by Rod Fisher
* * * *
Stet-Arnak kept the Dagran galley hove-to off shore all night and paced the deck all morning watching for Bargonast's return. But his patience was drained by mid-day. He roused the crew to action and ordered them to pull for shore.
Near the island they intercepted a coracle with two Maijad fishermen aboard. The galley overtook them, bearing down on their frail craft, smashing it to a limp bundle off hide and sticks, and sending it drifting into the depths. The fishermen were pulled on deck and persuaded to answer a few questions. After they told Stet-Arnak of Bargonast's imprisonment in the village, he ordered them put in irons.
As the galley proceeded on course to the village, they passed the bay where the Sun-Eagle rode at anchor. Stet-Arnak changed his plans and lowered a long boat full of swordsmen. Their orders were to take the yacht, scuttle it, and return with the Calixian queen.
On the yacht Gwenay's urge to kill Felic died in her trembling hands as she held the stiletto poised above him. She rose to her feet and flung the knife over the side. Tears blurred her vision, or she might have seen the boatload of Dagrans closing with the yacht. She ran to her cabin and collapsed on her bed. Her body heaved with the wracking sobs of unrequited love.
The Dagrans took the yacht without a struggle. Felic was jerked out of his dreams and to his feet. His groggy brain tried to make the connection between the events of the previous hours and the Dagrans pushing him before them. One of them had his sword. He came to his senses with an angry curse and struggled to free himself. A blow to the head stunned him and he was shoved down the companionway where waiting hands hustled him through the door to the hold of the Sea-Eagle. He was tied to the section of the mainmast that extended from the keelson up through the deck. They finished the job without talk or ceremony and left. He heard the bar drop on the other side of the door, the sound of the hatch in the floor of the cabin being slid aside, then the heavy tread of their iron-shod buskins as they climbed the companionway and left the yacht.
In the darkness of the hold he tested his bonds, wriggling, trying to find some slack. But the Dagrans knew their business; there was no slack. He rested and tried to organize his thoughts. Over the sound of his breathing he heard the dread gurgling of water in the Sea-Eagle's bilge. He held his breath, listening, and another faint noise caught his attention--a stealthy hesitant footstep.
"Who is it? Is that you Gwenay?"There was a sharp intake of breath from the unseen person, then silence.
"Who's there?" Felic asked again. "Since we shall drown together trapped in this black hole, you may as well tell me your name."
From close behind him a small voice answered. "It's me."
"Chessa! How did you get here?"
"Why do you care?" Her voice was petulant.
"Chessa, don't be angry with me. I can explain. Gwenay gave me an aphrodisiac in the wine...do you understand?"
There was no answer.
"Chessa...please! This is no time for petty feelings if we are to get out of here alive. This boat is sinking! I heard them take up the floor hatch in the cabin, and I am sure they opened the scuttle-plug there." Felic's voice betrayed his anxiety. "Do you have a knife?"
"No."
"Then light the lamp in the forecastle and look in the armorer's chest."
"I have no flint or tinderbox."
"Here...in the pouch at my belt." He felt the gentle touch of her fingers as she groped in the dark for the pouch. "Hurry, Chessa. You must hurry!"
Despite his urging, it seemed a long time before she returned. In the glow of the lamp she sawed at his ropes with a rusted knife until they parted. Felic rubbed the circulation back into his wrists and suppressed a smile at Chessa's appearance. She stood before him in the dim yellow light dressed like a savage urchin in a matted fur. Her body looked pitifully small in the bulky garb and she was covered with scratches, bruises and dirt. Worst of all, she stank like a wet deer.
"You found a knife." She didn't answer. "They have barred the door to the cabin. Did you try the fore hatch?" he asked.
"No."
"Tell me how you happen to be here."
As Felic sought to force open the fore hatch, Chessa told of her escape. The hatch was solidly secured from above and his efforts were useless.
"I didn't know where else to go," Chessa explained, "so I sneaked aboard and hid down here." She followed Felic to the other end of the hold where he tested the strength of the barred door into the cabin. He slammed his shoulder into it several times with no results. Then he hacked at the hardwood with the knife. When that availed nothing, he pried with it, only to snap the blade. He cursed and hurled the useless implement aside and stood back, anxious and frustrated.
The stern of the Sun-Eagle was settling deeper in the water and the planking at their feet was awash. For a grim moment they were silent in the contemplation of their certain death.
Chessa edged closer to him. "Felic...I'm scared. Are we going to drown in here? We are, aren't we?"
Felic shook his head, searching his mind. "We haven't yet. I have an idea. If I can pull up these three steps, perhaps you can squeeze under the cabin sole and get out through the scuttle plug hatch."
"But how will you get out? I won't leave you, Felic. I love you and I want to stay here and die with you!"
"That's very touching, Pigeon, but when you get through you can unbar the door."
"Oh, I am so stupid," she chided herself.
Felic retrieved the broken knife and used it to pry around the steps. In creaking protest the boards came up, exposing a dark water-filled hole extending aft above the keelson. Felic saw something, which caused him to rip the last two boards aside quickly.
"Bring the light closer!"
Chessa knelt by his side and he reached both arms into the bilge water directly below the steps. Getting a grip on the unseen object, he straightened up and lifted it out onto the planks.
