The Roaming Sea - 14. Vanguard, Pt. 2

As night fell, each member of the vanguard retired to their bunks. Some individually, others in small groups. In no rush to follow suit, Callum instead wandered the meadow and edges of the forest—enjoying the complex song of emerging night insects and the ever-present sea. The idea of sleeping in a barracks filled with pactrids raised a question that frightened him, though. When will I meet another Anberan? Despite the days of travel away from Brookside, only now did the question become apparent.

Rym kept to his side, but didn’t attempt to initiate a conversation. Guilt trickled into empty gaps of Callum’s mind. He felt like a burden on Rym—that the pactrid always had to remain nearby. Both knew it was for the best, however. Neither wanted a repeat of being found without an escort. And Rym acted as a safety buffer from Eudald. In spite of the guilt, Callum still selfishly appreciated Rym’s presence. They’d grown to understand each other during their time together—appreciate each other’s nuances. Judging by his demeanour, Rym could sense Callum’s unease, but knew well enough Callum would voice any concerns troubling him if he wanted to discuss them.

Right now, Callum didn’t know how to convey his thoughts. Viewed from another’s perspective, Rym’s offer at Brookside for Callum to accompany him could’ve been seen as heavy-handed coercion. They barely knew each other at the time. But despite Rym’s occasional inscrutability, Callum couldn’t help but be captivated by the pactrid’s enigmatic charm. And for reasons he couldn’t explain, Callum trusted him.

In retrospect, making such a life-altering decision with so few details was foolhardy. But at this moment, Callum decided the agreement to join Rym had been solely his choice, and he’d yet to regret it. The pactrid had persistently shown he truly cared for Callum. What did I do to deserve you, Rym?

In the failing light, Callum looked up to his friend. Rym dropped to a knee, his eyes searching for answers.

“Please talk to me, pup.”

Callum released a long sigh. “I guess I’m just homesick.” It wasn’t a lie, but he hoped that would sate the pactrid’s curiosity for the time being.

“You were exiled without a chance to say goodbye to those you loved,” Rym said, holding a hand to Callum’s face. “Your heartache is understandable, but time will help to mend those wounds.”

“I really don’t know how I’d manage without you.”

“I’m glad to ease your pain, but you’ve shown that you would manage fine without me.”

Callum shrugged. “I guess I was managing at Brookside, but over the long term, I don’t think I would’ve been happy there.”

Rym sat down cross-legged and hunkered down to keep their eyeline level. “Why do you believe that?”

“Everyone there was nice, but I couldn’t see myself connecting with anyone—not like what we have.” Never had Callum known someone so in tune with him. It was as though they could hold conversations with only a look. Something as simple as Rym’s smile made Callum’s heart sing. He reckoned he understood what love was, but his feelings toward Rym were beyond compare. It was so special that he didn’t dare speak the word aloud for fear of shattering everything they had.

Rym’s silver eyes appeared to twinkle as he smiled. “Yes, what we have is unique.”

“But you’re over one hundred cycles in age. Surely there have been others you cared about? Someone special to you?”

The pactrid contemplated the question with pursed lips. “As I said before, I’ve never lived in one place for long. This is unconducive to any relationship.”

“You never encountered another scout who made you feel the same way?”

“Not until I met you.”

“But I’m not a scout.”

Rym gave him a crooked grin. “Maybe not now, but soon.”

The sea breeze, cooling in the night air, caused the long grass and trees to sway. Callum shivered.

“Come, pup. It’s been a long trip. Let’s enjoy the beds while we can.”

A lantern hanging by the barracks door served as a beacon, drawing them in. Inside, the vanguard members were in various states of undress, preparing to sleep—some already under their blankets, others chatting amongst themselves. Cior, in his wisdom, had assigned Eudald far away from their own bunk. Sitting on his bed and stripped to his waist, the soldier’s chest and arms were tarnished with a myriad of scars. He observed them warily as they passed by. Neither Callum nor Rym presented any resistance. There was nothing to gain in making a scene, especially right now, when everyone was readying for sleep.

