Chapter Nine: Components

‘It’s definitely this one.’ Bailey say’s unconvincingly, even in the feeble light of the hold I can make out his handsome face, furrowed in uncertainty.

I nod slowly and look toward the crate; identical to the other three he has opened previously ‘Crack it open.’ I say lightly.

He pries at the lid with the crow bar he brought along and peers inside, holding the lantern over the top. I move in beside him to examine the contents, the luck of Fortych finally smiles on us, as I detect the vivid purple leaves of Creeping Peri.

I beam up at him, the whites of his eyes shining in the gloom. ‘We need more light.’ I say looking around the cramp hold.

‘I’m on it.’ Bailey stomps across the boards and with his lantern, lights an oil lamp that’s hanging from a hook on the wall, he lights several more that are evenly spaced along the holds sides, illuminating the room in a warm glow.  

I fumble in my pocket for the parchment Bailey gave to me back up in the galley. I unfold it and scan through the list. If forced I could remember the combinations but the catalogue I wrote prior is most expedient, and I am thankful that he had not misplaced it. ‘Where did you find all this at such short notice?’ I ask, gazing in marvel at the atypical inventory. ‘Some of these plants are extremely rare.’ I reach into the container and pull out a spray of Swamp Rocket. ‘I’ve never once seen this for sale at the herbalists.’ I pull my eyes away from the brown frayed bundle and stare up at Bailey, who is perched cross legged on top of a large coffer.     

‘You’re shopping at the wrong place.’ He smirks. ‘Herbalists only sell common produce, if you’re looking for something more exotic, head down to The Black Trenches.’ He looks away from me, a bored expression on his face.

‘Where?’I ask, puzzled.

He guffaws. ‘Your lack of knowledge must be due to your privileged upbringing.’

I stare at him in absurdity. ‘My life has been anything but privileged. My parents may have been of a high-standing, but they gave me nothing. I’ve worked hard, every day of my damned life.’    

He smirks. ‘You’re quick to bite ain’t ya? Look..The Black Trenches are a place where merchants, of a..eh.. questionable legitimacy, go to trade. Before you fell into this world you were obviously a respectable lady, that’s all I meant.’

I look away from him and mumble to the floor. ‘Well, you could have phrased it better.’ I scoop up an arm full of the plants and head over to a small table in the far corner and begin to lay out the ingredients, flattening the crumpled parchment on the surface so I can categorize exactly. ‘You trade there often?’ I ask softly, heading back to the crate for another load.

He snorts loudly, shifting his large frame on top of the container. ‘Yeah.’

I glance up at him and scowl.

‘You’re surprised by this?’ He asks smiling, obviously amused by my naivety. ‘Looting foreign ship’s isn’t something Lord Soren likes to promote; he needs to appear to have a pleasant relationship with his neighbours. We cannot go openly selling our stolen goods on the market.’

‘Are you saying Soren allows this?’ I drop the last bundle onto the table.

‘Of course he does. He gets a percentage.’

‘Hence why you don’t fly the Edorain flag?’ I say more as a realisation than a question.

‘Yep.. if we did, it would start a fucking war.’ He stares off towards the side wall, his expression uninterested.

‘So he knows about the dragon?’ Then I suddenly realise. ‘He’s the client isn’t he?’  Of course it makes perfect sense. A High Lord needs a safeguard and what better defence is there than a dragon? Furthermore Soren can afford such a high rate with no monetarily consequence.

Bailey looks at me and shrugs his shoulders. ‘No idea.’ He thumps down onto the planks and trudges towards me. ‘You need any help with that?’

‘All I can do for now is lay everything out in order. So it’s easier and faster to make a potion when I know the breed.’

‘You can’t make them now?’

‘No, no the effects weaken dramatically over time. Best to knock them up the instant they’re needed.’ I look down at the parchment. ‘You can group all the plants required for Deep Blue.’ I point to the top of the list.

‘The water dragon?’ He asks, proud of his slight understanding.

‘That’s where they originate yes. But they adapt at an incredible rate, they can be found anywhere across Wyran... be it the heights of The Ahm Peaks or the depths of The Digh Tides.’

He looks at me then smiles, seemingly impressed, then he commences with the chore.

We spend a while in silence, our concentration swallowed up by the sorting. The table is too small to house all the plants, so we are forced to place some on the floor. ‘How long have you worked for Reve?’ I ask eventually, finding the silence unnerving.

He exhales nosily, and screws his face up as if recalling the duration is an arduous task. ‘Since the beginning, I guess, Horac, Del, Aerith and I... we go way back.’

‘Aerith?’ I ask my interest perked. I’m crouched on the floor, staring at a branch of Fellenwort.

‘Yeah..she’s alright, despite her.. defect. Besides I wouldn’t want to cross her, the bitch is like lightening with two blades.’ 

‘Oh, the elf.’ I say, remembering our earlier encounter. ‘This ship is a hive of diversity.’

‘Reve doesn’t give a shit about lineage; if you work hard you’re respected...And judging by the sounds coming from his cabin earlier, you certainly work hard....very hard.’ He winks at me, as if his statement was subtle and needed validation.         

I roll my eyes and groan. ‘Have you finished Deep Blue?’

‘Yeah, what’s next?’

‘We’re done.’

‘You work fast!’ He exclaims, his eyes shining. ‘I suppose that exclaims Reve’s untimely..’

