The fiery point where child and lady met was emblazoned across his mind so clearly he might never see the stars again.
He reached the narrow top half of the crescent harbor and climbed the rocks toward the fiery grass above. The scent of scorched earth and smoke filled his nose, but praise Aelynn, not the scent of burned flesh.
Exhausted from the swim and the rapid climb to the top of the cliff, he dropped to the blackened grass, singeing his soaked tunic. He gasped for breath, and oriented himself. Where were the priestess and the child?
Flames licked down the hill, catching at shrubs and dry grasses. The rocky slope prevented the flames from jumping quickly or higher.
He had to be in the right place, but he saw no priestess, heard no cries except those of the circling birds.
The hot rocks blistered his hands and the soles of his feet as he pushed himself up. Had Aelynn swept the priestess to her bosom in a cloud of glory?
Nautilus would rather believe that than imagine her silver-blond halo burned beyond recognition. Despite his vague notion of Elysian Fields for the holy, his practical nature dragged him onward to trudge across the hot earth, crying, “Lady Tasia!” in accompaniment to the mournful cries of seabirds.
Below, his crew beached the galleys. They knew how to douse fire. The women would be safe in the water. It was the priestess who mattered.
What would become of these people without the lady? He’d had hopes of sailing back to Greece once the women were safe, but they would be helpless without their priestess.
He’d lost much in his life, but this was a loss he didn’t think any of them could surmount. In a few short days, the fair lady had become indispensable—even to him.
Fear pounding through his blood, Nautilus scrambled down an old rock slide. Loose gravel gave away beneath his feet, and he slid into a ravine untouched by flame. The damned island was a treacherous trap.
He winced as his ribs cracked against a boulder, halting his rapid descent. “Lady Tasia!”
This time, he thought he heard a weak cry. Praising whatever gods watched over them, he worked his way deeper into the ravine on his rear, rather than risk breaking bones.
Even if she were close, how could she have survived the tumble without breaking frail limbs? And the fire! He’d seen them enveloped in flame.
“Here, Lord Captain,” a child’s voice cried. “I can hear you. We’re down here!”
Not knowing whether to expire of relief or dread, Nautilus crawled among the tumbled rocks, searching for whatever hole hid his goal. Why was the priestess not calling to him too?
The rocks were cooler here, bypassed by the flames for lack of vegetation. Black gravel and small stones slithered beneath his weight, and he feared causing a cascade upon the pair he sought.
“Have you a stick or cloth you can wave so I can see you?” he called.
“The hole is too high above me,” the child replied. “It’s dark down here.”
A cave beneath the earth, perhaps, although how they’d ended there, he couldn’t tell. Belly down, he crawled in circles, searching for a fissure that would show him anything but stone or reveal a glimpse of white. “Move about, child. Perhaps I can see you then.”
“I can’t,” the plaintive voice cried. “I hurt too much.”
Where was the priestess?
May Mars and Poseidon in Olympus take note and help him find the beauty he had lost and rescue that poor child. Cursing his sinful ways, recognizing that he had no right to expect the aid of gods, Nautilus began moving boulders, pushing them down the slope, away from the voice and into the rocky wash below. “Can you still hear me, child?”
“Yes,” she said eagerly, if weakly. “And I can see your hand in the hole you’ve opened.”
His hand. How would he climb through a hole a hand span wide? How had they ended up where no man could go?
Finding an opening that might be the hole she saw, he gripped the boulder covering it and pushed. A larger hole in the rocky spill appeared.
“Thank you, Lord Captain,” the child whispered. “I can see light.”
She was shattering what remained of his wicked hard heart.
Once the larger boulders were removed, he could see that the hole he had uncovered was more of a cleft in the side of the hill. By all Hades, how had they ended up there? He pushed aside a tall stone that blocked his shoulders and slid in sideways, then dropped to the floor.
