Kheman: Sailing at Last

It had always come as a relief. Fingers curled around a rope, watching the lights of the docks vanish into the night, then surrounded by nothing but ink black waves and eternal skies. Flight to another plane is what it was, and over the years it had turned into a habit.

Kheman bolted from the ship as soon as they set sail. He had waited to board until the last minute, telling himself it would be fine once they were under way.

Only it wasn’t.

The walkway slipped away, the deck under his feet shifted and next thing he knew, he’d thrown his pack back over the railing and vaulted after it. The landing on the dock turned bad and he twisted his ankle, barely noticed it through the pounding in his head and chest. Kheman rolled onto his back, arms outstretched, fingertips scraping across the wood. He coughed out his breath, then a sob that turned into laughter as he revelled in being alive and safe. Gods, he was turning mad.

During the next two weeks he made the trip down to Porttown every day. He sat on the harbour wall for hours, with the sea breeze and salt spray in his face. Watched the ships come and go.

They left, mostly, as the number of Skyport refugees dwindled day by day. Whatever evil thing had thrown the city into chaos, it seemed to be over. Reassuring to know that his daughter was safe from danger now, this one at least.

Thinking of Larkin made his guts twist. He’d promised to spend more time with her once he lived down the terror of the shipwreck. Stop being a pirate, stop running. But thinking of returning to Skyport, picturing how it would be to live in the warehouse, locked down in this miserable place with the harbour right there before his eyes, Kheman felt sick all over. He could not imagine ever being happy doing that.

And still the ships came and went, the sight making him tear up with desperation. If only he could find the strength to face his fears and set out on one of them.

When he had left the first time, it hadn’t been his decision. Kheman hadn’t yet been old enough for the first fuzz of beard on his chin when Renar declared they’d be leaving.

No one else of their family had been able to make the voyage with them. They were either dead or too frail or too young. Their mother, succumbed to the smallpox months earlier. Their sister, too large with child to go on a ship. Their cousins, recruited into the Tyrant King’s army and likely already dead at the frontier. And the twins, still babes in arms.

Kheman had cried his eyes out as the ship set sail but Renar had stood by him, holding him firm and repeating his mantra: “There’s nothing here for us. There’s nothing we can do for them but leave and live. We’re the Bashas now.”

And so they packed what they could carry and left on a night ship to a city none of them had ever seen before, one that would never feel like home.

Many more escapes had come after that first one, all of them out to sea. The ocean had become Kheman’s true home, the one place that always felt familiar no matter into what corner of that vast expanse the waves drove him.

Hansel had taken that from him, too. Not just his crew, which had become close as blood family; he’d also taken away Kheman’s refuge.

He threw rocks at the gulls perched on the mooring posts. They fluttered up, squawking at him and he cussed back at them. Stupid gulls. Laughing at him for being beached while they flew free. Mocking this seaman for turning into a land hugger, too afraid to even leave the harbour.

His brother descended unannounced. He arrived on his own ship, a small coastal cutter named the *Lyre*. Kheman sat in his usual spot watching it pull into dock.

The captain waved as she spotted Kheman and he raised a hand in return. Renar stood beside her but did not move until they were moored and the gangplank lowered.

Kheman hopped down from the wall as Renar approached. A few feet away, he stopped. The brothers regarded each other for a moment before Renar spread his arms and Kheman embraced him.

“It’s been too long,” Renar said, pressing him close.

“Sorry, brother. I wasn’t… “ Kheman halted, caught his breath. ”It was... hard. But I’m better.”

They separated. Renar stood silent for a moment, hands on his shoulders, looking him over and Kheman took the moment to do the same. How many months had it been since he last visited? Kheman didn’t recall and the thought had a painful edge to it, so he pushed it away.

His brother had grown old and he seemed to age faster and faster with every passing year. Renar was still a big man, though. Strong, broad shouldered, with his long, dark hair braided back. But there was more grey in it than before and in his beard, it had almost replaced the black. His eyes were more shadowed than Kheman remembered and new spots and veins mottled his skin. It had a yellowish tinge to it, from sitting in his office all day and not getting any sun.