‘Stop it...Just..don’t.’ I cut him off and stand, brushing the dirt from the knees of my trousers. ‘I need a mortar and pestle.’ I glance around the room and at the numerous crates, knowing that it may take some time for Bailey to uncover a grinder, amongst all the luggage.

He screws his face up in deliberation. ‘You’re probably best off asking Remo, he’ll be in the galley.’

‘Who’s Remo?’

‘The cook, short fat bloke, bald, you can’t miss him’ He says, hurriedly before stomping across the boards to the exit. ‘Well, if you’ve no more need of me, I’m going to go get piss blind drunk!’

‘Is that wise?’ I ask uneasily. ‘Tomorrow is crucial, should you be facing it with a hangover?’

 ‘I am a seasoned drinker, and a seasoned sailor, you needn’t worry. Although, your concern is rather endearing.’ His eyes twinkle and his gaze lingers on me for a moment. ‘Yeah.. I’d fuck you, if Reve wasn’t so fixated.’

I’m shocked by his sudden declaration that I laugh sharply, instinctively folding my arms across my chest and wondering if he meant to say that aloud. ‘He’s not fixated with me.’ I say, my face screwed up in reservation.  

He shrugs his shoulders. ‘You strike a chord with him.’

‘How so?’ I ask quickly, gripped by the direction of the conversation.

He sighs heavily, clearly not as engaged as I. ‘Matters of the heart bore the shit out of me...now shut up and let me go drink!’ He turns his back,  pulls open the holds door, and disappears into the gloom.  

I shake my head quickly, trying not to let Bailey’s words consume my thoughts entirely. Reve is a mystery to me, a deadly mystery, and that’s mostly the appeal. I make my way around the hold, carefully blowing out each lamp in turn, before unhooking the one nearest to the exit and taking it with me.

I’m still unaccustomed to the swaying of the ship so I make my way, ungracefully, back up to the galley. At least my sickness has subsided, having my mind swimming with other thoughts has obviously remedied that.  

I pass no one on my short journey; the crew numbers aren’t exactly copious, and besides it’s getting late. Most will probably be asleep or drunk in their hammocks. I am thankful I brought along the lamp, its paltry glow is just enough to stop me from walking into the walls. The passages are extremely narrow and unlit, the gloom a match for the stillness.

I stumble into the galley, the earlier rowdiness now muted. I blink frantically against the strong glare that assaults my vision. Once my eyes readjust I notice the kitchen is almost deserted, almost, besides Kalcha’s large form now slummed over the table in the far corner, his arms folded on its surface and his face buried in them, his body rising and falling, in a slow heavy sequence. The shattered cup and bottle of rum still before him.  

I peer right to the back and over the counter straining my eyes to see if I can I spy anyone matching the description of Remo. But there is no one else here. I slam the lamp down on the nearest table and sigh heavily, not sure on what my next step should be.

The clatter startles Kalcha and he jerks upright in his seat, his eyes open, blurry from sleep. He rubs at them severely with his clenched fists before he notices me.

His expression remains blank. ‘What time is it? He growls.

For reasons beyond me the sound of his familiar voice stills my soul. ‘Past midnight.’ I say softly, watching him stretch up to the ceiling, and yawn loudly, in the way that would usually iritate the shit out of me, but right now placates me further. ‘You should be resting properly; you’ll need your wits about you tomorrow.’

He rubs at his face again. ‘Ah, yes for tomorrow we ensnare a dragon.’ His tone is blunt, almost mordant.

‘I understand the crew’s cynicism, for they are unfamiliar with this business. But you? I am surprised that you’ve dismissed the idea so flippantly.’

He shrugs his shoulders. ‘What does it matter really? If there is a dragon it will kill us all, if there isn’t one then we are just fools following a madman. Either way my life is over, I am an out of work felon with a whore for a wife. I am a joke.’ He does not look distressed as he says this; it’s as if he resigned himself to the fact a while back. The gruff tone of his voice replaced with indifference.

‘Has Ustus seized your soul? Where is your fight man?’ I bark, hearing him speak this way is equally upsetting and infuriating.

He stares at me, his face inscrutable. ‘It died along with your honour.’

I march across the galley, pull out a stool opposite him, and drop down onto the seat, heavily. My eyes fixed on his bedraggled face. I can feel my temper rising. ‘Is this how we are to be? For the full duration of the voyage, are to you smite me wherever possible? Yes, I am a whore Kalcha. For I was left with very little choice, you neglected to tell me how bad things were, so now we have no place to call home. I was cast out on the streets, I had to take action. I derive no joy from it believe me, I sinned and now I suffer for my misdeeds. I had no desire for you to be punished alongside me, so I made one promise, and that was to free you, which I have done. Now my guilt and my sins are my own, you can say and do whatever you please, for it will no longer affect me.’ I feel immediately ghastly for my outburst, he is here because of me, if he had not agreed to Reve’s terms he would be rotting in his jail cell, there was no real choice.   

‘You made more than one promise to me woman. Do you remember? You pledged to forsake all others, to stand by me through sickness and health, fortune and dearth?’

‘Well, I fucked that up didn’t I?...I’m sorry that you’re here Kalcha, I truly wish that you weren’t.’

‘I’m sure you do, for it would make your life easier wouldn’t it? You’d be able to carry on with Reve with no consequence; you could be a free woman. But you are not, for as long as I live you shall remain mine in name, and every time you look upon me you shall feel shame and disgrace.’