As they stepped up to their bunk, Callum longed to share Rym’s bed, cuddled in his embrace. A smirk crossed his face, imagining how the others would react. Having an Anberan within their ranks was already asking a lot. To discover the relationship between himself and Rym might push some over the edge. He doubted they’d be able to keep it secret forever, but perhaps they wouldn’t have to. In his short time amongst the pactrids, he’d come to discover they were quite open-minded.

“I’ll take the top,” Rym said, stripping down to his loincloth and climbing the footlocker to the upper bunk.

Callum had seen Rym naked several times, but that didn’t stop him from surreptitiously looking. The pactrid’s muscular body continued to captivate and excite him, only strengthening the want to sleep by his side. Now, however, as he undressed, he sensed many pactrid eyes on him. No one was so bold to stare directly. Instead, sidelong glances broke any semblance of privacy. Callum supposed they were just as curious about his own human body, but accepting that was still a challenge. While standing in his breeches, he nervously folded his clothes and then literally climbed into bed. Luckily, it sat much lower than the bed at the pactrid inn, so he didn’t need to suffer the humiliation to ask for help.

The vast bed could’ve easily slept three or four humans comfortably. To lie on it alone felt wasteful somehow. The pillow was too tall to use comfortably. Callum eyed his folded clothing bundle, considering using it as a pillow, but his embarrassment stopped him from jumping out of bed to retrieve it. Instead, he settled by bunching up the ample linen blanket. Tomorrow, he’d figure out a better solution. Above, Rym turned in bed, causing the frame to creak and groan. He had to trust the bunk could take a pactrid’s weight, but regardless, he grimaced at the prospect of being crushed.

One by one, lanterns were doused until the room fell to darkness. As Callum’s eyes adjusted, crisp moonlight slipped through the windows at a sharp angle. In the distance, the tumultuous sea tumbled and crashed against the stone bluffs. It was the sound of home, yet surrounded by pactrids instead of his own kind. Did I make a mistake?

● ● ●

Breakfast did little to lift Callum’s spirits. A fitful night’s sleep didn’t help matters. The leader, Katock, stated final preparations would only take two days, so the vanguard was free to spend this day however they desired. A time to relax sounded fine to Callum, but left his mind to wander—still debating his decision to follow Rym.

“Cior mentioned humans joining vanguards were rare,” Callum said as they explored the grounds in the morning sun. “Does that mean there’s humans already on this new land?”

Rym held a finger to his lip while mulling over the question. “It’s possible. There should be a registry for those who’ve made the journey. I don’t know where it would be, though.”

“Someone’s bound to know. Maybe Katock?”

While searching for the leader, they caught sight of Cior sitting in the grass, his back leaning against the wall of the barracks. The stout pactrid had a needle and thread in hand, mending a hole in a burlap sack. As they approached, he regarded them with a wide smile, his eyes nearly squeezed shut by his plump cheeks.

“Good morning, friends.”

Callum waved in greeting. If only all pactrids were as friendly as Cior. “Do you know where Katock is? We wanted to see the registry, but aren’t sure where it is.”

“It’s kept in the mess hall. I’d be happy to show you.”

“We’d appreciate your help,” Rym said.

Cior led them to the far corner of the mess hall and opened a cabinet lined with shelves. They held documents and various scrolls, as well as an enormous book. “Since the settlement doesn’t have any permanent residents, each vanguard leader needs to read these. They contain detailed instructions on how to prepare the vanguard for departure.” He rubbed a thumb against the scrolls. “Amendments come in over time. I must admit, the process is all quite disorganised.”

“Are there any maps?” Rym asked.

Cior pulled a few of the scrolls out, peeking at each until he found the one he wanted. “Presently, the maps we have of the seabed are vague at best.”

He unfurled the scroll to reveal a map that—to Callum’s untrained eye—appeared more detailed than Cior would have them believe. However, rather than a square area, the drawing was more like a strip of terrain leading from this settlement to the new land. Callum supposed if they veered off course, they could easily find themselves in uncharted territory. Rym uttered a hesitant grunt upon reviewing it.