"What a beautiful box!" Chessa gasped. "It must be made of silver." She wiped her Palm over the surface to remove the layer of bilge slime. The figures worked into the metal stood out in sharp relief. "Oh, open it. Let's see what's in it."
"Not now, Chessa," his voice was rough, "you must take a big breath and crawl under the cabin floor. The space will grow smaller as you near the hatch. If it gets too tight or you run out of breath, kick your foot and I will pull you back out. Come now, hurry. The water rises!"
She discarded her fur and stood there naked. Then considering the black watery hole with distaste, she took a deep breath, clenched her jaws, closed her eyes, and crawled in headfirst. She pulled ahead slowly at first, gripping the frames of the vessel and pulling herself into the narrowing space. When she progressed a little more than the length of her body she could feel the swirl of the colder water coming from the open scuttle plug. The hull was closing in on her. She could feel the floor timbers inches over her back; the upward curve of the bottom diminished the space below her as she moved forward. She was close to panic and the end of her breath, but before kicking her foot for help she forced her eyes open. She could see the light from the hatch just an arm's length ahead. In desperation she forced herself to keep going and squeezed through the opening into the cabin.
Felic was calling her through the door, "...answer me! Are you through?"
"I made it. I'm through!" she shouted. She raised the bar and let him into the cabin. "You were worried for me, weren't you, Felic?"
He held her. "I was, Pigeon. You were very brave."
"Now let's open the chest," she begged.
"First the scuttle plug, then the chest." He reached into the hatch in the sole and forced the plug forward into the wooden valve.
"Why do they build a hole in the bottom," Chessa wondered out loud.
"So a captain can keep his ship from falling into enemy hands. Now, let's see if we can get this chest open. I already know what it contains."
"Do you, Felic? How do you know? Tell me what it is
."
"And spoil the surprise?"
"Then hurry. It's so pretty!"
"I don't want to force it. It would be a shame to ruin it." He cleaned the remaining slime from the chest with a rag and studied the scene wrought into the silver. It was a bas-relief depicting rites of the Dag-Arnak priesthood. He found a knife in the cabin and slid the point around the crack of the lid to locate the catches. Probing the surface in the area below the catches he found an ornament that slid to one side. He moved its counterpart on the opposite side of the chest and the lid came open.
"Oh, its so beautiful,Chessa caressed the opalescent surface of the fist-sized gem nesting in the box. It shone with pearly luminosity from a swirl of woven gold fabric.
"It is part of the Qalandor. Have you heard of that?" he asked.
"Of course. As the intended of Stet-Arnak, I was taught the temple rites used in worshipping the power of the Qalandor. But I do not understand how this could be part of it."
"Gwenay has the Qalandor at Calix. It was stolen by King Jult before he died." Felic pulled a gown from Gwenay's wardrobe and pushed it at Chessa. "Now get dressed. We have a lot of water to pump out. The Maijads have Bargonast; the Dagrans have Gwenay; we have the gem. Now I think we should get out of here."
"But what about Bargonast?" Chessa asked.
"What about him?"
"Well...he did save my life. I think we ought to try and help him."
"Have you considered what he would have done with you after he got you away from the Maijads?"
"Well we don't know that for sure. Maybe he was just trying to help."
Felic took a deep breath and spoke slowly, emphasizing each word. "Chessa... look at me. You are giving Bargonast credit for a noble motive. He never had one in his life. I doubt if he has ever done anything that didn't profit him."
"I'm not a little child, Felic," she flared. "I think I have a right to my own opinion of the man. And my opinion is that he tried to help me!"
Felic threw up his hands. "All right. Have it your way. I'll scout the village again and see what I can do."
"It's a good thing I didn't have to wait for you to save me in village hut," she persisted, "or I would be dead by now and you would be drowning in the hold of this boat!"
Felic ignored her and went on deck. She followed him to the waist where he attached the handle of the pump through a fulcrum to the shaft. The shaft extended down a square well leading to the bilge. A leather flap valve allowed water into the well, and a square wooden piston lifted it above the waterline and overboard. He pumped vigorously at first, then settled into long steady strokes.
Chessa reopened the conversation. "What about Queen Gwenay?"
"What about her?" Felic answered, maintaining his pace on the pump.
"I suppose you don't want to help her either."
He stopped and considered her serious face and candid blue eyes. Then he shook his head and went back to pumping.
"I know 'I've got good reason to hate her," she went on, "but all she did was show you a good time."
He flung the pump handle down. She backed away, startled by his violence, but he grabbed her and pulled her back. "Now you get this into your thick head; I did not tumble the queen of my own free will, and I don't recall saying that I enjoyed it."
"Well ...did you?"
"Do you want me to rescue her, too?"
"Did you enjoy it?"
"All right, I enjoyed it! Now, do you still want me to rescue her?"
Chessa studied his eyes for a moment. "I don't think you enjoyed it. Yes, I think you should rescue her."
"Oh, I see ...I don't even have my sword and you want me to take on a galley full of Dagrans and the entire barbarian population of this island. That should be easy enough!"
"In the songs of the bards your exploits are greater by far. Why in the song of..."
"All right. Never mind reciting from my exaggerated history. Here? you pump. I'll take the dugout ashore and scout the village."