“Don’t worry about it,” Renar said and clapped him on the arm, reminding Kheman that his brother was still far from being frail. “I’m only glad you’re alive and well. It’s good to see you.”

Kheman nodded.

“Tell me, brother.” Renar rested a hand between Kheman’s shoulders and coaxed him to move.

“What’s there to tell?” Kheman asked in a distant voice. More than enough to tell, of course; if only he knew where to start.

“All of it. Your daughter brought me your message but said nothing more.”

They walked off the docks where the wooden planks vanished into the sand, leaving the town behind them. Renar kept his hand steady on Kheman’s back. “The two of you are keeping something secret from me and it’s enough now. I’m here and I demand to know. What happened?”

Kheman could hear the concern in Renar’s voice, the genuine worry for a brother. Underneath, however, was the cutting edge. An unspoken warning.

Once Renar heard the full story, Kheman knew, he would demand blood. And maybe his brother would be right with that - Kheman had considered it a few times after telling Larkin to leave Hansel alone. Maybe letting him live with the guilt wasn’t a punishment after all. Maybe it was weak of him, sentimental. But the thought of having Hansel killed still seemed… not enough. Did not seem like justice at all.

Kheman made his decision and started at the beginning. How they tried to make due without their captain on a this heaving wreck of a ship. How their luck seemed to have turned when they speared that fat trader and how the thing in the water rendered them helpless and drifting. And after that...

“I still… can’t really say what it was. The storm and - him. Fucking Hansel. He was… oh god, he was my friend and then suddenly he - he killed them all, Renar. Those who weren’t dead already, he just… he didn’t seem to be himself at all. Looked like he was fucking possessed, I don’t know. Terrifying. I hid and… prayed. And he didn’t find me until… until the storm was over. It ended when the storm was over.”

Kheman shivered and stopped in his tracks. Pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes. “God, Renar,”  he whispered. “The… blood. All the blood.”

His brother was silent for as long as it took Kheman to gather himself.

Eventually the pounding behind his eyes faded and the clump in his throat loosened. He sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, not looking at Renar. Kheman couldn’t pretend not to cry but he could hide his tears. He stared out over the sea. Pale green waves, churning whitecaps and grey sky casting greyer reflections. The sight make him ache as much with longing as it did with dread.

Kheman felt Renar’s hand on his shoulder again. “Why,” he said in a quiet voice, “didn’t you come home?”

“I tried,” Kheman said. “But I… couldn’t.”

After crawling off the ship, he’d been weak as a kitten. It had cost him the last of his strength to walk down the length of the docks. Fear had still had its grip tight around his mind, making him jump at every noise, setting him to running every time a passing stranger bumped into him, thinking it might be Hansel coming after him. The frightened animal part of his mind had taken control, abandoning all rational thought. It had made him run into whatever direction seemed safe, far away from ships, water and Hansel Granger, deeper and deeper into the maze of Skyport’s streets until he’d lost all sense of direction. Disoriented, exhausted and alone, he’d curled up in a dead end with a pile of broken crates for shelter.

Even now Kheman had no idea for how long exactly he’d vegetated on the streets. The pile of debris had become his refuge to which he bolted back every time one of his attempts to find a way back to his family failed.

It wasn’t just that he was lost somewhere on the far end of the city; even weeks after crawling off the ship, every passing shadow sent him into panic. Once, while searching for food, he’d collided with a half-orc in the street. It hadn’t been Hansel, Kheman had realized that right away, but it might have been. It might have. For days after he had been unable to leave the imagined safety of his pile.

It had been coincidence that saved him. In a moment of clarity, Kheman realized he’d wandered near the southern Main Gate, the one leading out to Mishka’s estate. Kheman dragged himself out, up the hill and Mishka, his old captain who had abandoned him and the crew, took him in and sent him to the Sanctuary.

“You’ll get your justice, brother,” Renar said quietly. He took his hand off Kheman’s shoulder and went to stand beside him, both facing the ocean.