Cior rolled up the scroll and returned it to the cabinet. “The exodus is still in its infancy. Katock said there are special groups working on producing more detailed maps, but it’s dangerous work. They travel back and forth, attempting different routes to find the most expedient way across.”

“I don’t understand,” Callum said. “Isn’t the seabed flat?”

“From the shore, the terrain is simple enough to navigate. But farther out, I’ve been told it can be confusing.”

Callum nervously glanced at Rym.

Cior caught that and raised his hands with a smile to reassure him. “Don’t fret, Cal’oom. Many have crossed safely. We only need to treat the seabed with respect and pay attention to our surroundings.”

He pulled the book from the shelf and laid it open on a table. Each page was similar in its layout—a list of entries—but since it was written in the pactrid language, it meant nothing to Callum. Curiously, each entry was written with a different hand.

“What is this?” Callum asked.

“The registry,” Cior replied, then pointed to the header of each page. “The date of departure and the leader’s name.” His finger scanned down each line item beneath the header. “Each vanguard member records their name here. Before we leave, you’ll write your name here, too.”

He turned the pages leisurely, allowing time for Callum and Rym to scan across their contents. After the tenth page, a name immediately jumped out at Callum, written in his own language. “Marcus Chaterton”

“Yes,” Cior said. “I’m sure there are other human names if you look farther.”

Knowledge that at least one other Anberan would be there brought ease to Callum’s mind. “Thank you, Cior. You’ve sated my curiosity.”

The scout smiled and returned the registry back to the shelf. “I’m happy to help. Enjoy your day, both of you.”

“You as well,” Rym replied, leading Callum outside with a hand on his back. Once they were out of earshot, he said to Callum, “You look relieved.”

Glancing at the other pactrids loitering about, Callum took Rym’s hand and led him away from the mess hall. The forest’s edge provided the privacy he sought. “I’ll be honest with you. It’s not that I regret coming with you, but the closer we get to starting our journey, I question if I’m making a terrible mistake.”

Rym dropped to a knee, his face drawn taut with concern. “I never meant to force you into doing this.”

“You didn’t.” Callum reached up to caress Rym’s face—smoothing the wrinkles of worry away, just as the pactrid had done to him countless times. “At least, not directly.”

“Please. Speak plainly, pup.”

Callum sighed, his eyes searching aimlessly as he tried to find the words. “The idea of never seeing you again outweighed my fear of the unknown at the time. Discovering the beauty of your land and all this travelling awoke something within me. This need to—I don’t know—explore? And I’ve always been fascinated by the sea, what lies beyond its shores. That you offered this opportunity, and most importantly, to have you at my side.” Callum bit his lip, blinking away the burn in his eyes. “How could I say no?”

“But you feel differently now?” Rym asked anxiously.

“Arriving here, a small part of me did. That I wouldn’t see another human for many cycles scared me. But now, knowing I’m not the only human to embark on this journey—if this is a mistake, at least I’m not alone.” Callum chuckled, but that did nothing to ease Rym’s worry. “Now, I want to learn the story of how this Marcus made his own decision to leave. How he came to be accepted into a vanguard.”

Rym stared back, mute. Nothing Callum was saying was easing his friend’s concern. He stepped closer, wedging himself between Rym’s legs, and nudged his trunk aside, allowing him to hug his wide torso.

“I’m fine, Rym. Please don’t be upset.”

“I feel guilty, pup. Thinking back to our time at the refugee village, I wonder if I inadvertently persuaded you.”

“Maybe you did—a little bit—but you never forced me to do anything. It was my decision. Have you never done something where you questioned it afterward?”

The pactrid let out a tentative grunt in acknowledgement.

“You see?” Callum replied, resting his head against Rym and then hugged him again. This prompted the pactrid to return the embrace, tight and comforting. “Anyway, all the refugees will be making the journey later on. And I’d have to cross the sea regardless, otherwise I’d be captured by the Anberan army.”