‘You hurt only yourself by being this way, I care not.’ I look away from his stare and down into my lap, I know my face gives away the lie. ‘Pray tell, what did you expect me to do?’ I whisper. ‘I have never been so low Kalcha.’ I glance back up at him expecting to see some form of empathy in his blue eyes, but there is none, just a deep well of discontent.

‘You expect my sympathy?’ He barks. My whole body tenses as the sharpness of his voice cuts through the air. ‘Have you forgotten what got you here?’

I clench my fists hard, my nails digging into the soft flesh of my palms. ‘Yes, it appears to have slipped my mind, remind me again of what a filthy, little, fucking whore I am!’ I snarl through gritted teeth, I stand, the stool abruptly scraping backwards. ‘Usually I charge a good rate to hear it, but you can have it at no cost!’ My eyes begin to sting, but I clench my jaw tighter, my anger overwhelming my misery. ‘Is the mistake I made was so great that I deserve to be exploited and handled like an animal? First by you, and then by the City Watch? Men who are supposed to be trusted! At least as a whore I have some form of control. At least it is honest!’

Kalcha’s stool topples backwards as he jumps to his feet. ‘Honest?’ He bellows. 

I find myself smirking, his passion has been ignited, there is nothing more infuriating than indifference. ‘These men don’t masquerade as respectable, upstanding citizens. My life is now free of deceit.’

‘When have I ever deceived you?’ He growls, his eyes bearing into my skull.

‘For years you professed to be a man of great honour and morality, would a man of this depiction abuse his wife so terribly? Would he debase her physically? I think not.’

He stares at me dumbfounded, yet his rage still plain. He rumbles through gritted teeth. ‘You enjoyed it.’     

 I laugh scornfully. ‘Is that what you tell yourself? You are no better than those Knights in the tavern!’

Something appears to snap in his brain, his eyes are alight with burning ire. He rushes at me from the other side of the table, he’s so fast I have no time to shift. ‘Why are saying this?’ He has me by the tops of my arms, he’s squeezing so hard I believe they may break. ‘You wanted it!’ He yells, his face inches away from mine.

I should be frightened, but I am not. His rage is exciting to me. ‘Why would I want you?’ I snarl my face split by a widening smirk.  

His breath is ragged, and his shoulders are heaving. He grabs a fist full of my loose hair, and pulls on it viciously, twisting me around so my back is pressed against his chest. He wraps his other strong arm around my waist, locking me to him.

‘Go on..do it..do it..It worked so well last time!’ I push myself hard against him. Our bodies bolted together,  his breath is harsh in my ear. ‘What’s the matter? Is it no fun when I comply?’ With all my strength I kick out at his shin, he howls in my ear and his grip loosens. I hastily squirm free and draw myself away from his reach.

He’s fallen against the table, his face pained. ‘I wasn’t going to...’ He looks up at me, the passion absolving from his body.

‘You lie, but for whose benefit? We both know you’re an animal.’ I stand smoothing down my crumpled shirt, trying to appear aloof, even though my heart is pounding.

He looks down at the floor, and pushes himself up from the table, he starts to laugh, his whole body quaking with the effort. ‘Perhaps, but it means little when the dirty slander the unclean.’ Even though his defences are up, I still discern the desolation behind his steely demeanour. He reaches behind him for the bottle of rum and holds it up as if in salute. ‘May tomorrow bring us everything we deserve!’ He gulps back the alcohol then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Staring at me with an almost crazed look he slams the bottle down on the table and trudges towards me. Impulsively I leap from his path, I feel slightly dejected as he ignores me and makes for the exit. I do not turn to see him leave, but the crash of the galley door confirms his departure.

My body relaxes and I make for the left over rum, longing to feel the burning in my throat. I grab the bottle and slump down in the chair, rapidly drinking back the liquid like the arid desert.

****

I’m behind the counter rummaging through the bowls, cups and saucepans, searching for a damned grinder. The loud clanging of the cutlery is a match for my livid state of mind. I curse to myself as I strip the shelves and cabinets bare, throwing the contents carelessly behind me. I flop back onto my haunches, panting from the feat, my hair sweaty and stuck to my face. I cannot find what I need; I do not know what to do. I should be sleeping, but I know not where, will I be wanted in Reve’s bed? Or would such an assumption be deemed inapt? Such trivial thoughts considering tomorrow, why can I not focus on my task? I resume my frantic search, the banging commences and my mind is dulled.

Deciding that the cupboards do not house the object of my desire, I jump up, resting my palms on the counter, and eyeing up the shelf to my right.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’

My head jerks up towards to the door, its Aerith, clad only in her hat and a loose shirt, revealing her long slender legs. I wonder if she should be walking around like that considering the nature of buccaneers, but then I gather that she can probably look after herself. ‘Sorry did I wake you?’ I ask, with little concern, my eyes flitting from shelf to shelf.

‘Yes.’ She barks. ‘Are you ok? You look demented.’ She struts across the room and towards the bottle of rum left by Kalcha, and I find my gaze drawn to her lean thighs.

I’m laughing rather sensationally; then I gather myself and bite at my thumb nail. ‘I should be asleep, I have a vital part to play, and I need to be alert.’

‘Go to bed then?’ She says, gulping back the rum. ‘Please, for everyone’s sanity.’

