Deep Into Destiny

by Scot C Morgan

  We have to make it.

  I thought of my women and the boy in the boat's cabin, holding on for dear life. I knew nothing about sailing, let alone steering a boat through such a massive storm, but I hoped Gurney had seen something like this before.

  "Gurney!" I peered ahead, holding on to the beam atop the boat's cabin. Water poured across my eyes and the cold wind seemed intent on ripping me loose and claiming me as victim.

  "Here! I need your help!"

  I couldn't see him, but trusted I knew where he stood by the sound of his voice. Waiting a second for the rocking boat to level, I released my lifeline grip and moved across the slippery deck toward him.

  "Here!"

  Just as I yelled to let him know I was on my way to help, a large wave crashed down against the side of the boat, shoving the overwhelmed craft violently. My feet went out from under me and my back slammed against the wood beneath. My head only thumped slightly against the wet deck, but I couldn't catch my breath or move for a few moments. I spit and turned my head to the side to expel the water which had filled my mouth.

  "Den!" Gurney called out to me, though I still couldn't see him through the storm.

  I rolled over and rose to my hands and knees, but the storm struck me again. A wave crested the side of the boat and slapped across the entire side of my body. Unable to grab anything to secure myself in place, the flood of water washed me across the deck, turning me around in the process. I expected I'd drop over the railing of the boat to drown at any moment, but instead something hard and unyielding plowed into my side.

  Pain, disorientation, and freezing water kept me from doing anything but curling up and reaching an arm around the thick wooden mast pole I'd hit.

  "Get your ass off the floor and help me!"

  I looked up. Gurney stood beside the mast pole I had my arm around. He had a rope in one hand. He was reaching with his other hand, leaning in the same direction. I couldn't tell what he was after, but I knew I had to get up.

  At least die on your feet, I thought. I forced my body to bend to my will despite feeling broken.

  When I got up, I saw what Gurney was trying to do. The rope he was holding held one of the boat's masts. The mast rippled and popped erratically as the wind tried to rip the attached rope from Gurney's hand. With his other, he couldn't quite reach the horizontal beam on which he evidently wanted to tie the rope and sail.

  I knew nothing about sailing and putting a sail up in the middle of the storm seemed like a horrible idea, but I shared Gurney's desire to live and accepted that he knew what he was doing.

  I staggered past him toward the beam out of his reach and got hold of it. Using it to keep myself upright at the same time, I walked the swiveling beam back around the arc of it's hinge until he could tie the rope to the metal piece on the side of the beam.

  As the expanded sailed unfurled and whipped out to catch the wind, I stepped beside Gurney and yelled through the howling storm, "Won't the storm tear the sail down?"

  Without looking at me, he yelled back as he stepped around the upright post and pulled the end of the tied rope to change the sail's position, "Yes!"

  Yes?

  "Why are you doing it?" I yelled back to him before the boat lurched in a different direction, tipping me forward to catch myself with my hands before my face hit the deck. I looked up at him and saw he was struggling to keep the sail lined up the way he'd positioned it.

  "If we don't get out of this storm," he yelled, "it'll tear the boat apart!"

  As if to confirm his point, a huge wave smashed into the side of the boat, shattering a quarter of the boat's railing. I kicked my leg out to deflect one of the boards before it landed on me.

  Leaning back to use his weight to pull the rope against the opposing force of the wind, he pointed with his other hand. "That way! I think it's the shortest side of the storm! We need to go that way or it's all over!"

  I stood and grabbed the rope in front of him. For what seemed like an eternity, the two of us used every ounce of strength we had to keep the sail angled where it needed to be to use the angry storm to our advantage. My grip on the rope slipped more than once, ripping across my hands and tearing the flesh from them, but I squeezed my bloody hands tighter. Perhaps, if Gurney and I had been the only two on the boat, my will might've given out, but our hands held the fates of my women and the young boy. Giving in to pain and exhaustion wasn't an option.

