by Mark Eller
* * * *
Two months later, Fox stood on the deck of the heaving cargo ship as it neared the Port of Yylse and thought of doing a bit of heaving herself. Waves slapped viciously at the worn wooden sides. The slapping made her think of the slaves in the bowels of the ship being tended by the caress of their master’s whip. She so wanted to be home in Oria, the hidden city of the thieves’s guild in Illian. At this moment, she would give anything to be in her soft bed beneath the mountain, tucked in tightly with her lover, Taymor. But no, her god demanded she make this wretched passage across the sea to some foreign city named Yylse.
Fox’s stomach lurched when the ship crested another swell. She covered her mouth with the back of a hand. Bile rose strong and vicious up her throat, then unbidden, spewed out over the ship’s side. Clutching the railing with white knuckles, she cursed the fate that had brought her here. What had she done to deserve this? Why did her god pick her for this stupid voyage? Fox hated water. She couldn’t swim. The only time she ever wanted to be wet was while soaking in a hot, sudsy tub.
“Aye there, young master,” a rough voice said beside her. “Come away from the side. We’re heading into rough seas, and ye’ll want to be in yer cabin strapped down. Another day and we’ll be on Yernden’s shores. Not a good thing if ye ask me. Too many ill-fated things happening there.”
Shaking his head, the first mate patted Fox on the back. His deeply tanned, bare chest glistened with sea spray, and his long brown hair lay wet and curled against his head. In all, he was a tempting sight for a woman’s lust or would have been if she hadn’t been puking her guts out the entire voyage. Two weeks of unusually rough seas, tossing and thrashing her about in her cabin, had left her body abused and her brain fuzzy. If not for the rancid smell of her own vomit polluting her cabin air, she wouldn’t be above deck now.
Glancing at the first mate through slit eyes, Fox tried to appreciate his fine looks. At any other time, in any other place, she would have been hard pressed to keep her hands to herself. As it was, she didn’t want to ride on anything that might toss or rock, no matter how tempting. Besides, there was also the matter of Taymor to consider before doing anything so rash.
In all, about half the ship’s crew were fairly young and attractive, dark skinned and well-muscled. The others were older men whose looks could scare sea monsters back to their quiet, dark holes. It was the second half who worried her. They had been at sea so long they found anyone attractive, even a woman disguised as a man.
The first mate watched her intently, dark eyes lit with part amusement and maybe just a touch of sympathy. Mostly amusement, Fox decided. She scowled.
“Man overboard!”
Almost too sick to care, Fox lifted her head and watched as some poor bastard thrashed about in the water while the ship quickly left him behind.
“Damn, there goes another slave,” the first mate muttered. “Fool. Once the creatures get a whiff of him, he’ll be food.”
Fox felt sorry for the captives held below deck. She remembered what it was like to be a slave, to be used unmercifully. She understood the desperation for escape, but that time was in the past. Now, for this time, Fox served no one but herself. She was nobody’s pawn. Even the god, Dakar, paid dearly for her service.
Absently reaching up, she touched the warm spot on her neck just beneath her right ear where Dakar had laid his kiss.
“Come now, boy, let’s get ye battened down for the night. Plenty of time to become sick later. We wouldn’t want the king’s personal advisor accidentally getting tossed overboard.” The mate’s smile was open, inviting, and absolutely stunning, his chocolate brown eyes devastating. Gods, she wished she were not sick. But no, she wasn’t here to bring joy to either herself or any of these depraved, lust filled, gorgeous sailors, especially not the ugly toothless ones. She was here to suffer, to throw up her insides, and to carry Dakar’s stupid eye back to his stupid temple in the stupid mountains of Yernden.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, everything was stupid.
She eyed the mate again, wondering about future prospects. “What’s your name again?”
“First Mate Heldar, Lord Marwin,” he replied.
She smiled weakly. “I’ll remember to tell his majesty how helpful you were to me.” And if ever Taymor and she should part, she would hunt First Mate Heldar down with a vengeance— at least while they were on land.
