by Rod Fisher
* * *
Antelo gave up trying to sleep. He was tired of being rolled against the sideboard of his bunk every time a wave hit. He slung his feet over the side and slid to the floor just as a violent slamming wave knocked the ship on its side. Lockers and shelves flew open and the contents flew across the cabin. Wine bottles shattered and in the chaos Antelo found himself lying in the starboard bilge looking up at the cabin table, still secured to the deck--now the wall.
His heart stopped for the eternity it seemed to take for the ship to start righting itself. The jumble of flotsam slowly tumbled to the deck and Antelo skipped around the broken glass to the companionway.
On deck, he saw the crates and barrels had been torn free. Some had broken and the starboard rail held back a junkyard of merchandise from going overboard. One crewman was in the water hanging on to a line. Two men were pulling him to the rail and the second man extended a gaff hook for him to grasp. But the ship pitched at the crest of a wave, hung for a moment, then crashed down into the trough. The unexpected motion drove the gaff hook into the man's neck before he could grasp the shaft. His jugular vein was severed, his hands went limp on the rope, and he drifted away in a red circle, a diluted pool of his own blood.
The seaman who had used the gaff looked around fearfully, expecting to be blamed.
"Never mind. He's dead," Antelo shouted. "Clear that debris off the deck." He fought his way to the helm, buffeted by the gale. "What's on our captain's mind?" he asked Felic.
"Survival."
"Not a one of us will get out of this alive," Antelo joked.
"True. But I hope that will be a long-range prediction."
Felic pointed at the distant mountains, now almost undistinguishable from the sea or sky. "Are you familiar with the coast below the Great South Bay?"
"Somewhat. It's mostly rocky. Cliffs and shoals.'
"I fear we will have to change course. The waves keep getting bigger. Have the men slack the braces. We'll go with the wind."
With the change of course the romping ride became an easy lope over the long swells. The sea didn't look nearly as forbidding from this aspect. Felic thought about shaking out one of the reefs then decided against it. They were already moving at hull speed, skidding down the front of the long rolling waves.
To the northeast the sky and sea were a black wall with no horizon. The wind kept picking up and the sail, now taut, was in danger of splitting a seam.
Felic, unable to be heard on deck by the howling wind, asked Antelo to go forward. "Have the men furl the sail and put out a drogue. This is getting nasty."
But before the sail could be furled it ripped free of its sheets and became a flailing oversize flag streaming out in front of the yard arm. Antelo had the crew uncleat the halyards and bring the whole mess down to the deck. Before the ship could decide for itself what new direction to take, they got the drogue streaming out to stern, holding the bow downwind.
Now they were at the mercy of the sea. The ship would go as the storm gods wished. There was nothing to do but wait. Felic gave the helm to Antelo and went below to find something to eat. On the aft cabin deck he found a round of cheese buried under the clutter and cut off a generous slab.
On the quarterdeck Antelo strained to see the distant peaks. A dark mist was changing day to night. The gesturing of a crewman below caused him to look astern. A monster comber was bearing down. It's crest was a weighted mass of curling, churning water and foam. Little waterfalls of spindrift coursed down the steep face. This is the one, he thought. When the breaking crest of the freak wave rose above the stern it looked like the side of a watery cliff. The ship tried to rise up the face but then the tons of water crashed down. It scoured the deck of men, gear--everything. The mast splintered and the rigging was torn free. Antelo was knocked unconscious and hurled overboard as the ship turned turtle.
Down below Felic was about to bite into his hunk of cheese when the wave hit. The stern of the ship went high, hung for a moment, then, as the hull rolled sideways a deluge of water broke though the companionway. Felic had no time to think before the water was up to his chest, then his chin. He gasped and was under water. He completely lost his bearings as the ship spun completely around and then pitch-poled and flipped over. He was thrown up against the deck boards and into a pocket of trapped air. He quickly realized the air was escaping through the damaged planking of the hull. The only way to survive was to swim down to the companionway hatch and get out before the ship went under. He took a deep breath and dove.
Underwater, Felic swam with powerful strokes trying to get free of the massive dark bulk of the hull, now overhead. He was out of air and on the verge of losing consciousness. He felt as if a giant fist were squeezing blackness into his body. Desperation forced him to keep swimming, This is not a good time to die, he thought. I should die by the sword, not pumped full of water. He could not see the surface, but once clear of the hull he shot upward. He broke through, gasping and coughing in a welter of flotsam. The giant wave had traveled on and left disaster in its wake. He swam to a hatch cover and hung on, exhausted. He hung on in desperation until he felt his strength return, then he pulled himself onto the makeshift raft.