‘I don’t believe I have a bed.’ I rub at my eyes as they begin to sting, why am I so bloody upset? I swallow a lump and feel my shoulders shudder; the first moments of hysteria take hold. I look up through wet eyes and see her standing there, frozen to the spot looking like she’s witnessing the dead rise.

She looks nervously at her feet; obviously wishing she was anywhere but here. ‘Lay rough or find a hammock, or...I don’t know...I’m sure Reve won’t mind bunking up.’ She doesn’t look at me, she is clearly unaccustomed to tears, and I am embarrassed and furious at myself for letting that man upset me so.  

‘I will not impose on him.’ I say, trying to gain back control, her discomfort drawing me out of myself.

‘He looks like a right bastard- which he is- but he will not turn away a crying woman, believe me.’

I take a deep breath and move from behind the counter, ambling towards the bottle of rum Aerith still holds in her hand. I study her face as I procure the booze from her outstretched arm. Possibly reading too much into her words I say. ‘You know this how?’ I feel my eyes narrow by their own volition.

She laughs at my words. ‘Look princess you have no reason to feel threatened by me.’ She takes the rum from my hands after my small drink, and puts the bottle to her own lips.

It’s my turn to laugh now. Even though I want to shut her down and exclaim how preposterous it would be for me to be envious of an elf, I decide better of it; my fight is spent. So I remain silent, studying her sharp face.

‘Reve has no interest in what lies between my legs. In fact for a while we all believed he had turned, or his heart so blackened by circumstance that he’d stopped feeling all together.’ She looks at me in uncertainty out of the corner of her eye. ‘You must have a magic snatch.’

I start to laugh, a sincere reaction that lightens my miserable mood. ‘It has been said.’ I close my eyes and nod my head in earnest, taking the rum from her and having my fill.

She sucks in air deeply and says. ‘Less of the laughter, the tears will be more effective, maybe tear your shirt a little bit, he won’t be able to abstain’  

‘I think perhaps I’ll find a hammock.’ I hand her back the rum and rest my buttocks on the table. ‘But first I need to find a fucking mortar and pestle!’ I growl looking back over my shoulder at the destroyed kitchen. ‘Or we’re dead before we even begin.’  I widen my eyes at her teasingly, the rum has taken hold and even though I am still aware of the peril, I simply don’t care as much.

‘Good job Remo left it out on the side, in plain sight then isn’t it?’ She nods her head towards the back of the galley.

I gawp at her in disbelief and slowly turn my head, scanning the work top till my eyes fall on the stone grinder. ‘Fuck me.’ I gasp, lowering my head in shame.

‘It’s reassuring to know that our safety is in the hands of one so competent.’ She says dryly, drawing in her lips and patting me on the arm, somewhat condescendingly. ‘Get some sleep! Be it with Reve or with the rest of us lowly dogs.’ She smiles at me and turns to leave, taking the consoling bottle of rum with her.

I trudge heavy footed over to the work top and take the grinder in my arms, cradling it like a newborn, for its weight is grave.

I make my way out into the passageway and follow the muted sounds of life blindly, in hopes of finding a place to lay my head. I eventually come to an opening, my eyes now adjusted enough that I can make out several hammocks. Only one is occupied, by a snoring stout man, the hammock sagging severely under his weight. I drop down into the bottom one, still clutching my prize. The idea of sleeping beneath this man does not fill me with delight, I begin to contemplate the weight of the pestle meeting his skull if he intrudes on me. I tighten my grip around the smooth cold stone, the thought settling me.         

Chapter Eight: Liable

To get to the docks we have to venture outside of the town’s protective walls and pass under a high stone archway and through an open portcullis. As Kalcha and I draw closer, I notice that the gate is guarded by two men of the City Watch. The sight of them drags up horrid memories and I can feel the sting of bile in my throat. I glance nervously at their menacing forms as we approach, but their red capes and shining colonial armour is where the familiarity ends. They eyeball us, with cold unmoving stares, as us we make our way through. But they do not harass, leaving is never the problem, it’s entering Vesale that’s the challenge.

The early morning sky is a whirl of reds and yellows, the sun’s burning head peeks up and around the few ships that are docked in the harbour, their black masts reaching up to the gods and their reflections down into the depths of the sea, giving the boats an impaled semblance. The air here is not as heavy as it is in town, the sea breeze a refreshing clarity. There are few people around at this time, so the only sound is the gulls and the gentle lapping of the ocean. The docks are usually a hectic place, a hive for thieves and black market merchants, but at this hour tranquillity disguises the depravity.        

I look up at Kalcha’s stony face and wonder what he’s thinking, we haven’t spoken a word since his release yesterday evening; in fact he has barely acknowledged me, besides the occasional fleeting glance. I spent too much time tying to dissect the meaning behind this and to spy any form of emotion exuding from his blue eyes, but I came away more perplexed than before. There is no anger, no sadness no joy, emitting from his body.

After Horac had unshackled him, the three of us, Kalcha, Reve and myself, headed back to The Axe. The short journey was overflowing with awkwardness, perhaps it was all in my head, for Kalcha, at this point, should not be aware of my sleazy antics, but nevertheless I still felt awash with filth. Our passage was made in silence. Panic at how he would react when he realised our destination was the only thing that outweighed my self-loathing, but if he was shocked or appalled his demeanour didn’t betray him. Del had tried his utmost to make him feel welcome, booze or herbs; anything he so desired. He drew the line at offering him any of the girls, but he was shut down by Kalcha’s grunts of refusal and a cold, hard stare. I tried to engage him in conversation many times that evening, to no avail, so I retired to my quarters earlier than usual. Surly he must know of my fate by now? My familiarity with the girls, and Del, my own room.. yes he must know.