“I suppose.” Rym’s voice rumbled deeply in his chest, resonating against Callum’s head. “Nevertheless, I beg your forgiveness for the inelegance of my proposition at the refugee village.”

“If it helps you feel better, I accept your apology. But understand, I don’t feel it’s needed.”

“Thank you, pup.”

Sensing eyes upon them, Rym turned his attention back the way they’d come. Partially obscured by the mess hall building was Cior, watching them with interest. Having been caught, the stocky pactrid imparted an embarrassed wave with a smile, then nearly tripped over his own feet in a hasty retreat.

Callum scoffed. “Kind of a nosy fellow.”

“He is a scout, after all. I’m sure he means no harm.”

“No, I didn’t get that impression.”

Standing, Rym lay a steady hand on Callum’s shoulder. “Our relationship is rare. I know others in the vanguard are curious as well. Cior just hides it poorly. I’m sure he’ll ask you about it soon enough.”

It didn’t take long for Rym’s premonition to realise itself. That afternoon, while sitting at the cliff’s edge again, Cior shyly approached them.

“Would you like to experience the sea more closely?” he asked.

Rym gave Callum a knowing glance before replying. “I believe Cal’oom would like that. Yes?”

A twinge of unease fluttered within Callum’s belly. Since leaving Brookside, Rym was always nearby. To be with another pactrid, one he didn’t know well, brought on a sense of nervousness. Was it a remnant of fear—the fright of pactrids he held all his life—bubbling to the surface? Rym wouldn’t be his guardian forever. And once they crossed the sea, he’d have autonomy to live amongst the pactrids without need of an escort. He decided the nervousness he felt was needless, and turned to address Cior.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

The scout beamed his squinting smile, offering a hand to Callum to pull himself up. Callum accepted it, grasping two meaty fingers to stand up.

“I will keep your ward safe, Rymolnd,” Cior said with the bow of his head.

“Thank you. Enjoy yourself, Cal’oom.”

Cior led Callum south through the settlement, pointing at a rough trail breaking into the woods beyond. “This way yields a safe route to the beach.”

With no room for both of them to walk abreast, Cior took the lead, routinely glancing over his shoulder to ensure Callum was still following. To the west, contours in the topography sloped downward, allowing the trail to switchback toward the shore. The trees and underbrush muted the crash of the sea, but with each bend in the path, the sound of battling waves grew. At last, Callum could discern scant details between the trees. In his excitement, he contemplated running past Cior, whose lumbering gait was decidedly too slow for him to bear. But he knew better. The sea was so close now, he could tolerate another few minutes.

As they progressed, however, he questioned their safety. The roar grew to a near deafening peak, shaking the ground under his feet, and he could feel the thunderous violence rumbling in his chest. At the edge of the forest, a heap of fallen trees spoke of the sea’s ferocity. Mist hung in the air—a constant spray brought on by the clashing waves. Dirt gave way to sand, and the steep downward trajectory of the beach continued unabated until reaching the water’s edge.

Cior pointed at the border of the sand. “When the moon is at its peak, the water reaches this point.” He had to yell in order for Callum to comprehend what he was saying.

The pactrid stepped onto the beach, then turned to offer his hand again. Frozen in fear, Callum stared back. Cior nodded, offering assurance to trust him. Taking a breath, Callum accepted the outstretched hand and proceeded onto the soft sand, and they cautiously approached the sea’s edge.

Frothing waves engulfed the skyline, forming a liquid wall that roiled hypnotically before them. Sunlight beamed through, revealing the water’s crisp palette of blues and emerald greens. It appeared as though they were standing below sea level, and gazing left and right, the illusion remained. From Callum’s understanding, the sea should be upon them, yet some force held it back.

Cior tugged gently on Callum’s hand to urge him closer. Waterlogged sand squelched under Callum’s feet, yanking at his boots with each step. The harsh crashing waves bore over them, overwhelming his senses with thunderous blasts and a salty mist. He covered his ears to lessen the pain, allowing himself to take in the terrifying, absolute power and majesty of the sea. A tear fell upon his cheek. No words could appropriately convey the awe and wonder before him.

