The Darkness In Between

Chapter II - Ship's Landing

B R I A

We waited on the deck as the ship drew closer to the gangway. My hood was up against the storm, and one of my hands was occupied with holding it steady against the wind's snatching fingers. I took hold of the railing with the other to steady myself. The closer we got to shore, the more the waves tossed us around like a plaything.

"Now, remember," my uncle said, "you are to speak to nobody without my leave. There is much more at stake here than embarrassment. Do you understand?"

"I understand perfectly. I will be as quiet as a mouse."

The words made me smile because we all knew that mice were among the noisiest of creatures, particularly when a person was trying to sleep. They were quiet in winter and quiet in death, and that was all.

My uncle did not return the smile. "You are not a mouse, Bria. You are a daughter of the Silurian royal line, and you would do well to remember that today."

I had to bite back yet another smile at his use of the word royal. Yes, our ancestors had ruled over the Silurian tribe, but that had been centuries ago, before the Romans had bent them. They had not called themselves kings and queens: it simply suited my uncle to think of them that way.

"Because an Iceni prince would not want to wed a mouse," I said.

"No," my uncle agreed. "It is you he wants to marry."

That was the hope. Kian and I had met before as children, but it had been many years since then. He might not be the boy I remembered, and I was certainly not a little girl anymore. I was approaching my fifteenth summer. Not old enough to marry, but old enough for a tenuous engagement, if I so chose.

"Welcome to Vannes," the lead oarsman told us. "Refuge of the storm-harried and home of the friendliest souls this side of the channel."

"And long may she stand," my uncle replied.

The oarsman grinned at that. "Longer now that all the tortoises are gone from these parts, I would imagine."

I watched my uncle's ears prick up. "They have left this place as well now?"

"It seems so."

"Well. That is welcome news. An empire is worth less than a rotting fish if you cannot hold it. And it seems they cannot."

"I would not wish to hold a rotting fish, so perhaps that is wisdom on their part," the oarsman said, smiling. "Or perhaps they simply stretched themselves too thin. No army, no matter how great, can hold the entire world."

"No," my uncle agreed. "And I cannot fathom why someone should wish to. Stolen land does not make for solid foundations to build a roundhouse. Nor does it go easy through the plough."

The oarsman inclined his head. "A man should fight and die for his home and family, not for the ruin of others. I agree with you, but I am a Celt too, and it's often said that we lack ambition."

"Then it's fortunate my little niece has so much of it. Perhaps she can spare some."

"I don't know what he means," I told the oarsman. "I am simply here to explore Vannes. May I ask ... who are the friendliest souls on the other side of the channel? Just out of interest?"

"Ah," the oarsman said with a broad smile and a wink. "Well, that would be the Silurians. Of course."

"Of course," I agreed wryly. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"It was my honour, little princess. I hope Llyr's temper has eased by the time you journey homewards again. He can be a cruel master."

I looked to the sky, which was so swollen with grey clouds that it looked like it might burst. And then to the sea, which frothed and writhed like a caged animal. And I could only agree with him — the sea god was in a foul mood today, and my belly was churning. When the boat finally knocked against the dock, the resulting jolt almost knocked me from my feet.