Reve never came to me; I was relieved by this as I just wanted to be alone with my self-absorbed thoughts. My head so preoccupied with my personal affairs I had no room to worry about the dangers that lay ahead, I slept little and worried greatly. I arose a few hours early and set about packing my measly belongings, several plain gowns, my wedding ring and the bullion I had earned, then I dressed in my travelling clothes. Mara had made me a large quantity of lover’s draught for the trip, for Nila would surely be right in her assumptions; Reve’s need of me will go further than my knowledge, so one should always be safe. I had drunk one then and there, to cleanse myself of the monk. She had also packed me some sensible clothing, a couple of pairs of britches, a waistcoat and blouse. I thanked her profusely, and had to blink back tears, for the rare kindness of others never fails to move me. She told me that Reve and Del had already made for the docks; and that I should say my goodbyes and head out also. The tavern was deserted, so I didn’t want to disturb Nila or any of the other girls from slumber, besides the trip shouldn’t be more than several days or so; that is if we survived it.

 Kalcha was still sitting at the table where I left him. He nodded at me and stood, he had washed and changed, clearly into Del’s garb as the sleeveless shirt and beige trousers were verging on the tight side. Even though prison had thinned him, his natural frame is far broader than Del’s. Mara and I embraced briefly and we set out, in silence.

This is the first time, since my arrival eight years ago, that I have set foot outside these walls, and I feel as apprehensive leaving as I did arriving. We move quickly along the narrow, lengthy walk way, I survey the area in hopes of spying someone I recognise but the only people about are an elderly fisherman and a young boy, unloading their catch from their small trawler. We smile politely at one another as I manoeuvre my way around their crated fish, stacked in growing heaps on the wooden planks.

I know that Bastue’s Bitch is a large, three mast merchant ship, so the chances of it being anchored further out are probable. I squint against the rising sun and can make out the silhouette of such a craft on the near horizon, and the dark outline of a cockboat nearing the end of the pier. There is nothing but ocean surrounding us now, so I spin around to take one last look at the town set against the swirling sky, its walls encompassing the great mass of sprawling stone homes, the slate roof tops of the highest are all that’s visible. And of course Lord Soren’s ascending golden estate, a beacon amongst all the grey. I wonder if this will be the last time I see Vesale; I have no desire to return, for nothing but anguish awaits me inside its confines.    

 Kalcha’s strides begin to quicken and I have to scurry to keep up with him. As we approach the end of the walk way I notice several large crates, I assume supplies for the voyage. The dark outline of the boat is nearly upon us, Kalcha leans against one of the crates and I cross my arms, and we wait patiently for the boat to disembark. I notice that the rower is wearing a large hat, casting their features in shadow. 

The boat knocks gently against the pier and the figure looks out from under the brim of the hat and smiles, revealing a lack of front teeth.  ‘Alright darling!’ He cries. I groan as I recognise Hyatt, I immediately fluster, thinking of the conversation that may ensue. ‘Just in time to help me with the last two.’ He looks to Kalcha and continues. ‘Chuck us that crate, will ya big guy?’

Kalcha pushes himself up wearily, and effortlessly lifts the container, hauling it into the small boat. While Hyatt clutches the edge of the pier, holding the vessel steady. He does the same with the last crate, and boards, sitting next to Hyatt and taking one of the oars.

‘You want a hand lass?’ Hyatt asks holding out his arm for me to take.

I wave it away, and unsteadily climb in. ‘I’m fine, thank you.’ I say softly, glancing nervously between the two men.   

‘That you are.’ The sailor says with a sneer as he pushes the boat away from the edge.

I look to Kalcha but his concentration is on the rowing and the ship ahead of us.  

‘So, I ere we ave you to thank for filling the Captains head with this horse shit?’ He says with a cackle.

I scowl at him. ‘Horse shit? I told Reve what he wanted to know, I told him the facts. If you doubt this pursuit why did you enlist?’ I snap, hugging myself against the early morning breeze.

He howls, as if what I said was the most hysterical thing he had ever heard. ‘I guess you could say I have a curious nature. Besides Reve isn’t a complete fantasist; there must be a smidgen of truth to this. And I’d like to see what that is, I just think he’s misjudged the scale of the thing, maybe your cunt has clouded his mind.’ He openly stares between my crossed legs as he leans forwards then backwards in time with his oars.

I impulsively glance to Kalcha, I see him swallow a lump, and his jaw tightens. ‘I assure you my cunt has done no such thing.’ I say this between gritted teeth, for I don’t have to please this man. ‘Reve is resolute by nature. I told him what I know. That is all.’

Hyatt shrugs and smiles his toothless smile. ‘Leron isn’t it?’ He asks addressing Kalcha.

My husband looks at the sailor and nods slowly, his eyes bearing into him.

Hyatt howls again. ‘Alright mate, quieten down. ’ Then he turns his beaming face to me. ‘What’s your name love?’

‘Mrs Leron.’ Kalcha growls. The sound of his voice is so jarring that it causes my head to snap towards him, I find myself smiling.

