The Hag of Calix

by Rod Fisher

Chapter Eighteen

  WE MUST go back," Gwenay insisted, "you had no right to leave the islands without my permission. We had an agreement. What has become of our agreement?"

  Felic worked the pump, his lips set in a grim line. He was tired and angry. A short sleep had restored his physical strength but his head throbbed from the night of fatigue.

  "Won't someone talk to a blind person," Gwenay cried. "I will not be ignored this way".

  Chessa laid her hand on the queen's arm. "But Felic has told you..," she started, her voice soothing.

  Gwenay shook her hand away. "Stay out of this. I want my answers from Felic m'Lans."

  "But quarreling will not help. He must..."

  "I am not quarreling!" Gwenay screamed. "This is my vessel. I say turn back. Turn back immediately!"

  There was a long silence. The wrath of the blind queen hung heavy around the threesome. Felic continued to ignore her. The measured slide, squash, rattle of the pump continued. Gwenay's expression went from anger to peevish self-pity. She caught her breath to repress a sob and turned away. She groped her way alone the rail and across the break of the quarterdeck to descend the companionway.

  "Why don't you tell her about the gem, Felic?" Chessa's tone was disapproving.

  "No."

  "You can be very stubborn."

  "You know my reasons."

  "Yes." She brushed his hair away from his eyes. "Do you want me to pump now?"

  "All right...but not too long. I don't want you to get over-tired. We'll last longer if we take short shifts."

  Felic had no idea where the storm had blown them. Only by constant pumping were they able to keep the Sun-Eagle afloat. Even so, the water was still gaining. Somewhere to the east lay Antillia. He had explained to Gwenay that their only hope was to keep running before the west wind--a moderate breeze that followed the passing of the storm.

  He went back to the helm and adjusted the restraining line. The two sails were winged out in opposite directions. On the downwind heading Sun-Eagle was almost self-steering, needing only occasional attention to correct her course. Down on her marks, she surged heavily into the morning sun.

  Gwenay came up from the cabin and felt her way to the stairs and up to the quarterdeck. She was unaware of Felic until he took her arm to guide her around a coil of rope. She took a place at the rail and faced into the breeze. Her hair whipped in tangles behind her. She seemed to relish the wind on her face. It was some time before she spoke.

  "Felic, are you still there?"

  He answered from a few feet away.

  "Felic, I would like to help pump."

  Felic's eyebrows shot up. "Good. I will help you forward and you can relieve Chessa now."

  "But first, can I tell you one thing." She reached out and found his hand. "If I had the missing gem..." Felic started to pull back. "No, listen...please," she begged, "if I had the gem I could place myself in another cycle of renewal. Do you understand what that would mean, Felic? I could regress my age another few years and I would be able to see again."

  Felic didn't answer immediately. He squeezed her hand in silent sympathy. When he did speak he avoided the issue.

  "But we can't go back to the islands now. The Sun-Eagle would never get us there. She lost caulking in the storm. Our only chance is to keep pumping...pump and pray we reach Antillia before she goes under."

  "Yes, Felic. I trust you. But after...after we reach Antillia, what then? Will you help me return for the gem?"

  "First things first. We may never get there." His voice was dull.

  "You are tired and everything seems hopeless. But I feel... I have an intuition; we will make it safely. Place my hands on the pump handle and give me my turn."

  They pumped in shifts through the long day. Felic wrapped cloth around the handle to save their hands, but by nightfall broken blisters exposed the raw flesh of their palms. The rags on the handle were sodden with the oozing blood.

  Working the pump became cruelly painful as well as tiring. Their one blessing, the west wind, stayed fresh. Sun-Eag1e, hampered by her cargo of water sloshing over the planking of the hold, pushed eastward--not swiftly, but steadily.