They stood there until he could no longer endure it, then both retreated back to the forest. Before they lost sight of the sea, Callum gazed upon it again. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”

“Yes. It is frightening yet beautiful.”

Their voices sounded muffled. Callum dug a finger in his ear, attempting to clear whatever was causing the problem, but it made no difference. “Why does everything sound strange?”

“Don’t fret, Cal’oom. I’m not sure why it happens, but it will pass in time.”

Callum tried the same with his other ear, but there was no change. “Well, thank you for sharing this with me, Cior.”

The scout turned to regard Callum with a thoughtful smile. “I am happy to know another who can marvel and appreciate its beauty. Most are too afraid to approach.”

“Afraid? Yes. Though I can’t understand how anyone couldn’t admire it,” Callum said with a scoff. “But the waves—they should’ve fallen onto us, yet they didn’t. I’ve watched the sea all my life, but never from that perspective. I had no idea.”

“Yes, the moon pulls the water in strange ways.”

“And we’ll be walking that seabed in a few days’ time,” Callum muttered to himself, stopping in his tracks. “Cior?”

The pactrid glanced back. “Yes?”

“Are you . . . nervous about crossing?”

Cior gave a hesitant smile, then sat on a fallen log. “Of course. Anyone not nervous is either lying or a fool.”

“I’m glad it’s not just me, then.”

A moment of silence passed, then Cior’s manner shifted. He grew suddenly bashful, fidgeting with his fingers. “May I ask you a question?”

Callum found the scout’s demeanour charming, and couldn’t help crack a smile. “Yes. What would you like to know?”

“How did you and Rymolnd meet?”

Callum stared into space, recalling the transport accident that had set everything into motion. So much had changed in such a relatively short time. “I was his captive. He took me to one of your outposts and a gotachi said I wasn’t a threat to your kind. During that time, we grew to appreciate each other, I guess.”

“Is he your mate?”

The bluntness of the question caused Callum to blush. “I— I don’t know. We’ve become quite close—”

“Yes, I witnessed that earlier. Please understand, I didn’t mean to intrude. I find humans fascinating. I’ve met refugees in the past, but they couldn’t speak my language, and I’m unable to speak yours.”

“You find us fascinating how?”

“You’re so different from us. Your nimbleness leaves me envious. Yet despite your size, humans can be fierce.”

Callum laughed. “Rym spoke similarly. It goes both ways, though. I find Rym’s towering size . . . appealing.”

That earned him a playful grin from Cior. “So he is your mate.”

Callum shrugged, feeling his face redden again. His limited experiences with men had primarily been sexual in nature—an act that neither excited nor repulsed him. He always assumed it was an obligatory act in order to enjoy the other aspects of a relationship he longed for. Rym had smashed that belief to pieces.

Seeing his discomfort, Cior added, “Whatever your partnership, I see you both care deeply for each other.”

“Yes, we do.”

Cior gave his squinting smile again. “I am pleased you are joining us, Cal’oom.”

“Thank you. I wish everyone in the vanguard was as accepting as you.”

“You speak of Eudald?”

Callum nodded sullenly. The soldier had kept his distance, but that didn’t stop him from staring Callum down in the mess hall and barracks. “It must be tiring to stay angry for so long.”

“He fought many battles against your kind. In his eyes, you are still the enemy.”

“What should I do? Maybe try talking to him?”

Cior shook his head. “It would be best to stay away from Eudald. Your willingness to create a connection—however fragile—is commendable, but the long war between our kind cannot be so easily mended.”

“I appreciate your advice.”

“It is my pleasure.” The pactrid stood up, gesturing for Callum to lead them back to the settlement. “Shall we return?”

● ● ●

The settlement's laid-back spirit had been pushed to the wayside the following day. Katock gave each member tasks to perform in preparation for their departure. Callum’s duty was to prepare the goods currently stored in the warehouse. Items to be carried by the vanguard included building tools, rope, bolts of cloth, blankets, cooking pots, and miscellanea Callum would’ve never reckoned to bring.