Hyatt opens his mouth to howl, this time a long drawn out sound. ‘Oh, this’ll be good fun!’ He cries.

The bow of Bastue’s Bitch looms before us, and I recognise the figurehead immediately. Calved expertly from oak and painted entirely black. His scarred, twisted face set in a permanent snarl. His long hair juts out, forming a black nimbus around his hideous features. Bastue, The Warrior God, he maybe the symbol of manliness, strength and courage, but he is one ugly bastard.  

Kalcha and Hyatt swing the cockboat around to flank the ship. My gaze shifts from the barnacle covered bilge to the span of the scaling sides, though I cannot see anyone awaiting our arrival.  The chilly air, still water and absence of souls trigger a feeling of seclusion within me.   

‘Ahoy!’ Hyatt bellows, breaking the ghostly silence. He circles his hands around his mouth to amplify his cry and shouts again. A short moment passes before an unfamiliar face comes into view over the bulwarks, and disappears as quickly as it emerged. A rope ladder is thrown out and over the side and Hyatt signals for me to go first.

By the time I reach the deck, the sun is high in the sky and its fierce glow warms my skin, I close my eyes and take a moment, letting its rays heat my bones. When I open them, I find several men stopped in their tracks, gawping at me. I screw my face up in bewilderment, then I remember that sailors consider woman onboard to be bad luck. I chuckle to myself over their ridiculous fallacy.

I spy a slender figure to my right, sat on the steps leading up to the helm, sharpening their blade on a whetstone. Their form appears feminine, despite being dressed in male clothing, a heavy coat, boots and a black hat with turned up brims. I find my gaze lingering for a minute, wishing that they would look up. I’m distracted from my ogling as Kalcha heaves himself over the edge, followed closely by Hyatt, who garbles orders at whoever’s listening, to winch up the cockboat and its cargo. One man, an older grey haired chap, who is burned bronze from the sun and with a body so lean I can see every ligament through his skin, moves into action and helps Hyatt with the pulley. I feel very out of place and suddenly sick with anxiety, perhaps if Kalcha and I were on speaking terms the situation wouldn’t be so daunting.

Then Del appears, erupting from a door near the stern of the ship. He notices me straight away and his grin breaks out. ‘Where have you bloody well been?’ He cries, moving swiftly towards us; my anxiety replaced by relief.    

 

******

It took a good five hours until the vomiting took charge, now it won’t let up, and it’s long past dusk. I’m hanging over the side, pinning my hair back with one hand and gripping onto the bulwark with the other, my eyes are squeezed shut as I try to mentally move with the swaying ship. Another surge flies forth, my whole body juddering and I’m gasping from the effort. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and push myself up straight, a moment of relief washes over me; although I know it’s only temporary.  

Out of the corner of my eye I spy the dark outline of someone moving gracefully towards me. I turn my head slowly to face them. My eyes feel like they’re rolling back in my head, as I try to focus on their form. I close them again as I feel a wave of nausea engulf me, my head is back over the side, and I’m retching and shuddering like a sick dog.

‘It’s all in your head.’ A sharp voice sounds in my ear, a woman’s voice.

I look up from the ocean and glower at the disruptor, more so at her moronic statement than her actual presence. ‘What?’ I snap my patience nonexistent. I strain my eyes, trying to make out the face underneath the hat. The moon is obscured by clouds so the evening is dark, meaning I cannot scrutinize clearly, although a set of shining purple eyes are plain.  

‘Your sickness, it’s psychological.’ She barks again, leaning against the side.

‘Is it? Oh, well, I’m completely recovered, what a fool I have been! Thank you for your sound...’ My head back over the side, heaving. 

I hear her snort. ‘Don’t be a twat. You need to concentrate on something else, other than your discomfort. Think of, I dunno, rainbows and puppies.’ She says dryly.

I swing my face around to her, scowling. ‘I’m not fucking twelve.’

She laughs; a sharp stinging sound. ‘Whatever, princess.’ Pushing herself up she moves to leave.

‘Wait.’ I gasp. Her purple eyes back on me. ‘Where abouts are we?’ Perhaps she’s right, if I can stop thinking about it, I may overcome. It’s worth a shot.

‘North East of Edoria. By morning we will have entered Pelorian waters, just north of The Kraz Marshes.’ The clouds glide by exposing the light of the moon, and illuminating the woman’s face with a pale glow, her features are as sharp as her tone, with cheeks bones that could slice flesh and a nose that could gouge out an eye but when she smiles it softens her to a point of attractiveness. Typical elven qualities.

‘So tomorrow we take the ship?’ I ask, eagerly.

‘That is the plan.’ She grunts. ‘I hear our safety and possible future wealth lies in your hands?’

I shake my head and sigh. ‘I have knowledge; that is all... This is Reve’s pursuit and a responsibility I do not wish to bear.’

She laughs again. ‘If it were any other Captain I would think them mad. But Reve, he is a shrewd man, the only man I would back in a seemingly fruitless quest.

She is obviously loyal to Reve and even though she is an elf, I cannot help but feel a pang of jealousy. I wonder if they’ve fucked? ‘Where did he find out about this anyway?’

She shrugs. ‘Tavern rumours. A knight of some Lord spouting off drunkenly. Reve picks up on it, does his research and Kaboom, we have ourselves a mission.’ She grins again.

I nod, and take several deep breaths, forcing the sickness back down. ‘That we do.’ I close my eyes waiting for the retching to commence.

