for me. If I live, I can give you the details, but what I really want is to have my friend sailed out of harm’s way. I need her moved someplace safe where I can join her later with Gwen.”

“Deal,” Arn said, extending his hand.

Owin took it and returned the Captain’s strong grip. “Thank you. Just to be upfront with you, it might piss Denton off.”

“Yeah, well, that’s his problem.”

Owin smiled as he slowly began to feel a path forming in the brush he had been fighting through. Now to stop this murder and try to make it out alive. Or first, he thought, seeing a couple of wagons cresting the distant hill, now to survive unloading the boat, then make it the rest of the way to Solva, and then survive stopping the murder.

 

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That Google search just put me on a list

The things I do for my characters…  They ask for my help and too often I can’t turn them down.  So, the next thing you know, I’m off on the internet asking questions on their behalf.  Questions I am sure will eventually get me put on a list somewhere.  (Don’t ask me about voices and listening to my characters, that is just something writers do.)

And other writers also know this: readers expect accuracy.  Heck, I expect it in what I read and definitely in what I write.  So when one of my characters needs to know about something, I go off and do research.  In the “good o’ days” that would have been encyclopedias, libraries, and perhaps asking friends or looking for someone knowledgeable (high school and college professors are great people to get some interesting bits of information from).

I’ve also purchased quite a few reference books.  I own The Peterson Field Guide to Venomous Animals & Poisonous Plants.  I bought a book on the International Mars Mission that details quite a bit of what would be needed to get to Mars (it was more of a 800 page scientific report than a text-book and was for a scfi story I had started a few years ago).  I kept all my math, chemistry, and physics text books, as well as one I bought on DNA sequencing (I think that one has gotten outdated).  You just never know what might come in useful.

However, today, I find myself hitting the internet far more often than I refer to reference books (which is good and bad).  I’ve done quite a few google searches for odd things.  Most of them are innocent enough, such as alternative healing.  However, I’ve researched poisons and toxins several times for Owin’s story as well as for Henton and others in the Heirs of Cothel Series.  Which led to that search above.

For those things, since the world is one of my own creation, I was looking more for the accuracy that such poisons and toxins do exists than looking for specific recipes.  I’ve changes the name of some plants and/or created brand new ones to take the place of things in our world (a lot of plants have names that are too fixed in our world).  For me, in those cases, the fact that such things exist was more important than providing specifics as to how to actually make them.

As I write more stories, I’ll continue my searches and continue to hope that my on-line habits are innocent enough that no one is watching too closely.  Of course, it helps that I am not writing about modern, real-world people and places, so I’m not using those keywords.

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Movie Review – Paddington

Today I saw Paddington.  The movie has a star cast, including (Downton Abby) (a lot of movies, including Dead Calm which was where I first got to know her), (also a lot of movies and TV), and (Q in Skyfall).  I was also thrilled to see The Doctor () in the movie (sorry, I see all The Doctors as The Doctor playing a part).

I was worried a little bit about the CGI before seeing the film, but I have to say, I think the technology really is there.  I don’t know for certain, but I would not be surprised if the hair programming they developed for Brave was used for Paddington’s fur.  It had a very natural look and movement.  I think they knew it was done well, since there was at least one shot that emphasized his fur blowing in the breeze.

The story is a classic tale that has been around for generations (the books were first published in 1958).  I am not overly familiar with them.  I seem to remember having at least one book as a kid, but if I did, I don’t have it now.  This means I cannot say how well the movie holds to the books, but the story in the movie was done well.

I also loved seeing so much of London in the shots.  I’ve been itching to go back and I can say I spent some of the film going: “I’ve been there and if they’d move the camera, you could see…”

The only thing I really had trouble with was the easy acceptance of a talking bear running around the city without causing more wonder and excitement among the people.  However, it is a children’s story and I know enough about the story to know that is just part of it.

Overall, I would recommend it as a nice, mostly light-hearted tale (there are a couple of parts that might be sad for little kids, but they pass quickly).  I’ll give it 4 out of 5 stars.

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Planet Comicon 2015

I am happy to announce that I will again be at Planet Comicon this year!  My table is booked!

