Only about half the passengers were going to Forlorn. There was a small band of six adventurers headed off to Ortoos to seek their fortune plundering ruins of old empires long forgotten. The rest were getting off at Morrisport or travelling further east. Then there was the charter passenger who got his own room and received meals from the captain’s personal mess. He was an old graybeard who had more books than Uller, more tattoos than Reiwyn, and a small locked box that he carried and guarded at all times like it was his infant. He walked with a crooked back, but his eyes were sharp, and he reacted to any movement with a quick glance that told of his sensory prowess. He spoke to no one except the captain. Shipboard rumors and speculations abounded, but it was the general consensus that he had some great fortune in that box, and he was taking it with him to Ket or Morrisport. I just assumed he wouldn’t be going to Forlorn or Ortoos. Uller and Blackfoot had some fun tossing around theories about him, but I had no interest in such idle speculation. I was much more interested in Reiwyn.
We arrived in Morrisport after two weeks, and several people chose to depart there. I suppose the prospect of three months at sea was more daunting than they had imagined once they got their first taste of it. The graybeard was not among them, but Uller almost was. Two weeks of being unable to hold down a meal had taken its toll. We didn’t allow him to go. He was too weak to resist us, anyway. For my part, I got over the seasickness rather early. Two days of gurging and sweating, then it was gone. I had my “sea legs,” as Reiwyn would say. Antioc got sick too, but held his meals like a soldier. He got used to the undulating deck and rocking stern shortly before I did, and better. I won’t say I ever got completely comfortable with it, but I fared far better than Uller. Reiwyn of course had no trouble at all, having spent more time on boats than off them. The real surprise was Blackfoot, who adapted so well we’d have sworn he was raised on a boat, too.
Uller and I competed for Reiwyn’s time with as much vigor as we could muster. Truth is, for the first three days of the journey we both all but gave up when we saw how fascinated she was with Antioc. We weren’t fools, we knew we couldn’t compete with that. Antioc was built like a war monument, and had a relatively nice, square face at the end of a muscular neck. Then there were the scars that told heroic stories of fearlessly facing death in mortal combat with multiple opponents in the blinding heat of battle . . . some girls like that kind of thing.
So that was that, we thought. Uller and I wordlessly acknowledged we’d been bettered and left it at that. For two weeks, Reiwyn hung on Antioc’s arm like a draped sleeve. Blackfoot seemed a constant companion as well. They almost looked like a little family. Father, wife and son, even though they weren’t really that far apart in age. It made Uller’s eyes simmer when he saw them, at least until he had to run to the edge of the deck or find a bucket. I found it somewhat pretty, in a bittersweet way. I barely knew Reiwyn, really. All I knew was that she was beautiful and strong, stronger than the courtly women I was used to dealing with. Outside that, what mysteries lay beneath her raven locks of hair? In her mind, and heart? Would she open those to me? We hadn’t exactly gotten off to a good start. Though, neither had she and Antioc. But, they seemed to have overcome it, and with some bittersweet reservation, I accepted that this might just be the way things were meant to be.
Then it stopped. Right after they spent a night together talking. Antioc shielded it in the pretext of needing to tell her something. He wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Reiwyn. She didn’t seem to have any complaints, though. Antioc seemed quite uncertain, though he refused to talk to me about it when I offered. For all his manly greatness, he’d admitted he didn’t have much experience in the way of love. Neither did I, but I knew how to let on that I did so doubtless he considered me something of an authority. Even so, he didn’t seek my counsel, likely for reasons of tact. He knew of my attraction and didn’t want to hurt my feelings. He was a kind fellow, my Antioc.
So they “talked” all night. The next morning, their entire relationship changed. Gone were her flirty glances and fawning touches, replaced by an almost brotherly sense of camaraderie. They didn’t become any less friendly, just different. Instead of running her fingers over his arms to feel his muscles, now she patted his back and leaned into him when she laughed. I expected Antioc to be devastated by this, but on the contrary, he appeared elated. I’d never seen him so comfortable with someone.
I knew there was no way Reiwyn had refused him. The way she fawned on him, it seemed likely she’d have taken him on the port deck in front of all hands and passengers if he so desired. No, the rejection must have come from him . . . but why? Uller was baffled, but I wasn’t. I had suspected something about Antioc since not long after we met. This all but confirmed my theory, but I required more concrete substantiation.
“Couldn’t seal the deal?” I asked when I finally found a moment they weren’t together. Antioc furrowed his heavy brow and looked at me. I sat next to him at the aft deck rail, dropping my feet over the back of the boat. Sea water churned white foam in the wake of the wind-driven vessel. “With the pirate girl?”
“Oh. That. It’s . . .” He looked out at the sea and took a breath. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s fair, friend.” I put my hand on his shoulder. He trembled at that, just faintly. I almost pulled my hand back, but for fear of acknowledging that I’d noticed would embarrass him further. I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I know.”
“You know?”
“Yes.” I smiled.
His brow lightened as wrinkles of tension vanished. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His lips slowly crept into a mild smile.
“So, how were you injured in battle?”
The smile vanished and the lines returned. His confused eyes and pursed lips asked what?