Kheman nodded, barely hearing him, eyes still fixed on the waves. Hansel was a wreck, Larkin had said. Kheman was getting his justice right now. All of them were.

“I’ll see to it,” Renar continued, oblivious. “I’ll have Granger tied to a pole and bury him face down in the tideland. Let him breath mud until he’s dead.”

*Dead.* The word pulled Kheman to the surface. He blinked and turned his head. “No. Don’t kill him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You want him to get away with what he did to you and your crew?”

“No, I want… “ he broke off and let out a harsh breath. Closed his eyes but there was blood behind them, splinters of wood and bone and a terrible storm. Kheman rubbed at them until the images dissolved into stars.

“I want him to suffer for it. But not - not like that. I know he'll remember them as long as he lives and it'll tear him apart. That's what he deserves.”

“You’re doing him a favour,“ Renar said. His lips curled in revulsion. ”What kind of justice is that? Letting him live? Stain our family name? We can’t have it stand that someone attacks a Basha and gets away with it.

“This isn’t about our fucking family name, Renar!” Kheman snapped and flung his arms out.

He didn’t get it. Renar just didn’t get it. Kheman shouted it at him. “This is about… about my *family*.” He pounded a hand flat against his chest. “Elitash and Corven and Crunch, Hunter and Serena and- ”

“You’re out of your mind!” Renar interrupted with a snarl. “Your family is right in front of you.“

“This crew was my family, too! You’re gonna let me decide what’s fucking justice.” Kheman pointed a finger at Renar’s face, jaw tight.

“Will I now.” Renar ignored the finger, staring him down.

“Yes.” Kheman put as much conviction into this word as he could, as much command as he’d ever dared speak to his brother.

“Or else?”

“Then you and me are done.” Kheman made a cutting motion and took a step back. “I’m gonna leave and I’m taking my daughter with me.”

Renar frowned, lips pressed tight. Then he snorted and shook his head. “Do what you must, Kheman. Run away again, like you always do. But you’re not getting Larkin. She’s one of mine now.”

“She’s not a fucking poss-”

“I *raised* the girl when you were not man enough to do it yourself.” Renar closed the distance, pointing his own finger at Khemans face. “I did everything you should’ve done. Protected her, fed her, made her clever and fierce and *loyal* to her family. It’s because of me your half-breed daughter is more of a true Basha than you ever were. And she’ll stay with me. This is her life now, Kheman. What do want her to do, hm? Become some lowly sailor? I’m making her into someone and she’s going to continue our family name.”

Kheman said nothing in his defense. He knew it was fucking true, all of it. He bit down on the insides of his cheeks until he tasted copper, until he stopped trembling and his breath slowed. He turned away to look at the waves again. “You finally told her then? She knows you want her to take over?” His voice was low and hoarse.

“No. She won’t know until I’m dead and she gets to read my will to the headmen, for her safety and mine. You won’t tell her either.”

“I...”

“Kheman.”

“Fuck, fine. I… won’t.” He swallowed back the lumps starting to form in his throat again. “But you have to promise. Promise me you won’t kill Granger.”

As Kheman watched his brother heading back to town, he knew he was done.

Before this day, avoiding conflicts by boarding a ship had always been an option. Surprising, to see what he was capable of when he could not run anymore. Maybe his life would have been a lot different if he’d discovered that earlier.

Still, it made no difference for what Kheman knew he had to do eventually. Whether Renar would listen to him or not, Kheman wouldn't return to Skyport. He ached to grab his bag and board the next vessel bound for the Calish sea. But he couldn’t, not yet. Not as long as the creak of a mast still made his skin crawl; he’d get over it, though. Tn time. He needed to go somewhere else, some place that felt like… home.

Maybe he’d return to Calimport. Live with his sister, break into tears over the men the little ones had grown into and visit the graves of the ones who’d died so long ago. Yes, that felt right. He would apologise to all of them for the decades he’d kept running away.

And Larkin, too. Kheman would apologise to her as well and then he would ask her to come along. Somehow, he knew she would.

He’d take his daughter sailing at last.