Over the next two days, Jaska continued to train the mercenaries in the methods of the palymfar. He also rowed each day, straining his muscles and then rebuilding them as best as he could through meditation and rest. 

On the third day, Ohzikar followed him to the oar banks. "Why are you driving yourself so?" 

"To rebuild my strength. And because I can lose myself in the work. Palymfar meditations remind me too much of the life I once led."

"But you'll be exhausted if a fight comes."

"If necessary I will restore myself with magic and defeat my enemies through force of will." Jaska stripped off his shirt, revealing the deep scar Ohzikar had placed on him. Neither man regretted the mark. "Besides, a fight won't come today."

"What makes you think so?"

"I can't feel it."

"You trust your instincts that much?"

"A palymfar trains his instincts beginning at a young age, and I have better instincts than most."

Ohzikar pulled off his shirt and tossed it beside Jaska's. "Relieve two rowers. I'm joining you."

"Why?"

"Because I need the workout, because I'm bored. And because I trust your instincts."

Jaska found no mockery in Ohzikar's even face. "Well enough."

Tieros Rowman greeted Jaska Bavadi and the templar who followed him. "Come back for more, eh?"

"I'll be a rower yet."

"You've got the will, Kharos. No doubt about that. But you lack the heart. A man needs the open sea in him to do this all his life, and you've got something more in your heart than that."

Jaska frowned. "That much is true."

Tieros appraised Ohzikar. "Joining us, sir?"

"I am."

"Not so lean as our Kharos here, lot's of good muscle. You'll do well, though I doubt you have the heart either."

Jaska exchanged greetings with several more oarsmen. The men welcomed him. It was clear they didn't think of him as the Slayer.

Jaska and Ohzikar sat on the bench with the afternoon sun beating down on them and barely a breeze to be felt.  

Jaska said, "It won't be easy today.”

"My life stopped being easy the night I met you."

"Same here."

The bosun called orders. The men unshipped their oars. A drum roll sounded, followed by a steady rhythm of beats that pushed them harder today because the winds were light. The two reluctant comrades rowed for hours and grew fatigued but neither would quit. During the third rowing break, Zyrella approached them. 

"I'm joining you.”

Both men protested as she slipped in between them on the bench. Her hips pushed them to either edge but not so far that they couldn't move the oar. The oarsmen cheered and laughed, having never seen a woman attempt their work.

"It's hard labor," Ohzikar said as she placed her delicate hands on the oar.

"That's what I'm here for." Physical labor appealed to her after exhausting her mind these last few days: warding the ship, scanning for enemies, preparing herself for future sorceries. To sleep tonight from physical fatigue would be a pleasure.

Jaska was uncomfortable with her proximity. Her hip contacted his. Her sweet scent filled his nostrils. Before Ohzikar could argue further, the bosun, with a giant grin on his face, began the drumbeats.

"I'll aid you as I can," she said. "Perhaps that way the two of you will survive the afternoon."

Zyrella worked the oar with them, hard as she could. After half an hour, sweat drenched her robe and she panted for breath. Having Zyrella so close bothered Jaska. He could feel her body heaving beside him, could smell her sweat, hear her deep breaths. His skin tingled with each touch. No matter how he tried, he couldn't empty his mind. All he could think of was her.

During a brief break, Zyrella slipped her arms out of her robe and allowed the white cotton raiment to slip down to her waist. Whistles and calls from the oarsmen and sailors drowned out Ohzikar's protest. He gave all the men about a stern look but they ignored him. The bosun's eyes widened but he said nothing. 

Glistening with sweat, her breasts heaved and swayed as she worked the muscles beneath them. Jaska stared, though he tried not to. Her skin beneath the robe was pale except for large, dark nipples that stiffened as if his notice were a hand that brushed against them.

Zyrella worked the oar in her space between these two men she loved in opposite ways. One willingly with a kind and gentle love, the other uncontrollably with fire and passion. And neither of whom would satisfy her needs, nor their own. 

What she did was foolish, especially with the sailors and oarsmen watching, though they wouldn't dare harm her. But she had grown terribly hot in her robe. It wasn't designed for heavy labor, and it seemed only fair that if she rowed she could do so as the men did, with no clothes on her back. And she did want to entice Jaska and Ohzikar. She couldn’t help herself. The attention was delicious.