I find this to be one of the best shows around, and not just because it is local.  It has really been growing in leaps and bounds over the last few years and I think this year will be another great show.  This is the third year in Bartle Hall (having grown out of its prior location) and they will again be adding more floor space (and food locations).

As you can see from the image above, there are some top name guests and artist who will be present.  Definitely check out the Planet Comicon website for a complete list and any potential changes.

I’m really look forward to the fun and hope to see everyone there!

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Owin #34 — Battle on the boat

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

For the next two days, they stayed on The Needle, even at night. Privacy had diminished in the open boat and Owin’s pride in Gwen grew at her willingness to silently deal with the situation.  It was not easy for her, but she bore the challenge well.

Most of the time, she continued to minister to Calvin, whose condition had not improved, but had only marginally worsened. Fortunately, her commanding tone kept the bald man from protesting too much.

Arn had taken note of her, but the Captain did not do or say anything.  Owin watched as Arn kept his focus on Warren and Imtor. Those two had toned down their bravado and had become far too helpful for Owin’s liking. No one suddenly starts to like someone just because something bad happened to someone else.

Without privacy, no opportunity had emerged where he could consult with Arn on the brothers, but Owin had a sense they were waiting until they reached a certain landmark before making their move.  Too much of their focus seemed to be on which port they were passing.

For the two of them, Owin knew sailing the ship would be hard, but not impossible. However, if they had to actually row The Needle, they would need to keep either him or Arn alive. And that choice is complicated by Gwen, Owin admitted. If they kill her, they know they have to kill me, which means, leaving Arn alive. If they think they can keep her under their control, they know they have me and could kill Arn.

Owin sighed as he looked out at the shoreline to the east. The sun had grown low in the sky and they would be dropping the sail and anchor before long. Imtor’s innocent close proximity to Gwen for the last couple of turns of the glass made Owin’s hands itch. The man had offered to help with preparing dinner three times before Gwen gave in to the demand.

“You need help moving Calvin?” came the man’s grating voice.

Owin had watched Warren’s drift close to his crossbow several times, but always remained at least a step away.  It allowed the older brother a position between Owin and Gwen as well as kept the crates between himself and Arn. Do I move first or wait to be certain? When he worked for the Duke there had never been any hesitation and the doubt annoyed him.

Damn, he swore as Warren bent over and put his hands on the loaded crossbow. “Gwen, now!” Owin shouted, hoping she would keep out of Imtor’s grasp.

Owin ripped a throwing knife from its sheath and launched it into Warren’s lower back. The man cried out in pain, but he did not drop the crossbow. Jumping over the bench between them, Owin hit Warren’s back as the brother fired the crossbow at Arn.

Taking an elbow to the chin, Owin grabbed his knife and twisted it out of the larger man’s back. The screams of pain carried across the waves. However, Warren managed to twist away and turned to face Owin.

Owin saw Imtor grab Gwen from behind, but she slammed her heel down on the top of his foot and the cry of pain escaped his lips.  She twisted in his grasp and the surprise on the man’s face told Owin she had placed her dagger into his gut.  Imtor stood for a moment, but visceral hate filled his face and he pushed her backwards, throwing her over Calvin and the sidewall of the ship.

Owin growled with rage as the sound of Gwen hitting water came to him. With the knife in his left hand, he pulled his sword with his right and pressed forward.

“Damn you, Owin, we’d have let you live!”

Slashing with the knife, he drove Warren back a step before he trusted with his sword. The blade grazed Warren’s side as the large man twisted. But Owin continued his motion and drove his knife into Warren’s armpit.

“Damn you, Owin!”

Warren lashed out with the dagger in his hand, but Owin anticipated the move and drove home his sword.  With the color draining immediately from the man’s face, Owin knew the wound would kill, but he did not wait for Warren to expire. Instead he turned back to where Gwen had stood just in time to see Arn fling Imtor over the edge of the boat.

“We have to turn her around!” Owin called out as he moved toward the ropes to drop the sail.

“I’ve got her,” Calvin called out. The wounded man was leaning over the edge of the boat. The grimace in his voice spoke of his pain.