He laughed. Such a joyful sound. Fox wondered how the hell anyone could be so happy on this sea while being tossed around like a sack of grain on market day.
“I thank ye, mam. Mayhap there be a little something extra for me in this before ye leave.” His smile morphed to knowing, and his gaze heated. “I came to yer cabin the first night ye boarded. The door was cracked, and ye warn’t quite…dressed.” His voice constricted. “I fancied to see ye had quite a nice...” His voice fading off, he allowed his gaze to drift downward to stare pointedly at her chest.
Fox narrowed her eyes. Cute or not, Heldar was pushing the boundaries. No one got the jump on her. “What kind of extra are you looking for?”
He shrugged. His smile slipped a notch. His eyes grew hungry. “From what I seen, yer a might beautiful woman. When ye’ve been out on the sea for as long as I have, a man’s needs get neglected. I know ye carry a great bounty with ye’, but I have money a plenty. Right now, I’d rather have the touch of yer hands on my body than anything else.”
Fox sighed, feeling resigned. Because her belly felt like it was splitting open, she didn’t particularly want to have to resort to sordid means while on the ship. On the other hand, she also didn’t want to give away her identity. Then again, she certainly didn’t want to betray Taymor’s trust either. Killing Heldar was out of the question as well. All things considered, the horny sailor left her no choice.
Fox smiled, slow and seductively, with a twinkle in her eye. “I see, First Mate Heldar. Since you seem to be an honest sort I suppose one night of obliging you won’t hurt, but seriously, I’m far too ill to be interesting.”
Heldar’s eyes grew large, his features excited. The muscles in his chest tensed.
“Well now, as to that, I have something’ll help with yer sickness. My shift ends in the wee morning hours. I’ll come to ye then an’ ye won’t mind so much as ye’ll be feeling better.”
Fox nodded, but she wanted to smack him alongside the head so hard his ears fell off. How dare he have something for her stomach the whole time and not bother giving it to her until he was in the mood for a tumble? The fool would be lucky if she didn’t leave him tied to the mast naked, covered in honey and bread crumbs.
Looking at the horizon, the darkening gray sky told her she didn’t have much time to come up with a plan. Night approached. Fortunately she was Fox. A plan would soon form.
Lurching from side to side on the unsteady deck, Fox followed her sex-starved sailor back to his bunk where he fished out a bit of a pasty substance wrapped in waxed cloth. When she tried it, the paste tasted absolutely foul, but strangely, her stomach seemed to settle almost immediately.
“Later,” the mate promised her.
“Later,” Fox agreed and headed toward her cabin. If all went well, she would be in Yylses’s port by early to mid-morning. From there she would travel across land toward Yernden’s capital city, Grace, before slipping from the trail and disappearing into the mountains.
Fox’s stomach spasmed at the thought of all that lay before her. “How in the dark realms did I ever get myself entangled in this farce?”
Greed my girl, greed, whispered her inner wise woman.
Yes, greed was definitely a reason, but her renowned skill as the best thief in Illian was a larger factor. When her god, Dakar, had taken great notice of this skill he had recruited her to his cause.
Fox snorted. Recruited? More like pounded and threatened til she gave in. But again, she had only herself to blame. Her and her big mouthed, hugely inflated, self-delusional, and overly proud ego.
Upon reaching he
r cabin, Fox stumbled inside and locked the door before throwing herself on her bed. The ship rocked, creaked, and rolled and shifted beneath her aching body, making her hammock sway in ever increasing arc, proving the paste was only partially effective.
“If only the nightmare would end. I’d do anything to make it stop,” Fox whispered to herself, and then she tensed. Hadn’t saying she would do anything to keep from being caught during a botched job gotten her into this mess?
“Just kidding my dark, greedy, deceptive god.” She couldn’t afford to owe her god anything else.
If only she had run when the little fox on the door had spoken to her.
