by Rod Fisher
Chapter Eleven
THE FIRST day at sea was a pleasant one for Chessa. She was tingling with a sense of freedom engendered by the slow roll of the little ship as it surged down the face of the long swells. They sailed downwind. The rush of each gust sent a shudder of energy through the hull, fostering a shiver of delight in Chessa. She hung over the forward rail, watching the bow cleave the water and ignoring the spray that showered her. To the enthrallment of wind and wave she mingled the separate wonders of swooping seabirds and the awesome appearance of a whale, surfacing to blow.
To her adoring eyes the man she loved looked like a handsome sea God. He stood at the steering oar with his feet planted and his powerful hands knotted about the wooden shaft, compensating for each push of the sea that tried to force the yacht off course. The breeze ruffled the hair over his rugged face and his thoughts were dreamily absorbed in the sailing process. He studied the clouds that clustered on the horizon, beckoning to the rim of the world. He glanced back. The Isle of Cedars was indistinguishable from the rest of the Antillian shoreline. It all ran together, a thinning layer of misty violet sinking into the ocean.
Chessa interrupted his thoughts. "How do you know where you are going, Felic?"
"I've been there before," he answered simply.
"But there is so much ocean." She hooked her arm around his waist and swayed with him to the roll of the deck. "I mean, couldn't you get lost?"
"Not if the stars shine on us tonight."
"Will they help you?"
"In a way. You have to know which one to look for, and where it is supposed to be at a given time of year."
"What if the clouds hide them?"
"If that happens I may be lost for a while." He laughed at the flicker of doubt that replaced the trust in her eyes. "But do not worry, Pigeon. There are other ways. The current and wind tell me things, And we will get help from one of the islands we seek."
"How will it help?"
"It sends up a smoke sign that can be seen for two days before we arrive."
"Felic, you are teasing me."
"No, Pigeon. The island has a volcano."
"Oh ...I am afraid of volcanoes!"
"Well we won't be going there. We will just use the smoke to guide us to the other islands of the Maijads."
A groan came from Bargonast as he rolled on his back, letting them know he was alive. He had slept like a dead man since he first lay down. Now he snored open-mouthed with his head lolling back on the rope coil and his beard bristling skyward in comic surprise.
"Why did she bring him, Felic? He scares me. The scars around his mouth are so ugly; and did you see how he looked at me?"
"I have heard of him. He has an evil reputation." Felic's fingers caressed the pommel of his dagger. "And there is a story behind those scars. It is told that in the Battle of Karvelin he took a slash to his face that cut through his jaw and chin. The tale goes that he put his beard in his mouth and bit it, thus holding up his chin until the fray ended and it could be stitched together." There was a hint of admiration in Felic's tone.
Chessa hugged him tighter and pressed her cheek against his muscular back.
The breeze blew itself out as the afternoon lengthened. But the swells kept coming, tossing the Sun-Eagle with an awkward motion. The masts creaked in protest; the sails cracked and slatted in the still air. Felic waited a few moments before dousing the canvas, hopeful that the breeze might return. The noise and change of motion caused Bargonast to sit up and look about through heavy-lidded eyes. Gwenay appeared in the companionway, white and nauseated. With no greeting other than a grimace, she went to the rail and knelt with her head over the side.
Bargonast, coming to life, found cause for humor in her plight. "Ho, ho... what's this? The queen kneels before her subjects? I thought it worked the other way around."
Gwenay made no sign that she heard or cared what he said. Bargonast, laughing at his own wit, gave Felic a hand dropping the yards and furling the sails. The yacht drifted, powerless, until the sun was on the horizon. Chessa prepared a meal, but Gwenay refused to eat and went to her cabin to nurse her misery.
As the sun went down the air chilled and a breeze from out of the north ruffled the ocean. Felic put on sail and braced the yards on the new tack. Soon Sun-Eagle was gurgling through the gold-capped swells on a broad reach to the west. The wind held through the night and when Felic opened his eyes the next morning, a bubbling wash of water on the other side of the hull told him they were still making progress. He was surprised to find that he was alone. He had left Bargonast with the helm and a guiding star, then joined Chessa on her bed of spare sails. He looked at the impression of her body in the fabric nest and felt cheated by her absence.
A square of overcast sky showed through the open forecastle hatch. He climbed out on deck and paused to orient himself. Clouds shut out the sky from horizon to horizon. The ocean was flat; a lazy breeze wrinkled the expanse with leaden ripples. Chessa was tending a fire in the galley box. Bargonast yawned at the steering oar.
Felic went to the helm and spoke quietly. "I'll take over. You are off course."
Bargonast gave him a dark look. "I kept her on the wind," he insisted.
"The wind headed you. It blows from the west and you are sailing south."
"She's headed the same as when I took over."
Felic was patient. "Look to the left. You can see the sun through the clouds, if you look hard enough. The sun should be behind you."
Bargonast grunted in reluctant accord. Felic brought the bow across the wind and they sheeted the sails in tight for a close reach to the northwest.
