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A mermaid. That’s what Valour had thought when he spied the floating figure in the rough waters of the black ocean. It hadn’t taken them long to haul the pale skinned creature from the inky grasp of the sea waters, but when they did his men crowded around her, bodies moving with the sways of the ship.

She was beautiful. Fine bone features celebrated full pinks lips, striking against the bloodless complexion of her skin. Her eyes, large and doe like with thick black lashes almost tricked the onlooker into thinking she was a gentle and weak thing. If it wasn’t for a high and proud forehead that turned almost Faye-like features into a strong and mesmerising beauty with her long blond locks of dangled soaked hair that fell around her body like a golden shield. Her body, long and lean was draped across the deck of his ship, trembling, and yes, alive. Barely.

Valour bent down, pushing two long fingers to the dainty jawline of the girl. Ice cold, but her heart pumped strong. Her weak breaths betrayed the strong pulse. One of his men bent down and started to tear at her clothing, but before he could ruin her modesty Valour roared to the man and ordered him to leave the girl be. The man, his healer Olar looked perplexed, watching the captain with strange eyes.

‘Captain, the girl needs to be unclothed of the soaked garments and I need to warm her quickly before the chill reaches her bones.’

Valour didn’t know why he stopped a man he trusted dearly, and no less admired, but as the captain looked to the hungry and frightened eyes of his men he couldn’t stand by and let them see something they would appreciate too much.

Valour was a hard man. From his youth he had been dealt an unlucky hand. His father had been a captain before him, a cruel and glutinous man who took what he pleased and laughed at the consequences. His father had taken his mother, a kind and gentle girl who worked at the fish markets with her mother. He had raped her and tossed her aside, ripping away her dignity, stealing her virginity and leaving her with nothing but an unborn child.

She was a strong woman though, sometimes hidden by her kindness, but she raised her bastard son alone through all the hardships a single working mother had to face, teaching him everything a poor lad needed to become a great man. When she had found him fighting with some other boys from school she had told him something that he had never forgotten. Something that shaped the man he wanted to become.

‘The world is cruel child, but that needn’t mean you must become a cruel man. Cruel men run this world, it is true, but that is because all the good men become them. Grow into a good man my son, and stay a good man.’

He was a troublesome boy, and he continued to fight, but now only for the right things. His mother had died shortly after that, and it was a long and shaky climb for a fishmongers son to reach the top of the ladder, and become a captain of his own vessel. A young Valour, fresh into his teenage years had to continue to fight, and through hard work and grit he had earned the respect of his men, and a ship to his name.

Through the years on the rough sea he had seen and done things that had made his nights sleepless, but the young Valour was no more. Now stood a man, far from boyhood, muscles shaping his hard sun weathered body, long and ocean misted brown hair, seaswept and tangled, touched his shoulders and the evidence of a long journey covered his strong jaw in a shadow of masculinity.

Valour yelled orders to his men and soon the sorry group had vanished. All that was left was himself, Olar, and the sea nymph with the golden hair.

‘Sir she needs to be unclothed and warmed, she may be lost to the sea yet.’

A growl left Valour’s body at those words and he looked down at the girl laying before him.

‘Not here.’

He pointed to his cabin but kept his eyes on the woman, almost afraid if he looked away for just a second she would disappear. A powerful force flowed through his iron heart and he couldn’t help the words that marched past his lips.

‘Do what you must Olar, but by the Gods I swear, this woman will not die tonight.’

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October 14th, 1995, 9:40 AM CT, Union Station, Chicago, IL The Cardinal arrived into Chicago Union Station fairly close to on time; only about 30 minutes late. They had been told that the Cardinal tended to run late; this meant that they had plenty of time in the Windy City before their next train, the Southwest Chief departed for Los Angeles at 5:40 PM that night. They were hungry; they had overslept and had not gotten breakfast on the train. They asked a passing person where they should...

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