  Eventually, the moment came—a moment of hope, and at the same time, a moment of sorrow.

  Gurney and I probably saw the light at the same time. It turned out to be much farther than I first thought, or maybe it just seemed that way because of how we covered the final distance to it. The five of us, I mean. Alara, Nithia, Tara, the boy Ray, and myself. Gurney never got a chance to see the light up close. For a time, I didn't think any of us would.

  As the opening in the storm clouds came into view, the wind and waves, furiously jealous at the possibility of losing their prey, crescendoed in a final assault against the six of us and our boat. The monstrous volume of water which lifted skyward and came down on top of us made me think Galderia might be home to a Kraken. But in the end, the storm was all there was, and it was all that was needed to smash Gurney's boat to pieces and cast all of us into the sea to die. As I desperately swam toward the screams of my women and the boy, I saw Gurney, thrown wide by the storm, too far for me to reach. He was the captain of his ship, and as it sank silently, he likewise went down with it, never to be seen again.

  How exactly I made it to all of my women, and to the boy, I don't recall. I only know that I did. Or maybe some of them came to me, or helped each other. What I do remember is lifting my head from the long splintered board I must've found floating among us. I saw Nithia beside me, exhausted but alive. I wanted to look around for the others, but strength had left my shoulders and arms, which were draped over the board. Thankfully, a few seconds later, Nithia and I drifted around with the board, and I could see Alara, Tara, and the boy. They had made it onto another floating piece from the boat. Maybe Gurney sent the pieces up to us, I thought.

  The storm began to settle after it's death blow, and the cold air around us pushed us toward the light in the distance.

  Kicking the water for a few moments to help us along, my legs told me they were spent completely. Seeing the five of us were still drifting to our salvation, I rested my head against the board and prayed each of us could endure the cold long enough.

  ~

  I collapsed on theˇbeach, still noticing the burning pain in my hands from the tears made when Gurney and I struggled with the rope to control the boat's sail. The salt water had made the wounds sting more, but the cold of the sea and now the caking of sand on my palms ended the bleeding. The sky, again dark with clouds, threatened rain, but I didn't care whether it happened or not. Somehow, despite monumental exhaustion, violent waves, and bone-chilling water, all but one survived when it seemed none would. In my thoughts, I thanked my women for being strong swimmers. I shuddered at what would have happened if Alara and Tara hadn't managed to swim clear of the jagged rocks which nearly took us all before we made our way into an alcove and reached the shore.

  I thought of Gurney, and how his final silence contrasted chillingly with the sound of the breaking and splashing crests of water. He'd been too far to save, maybe even to hear, but I wondered now if he had said something before going under.

  Did I hear him? 'Get the child.'

  I couldn't be sure, but I wanted to think he'd made such a selfless plea in his final moment.

  I raised my head slightly from the wet sand to eye the boy. On his back a few feet in front of me, safe from the water which still lapped my feet, his chest rose and fell, and continued to do so.

  He's not going home anytime soon after all. Home? Well, back across the sea. We'll have to find someplace suitable and safe for him. Can't take him on a road trip to the Dark Lord Kurg. That's for sure.

  Using my shaky arms, ignoring t
he pain when I pressed my hands to the ground, I pushed myself up a little more to see past him. Alara and Tara were on their backs. I saw Alara pat Tara's hand a couple of times before Tara took it into her own.

  They made it.

  Despite our predicament, I breathed a sigh of relief that the sea hadn't done worse than it did.

  "Thank you." Nithia's voice was breathy and strained.

  I relaxed my arms and turned toward her, putting my clean cheek against the wet sand. She rested directly beside me. I looked into her blue eyes.

  "Of course," I said, also through labored breathing. I took a few moments before I spoke again. "I couldn't lose you."

  I've already lost too many.

  I briefly thought of Sydney and Monica, and the other women I'd sent back to Earth.

  At least they're safe there.

  "I don't want to lose you either." Nithia slid her arm across the wet sand between us and placed her hand on my shoulder. "I wish we'd stayed in Darguna."

