by Glover, Nhys
Comprehension was slow in dawning. But as the partners stared at each other for several long seconds, Menolus finally got it. He looked away, rubbing his face with the hand missing two fingers.
‘Shit!’ he muttered as he got to work.
Braxus couldn’t hold back a grin, even though his whole body ached and their situation was dire. He’d worked with Menolus for five years, and he’d always found the aging fighter a master of understatement. One colourful swear-word, muttered under the breath, was to him what a yelled litany of abuse would be to another. The man was no sailor. If they survived this, he’d never want to get on another ship again. It was going to be hard. Not the sort of hard his partner savoured, but impossibly hard. Just surviving, if they were lucky, hard.
Even though he was still weak from whatever had laid him low, he moved quickly to make himself useful, grabbing onto a brail with another sailor so as to ease the mainsail down. It had been a long time since he worked a sail. His arms would ache more than they already did, and his back would feel as if it was broken, by the end of the storm. But if he was lucky, he might just survive to see the end of the approaching storm.
Another endless, mind-numbing day. It was their fourth at sea on this leg of the journey and Ninia was heartily sick of the sight of mile upon mile of flat, blue sea. She’d taken to sitting out on deck, watching the clouds, imagining them as creatures, the way she and Anni had done as children. That blobby fat one was a centaur, because there was a hole at the top that looked like an eye. That long bumpy one was a sea serpent. She prayed it was the only one she’d ever see.
Her bored eyes turned to the south, out beyond the stern, where the sky was clearer. What was that reddish line on the horizon? It looked like a fire. But how could a fire run the length of a watery horizon?
‘Papa, what is that?’ she asked, sitting up and pointing to the south.
A passing crewman, who had been flashing her flirtation smiles during the course of their voyage, turned to look in the direction she pointed.
‘Priapus save us!’ The young sailor’s cheeky grin suddenly turned to a jaw dropping gape as he stared at the red line along the horizon.
‘Chili!’ His scream was almost as high as a girl’s. Ninia wondered what possessed him. She couldn’t see anything that could inspire such obvious terror.
While she and Herakles stood dumbfounded, the crew around them went into action. They scrambled over each other, following the yelled orders of the master. The sails were coming down, even though the light wind was carrying them forward at a comfortable rate.
What was going on? They turned to the other passengers that were wandering the decks. They had to jump out of the way, as the crew flew past them. Their expressions were just as stunned and confused as Ninia and Herakles’.
‘Get your possessions, and go below decks. A storm is approaching and it’ll be bad. Find the smallest corner you can, and wedge yourself in tight,’ the flirtatious crewman yelled at her as he grabbed her by the arm. Then he let her go, running off to carry out the orders being yelled at him from every direction.
‘Let’s do as we’re told, Ninia. They don’t need us up here getting in the way.’ Herakles began to gather their food and mattresses. The canvas they used to keep the sun off them would have to wait.
Ninia bent to help her father, heart in her mouth. The thought of another storm like they’d survived on the journey south had filled her dreams every night. Now it seemed as if the nightmare was coming true. Dear gods, keep us safe!
The Baal was only two days out from Narbo when the dust storm hit. The whole hull shuddered from the impact of the first gust of wind. Vali heard the crack as the foresail mast was torn away and flew off, held to the ship by the tendrils of flapping, straining rope.
‘Cut the tack!’ screamed the mate, as he raced toward the prow, arms waving. Vali, who had been forward when the warning had gone up only seconds before the wind hit, tore his dagger from its sheath and began sawing at the ropes that kept the broken mast attached to them. It could cause more damage, if it was allowed to collide with the hull.
His mind was divided. His first priority was keeping Lara safe. But in that moment, he couldn’t see her. And if the hull was damaged by the foresail’s debris, the ship would sink and she would be lost, along with the rest of them. With frenzied fingers he worked on the stiff rope in his hands, as others rushed to aid him.
Looking around, he saw that the top sail had come down successfully. But the mainsail was still up. The sheet was bursting at the seams from the weight of the gale against it. They were flying forward fast, because of it. Vali had never seen water pass so quickly it blurred. But their speed would be cut to nothing, if they didn’t get the sail down before the sheets split or the mast broke like tinder.
But he could see the crew knew this as well as he did. They were straining to bring the mainsail down with the full force of the wind in it. Madness, it was madness. How could they lower it, while the wind bombarded it so? They needed to angle the vessel away from the direct brunt of the gale. That was the only way. But that would put the hull at an angle to take the full force of the windstorm. It would push them into the waves, possibly toppling them over.
It wasn’t his call. He wasn’t the master. All he could do was cut away the foresail, and hope others did their part. They were a good crew. He’d watched them closely over the duration of their journey. If anyone could weather this storm, they could.
Where was Lara? Would she remember what he’d said about going below? If she lost her footing on the plunging, bucking deck, she might be washed overboard. The thought made him dry wretch against the ropes. Fighting down panic, he continued with his task. It was a small one, but essential to their safety.