‘Your mind can convince your body of anything. Make it your mantra ‘I will not get sick, I will not get sick’ Although, I shouldn’t be preaching mind over matter to a whore, I’m sure you’re well versed on the subject.’

My eyes flick open and I stare at her hard, I can’t even escape it in the middle of the ocean. ‘Please excuse me; I need to get some rest.’ I say bluntly, and shaking I turn to leave.

She laughs sharply. ‘You are a whore? Are you not?’

I spin back around, my sickness replaced by irritation. ‘What relevance is that?’

‘It’s of absolutely no consequence to me princess, you’re the one making a fuss.’

‘Goodnight.’ I say softly and head below deck.

There is a loud ruckus coming from the galley, and I decide to investigate. I push open the door to the stuffy, hazy berth, it stinks, a revolting combination of fish, sweat and onions. I find Del and Horac arguing loudly, and wrestling over a bottle of booze.

‘Don’t be a fool man! Remember the trouble you landed us in last time!’ Horac bawls, the first time I’ve heard him express any zeal.

‘You cannot let it go, can you? It was one mistake, and you can’t get over it, throw it back in my face why don’t you! I am harassed good Ser, harassed I say! And I need some relief!’ Del counters. His free arm waving theatrically.

Horac splutters as if words have failed him, spittle flying from his fat lips. ‘Mistake? It was a fucking calamity that nearly got us all killed.’ He pulls the bottle away from Del with an effortless jerk of his wrist.

Del slumps back in his chair and pouts like a petulant child. ‘Very well.’ He mutters. ‘I suppose you have the truth of it.’

Bailey is sat on a bench with his strong legs up on a table, grinning at the pair’s performance. And Kalcha is plonked in the far corner nursing a cup, along with several unpleasant looking buccaneers. I make my way over to Del and sit down next to him, facing Horac, who, in acknowledgment of my arrival rolls his eyes.

Del looks at me from under his lashes and smiles. ‘You, my dear girl are a sight for sore eyes.’ 

I giggle and glance at the bottle in Horac’s thick hand. ‘May I have some?’ I ask.

The dwarf sighs and slides the bottle over to me. I uncork it with my teeth and take a swig. ‘What did you do that was so bad?’ I spin to face the lovely Del, my expression mischievous.

He shakes his head regretfully. ‘I cannot tell you, for it is too ghastly for your beautiful ears.’ He leans in and nuzzles at my ear lobe.

Although I doubt his intention is sexual, I push him away regardless, painfully aware of Kalcha’s ominous presence. I glance over and catch his eye for a split second, his look makes me feel like I should bestow a thousand apologises. ‘Well, now you have perked my interest. I simply must know’

He smiles, shaking his head. ‘I cannot sully your perfect soul with such vulgar words, please my dear, dear girl, do not make me!’ He has my hands wrapped up in his, and his straight expression makes me laugh loudly.

‘Ha! Sully indeed.’ The dwarf says, refusing to make eye contact with me.

I pull my hands free from Del and take another deep drink of the strong, unidentifiable liquor, glaring hard at Horac, daring him to look at me.      

‘Ignore him, his bitterness knows no bounds.’ Del says.

The door bursts inwards and everyone turns to note Reve’s arrival, his eyes quickly surveying the room, until they fall on me. His shark grin spreads across his creased face and his hard eyes penetrate me. Then he nods his head towards to door, still leering, signalling for me to come with him. The room has fallen deadly silent at my summons. A crunching noise draws my attention to Kalcha’s table, he’s staring at The Captain as if he’s about to slay him where he stands. The cup in his hand is crushed, pieces of pot scattered across the tables surface; he does not take his eyes from Reve. I stand and make my way to the door, pulling my attention to The Captain, I smile warmly as he circles his arm around my waist, but his concentration appears to be elsewhere, as if he’s goading Kalcha, his cold stare does not leave him until we’re out of the galley.  

His arm drops from my waist and he swaggers swiftly down the cramped passage way, I follow him in silence, my eyes cast down. We head back up onto the deck, the fresh air driving away the smell of rankness. We come to a heavy door, between a set of two steps, Reve unlocks it and shoulders the door inwards. I trail behind him and into a well lit cabin. A huge cherry wood desk fills the back wall, paper and scrolls strewn over its polished surface, it’s flanked by an ornamental, large globe of Wyran. Long paned windows are the backdrop to the cabin, adorned in luscious crimson drapes.  The floor is covered in an ornate rug, of greens and golds, a half empty bookshelf to the right, several long chests and a single cot by the left wall make up the rest of the furnishings. The door clicks shut behind me and I turn to face Reve, his eyes viciously undressing me, my heart pounding in my chest.

He shifts toward me hastily, and takes me in his arms, slamming my body against his. He’s advancing and taking me with him, my buttocks suddenly collide with the desk. I giggle aloud as he hoists me up onto its surface. ‘You took your time.’ I coo.

‘You miss me?’ He growls in my ear, running his nose up and down my neck, his warm breath causing my flesh to tingle.  

I nod hastily; I don’t care how eager I seem, for I need this man inside me. I start to unbutton my shirt, and he watches intently as I wriggle free from its restrictions, his eyes flicking between my face and my tits. I smile and bite my lip, I feel delightfully giddy.