  Her words took me aback for a moment, then I admitted I'd been harboring the same notion in the back of my mind for a while. It seemed the more we moved toward my eventual face-off with Kurg, I thought, the greater the danger everyone I cared about faced.

  And now we've endangered this boy's life.

  I nodded slightly, my head still against the sand. "Sometimes, I wish that too."

  "You do?" Nithia asked.

  "Yeah. This…is definitely one of those times."

  "You don't have to, you know."

  "Don't have to what?"

  "Face Kurg. Keep going."

  I sighed. Is she right?

  "We should get off this beach and get warm," I said.

  "Yes. I'm freezing, but at least we survived."

  "Yeah." Ignoring the pain in my hands again, I pushed myself up to my knees. "He's probably in shock over the whole thing." I nodded toward the boy Ray, who was still resting, but had curled up, no doubt to stay warm, possibly to comfort himself too. "Too bad Gurney didn't make it. Hard enough on the boy without having to deal with that."

  Nithia sat up. "Yes." She glanced at Ray. "I'll go check on him." She looked me in the eyes after she stood. "Think about it."

  I nodded. "We need to make a camp, build a fire. Dry off." I looked at the sky. "Maybe the rain will hold off."

  She had taken a few steps but turned back to me. "At least until we build some kind of shelter."

  Nithia's resilience impressed me. I must've smiled at her. She seemed pleased with how I was looking at her.

  "I did make it on my own in the wild," she said, "for quite some time before Alara, you remember."

  "I have no doubt."

  She nodded at me then walked to the boy, looking back to me once more before reaching him.

  I got to my feet and went to Tara and Alara, who were already standing. Tara rubbed her hands together quickly, then ran them over her arms before crossing them and hugging her torso in an effort to stay warm. Alara looked around her, scanning the beach.

  "What's the matter?" I asked as I approached.

  "My staff," she said.

  As soon as she said that, I realized my sword was gone too. I glanced around, then took a couple of steps toward the water, moving onto a small mound to get a better look. I shook my head. "I don't see it."

  "It was in the boat's cabin," Alara said.

  I turned to see Tara putting her arm around Alara. "I'm sorry," Tara said. "I know how important that was to you. My bow is gone too, not that it's as important. I'm sorry you lost it."

  Alara cast her gaze downward. "My mother entrusted it to me…just as her mother had done with her."

  I walked back to the two of them. "I'm sorry."

  She looked up and shook her head. "It's not your fault." Looking past me to the sea, she said, "At least we survived. Gurney wasn't so fortunate."

  Tara turned her head to look to Nithia, who now had the boy on his feet, and he was nestled against her side. "I can't believe he made it," Tara said. "Strong swimmer, I guess."

  "He did it," Alara said, nodding at me. She tilted her head a little, looking at the side of my neck. "Looks like he was holding on to you for dear life."

  I touched my neck where she was looking. The sharp pain of my fingers touching the apparently considerable scratch on my neck caused me to wince briefly. "I didn't realize." I removed my hand from my neck and saw the blood on my fingers. I could tell it wasn't life threatening, but now that it had been brought to my attention, I had a hard time ignoring the pain. Between the shipwreck, my exhaustion, being wet and cold, the wound on my neck, and my hands, I wondered how much shittier things could get.

  Better not tempt fate.

  I cast our troubles from my mind before fate took note and decided to screw me again.

  "But I think Gurney saved him, really," I said. "I saw him keeping the boy's head above water for a while."

  Hadn't I?

  I couldn't remember it all clearly. The storm, the cold, the urgency of the situation. My memory of the details was murky.

  "Poor man." Tara spoke as she looked out at the sea.

  "You'll make it." Alara glanced at my neck again. "It'll stop on it's on now that we're out of the water. Cold probably helped too."

  I glanced at my hands which were caked with sand and darkened slightly by the bleeding it had halted. I reached down and grabbed more sand from the beach and rubbed it over the wound on my neck, figuring it'd do the same there if the wound opened up again from the activities we had ahead of us.