Sitting along one wall within the warehouse were twelve crate-like containers bound with thick leather straps and numerous buckles. The straps served a dual purpose—to keep the crates bound securely during the journey, as well as to carry them on one’s back. Callum was tasked with distributing the goods evenly among the twelve crates, allowing each pactrid to bear its load comfortably. They were of considerable size, reaching up to his chest. Luckily, as the thirteenth special member, Callum would only have to carry his own rucksack.

Once the goods had been arranged accordingly so not to shift while being hauled, a thin wooden divider was firmly placed atop everything. That left a narrow space to store provisions for the journey. Fresh water in skins, hardtack, and dried meat strips. The supplies were rationed out to last exactly ten days. There was no reason to carry extra. If they didn’t reach land after the tenth day, the sea would swallow them. Given Callum’s food and water needs were dramatically less than a pactrid, he would carry some in his rucksack, and Rym agreed to share a small portion of his own rations.

Katock visited Callum several times to scrutinise his work. He never made any comment or complaint, only a curt nod to continue, so Callum assumed the leader was content with his progress. Upon completion, one whole day and half of the next had passed. One concern that kept creeping into his mind was the weight, and Callum mentioned this while reporting to Katock.

“Your consideration is appreciated, medic Cal’oom,” the leader said while leading him back to the warehouse. “Let me assess the weight.”

After a brief inspection of the crates, Katock picked one at random for the test. He squatted down, then pushed his broad back against the crate. Looping two straps over his shoulders, he secured them with a buckle. Two more straps met at his waist, and he fastened them like a belt. Callum’s mouth gaped in amazement as Katock lifted the heavy crate off the ground. There was some strain on the pactrid’s face as he straightened, but once he stood and lumbered back and forth a few times across the warehouse, it was clear he could carry the weight. Judging by Katock’s expression, he was enjoying Callum’s astonishment.

With a grunt, the pactrid carefully lowered the crate to the ground again and unfastened the straps. “There’s no question our backs will be bruised by the end of our trek, but the weight is acceptable.” He gazed back at the line of crates. “I gave you this task specifically to test your mettle. Normally, this duty is assigned to two members. That you managed it on your own, as a human, has left me deeply impressed. You’ve proved yourself more than worthy to be part of our vanguard.”

Callum bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“You’re dismissed for the remainder of the day,” Katock said, gesturing at the warehouse’s exit. “Rest well, for we will be leaving tomorrow at first light.”

Shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun, Callum wandered through the settlement. The workshop bustled with activity, but he wasn’t sure what they were doing. Poking his head in, he found a number of pactrids building more crates. One worker caught him snooping. Callum tentatively waved in greeting, and the pactrid returned the wave with a smile before turning back to his work.

Despite his attempts, Callum had a terrible time learning all their names. To his ear, they remained exotic and strange. And it didn’t help that, at a glance, they all looked similar to him. But he knew, in time, he’d come to learn their names and faces. He could already spot Cior, Katock, and Eudald in a crowd. And, of course, Rym.

Callum pondered where his friend was. Presumably busy with his own tasks. Not wanting to intrude any further, Callum headed north past the barracks and toward the western cliffs. Although he didn’t have an escort, all the pactrids knew him now, and Katock said the rule could be safely broken here.

Each day, Callum visited the cliffs to marvel how the beach gradually expanded out as the water receded. From the bottom of the cliff, the sandy shore descended with a pronounced slope. It was so different from Anbera, where the seabed was flat as far as the eye could see.

The waves, now distant, were far less violent. And instead of the water pounding chaotically, there was a clear pull southward—following the setting moon. Tomorrow, the sea would be gone. Callum’s belly lurched nervously at the prospect of the journey. He’d reckoned his new life had begun upon leaving Anbera, but that felt like a precursor now. What he was about to embark on meant there was little chance of returning to this land again.