He reaches down and deftly unlaces my trousers. I lift my arse off the table and he yanks them down, tearing them off, and throwing them over his shoulder, he does the same with my damp underwear. I lift my legs up, opening and closing them, tantalizing him with the sight of my lustful sex.  He laughs gruffly, his eyes clouded with desire. ‘I’m going to make you fucking scream.’ He growls as he pinches one of my nipples between his calloused fingers.

I reach out and cup his growing bulge through his linen britches. Squeezing and rubbing him rigid as he tears off his own shirt, his chest exposed, lean and heaving. He drops to his knees and I watch wide eyed as he positions his face between my open legs, his eyes bearing into me, his hot heavy breath caressing my sex, I moan and shunt forward, longing for his tongue to delve into me. But he teases, by rubbing the tip of his nose along the inside of my thigh, slowly.. very slowly. I grab a hand full of his oily hair and tug on it roughly, forcing his head up so I can look him in the eye. ‘Just fucking eat it.’ I gasp.

He snarls, then buries his face in my pussy. I shriek and throw my head back, as his tongue laps at me, devouring all of my dripping sex. He pushes two of his rough fingers inside me and continues to lick at my pleasure spot. I rest my feet on the edge of the desk and spread my legs as far as I can, watching fixedly as he ravages my cunt. I still have a fist full of his hair, and I have an urge to pull on it sharply, I giggle as he cries out. He speeds up his strokes, his tongue lashing at me, all the pressure concentrated on my cliterous. I know if he continues this way, I shall come all over his face, but I want him inside me, I need to feel the length of his cock, driving into me and rendering me breathless.

‘I will beg, if that’s what it takes to get you to fuck me, Captain!’ I shriek. Smiling as his eyes flick up towards me, the bottom half of his face concealed in the hotness between my legs.

He pulls his face away but continues to drive his fingers in and out. He smiles in his filthy way, which makes every inch of my body scream with longing. ‘Very well.’ He murmurs, drawing his fingers from my wetness and standing tall. He begins unbuckling his belt, slowly. Our eyes not leaving each other, he lets his britches and undergarments fall to the floor, revealing his wonderfully erect cock, I sigh, contentedly at the sight. ‘You do not need to beg girl.’ He rumbles, stroking his length between his fingers. He presses the side of his face against mine, and tangles his fingers in my hair, before he drives into me with such a force it causes me to squeal, loudly. He’s positioned between my legs, thrusting in and out, I grab his bare arse and dig my nails in, pressing him deeper inside me, my face is against his neck and I’m groaning and crying out every time he slaps against me. Our naked bodies compressed together so tightly, and the heat between us so great that a thin layer of sweat covers us.

 ‘Oh, gods, yes!’ I pant between the vicious thrusts. I wrap my legs around his waist, and push my weight up on my hands, slamming frantically against his firm body, his large cock reaching the very hindmost of my cunt. Harder and faster, his cock so deep inside, that it could belong to me. My hands are slipping beneath the pieces of parchment on the desk, I swipe them away and they flutter too the carpeted floor.     

Every time we slap against each other The Captain grunts deeply in my ear, such an animalist sound, sending my head spinning with profane bliss. I’m so close.

He wraps his hands around my waist, pulling back slightly from my sweaty body, and forcing my bottom back down on the desk. He takes my breast in his hand and squeezes it, so hard that his knuckles turn white; my mind clouded with arousal, the sting a pleasure. Then he lowers himself and wraps his mouth around my nipple and begins to suck, the sensitivity almost too much to bear. He’s still forcefully driving into my wet pussy as his tongue flicks manically over my hard nipple, his free hand pressed against my back. His shoulders are hunched and his hips moving with rapidity, as he fucks me senseless. He pulls away from my breasts and bellows ‘Scream, I want to hear you scream!’ before taking my nipple in his mouth again, sucking and biting it.

I whimper as I hit the wall. A tingling rush starts in my toes, travels up my body, and ends in an explosion of every one of my senses. I arch my back and give The Captain his wish, crying out at the top of my lungs. ‘Yes, yes, yes, yes.’ I scream over and over again. Reve’s cry matching my own as he peaks, his face pressed to my sweaty chest. His ferocious thrusting slowing to an erratic judder. He wraps his arms around me, holding me tight to him as the last few moments of pleasure trickle from our bodies. I reciprocate the embrace, wrapping my arms around his damp back. Moaning with satisfaction I nestle my face in his neck, and listen contently to his heavy breathing.  

Several minutes pass before he pulls out of me, I sigh as he tears his body away from mine. He picks up his trousers, smirking at me as he commences dressing. ‘Are you prepared for tomorrow?’ He grunts.

What with the worry over Kalcha and my desire to fuck The Captain, I haven’t had chance to contemplate the seriousness of tomorrow, the dangers we face and the possibility of wealth, not to mention the rare prospect of actually seeing a dragon, up close. My whole body shudders at the thought. I’ve spent many years researching them; I know each breed inside out, their temperaments and their habits. The idea of setting eyes upon such a majestic beast is spine tingling, to say the least. How can one be prepared for such a moment? I nod my head in response, sliding down from the desk and reaching for my own discarded clothes.

‘Good, I suggest you head to the bay to sort through your plants, become well versed in each solution’s composition, I need you to be prompt tomorrow. Any delay will result in death. Do you understand?’ He stares hard at me; his smirk vanished and replaced with his unyielding frown.

Unwittingly my sickness appears to be resurfacing. ...