The removal of another few large stones would allow him to walk out, he calculated. Gazing up, he could see the first stone he removed had essentially been in the ceiling.
He gazed around the poorly lit space. “Where are you child? Where is Lady Tasia?”
Deeper into the cavern, the girl waved a blackened, tattered tunic that appeared to cover her arm. “I am here. The lady is looking for a way out.”
The lady was still alive! Nautilus fell to his knees in an uncharacteristic gesture and offered up gratitude to a deity he hadn’t believed in. Whoever or whatever had saved the child and the priestess deserved thanks. It could be the volcano for all he cared.
He crept closer to the white rag, trying to hide his horror at the sight of the child in little or nothing. The fire had burned away most of her clothing. Soot and ash blackened much of her skin. Was it a blessing that she even lived?
“Do you know which way the lady went?” he asked, concealing his dismay.
She pointed to a darker shadow along the wall.
To his surprise, Nautilus could stand inside the cavern. He had no light other than the entrance, but the ceiling appeared to be high. He glanced around and located the hole far above him that they must have fallen through. Neither the child nor the priestess would have been able to climb back out.
“She has no doubt gone for help,” he told the girl, stripping off his wet chiton to cover her. “If you begin to fear we’re lost, wave this out that opening.” He pointed at the way he’d entered, praying she would be able to reach it, fearful of moving her without aid.
She clutched the wool with a hand that gleamed white enough to be whole, thank all the gods.
He probed a darker shadow on the wall that he had assumed was an opening. It was too dark to see any barrier, but his hand met with a strange resistance, almost like a wall of pine resin. He couldn’t feel rock, but it was as if a thick bubble protected the fissure. He applied his shoulder and pushed through anyway. No resin stuck to him. He broke through to normal air on the other side.
Once past the odd barrier, he stood in a large cavern strangely lit with phosphorescence along the walls. Was this some sort of mystical place?
He saw no sign of the priestess.
Hurrying across the rocky floor to another shadowy crevasse, he again encountered the bubble-air. This time, when he broke through, he found the priestess wearily slumped upon the floor. Only the fact that she sat up kept his heart from collapsing with her.
“There is no way out,” she said mournfully. “Are you an apparition?”
“You look like one more than I do,” he replied, trying for calm but not certain he’d achieved it.
From what little he could see, her tunic was burned to tatters, but enough fabric remained to cling to her shoulders. He couldn’t tell if soot, dirt, or burns marred her arms. She held her elbow and cradled one arm against her chest.
“The others?” she asked in what seemed to be weary resignation. “If you are not an apparition, does this mean everyone is safe?”
“As safe as we are,” he agreed. “And I am no apparition.”
“Then how did you get in?” She gazed at his hand in weary wonder but didn’t take it. She stood on her own, still clutching her arm. “You are much too large for any hole I found.”
“Brute force works better than prayers most times.” Assuming she’d hurt her left arm, he steadied her with a hand to her right elbow. “There’s a good-sized entrance once I removed a few boulders. What is this spongy stuff we’re walking through?” He shoved through first
, letting her follow behind him.
“I’m not certain. It feels . . . protective. It’s as if the earth opened up and took us in and would like us to stay. But Khaos needs our Healer, and I couldn’t carry her.”
As they entered the smaller cavern with its sliver of light, Nautilus studied the way the lady held one arm tightly wrapped inside her tunic. Had she broken it? It pained him to think of her hurting. He wanted to help, but he couldn’t mend broken bones. He needed to find some way of taking them both to their healer.
“How do I lift the child?” he murmured helplessly when they reached the girl and discovered her unconscious. He could throw a grown man over his shoulder—but a small child, burned and hurting—was beyond him.
“Her name is Khaos. She’s a perennial troublemaker, but not out of meanness.” The lady kneeled beside her student and touched her throat. “She lives and breathes. If you could slide your chiton under her, perhaps we could make a bundle in which to carry her?”