The storm weakened as the hours went by. Felic was surprised to see the moon unveiled by the scattering cloud cover. The smothering darkness of the day had segued into night. He searched the sea around him for other survivors whenever the moon made a brief visit. There was nothing-not even a floating keg or box, or shattered remnant of his ship. He was alone . And that was the way it was for two days and nights. He was spotted by a fishing boat on the third day and helped aboard. He was parched, blistered, half blind and a little weak. He gulped down the water that was offered and shook off the fuzzy web that surrounded his thoughts.
"Is this?where am I?Are you?"
He didn't get a chance to organize his questions before his rescuer interrupted. "You're safe. You're on my fishing boat. Captain Selsior at your service." The voice was deep and authoritative.
Felic blinked and peered, "Why? you are only a boy!"
"Aye?a boy, but with sixteen years on the water and boat of my own, which makes me the captain here." He stood with his feet apart and his arms crossed. "And who might you be? Why are you floating around on a hatch cover?"
"That is all that's left of my ship." Felic looked down. "And my crew."
"You were the captain?"
"Yes?my name is Felic m'Lans. The storm destroyed my ship."
"Ah, yes?the storm. It was a mighty one. I was glad to be safe in harbor for that one." The captain gave orders to his two crewmen to get underway, then turned to reconsider his human salvage. The man on his deck was an impressive speciman-tall, well-proportioned and muscular.
"I know who you are?the name comes back to me. You are the reaver. The one that every merchant captain fears. You are that Felic!"
Felic shrugged. "Yes, I am that Felic."
The captain laughed. "Hear that, boys? We caught a big fish!"
Felic went ashore at their coastal village and from there he made his way north to the Dagran city of Seaskal. He wandered the harbor docks, a warrior without a sword, a seaman without a ship. His exploits were the nexus of Dagran legends. But now, dressed in borrowed rags, he was anonymous.
Waterfront bustle filled his senses. A ragged array of open-front shanties lined the quay. Fish peddlers hawked their catch. The wafting smell of chowder caused him to pause; his hunger arroused. The old woman stirring the greasy gray mixture regarded him suspiciously.
"You have money?" she cackled.
Felic smiled at her and walked on. He had not a single druac, but he felt rich. It was exhilarating to be alive after the certitude of death. And he felt free. He took a deep grateful breath of the seaside air, unconsciously noting the wind force and direction by the flapping Dagran flag above. The burde
ns of command were lifted. Those mental loads, an accepted part of his recent privateering life, were noticeable by their absence. In their place was the refreshing pace of the simple life dockside.
At the cargo wharf, men were hoisting barrels of wine from the hold of a coaster. Felic approached the man in charge.
"Sir, I seek work. Can you use another strong back on your ship?"
"It is not my ship." The man was indifferent.
"Then could you be kind enough to direct me to the owner?"
"You will have to inquire at the stone house past the square. Captain Calzak. He has three."
"Three such ships?"
The man ignored the question and walked away shouting orders to his crew. Felic climbed the steep street from the waterfront to the cobblestoned square. On one side was the arched entrance to the courtyard of the inn. A lone nanny goat nibbled on the curling edges of the postings displayed on the tiled wall. Felic's attention was caught by the generous reward being offered for a fugitive temple maiden.
"What do you think of that, Goat? Maidens seem to be worth more than criminals in the eyes of the Dag Arnak."
The goat ignored him and continued munching.
"And I might inform you, Goat--it says here that there is a serious penalty for defacement or removal of these postings."
A quivering bleat acknowledged the warning.
"But I realize the risks seem small if the hunger is great." He grimaced and kneaded his belly. Then as an afterthought he ripped the posting from the wall and tossed it at the goat's feet. "Here. One of us might as well be full."
He continued on past the square and up the lane until he found the stone house. It was soundly built of fieldstone and set flush to the street with no yard. The upper half of the door hung open.
He rapped lightly and an attractive young housewife appeared. She had large quizzical blue eyes framed by long honey-colored braids that hung to her waist.
"I seek Captain Calzak," Felic announced.
"He is not here. What might you wish of him?"
"I would ask him for a job."
"To work on his ships?"
"Yes."
"I am sure he could use you. He mentioned that he was short-handed." Her eyes drifted over his muscular torso. She smiled. "Would you like to come in out of the sun and wait?"
Felic accepted her hospitality. She chatted eagerly about the weather and other inconsequentials. When she found he had not eaten all day, she prepared him a meal.
"I am touched by the generosity you show a stranger," Felic told her. "You are the second in these parts to befriend me. I was the only survivor of a foundered ship. A fisherman rescued me. I am beholden to him for his kindness to a stranger in need."
"Then tell me your name and you'll be no stranger to me." Her eyelashes flicked coyly.
"It is Felic."