Moving across the deck, Owin came around Calvin and saw Gwen looking up at him. Calvin had one of her wrists in his hand and she struggled to keep hold of the edge of the boat with her other bloody hand.

Owin reached around Calvin and grabbed her wrist from the bald man.  With Arn’s help, they lifted her from the water and dragged her over the edge of the boat.  She dropped down on the bench next to Calvin.

“Thank you,” she said with a weary smile as water poured off her.

Owin took a moment and calmed himself. The thought that he almost lost her left him trembling. “You okay?” he asked, glancing both at Gwen as well as Calvin.

Gwen nodded her head. “That happened quick.” She glanced at Calvin and moved over to help him get comfortable. “Thank you, Calvin.”

Owin knelt down and assisted her. “Yes, thank you so much.”

Calvin shrugged. “If I live to make it to port, take me out to a good meal.”

“You’ve got it,” Owin said. Standing up, he turned to where he left Warren.

Arn stepped around them and moved over to Warren’s body. “You saved my life, my boy. You ever need a job, I’ll hire you on the spot.”

Owin nodded his head, but had no desire to be a pirate. “I may take you up on that at some point. But for now, I’ve got another job to do.”

“Fair enough.”

Owin glanced back to Gwen and she smiled back at him. We made it another day, but I’ve got to get us out of this life.

 

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Owin #33 — A change in the balance

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

The morning tide came in just before full dawn. The thin clouds had turned a brilliant crimson which reminded Owin too much of the blood stains on the rocky beach.

With Gwen and Calvin in The needle, he, Arn, and the two brothers pushed the heavily laden vessel off the beach and into the short waves of the protected cove. Wanting to make sure he did not get left behind, Owin quickly leaped into the boat, sloshing water over Gwen and Calvin. The bald man cursed, but that let Owin know there was still at least a little life left him.

Gwen gave him a forced smile as Imtor and Warren, who had been faster than Owin, each took up an oar on opposite sides of the boat. “Owin, you and Gwen get on those ropes and raise the sail. I’d have you row, but we’d be unbalanced and I doubt the girl can man the tiller.”

“I could try,” Gwen said over Warren’s and Imtor’s grunting as the two pulled on their oars. However, Captain Arn shook his head and Gwen moved to the rope he pointed her toward.

Owin avoided looking at the brothers directly as he and Gwen raised the sail. The brothers had been quiet most of the early morning. The fact that two of their number were dead and one severely injured did not seem to be the factor that dampened their mood.  The obvious plotting worried him.

With the sail raised and the boat turned by their rowing, Arn directed The Needle to take up the wind and headed her out to sea and away from the cove. What had been a simple stop to pick up more goods had turned into a significant change in the balance of power.  No one wanted to say anything aloud for fear of forcing someone’s hand, but everyone knew the change had occurred.

“Owin, do you have a silver coin I can use?”

He turned his attention to Gwen, who continued to glance toward Calvin. She had shown no hesitation in dealing with blood when she had helped to bind Calvin’s wound, but a deep puncture to the gut did not have a great prognosis. If the bald man could survive until they reached a reasonably sized port, and he had the coin to spare, he could likely buy himself some healing. However, if something important was cut, he won’t make it.

“What for?” Owin asked in reply.

“If I can scrape some into some water, it will help heal him. I think we also have some garlic cloves left. I want to try to help.”

Owin nodded his head and fished around in his pouch to pull out a silver coin. “Let me try to carve some slivers. The coin is small and with the rocking of the boat, I don’t want you to cut yourself.”

She frowned at him and lowered her voice. “Of the two of us, it’d be better for me to cut myself than for you to.”

Grinning, he handed her the coin and one of the daggers he took off the dead. He had been impressed with the blade. The steel had a sharp edge and looked inclined to keep it. The man who had carried it had not impressed Owin. One does not need skill to have good things, he reminded himself. However, those who have skill normally know a good thing when they see it.

Turning around to face the stern of the ship, Owin made himself comfortable while keeping his apparent attention on Arn.  The brothers he tracked out of the corner of his eyes.  They had moved to sit next to each other and the weapons they had acquired from the men who had attacked them. The pair of crossbows they were examining gave Owin a cause for concern. Initially, only Arn had one onboard. Now there are three and the brothers have two.  The ranged weapons would give them a chance to injure from afar and while the two of them had ability with a blade, Owin suspected they had taken note of his skill.  Which means they might hesitate to take me on directly.