Holding his breath, Nautilus gently lifted the child, who moaned but did not wake while the priestess slid the cloth beneath her. Once he laid her on the wool, they bundled up the corners, and he carried her gently, trying not to let anything touch her but the wet wool of his mantle.
He had no other hand to aid the lady as they climbed out the rocky entrance. She continued holding her arm to her chest but made no complaint, simply gasping in relief at emerging beneath the sky again.
“How could you possibly find us?” she asked in wonder as she gazed down the burned bluff to the ships in the harbor. “I cannot even imagine how you found the other galley in all that vast sea.”
“Knowledge, experience, stubbornness,” he declared, looking for an easy path so she wouldn’t fall and hurt herself worse. “Nothing supernatural, I’m sure.”
She laughed in a low, melodic voice. “The arrogance of a man who believes he is capable of great feats without help from above. Who, then, will make the laws on this new land, the goddess or arrogant men?”
“Men will, as always.” He wished to touch her, to hold her elbow as they walked the difficult path, but the weight of the child took both hands. Talk was his only means of reaching out to her. “Should we choose to stay here, we’ll have a council, just as at home. But do not fear, we respect you and your maidens. We will see that you have your temple and your studies, just as before, if this is where you decide to stay. But first there is the matter of returning to see if all we knew is lost.”
“Very well, we will start there,” she said, as they slipped and slid on the gravel. “Aelynn has never sought worshippers. They have simply come to us as word of her greatness spread, but in this time of war, men do not seek peace. I do not know Her reasoning in isolating us here. I suppose you must return to our island and see if we can go back. Perhaps this is only meant to be a temporary haven.”
She did not sound in the least convinced but seemed to be humoring him. She winced and grabbed her arm tighter as she stumbled at the bottom. Nautilus feared a priestess was stoic but not immune to pain.
Standing on the slope above the natural harbor, Nautilus contemplated the serene island spread out as far as the eye could see, and the people watching them from the shore. “We must at least offer the choice of staying or returning,” he agreed. “This is a lonely place, and some of my men have families.”
“My women do not,” she whispered in regret, straightening and adjusting her arm to a more comfortable position. “Their families sacrificed them to the goddess. There is no home for them elsewhere.”
“They can never marry?” he asked with curiosity, hoping he was distracting her from her pain as they clambered down the last of the rocks. He saw no sign of animal paths anywhere.
“It happens occasionally, but we lose any hope of communing with the goddess if we choose an earthly fate.”
Her noncommittal tone and phrasing told Nautilus that she had a very distinct opinion about marrying off her maidens but refrained from expressing it. If they must work together, as it was becoming increasingly apparent that they must, he needed to understand her better.
“You do not approve of marriage,” he stated. “Why?”
She hesitated. They had almost reached the beach. The fire seemed to have been quenched. Women were rushing toward them. She nodded in their direction. “Each of my vestals is a strong, capable woman with talents they have been allowed to develop in service of the goddess. They do not need a man’s strength except to save them from other men. What will become of them and their abilities as some man’s possession?”
Two tall comely virgins met them with open arms, reaching for the bundle he held. Nautilus surrendered the unconscious child and watched her easily carted off by the women. In this, the priestess was right. His masculine strength and experience was not needed to tend a child.
As people surrounded them, he could not respond to the lady’s argument, but he knew the answer—at home, these competent women would have been used for child-bearing and cooking and ignored for all other purposes.
He was fairly certain the priestess was telling him that wouldn’t happen here.
Chapter Five
“We’re taking Khaos to the grotto pool,” Althaia said, not hiding her horror at the child’s condition.
Following in the Healer’s path, Tasia hid her pain and turned to Nautilus. “This is Althaia’s dominion. You must return to reassure the others that all is being done that can be. Perhaps your men can help prepare a meal?”
“They can do that and more, my lady,” the captain said with alacrity.