I nodded to his groin. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of . . .”
“Why? Why would . . .” He reduced himself to a whisper. “Why would you think that?”
“When we stopped in Jirtdale, I offered to pay one of the wenches to spend the night with you, and you said no. I assumed maybe you had some moral problem with prostitution or had fear of disease, but after last night . . . well, I just want you to know that I don’t think you less of a man.”
He closed his eyes and rested his head against the sea-eaten wooden rail. “I was not injured in battle that way.”
“I . . . see.” I nodded. “Is this from a farming accident, perhaps? Or something congenital that impairs function?”
“No,” he snapped. Looking at me, then around us to make sure no one was standing too close. “I function appropriately, Lew. That is not the issue.”
“Then what is the issue? Did she reject you?” My heart sped. If she’d rejected Antioc, maybe she wasn’t into big muscular boys with scars after all? I actually had a chance! I needed to constrain my excitement, however. A friend was in need. “Don’t take it personally. Women are . . .” I threw my hand in the air and made a pfft sound. “Women. Am I right?” I nudged his arm. “Plenty of birds in the trees, friend.”
“It was a mutual decision,” he explained at some length. “We discussed it and decided that we weren’t really what the other sought in a relationship.”
“Ah, yes. The code. I’ve heard the code before. ‘Tis not you, ‘tis me.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“No, I understand.” I patted his back and took a breath of the ocean air. “She gives you the whole screed about you not being right for her, and you’re forced to make a convincing show of how she’s not right for you. Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Make a convincing show of it?” I glanced over my shoulder to see her, down the way, playing some manner of jumping game with Blackfoot. “She seems convinced. And you wear your sorrow well.”
“There was no need to convince anyone, and I wear no sorrow because there is none.” He looked at me. “I speak true to you, my friend. Reiwyn is not what I’m looking for.”
“No!” Antioc pressed his forehead to the rail. “No, Lew. Her honey-patch is . . .” He sighed deeply. “She is not diseased. That isn’t why.”
“Oh, thank the Daevas!” I rubbed my sweaty face. “I don’t know what I’d have done if she’d had some drippy ailment or flaming, contagious rash . . . wait, you’ve seen it? You know for sure?”
He stared at me, far less amiably than our last contact.
“You did! Daevas, you saw her . . .” I caught myself talking and brought it back to whispers. “. . . her honey-patch!” He turned red and looked at the sea. “She opened her legs to you and showed you her dewy little treasure and still you turned away? By the Daevas, man!” I started poking through his hair.
“What are you doing, Lew?”
“Perhaps the injury was further up than I suspected. An errant blow to the head by an Illyrian axe, by chance? The helm may have saved your life, but damaged your small, delicate brain.”
He swatted my hand away and rose to his feet. “I didn’t get hit in the head, Lew. I’m fine. She’s just not my type. That is all I deign to say on the matter.”
I nodded, slowly. “Fair. That is fair. I will accept that.” I looked back to the sea. “So, I suppose it goes without utterance that you wouldn’t consider it a violation of our brotherhood were I too—”
“Exhaust yourself.”
With that, he left. My day had brightened considerably. New possibilities awoke as lingering ones reignited. And then there were new questions. I realized Antioc had crucial intelligence on the matter of Reiwyn’s more private regions. That was something I couldn’t let him carry on his own. I leapt up and ran to catch up with him. He was disappointingly unforthcoming on the matter, even before we’d reunited with the other three and roamed below deck.
We were not long from the creaky wooden steps before we were affronted by a commotion. A crowd had gathered below deck, near the crew quarters at the end of the chamber. The four of them looked to me for a moment.
“We should see what this is about,” I said.
Blackfoot vanished like a poof of smoke in the wind. Reiwyn and Uller stepped behind us as we approached the gathering. It didn’t take Antioc and me long to clear a path through the crowd. By the time we got to the center, Blackfoot was already there, grinning like a stuffed dog. Sneaky little critter.
Unfortunately, the action appeared rather muted. Instead of a fight, we saw three of the band of six adventurers, including a burly, tan Abmer Islander who looked big enough to block a horse, fanned out like sentinels around the opening of the graybeard’s private cabin. A fourth member was laid out on the floor, her limp body sprawled across the entrance with only her arm poking out. A pool of blood had formed under her and ran up her body to a crimson stained jerkin. I saw no sign of breath from her. Antioc and I exchanged glances.
“You’ll pay for this, old man!” That was shouted from the cabin by a rough male voice.
“It was self-defense,” came an older, weaker voice in protest. “She invaded my cabin! I found her lying in wait!”
“Lies!” That was another voice from the cabin, a woman but equally rough. “She wandered into the wrong cabin by mistake and you killed her.” I remembered the adventurers having two women in their group, one petite with shifty eyes; the other big enough to pass for a man. The former was apparently no more.
“She attacked me.” The graybeard coughed after he answered. “I need to sit. I’m not well . . .”
“You’re about to get a lot worse,” said the male.
“Chezlie was a scout and lockpicker,” said the woman. “Do you know how hard it is to find one of those?”