Owin turned his head at the sound of Calvin spitting. “I can’t eat that!”

“It’s just garlic,” Gwen said, a rather unsympathetic edge to her voice. “It will help you. Chew it and swallow. Then I’ll give you something to drink.”

“Ain’t it bad enough I’ve been stabbed? Now you want to poison me?”

“You want to live to the next port? Do want I tell you.”

Owin turned back to look at Arn with a smile on his face. Gwen would be trouble for any man who thought to make her an obedient wife and Owin’s rebellious nature like that. Elsin would have my hide for encouraging her, but Gavin would love it.

Realizing he had not seriously thought of either of them for a couple of days pulled him out of his reverie and caused him to focus on the situation at hand. When on a job, allowing one’s mind to wander could be deadly; it reduced the control one had over their own situation. While Gwen’s presence was a disruption to his comfort zone, it also provided him with additional motivation to make sure he remained in as much control as possible.  To do that, he needed to predict what the brothers were planning and stay one step ahead of them.  Because, to protect Gwen, when the time comes to end the brother’s lives, I won’t hesitate.

 

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Owin #32 — Bodies on the beach

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Gwen remained curled up against a large boulder as she watched what she believed to be Warren carry a lamp over to the fire pit. She had done as Owin insisted, moved away from the campsite and just up the slope to a point where she could hide in the darkness.

The sounds of the fighting, and the occasional glint of steel slashing the air and people, had not lasted long. She had tracked Owin as best she could, but lost him early in the fighting. While the other men had scrambled out of their blankets quickly, they started the battle outnumbered.  Fortunately, they appeared to win the battle.

When Warren lit the lamp from the embers of the fire, she immediately noticed Calvin standing close by with his hands on his side.  He moved in obvious distress.

“Damn it, I knew coming in late would be a problem,” Calvin swore. “Sleeping on the damn beach where we took on goods is never a good idea.  Bastard cut me.”

Gwen saw his hands covered in blood as he pulled them away to examine his side in the light.

“Quiet,” Arn said, moving across the beach with a crossbow in his hands. “Make sure none of them get away.”

Gwen noticed Owin slightly up the slope and he seemed to move without any pain. Please don’t be hurt, she said to herself. The idea of being alone with these pirates and smugglers sent chills down her spine. I’d run away first.

She took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts from her as she considered coming out of hiding now that the fighting was over. However, she suspected Owin would want her to remain hidden until he called her. I’ll just wait, she decided.  Though she had feared for Owin’s safety, she wished she had been able to see him in action.  She knew he could teach her a lot.

She closed her eyes as she watched Imtor drag a body closer to the fire pit. A second lamp had been lit and she could clearly see the dead man’s head was barely attached.

Hearing the sound of rocks moving and twigs snapping, it took all of her willpower to remain still. The sounds had come from behind her and with great care, she turn her head slowly to look up the slope. After having stared at the lamps, she could barely see anything, but someone on the ridge moved again drawing her attention.  Concentrating, she tried to force her eyes make sense of the shadows. After a moment, she saw a form against the backdrop of the night sky and the person appeared to have a crossbow.

With or without weapons, she could not hope to engage the man. However, she knew he meant the others harm. “Bowman!” she shouted and then quickly moved around to the other side of the boulder. “On the ridge above me!”

The person on the ridge cursed and the crossbow discharged. Another curse followed. She heard the people behind her running across the beach and then the person on the ridge start to scramble away.

A crossbow from behind her discharged and more cursing came from the ridge. Two men ran past her and started to scramble up the slope. Turning to look behind her, she could only see a couple of dead bodies in the light of the lamps. The others had all disappeared in the darkness, leaving only the sounds of their movement. Just my luck, all alone again.

After some time, Owin appeared out of the darkness and came over to her. “You okay?”

She nodded her head. “Yeah. You?”