She had seen and felt the strength of his hands, benefitted from his brave heroism, but it was the concern in his eyes that warmed her frozen heart. Still, despite her pain, Tasia shook her head at him, denying his need to do more.
“I will be fine in Althaia’s hands, if I know the others are well.”
His anxious gaze studied her expression and noted her arm, but he blessedly did not argue. With a reluctant nod, he loped off down a path already beaten through the jungle of foliage.
“I have only the herbs in my bag. We must search for more,” Althaia said, once Nautilus was out of sight.
“How are those who just arrived on the ships?” Tasia asked, concealing her pain and keeping her voice low. “Is Gaia well enough to go out with her assistant to look for herbs?”
“They’re exhausted and dehydrated.” Althaia eyed Tasia’s arm as they hurried after the women carrying Khaos. “But water here is plentiful. They can fill flasks to take with them on their search.”
“This will not be an easy life if we stay here.” Tasia translated her Healer’s fear. She would have Khaos looked at first before admitting her own agony. “We have always had the mainland to call on before.”
“I admit, I had hoped we could return to the temple. Some of my herbs are very rare. I came away with only a few seeds that I’d brought for blessing, and we may not be able to grow them here.”
They arrived at the grotto containing the spring-fed bathing pool. Althaia instructed the others in removing the tatters from the patient’s burns. She pointed wordlessly at a rock ledge for Tasia.
Unable to do more than hold her broken limb while everyone labored over Khaos, Tasia obeyed the unspoken order. She was so exhausted, she could sleep upright. She closed her eyes and leaned against the mossy wall.
She would have to send a ship out to let those people go who would not accept living here. They must see for themselves that their home was destroyed and decide their own fates.
Would this displease Aelynn? She did not know. Perhaps she should fast again to see if the goddess would speak to her.
She must have slept. When Althaia woke her, torches lit the grotto, and only one vestal remained to support Khaos in the water. Charis waited with her basket of fresh garments.
“Bathe first,” Althaia ordered. “Then I will bind that arm.”
“Khaos?” Tasia asked anxiously.
“She is actuall
y sleeping. The water soothes her pain. I have used my salve on those burns above the water. I have no more, so the water must protect her.”
“Anything that keeps the child still is welcome,” Tasia said with a smile, followed by a groan as she attempted to remove her charred tunic.
“I looked while you slept. The bone doesn’t seem to have broken through your skin. Just step into the pool with your clothes on. We’ll work off the fabric.”
Tasia hesitated. “Are we dirtying the drinking water?”
“We’ve been testing this spring. It has a different source than that of the ones we use for drinking and seems to flow directly to the harbor.” Althaia helped her to find a seat on a low ledge inside the pool. “Charis brought your soaps. She must have gathered half your belongings while the rest of us ran for safety. Here, let me see that arm.”
“Charis is a gift from the goddess,” Tasia acknowledged, smiling at her maidservant.
The water lapped around her, easing aching muscles. By the time she bathed with her maid’s help, she was nearly asleep again. When Althaia set and splinted the bone, the pain abruptly woke her. By that time, her arm was nearly wrapped, and she felt miraculously well—and starved. With aid, she was able to climb out of the bath and don fresh clothing. Then Althaia braced Tasia’s arm against her chest in a length of linen.
“The men are cooking fish over fires on the beach,” Charis said, wrapping up the rest of the contents of the basket she’d carried to the grotto. “We’ve gathered oranges and lemons, and Gaia has approved several plant leaves for wrapping until we can bake bread. They’re quite tasty when roasted. Shall you rest here and let me bring some to you?”
“No, I need to join the others, let them see that I am fine.” And verify with her own eyes that the people in her charge fared well. “Did the fire cause much damage?”
Amazed that her arm did not throb, Tasia stepped cautiously from the bathing cavern, not wishing to jar her broken bone with a misstep.
“The men put out the fire before it reached our camp. They are posting guards now, working on the ships, manly things,” Charis said with a shrug of her square shoulders.
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