“That explains how she got into my cabin—”
A smack was followed by a grunt, and the heavy thud of knees striking wood. “Quiet, old fool!” was followed by a fit of coughing.
We shared looks, my friends and I. Reiwyn looked worried. Poor thing, for all her venom she really did have a kind heart. Blackfoot, too, but that was to be expected. Uller seemed almost amused by the situation. I empathized with that. Antioc, on the other hand, balled his fists and clenched his square jaw. He glanced at me as though seeking approval to step into the situation. I got similar looks from the others, even Uller, who the best I could figure was just curious to see how this would turn out. I thought about telling them it was no concern of ours, but they clearly wanted to act. If I stood in the way of that, they’d never forgive me and I’d risk losing them. That wasn’t something I wanted, especially not Antioc or Reiwyn. Even Uller and Blackfoot had their uses. Besides, I wasn’t of a mood to leave this alone. They were beating on a graybeard in there. A sick graybeard, at that. Some things are just too egregious to ignore, even for me.
I gave them a nod, and then we were in it.
Antioc took the big one. It was glorious. One feint with his left fist made the tan-skinned islander tense up to block. Antioc took him by surprise with a right haymaker to the jaw. Antioc taught me that no matter how big someone was, they’d still go down if you hit them in the jaw. The islander didn’t exactly go down, but he staggered back with a dumbfounded look on his face while Antioc proceeded to shower him with rock hard blows that made the floorboards shake.
Uller and I went after a smaller one with black hair in a tail. I distracted him by pulling up my fists and acting like I was going to pugilize him. He raised his hands, expecting a fair fight. I had no intention of doing that. Uller came in from the side and uttered some arcane words as he grabbed the adventurer’s arm. A jolt of blue electricity rippled from Uller’s hand, causing his quarry to gasp and tense like he was being shocked. Well, not like he was being shocked: that was exactly what was happening to him. Uller cooked him for a few seconds then released. He collapsed to his knees.
Reiwyn and Blackfoot took down the third one: a Mormentish fighter with mutton chops. Reiwyn pulled out her dagger and threatened him back while Blackfoot rolled under his feet and tripped him. He hit the floor just as Antioc’s opponent slammed into a wall and slumped to the side, bleeding from his nose and mouth.
That done, we quickly ran into the room. Everyone looked up with wide eyes. Except for Chezlie, since she was dead. The graybeard seemed the most surprised, though relieved. He took advantage of the confusion and squirmed away. The woman started to follow, but was blocked by Antioc, who stepped into her path and popped his knuckles, still bloody from the thrashing he’d given her friend.
“What do you think you’re doing?” shouted the man, a muscular fellow with short white hair. “This is none of your concern.”
“We made it our concern,” I replied.
“Why?” asked the woman. “He’s nothing to you, just some old man.”
“You don’t know that,” I said, grinning. “How do you know this guy isn’t our grandfather? You could be beating up our grandfather.” I looked at the graybeard. “Are you alright, papa?”
He squinted at me like I was giving off light. Then he grinned.
“Walk away,” said the white haired man. “Walk away now and you won’t get hurt.”
“You think we’re afraid of you?” said Antioc. “We just went through your friends outside like they were made of paper.”
The adventurers laughed. All of them, even the ones behind us. I looked back and saw the three from the hall had joined us. Now we were surrounded. This was a problem. We had the element of surprise before. That was gone, and we were matched in numbers. I was fairly certain they had us bested in experience, and even the islander didn’t look much worse for wear after Antioc’s beating. He stared at my friend with a gleam in his eyes that said he was aching for a rematch.
Thank the Daevas the captain s
howed up, along with four of his deck hands armed with clubs. He wasn’t interested in hearing our explanation of events, nor to his credit did he give a rat’s tail about the adventurer’s take. He asked only for the graybeard, who he called Master Roren, to tell him what occurred. Which, he did, including the bit about us saving him, over the protests of the adventurers and the even louder agreement of the crowd outside the door, who had seen the whole thing and now thought we were heroes or something. He left out the part about Reiwyn’s knife or Uller’s little spell, as those things might have gotten us into some trouble. Quite kind of him, even considering what we’d done.
The captain dispensed a summary judgment: the adventurers would be dropped in a life-raft with a day’s worth of food and water. Their gear in stow would be forfeit to the crew in recompense for the disruption, leaving them with no more than what they were wearing. Their protests were met with menacing looks and waved clubs. Their dead friend was tossed overboard unceremoniously. I thought that a bit harsh, even the worst of us probably deserves to go to ashes rather than be left to rot or turned into fish food, but I wasn’t about to waste air advocating for her.
At the end of it, the graybeard asked to speak with us alone.
“You saved my life,” he said, looking at each of us with his glassy, old eyes. “I am in your debt.”
“It’s fair, Master Roren,” I answered for the group. “No need to repay us. We just didn’t like seeing an old man getting thrown around by brigands.” It was pure altruism that motivated my words. I doubted he had anything of value to give us anyway, else he wouldn’t be on this kind of ship. I might as well make the best out of it and leave a good impression on Reiwyn, whose kindness yearned for fellowship. I glanced at her after and she gave me a little smile.
Exiles of Forlorn Page 10