The bosun called for the oars to be shipped. Zyrella stood and teasingly pulled her robe back over her shoulders. She wrung sweat from her hair, tossed it twice, slid past Ohzikar, and headed for the cabin without a word. Ohzikar looked to Jaska. Both shrugged.

The setting sun cast long shadows within the ship and glowed a brilliant orange behind them, illuminating the galley's wake and the dark clouds ahead. Jaska went to meditate and search for enemies. Ohzikar followed Zyrella. He knocked on the cabin door. Zyrella opened it and retreated to the back of the room where she began to disrobe. She said to him sternly, "Not a word of complaint about what I did."

He moved to his corner and began to undress. 

Zyrella's feet pattered across the floor. Then her hands slid along the corded muscles of his back and up onto his shoulders. Her body pressed close against his. Her nipples brushed his skin. He started to turn around but she pressed in tighter and rested her head against his back. Her arms wrapped around him and clenched his chest. 

"We haven't lain together in many years," she murmured.

His heart thundered. "And it should stay that way. Let's not complicate things between us."

"What would be complicated? I have needs, Ohzi. So do you. Why can two friends such as we not find pleasure together?"

"No, Zyrella."

She slid her hands down his stomach and lower. She stroked him gently and he moaned despite himself. "That's better."

He spun and held her away from him. "I won't do this. I can't give you what you really want. You'll be thinking about him. Don't deny it."

"So what if Jaska haunts my mind? You are my love and my best friend."

"But afterward.” He shook his head. “I would rather not go through it again."

"Perhaps it will be different this time."

"I doubt it."

She tugged at his manhood. "Can you not do it for me?"

"Gods," he murmured. “You know I want you. But the depression … the fatigue…"

"Overcome it, Ohzi. It rests only in your mind."

He sighed, and though he dreaded the melancholy exhaustion that would plague him for days afterward, he moved into her arms and kissed the sweetest, softest lips he could imagine. He had thought of this many times over the last five years but had resisted. More than once he’d told her no and held strong. What was different now? 

Jaska. 

She wanted him, and Ohzikar feared losing her to him. He would do anything to satisfy her and end her desire for Jaska.

Despite tired muscles, he lifted her and pinned her against the wall. As he thrust into her, she moaned and nibbled his ear, remembering how he liked that. Much later, Ohzikar set her gently onto a sleeping pallet. He nibbled at her breasts, kissed all along her stomach and up her thighs. He did everything she wanted, and it was as if not a day had been missed since the last time. 

But still he dreaded the outcome.

* * *

Having located no enemies with his scans, Jaska returned to the cabin. He had given Zyrella and Ohzikar more than enough time to clean up and get dressed again. He was about to knock on the door when he heard moaning. He listened more closely. Though he was certain of those sounds, he didn't believe them. He uttered a spell that enhanced his hearing. Panting breaths, soft moans, the warm flesh of two bodies sliding and slapping together. A whisper of affection and pleasure.

Jaska burned with jealous anger. His mind swirled, a maelstrom of dark emotions. As his hand reached to open the door, waking nightmares assaulted him. He held in the screams that would frighten the crew and disturb his companions. He stumbled back and nearly passed out. Vision swirling, he trudged away from the cabin and fell into a sailor. 

"Are you all right, my lord?"

Jaska shook his head, tried to respond, to say anything but couldn't form the words on his tongue. The only thing he could think of was that he must not alarm the crew.

"I think he's had too much to drink, mate. I'll take him from here."

A strong arm wrapped around Jaska. "Should I get your comrades? Or the captain?" Jaska managed a shake of his head. "Well then I'll see to you, Kharos. Don't you worry."

* * *

The ship rocked. A sail snapped above, driven by a warm breeze. Leaning against the foremast, Jaska stirred and made himself more comfortable. Fatigue had stiffened his muscles. 

Suddenly his heart rate increased. Figures emerged into his vision, though his eyes remained closed. He tore the qavra from his throat and threw it onto the deck. The visions faded but a whisper of voices began.

A large hand patted him on the arm. The reality of that touch forced the nightmares away. Weakly Jaska opened his eyes and saw Tieros Rowman sitting before him with a concerned look on his face. 