  The course across the sea we'd originally planned to take was supposed to land us well north of Tiern, somewhere in the inhospitable lands on the side of the large bay opposite the city. When I was with him on deck as he stared out at the sea, Gurney had told me a little about the area, and that Mettin had asked him to take us there, if we decided to cross instead of going south along the coastline.

  That would've been so much easier.

  I had no idea if we'd swam ashore close to the spot we'd planned or if the storm had taken us far off course. Only time would tell, I thought.

  Gurney had repeated what Mettin had told him, that going directly to the port of Tiern—or any town east of the Sea of Ronak would be too risky. Kurg's interference west of the sea happened sporadically, his malevolent hold there tenuous. But in the eastern lands, where our feet now stood, Kurg's iron hand dominated the lives of the peoples in every city and village. He ensured loyalty to his tyrannical will by intimidation, and deadly example from time to time, answering clearly any would-be thoughts of rebellion. Because of that, Gurney told us, our arrival in Tiern—or Rastersia or Mur, the other two main port cities—would draw the eyes and ears of loyalists, or just those wanting to save their skin, and Kurg's Dark Riders would be upon us. And so, we had to enter Kurg's dominion on a longer, harder path. But at least we'd avoid his Dark Riders. At least, that was our plan…our hope.

  Though many miles away from the cold tundra of the deep north, where the dragons dwelled, the planned place of our landing was, nonetheless, a land considered not worth inhabiting by most who lived east of the sea. More barren than elsewhere, and subject to violent winds and long bouts of freezing temperatures, the northern plains served as home to only one people, if the stories that some survived the purges years earlier could be believed—the Fektals.

  Knowing what we faced, the cold more barren landscape, likely offering little sustenance, I wished the boy's story of saving their leader was true, but I knew it couldn't be.

  Would they remember Cormac?

  Despite our arrival being unannounced, if we were lucky enough to find them before starving, I was hopeful we'd be well received by the Fektals. Time would tell, perhaps, but I knew the more pressing matter was to make sure all of us survived the night. The sea's storm had taken our food and nearly all of our other supplies. Only a single pack had washed ashore with us. I had no sword, Tara had no bow, and Alara lamented the loss of the staff her mother had given her.r />
  Thunder sounded in the distance, out over the sea, and I wondered which way the storm was headed. And again, Nithia's words entered my mind. I pondered them.

  I don't have to face him. Should I?

  I looked back to the others, then to the sea where our captain had been put to rest in a watery grave.

  It's my destiny, but at what cost?

  Chapter 7

  Wearing the purple silk blouse she'd gotten from the old sorcerer of the tower, Ms. Thompson sat in her office at the University of Texas at Austin with the door closed.

  A few days ago, after stumbling several blocks back to her house when she appeared in the middle of the night on Leon Street in the West Campus area near the university, she collapsed into her bed. She didn't awaken until mid-morning…several days later. Knowing nothing else to do, she decided to head to work after eating a fruit-on-the-bottom blackberry yogurt.

  She admired her cleavage as she brushed her long brown hair in front of her freestanding head-to-toe mirror, running her brush down gently through her hair resting atop each of her large half-exposed breasts. She didn't bother to change out of the clothes she'd slept in, despite the fact that her violet suede pants weren't proper office attire. They rode up the crack of her ass considerably, but she liked them all the more because of that. She didn't intend to do anything at work except collect her thoughts and figure out what, if anything, she could do about what happened to her.

  Her office was larger than any of the other professors' offices, but she knew why that was the case. She'd never been afraid of using her sexual allure to get what she wanted, and the department head, Mr. Jennings, had proven amply pliable to her needs. She knew he secretly hoped she'd be equally pliable to his needs. She did nothing to dissuade him from that notion, though she had no intention of fulfilling his inner desires. Her eyes favored the young women who sat in her classroom, and inevitably each semester she'd find at least one or two of them who looked at her the same way.