"Ah, Felic . . . I like that name. You are a very handsome man, Felic. My name is Shalla." Her voice was lush, inviting. "When you finish your food, Felic, I will find you a bed for tonight. The sun will soon be down."
"But I shall stay only until the captain comes," Felic protested, "then I shall find lodging at the docks. You are much too kind."
"But the captain will not return for three days." She laid her hand on his shoulder. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable here with me, Felic?"
Felic could see it. He saw it in the hard brightness of her eyes--the itch of the neglected wife. "Sweet lady?Shalla?I would be honored to be of service to you in the absence of your husband." He pulled her gently down onto his lap. She responded with a giggle.
"Three days...are you sure?" he asked.
She was sure, but she was wrong. Captain Calzak returned that night. Physically, the captain was not impressive. He was skinny, stooped, and in most situations his pale eyes went unnoticed. Now, circling the foot of his wife's bed, those eyes burned with murderous intent. They persuaded Felic to abandon his advantage of youth and strength. He backed away, naked from the waist down, feeling about for his clothes while keeping his eye on the point of the captain's long blade.
"Look, be reasonable. You don't understand what is happening here." He tried a friendly smile. "This can all be explained."
The captain's stony expression did not change. The point of the knife trembled, not from fear, but from the compressed energy of wrath.
"This is ridiculous," Felic tried again, still smiling. "I am twice your size. We are no match. It is ridiculous!"
The captain answered in a thin, hoarse whisper. "You are ridiculous!" He feinted a quick thrust towards Felic's bare genitals.
Felic jumped back and bumped the wall. "Now take it slow, captain." He spotted his clothes under the other man's feet. "If you could find it in your heart to let me..."
Another thrust. Felic dodged to the left, hit the bed and lost his balance. He rolled with a flash of white buttocks across the captain's cowering wife and found his feet on the opposite side of the room. Without waiting for further conversation, he whipped the bedding from his erstwhile playmate and threw it over her husband's head. While the enraged captain slashed at the encumbrance, Felic took a last look at the voluptuous naked body on the bed and then took off out of the cottage and fled into a dark lane across the street.
He paused and listened for pursuit. The quiet of the night was broken by the intermittent yelps of pain from the captain's wife and the thumping sounds of battle raging in the stone cottage.
The growling of a dog close by made him acutely aware of his exposed parts. He pulled off his shirt and folded it into an impromptu breach clout. "Shalla, Shalla, Shalla," he intoned to the twinkling stars, "you were such a sweet, sweet lady." He winced as another feminine screech echoed down the deserted streets.
The dog started barking. Felic decided to move on. He rounded a corner and headed for the docks. Down the middle of the street, coming towards him, was a child walking with the short rolling step of a sailor new ashore. As he came nearer, Felic saw the aging face and whiskers of a dwarf. There was an exchange of greetings, then the dwarf stopped and held up a hand to detain him. He looked quizzically at Felic's odd raiment before clearing his throat.
"Captain Cal...Calzak...you would please to know his place?" His question rumbled in the guttural dialect of Calix.
"Calzak's cottage?" Felic laughed. "That is easy, my friend. It is the house of fieldstone from whence comes all the noise of the night."
The dwarf grunted his thanks and continued up the lane. His knock on the cottage door provoked a cessation in the battle within. After an interval of silence the door was flung open, and the captain stood in the frame of light. His thinning hair was like a disheveled halo. He blinked into the night for a moment before seeing the little man below him.
"Yes, what is it? What do you want?"
The dwarf removed his cap. "Greetings, sir captain. Felic...one named Felic. He is found here?"
"There is no one by that name here. I know of no Felic."
The captain's wife broke into a plaintive moan. "Oh my Felic...my bee-ootiful Felic!" She drew the name out in a crescendo that burst into a gulping sob.
Understanding crept into the captain's eyes. "Be ye friend to this Felic?"
The dwarf nodded his head and started to speak, but before he could utter a sound, the captain placed a foot in the middle of his chest and gave him a tumbling shove into the street. The door slammed and the little man sat coughing in the dust. He heard the laughter behind him but he did not look around at once. He picked himself up and batted the dust from his clothes. Then donning his cap, he turned to confront the person who was so amused by his loss of dignity. It was the same near-naked stranger who had given him directions.
Felic approached him. "I see the captain was not very hospitable. Did you pinch his wife, perhaps?
The dwarf snorted. "A person...I ask only for a person. I was told at the dock?"
"It must have been the wrong person:"
"Felic...I ask for one named Felic."
"Ho, ho. Your timing was exceptionally bad, my friend. This Felic you seek--could he be the famous Felic m'Lans, wondrous swordsman, lover, and scourge of the sea?"
The dwarf nodded. "That is the person."
"Well then, come with me. He will be at the inn when we get there. You can buy him a flagon of wine."