Gwenay came on deck and scanned the watery waste surrounding them. Her face was pinched and gray.
"Good morning, your Highness," Chessa called, "Are you feeling better today?"
Gwenay ignored her and spoke to Bargonast. "Do you think the fat priest will catch up to us?"
"Ask the captain. He knows everything."
Gwenay brushed past him and joined Felic on the quarterdeck. She repeated her question.
"We should have a full day's lead by now, but your friend..."
"He is no friend!" Gwenay hissed.
"All right...anyway, he sailed south instead of west. I know not for how long. Perhaps two or three hours. The current also sets south here. That means we have been moving parallel to the coast instead of away from it. Now we must fight into the wind and the current to reach the islands; and the priest, with a larger craft-probably a galley-may catch up to us."
"Did he do it deliberately?" she asked in a low voice, indicating Bargonast.
"I think not. He lacks sea skill."
"We must reach the islands before the Dagrans overtake us, Felic m'Lans. We must, do you understand? I am putting my faith in you to get us there."
Felic forced a wry smile. "We are at the mercy of the sea gods. If they bless us with smooth seas and stiff breezes we will be first to the islands. If the wind dies, the Dagrans will man their sweeps and overtake us. The sea gods pay little heed to us mortals when we try to control them."
The morning passed lazily with no change in the weather. Chessa, bored with the inactivity, decided to try baking bread in the covered iron pot hanging over the firebox. She scrubbed the rust off as best she could and climbed down the forecastle hatch to find flour. Working quietly so as not to disturb Bargonast who slept on the sails, she went through the door to the hold and sorted through the food supplies looking for flour. As she returned through the narrow entrance a powerful hand locked on her wrist. She gasped with fear as Bargonast pulled her roughly into the forecastle and flung her onto the sails. She kicked and scratched as his giant bulk forced her down in a cloud of spilled flour. She couldn't believe what was happening. Her throat was dry and constricted with terror; her attempts to scream were pitiful squeals.
Her arms were pinned by his hairy forearm across her midriff. Bargonast struggled with his free hand to rip aside the inte
rvening garments, but she jerked her knee upward into his crotch provoking a roaring grunt of pain. It was a small triumph, but it rallied her courage. She screamed for help. Bargonast clamped his free hand over her mouth, and she sunk her teeth into his calloused palm. He jerked away and buffeted her head with two powerful slaps. She went limp, swimming on the verge of consciousness, unable to resist his searching fingers.
It took Felic a moment to realize that Chessa's scream was more than the faint sound of some sea bird. He dropped a loop of rope over the arm of the steering oar and vaulted down to the main deck. He was at the forecastle hatch in a few bounds and the animal sounds from below confirmed his misgivings. He dropped through the hatch with his dirk in hand. Wrapping his left hand in Bargonast's greasy hair, he pulled him backwards, the point of his dirk pricking his neck. Bargonast went tense as though to retaliate, then realizing his disadvantage, sat back on his legs and looked over his forehead at the man stretching his neck. Felic's face was a grim mask of deadly intent.
"She came down here offering herself to me!" Sweat popped out on the swarthy man's brow. "It's not like it looks...she offered!"
Felic's answer was an increased pressure with the point. A dark trickle coursed down and hung in ruby beads from the flour-whitened hair of Bargonast's chest.
"You are being a fool, captain. Take the blade away. I tell you she came to me...playful...teasing ...I just..."
"Enough lies!" Felic roared. He continued holding the point to Bargonast's throat, seemingly unable to decide whether to kill him or release him. Bargonast was breathing in short shaking gasps and the seconds passed endlessly for him.
"Why shouldn't I finish you?" Felic directed the question to himself.
"You will be glad to have my help if the Dagran's catch up to us."
"I have no quarrel with the Dagrans. It is you and the girl they are after."
"But they will kill you, or worse, capture you alive. You helped in the escape. That is enough." Bargonast swallowed and the movement caused the dirk to dig deeper. He rolled his eyes up and looked for some sign of mercy from the strange quiet man that held his life so casually in the balance. "Take away your blade. I will do anything you say. No harm will come to the girl. I swear it!"
Felic removed the knife and pushed him sprawling to one side. He sat up and dabbed at his throat, watching with veiled eyes while Felic ministered to Chessa. When she regained her wits, she went into a fit of hysterical sobbing. Felic helped her out of the hatch and held her close, trying to comfort her.
Gwenay came through the companionway in the quarterdeck and walked forward to join them. "What is the cause of all this commotion?" she asked coldly.
"Bargonast," Felic replied, "he tried to rape Chessa in the forecastle." His words started a fresh gale of sobs from the girl.
"He did rape her, or just tried?"
"He didn't succeed. I heard her scream and stopped him."
Gwenay's lips curled in a disdainful smirk. "Then why all this nonsensical blubbering? She should be glad that a skinny little slut such as she could arouse an ox like Bargonast." She turned away, dismissing the episode with a toss of silky black curls.