"Are you sure you don't need help, Kharos?" Jaska shook his head. Tieros proffered a jug of watered wine.

Jaska drank eagerly. "Thank you, Tieros."

"Nothing of it, just helping a friend."

Jaska rested his head back against the mast. "I'm not much of a friend to anyone. I've done so much evil … to so many people."

"Don't see how that matters if you didn't mean to. And you'll set it aright soon."

"I can't bring back those I killed."

"You can save others, though. War is approaching in the East and Hareez is a land of terror. But you can change this. A man like me is powerless. I'm a good rower, but that's all. Normal folk depend on people like you."

Jaska scanned Tieros' face, noting the lines of strength and wisdom, the hard set of determination. "A man such as you can change the world, Tieros. Banded together, strong men such as you can do anything."

Tieros shook his head. "Don't know about that, Kharos. It's hard to do anything when you're powerless."

"Well, at the least, your friendship has saved me from my nightmares tonight."

Tieros smiled. "Of that I'm glad." He looked to the qavra lying on the deck. "Does it bring them?"

"It did when I first wore one again, but something else triggered them tonight. I only hoped severing myself from it would make them go away."

Tieros lifted the leather choker and examined the jet qavra stone. "Doesn't seem like much."

"No, it doesn't. And if you don't know how to work it, it's pretty much useless. Well, except for the gold you could make on selling one."

Tieros handed the qavra to Jaska and he carefully put it back on. "Do you have a family?" Jaska asked, trying to talk about something other than his problems.

"I've two daughters, bless their souls, and I had a wife." He pursed his lips. "She left me for another man."

"I'm sorry."

Tieros shrugged. "Hard to keep a woman when you're not home for much of the year. And I'm not a rich man, or a handsome one either."

"But you're a good man, strong and dependable."

"Well, she didn't count that for much."

"Do you see your daughters anymore?"

"Every chance I get, but those are few. The port of Srakey isn't large and few routes go through there. When I see them I give them a small purse of coins, a few hugs, tales of the sea, and then I'm off again."

"What will you do when you retire?"

"Build a house on the coast and learn how to fish. Maybe find a good widow to keep me company. What about you?"

"I'll finish my mission, however long it takes."

"And what if you've got years left when you finish?"

Jaska stared out at the dark sea, dark except where it glistened beneath a rising Avida. What would he do if he achieved all he hoped? He couldn't imagine any sort of happy end for himself.

"Only darkness for me, Tieros. Only darkness."

Before Tieros could argue, Jaska said, "I think I do need some food."

Tieros helped him to his feet and guided him toward the tiny mess below the foredeck. They talked then of sailing the seas and the weather they might expect in the coming days.

* * *

Zyrella slept peacefully. Ohzikar kissed her on the forehead and smoothed her hair back. She hadn't looked so content for many months. He dressed and quietly left the cabin. He walked to the ship's edge and stared out at the undulating sea. Sailors worked along the top deck along with the captain's second while the rowers ate, gambled, or slept below. He didn't see Jaska anywhere. It was a good thing, for Ohzikar couldn't face him now. He hoped intensely that Jaska wouldn’t learn what had happened. 

But what about tomorrow? How would things be between him and Zyrella? Would they go on as if this had never happened? Melancholy plagued him already. It would only grow worse if these encounters continued. He cursed his fate that no matter how much he enjoyed sex with Zyrella, he felt drained and useless afterward, devoid of spirit. It would continue until he didn't care for sex. He would begin to oversleep, then he would fail to practice his martial arts and execute his duties.

As Ohzikar brooded, he spotted a shadow moving within the moonlight above the water. The image was hazy, insubstantial, and could represent only one thing. Something from their world moved through the Shadowland nearby. Avida's light could expose such things.

Deciding to let Zyrella sleep in case it was a false alarm, Ohzikar burst into the mess cabin, a small space packed with oarsmen. Jaska sat in a corner talking with Tieros. Alarm froze Jaska's hawk-like features. 

"What's wrong?"

"I think we're being watched." 

With a simple spell, Jaska opened an awareness of the Shadowland without entering it. "Yes. They've located us, and they can't be far off."