The dagger slipped and cut deep into the edge of his other hand. Cursing, he ignored the blood and continued sawing. At last, the rope was sundered, flying off into the gale. The sailor next to him had severed his rope too. Eyes stinging from sand and seaspray, Vali looked over to starboard where two other sailors were cutting away at the ropes on their side. One was severed, and the other seemed close. That left two on either side of the ship to go.
Without pausing, Vali reached for the next rope and began to saw at it. The seawater was stinging his wound and the flow of blood was making his grip slippery. One huge wave broke over the bow and he collapsed under the weight of it. He clung on with a desperation he hadn’t felt since his first days on a longship, when he was no more than a boy.
Where was Lara? Was she safe?
He scrambled to get his feet under him again as the sailor at his side did the same thing. Then he tried to find the place he’d started to cut. But it would require more strength than he now had to get back to that spot. All he could do was start again on a new section of the taut and twisting rope.
Vali felt the wind shift from directly against his back to slightly to one side. The ship was coming around, just as he’d anticipated. The sails that had sent them flying forward at such a pace, only seconds before, began to deflate just enough to take the pressure off the seams and the mast. But, instead of trying to bring the sail down, the master seemed intent on keeping it up. With the angle just as it was, they had just enough of the wind filling the sails to drive it forward without overstressing it. They were still flying, but not at breakneck speed anymore.
The ship’s master was going to ride it out. It was an audacious choice. But if he managed it, the Baal would reach its destination faster than they’d ever planned.
The rope he worked on was finally severed. The last rope on his side followed shortly after his. The great burden of mast and flapping sheet was released from their side. Now it was up to those on the starboard side to finish the job.
Time to find Lara and make sure she was safe. He slipped and slid along the bucking deck, gripping on to anything within reach, hand over hand. After what felt like an hour, he reached the deck house on the poop deck, looking through wet sand that blurred his
vision for any sign of his wife. There were other passengers cowering in corners, but none were his Lara.
He made it to the door to the deck house which was open and banging in the wind. It was splintering and needed to be secured before it broke away completely. Forcing his way inside, he used his shoulder and his braced legs to pull the door closed behind him. Inside, it was pitch black and swelteringly hot and stuffy. He almost gagged from the mix of foul odours.
‘Lara, you down here?’ he yelled as loud as he could, trying to get over the din outside. He listened. Damn his gasping breath. Over it he could hear nothing.
He yelled her name again, his voice breaking. He coughed up sand and seawater onto the dark deck beneath him. Then he held his breath, trying to listen.
What was that? A woman’s voice. Yes… further down the ladder into the bowels of the ship. He moved gingerly over to the ladder and began to clamber down, his body thrown against the sides of the hatch with each toss of the ship. Bruised and beaten, he finally reached the next deck down.
He called her name again. This time he heard her clearly. Tears replaced the salt in his eyes. She was alive! Not washed overboard, but safe down here. Well, safe for the moment.
Scrambling along the dark, lower deck that was not high enough for him to stand upright, he kept calling her. There was no way he could see his way to her, but he could feel his way and use his hearing.
‘Vali!’ she cried, no more than a few feet away now. His hand felt the rough-hewn wall disappear to his right. Leaning in that direction he let his fingers search out what lay beyond.
‘Vali, here!’ The wobbly voice came from almost beneath him. His fingers touched cloth and then warm skin. He grabbed on tight and hauled himself down to her side.
‘Oh, thank the gods you’re safe. I’ve been terrified you were washed overboard.’ Her voice was hoarse from yelling, but it was steady. Any hysteria was gone now that she felt he was safe.
‘I thought the same of you. I would have come earlier, but the foresail broke away and was still attached by ropes. I was helping cut it away. You took my advice?’ He spoke into her ear, her dry body pressed against his wet one. His hand was stinging badly, but he didn’t want to let her go long enough to deal with it.
‘Yes. As soon as the word went up, I grabbed the money bag and my hold-all and climbed down here. I was going insane in the dark alone, not knowing what was happening up there. Are we going to survive?’
A sudden blow to the hull and a shudder added extra impact to her question. Lara’s arms tightened around him.
‘We didn’t get the sail down in time, so the master is angling the ship so that the full force of the wind isn’t hitting the sail. It means we’re really flying along out there, and as long as the oarsmen steering us can keep us at the right angle, the sail is safe. Who knows, we might reach shore ahead of schedule, depending on how long this lasts.’ He tried to sound upbeat, and the fact that she relaxed a little in his arms convinced him he’d succeeded.
She reached for his hand in the dark, and he couldn’t hold back the grunt of pain as she squeezed it.
‘Oh, what’s wrong with your hand?’
‘Nothing. I cut it, that’s all.’ He tried to draw it away from her.
‘No, no, let me bind it up for you. Is it bleeding a lot, or is this seawater I feel?’
‘Probably my blood. It was a deep enough wound. I suppose binding it would stop me losing more blood.’
He felt her move away a little, and rummage around in what he assumed was her carry-all. Then he heard a tearing sound. He wondered what garment had met its end for him.