Owin nodded his head as well. “Nothing serious. A few scratches, but I’ll live.”  He cleared his throat.  “Tyron is dead as is Den’ah. Calvin’s got a bad cut and is in the boat. The others are on the ridge looking for these people’s campsite.”

“Are we in trouble?”

Owin shrugged. “Arn’s not hurt from what I can tell. The two brothers are fine.”

She watched Owin’s face in the light of the distant lamps. He did not appear to be concerned, but this projection of confidence worried her. Owin typically gave her more cues into his thoughts.

The sound of someone coming down the ridge turned her head. Arn’s large form approached them and the Captain spoke with a strong voice. “Girl, I must stay you’ve impressed me. I’d expected a lot of squealing and crying and wining.”

Gwen’s lip curled slightly; the backhanded compliment did not sit well with her. “I saw no benefit for doing that.”

Arn chuckled and tossed something at her, which she instinctively caught. The jingle of coins and the size of the bag told her it was a pouch. The sticky blood on the surface made her apprehensive. “You called out a warning and perhaps saved my life or one the others. You earned the kill in my mind. You get the money.”

Gwen looked back up to meet Arn’s gaze. “Can I have his weapons as well?”

“Damn, Owin, you’ve got a good one here.” Arn nodded his head. “If you’ve the stomach to clear the body, it’s yours.”

Gwen looked over to Owin. “It’ll save us having to buy you something,” he replied to her unvocalized question.

“Thank you,” she said.

She was about to move around Arn when he raised a hand to stop her.  With his voice lowered, he spoke to both of them. “Tyron and Den’ah are dead.  I’m going to need the two of you to step up and support me if something happens. I don’t want to wake up with one of the brother’s blade through my neck. With Calvin injured, perhaps fatally, I’ve lost half my crew and worse, the half I trusted.”

“I suspect if they make a move, we’ll end up over board as well,” Owin said. “We’ve got mutual interest in keeping each other alive.”

“I’d dump them now, but we don’t have enough people to sail The Needle without them. Just be ready if something happens.”

Gwen watched him turn back to her.  With raised voice, he said, “We’ll now, girl, get up the ridge and clear the body. You want the stuff, do the work.”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied, uncertain how she felt about Arn, but now definitely fearful for the rest of the journey.

 

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Owin #31 — A night on the beach

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

“Gwen, let’s bed down over there,” Owin said, pointing a bit of the way up the rise on their far right. The dancing flames of the fire behind him did little to illuminate where Owin intended to sleep.

“That far from the fire?”

Owin picked up blankets Captain Arn had provided them. “Yeah, the smoke bothers my head.”  He said for the sailors benefit.  When they had walked far enough away that he doubted they would hear him over the lapping of the waves upon the beach, he leaned closer to Gwen. “If something happens, I want us away from the fire.  We don’t need to make it easy for people to see us.” Searching around in the dark, he looked for somewhere that had more sand than rock, but that was hard to find. “If something does happen, I want you to move a short distance away and then drop and freeze. Don’t try to run, people can see movement, even in the dark. Don’t try to help me. Just stay low and don’t come out. If things are real bad, you wait until just before dawn and then slip away before it’s light enough for them to see you.”

“Owin, I won’t leave you.”

He turned toward her. “You will if it is necessary.” He took her left shoulder in his hand. “Look, if something happens and they have you, I won’t be able to fight my way through to the end and then we’d both be dead. If they don’t have leverage over me, I can fight on and perhaps come out the other end.”

“Owin–”

“Don’t. The rules are that you do what I say and in this, there is no choice.” He sighed. “You are not without skill, but anyone who sees you is going to consider you the weakest threat and try to eliminate you first to get you out of the way. I don’t want that.”

Gwen bit her lower lip. “Anything else I need to do?”

“Get some sleep. They will keep a watch, but I can’t trust they won’t try to kill me when I’m asleep. Tomorrow, on the ship, you’ll stay up and watch while I sleep. Tonight, I watch while you sleep. One of us has to remain awake at all times.”

She nodded her head as Owin spread one blanket out on the ground. He looked up and smiled at her. “We’ll be fine. But I always want to take as many precautions as necessary.”