She felt for, and found his hand again, then carefully began to bind the wound up tight. His wife was an endless source of amazement to him. How did such a sheltered patrician become so capable?
After she was finished, he flexed his hand to see how it felt. It still hurt, but with the edges of the wound closed, and no more salt water to aggravate it, the pain was easing. His kissed the top of her head in gratitude.
He settled down at her side, determined to give her a few moments of his time, while he gathered his strength to get back out there. Every able bodied, competent sailor was needed if they were to keep the vessel afloat. Hiding in the bowels of the ship was no help to anyone. But if he left her, she would be alone in the dark again. And her imagination would go haywire, as it already had. She was a brave girl, but even the bravest had their breaking point. Leaving her would only add to her terror.
His heartbeat was coming back under control, finally. Nuzzling in to her cheek, he began kissing her. Just little, playful kisses designed to make light of their situation. Suddenly something ignited between them. Fear of death, fear of separation… whatever it was, became fuel to ignite the explosion. Before he could think better of it, before logic told him that he was risking their lives by staying down here, he had her mouth and was kissing her with a desperation like no other.
Lara’s senses of smell, touch and taste were magnified in the utter darkness of the heaving ship. All she knew for certain was that she had her man beside her at last, and he was kissing her like this was their last moment on earth. Maybe it was.
She focused on the taste of him, the sleek touch of his lips against hers, his tongue as it stroked hers. His hands were everywhere at once, touch, taking, driving her headlong into a passionate response that bordered on madness.
Her hands tore at his loin cloth, his tore at hers. In what felt like moments, he was lifting her up and sitting her astride him on the floor, guiding her hips down over his hardened length. Nothing had ever felt like this; feeling him sink deeper inside her without anything else to distract from the sensation. His breath was harsh against her ear; his arms were strong and sure as he lowered her inch by exquisite inch, until she’d taken all of him.
‘Ahhh,’ she moaned, almost weeping. ‘Vali…’
He gave no reply. All his attention was on lifting her up, and then drawing her back down again. The heat in her core was like a furnace. Every stroke built the flame. She began to use her own thigh muscles to create the momentum, and he let her, his hard body rigid beneath her, all concentration focused on their joining.
The ship bucked and rocked crazily around them, but it only added to the madness between them. The strokes became faster and harder – more furious. She threw back her head and cried out, the first blinding flash of release rolling over her. Then another orgasm followed directly after the first, more explosive than the one before. When she reached for, and grasped the third release, her muscles contracting around his pulsing arousal again, and he lost control. He cried her new name – Lara -- for the first time, as his body convulsed against hers, driving him deeper into her as his hot seed filled her.
When he gave a final shudder, and lay still in her arms, she felt too stunned to move. This coming together had been … cataclysmic. She still felt the little explosions going on deep inside her.
‘I think we’re the only ones enjoying this experience,’ Vali said against her ear, with a little chuckle. The feel of his hot breath on her neck sent a tantalizing shudder through her.
‘That was…’
‘Hmmm… it was. But unless we want to risk that being the best sex of our lives, I better get back up on deck, and see how I can be useful. Holding the oars in place is going to take strength, and I can provide that, at least.’ He eased her off him and to his side. ‘Although I think I’ll wait a little while longer. I doubt I could crawl at the moment, no less walk.’
Lara giggled. He always had a way of making a joke of even the most serious situations. Her body was lethargic and satiated. More content than she had felt in days, she curled up against his side as the ship heaved around them.
‘An extreme way to get me alone, but well worth it,’ she said as she moaned with pleasure as his uninjured hand slid beneath her rucked skirt and curved around the juncture between her legs.
‘You feel so hot and wet,’ he mumbled into her neck a
s he kissed her there, behind the ear.
He reached over and felt for him in turn. His rod was hardening again already. She stroked him as he stroked her.
Then he drew her hand away, reluctantly. ‘Gods, I could be inside you again right now. But I want you alive … Will you be all right down here alone? I’m not sure what’s happened to the other passengers. I saw a couple braced into corners on deck.’
‘I’ll be fine. Just be careful, please. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you…’
He kissed her mouth and then slowly edged out of their little nook. The cool space he left was not welcome.
‘I don’t know how long this will last. But I’ll come down to check on you whenever I can. Try to sleep, if possible. Better than worrying.’
Then he was gone, and she heard him scrambling along the deck away from her. Panic rose to replace the contentment of moments before. She wanted to cry and call him back. Make him stay with her. He was a passenger. It wasn’t his job to risk his life like one of the crew.
But she knew it was selfishness that drove her. Vali needed to be out there with the men, fighting the elements. It was what he was bred for. He needed to feel like a man. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, she knew that he belonged up there, not here beside her.
She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. If she counted each breath in, and each breath out, then the panic would recede. If she continued counting long enough, maybe the ship would stop rocking and the storm would die away. If she kept counting long enough maybe they’d arrive at land, and Vali would take her to a real bed and make love to her again.
So she kept counting and breathing… and the hours passed.
Chapter Nineteen
16 September 79 CE, Sparrow Hawk Island SARDINIA