 

Owin rolled over onto a sharp rock that jabbed his side. The pain radiated across his ribs, but he did not move.  The pain helped. He knew he was struggling to stay awake and keeping his eyes open was getting harder and harder.

He glanced toward where the sailors had camped next to the fire.  He knew Arn was sleeping on The Needle after taking the first watch. Calvin’s and Den’ah’s watches were over as well. Owin had seen Tyron move up the ridge earlier, but had not seen the First Mate return yet.

Slowly he rolled off the rock and onto his back.  The dark sky said a long time still remained before dawn and it had been a while since he kept a long watch. I could really use some of those pills to keep me going, he thought to himself. They were brutal when they wore off, but it would have made the night pass much easier. As it was, his body had begun to ache with exhaustion.  With stray thoughts that it should be safe by now to fall asleep eating away his resolve, he knew the challenge of making it to morning might exceed him.

He let his gaze move to Gwen and her slow breathing told him she had finally fallen asleep. While he hated to have her in danger with him, he had to admit he preferred that to her being in danger without him.

The sliding of loose ground down the ridge pushed open his eyes. He looked up the slope and frowned. Instead of seeing one silhouette against the sky, he saw several. Counting them as they crested the ridge, he estimated at least eight men. Damn it.

He rolled over.  Putting his hand on Gwen’s mouth, he shook her awake. Her eyes grew wide, but her limited movement gave Owin hope in her long-term survival. He inclined his head toward the approaching men and then removed his hands from Gwen.

He rose quickly into a squatting position and stayed low as he moved toward the sailors and the fire that had burned itself down to a handful of coals. When he judged himself far enough from Gwen, he shouted. “Alarm! Men on the ridge!”

He continued toward the sailors as curses came from the men advancing on them. Drawing his sword and long dagger, he crossed the beach between the fire and the ship. “On your feet! Men approaching!”

Cutting sharply toward the ridge, Owin saw the movement of a man a dozen feet away and coming in fast. The man’s long sword glinted slightly in the limited moonlight. Moving quickly over he broken ground, Owin did not hesitate, as no one sneaking down a ridge at night with weapons had any positive plans for those sleeping at the bottom of it.

The man Owin engaged thrust his sword forward, but Owin had already moved to the left. With his own sword, Owin pushed aside the man’s blade and then stepped in close, driving his dagger into the man’s gut.  His weapon slicing easily through the leather armor. A scream of pain came after Owin had pulled his blade free.

Hearing boots on rocks and catching the movement from his peripheral vision, Owin ducked low and turned away from the man he stabbed to engage another one who had tried to come up from behind him. Owin had moved fast, but not fast enough to avoid the blade that had traveled lower than he expected. Grunting from the sting of the blade against his thigh, Owin pushed aside the sword with his dagger and continued to move toward the man’s left, putting his injured leg toward the man he had already stabbed.

The sounds of fighting had broken out across the camp and Arn’s voice range out from where he stood on The Needle. Owin could not spare the time to hope Gwen would remain safe and out of sight. Jumping back, he barely recovered from tripping over a large rock. The movement hurt his leg, but the pain was minimal enough that he knew the cut could not be that deep.

Taking a swing with his sword, Owin drew a block from the man before him.  Trying to take advantage the situation, Owin grimaced as his leg failed to respond quickly enough.  Conceding the failed attempt, Owin held back and waited for the man to advance on him.

After trading a couple more blows without drawing blood, Owin’s respect for the bearded man grew. Even on the rough terrain, the man refused to give up his advantage. However, Owin felt the man did not have the skill to beat me. But, he plans to wear me down from blood loss.

Feeling the effects of the long night, Owin was about to push his attack again when the sound of a crossbow discharging filled the air. The man before him wincing and contorted his back.  After a moment of hesitation, he rushed forward. With an easy block, Owin tied up the man’s sword with his own as he drove his dagger into the man’s chest.

Pushing the dying man away, Owin turned and looked for more targets. Seeing Calvin standing beside the fire pit with his hands on his knees, Owin glanced back toward the ship. Arn stood at the prow with a crossbow in his hands. Owin nodded his head toward The Captain.

“Get some light out there,” Arn commanded. “Don’t leave any to crawl away in the dark.”

 

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