Quest for the White Wind Page 3

  The tides and currents in this part of the Black Sea were uncharted. Even experienced captains could be pushed off course by the tides faster than their forward movement against the wind. The closer they came to the shore, the more unpredictable the winds became as they swept down from the Erway Mountain slopes to the west.

  Tanden believed his ship would sail deeper into a large bay. Science, not magic, formed the basis of his belief. The six moons made the tides difficult to predict—the Rose, the Potato, Lumpy, the Egg, Six Finger, and Deering—had much to do with where a ship sailed. Not because they were gods with divine powers or any magic harvested from their movements. The lunar orbits affecting the tides were as rock steady as science once a sailor learned how to calculate their movements.

  Yasthera il-Aldigg and I-Sheera were sitting in the bow of the boat watching the shoreline inch closer. Their nervous glances at the mutineers were proof of their fear, although the lady affected an air of royalty and untouchability. I-Sheera tried to follow her lady’s example, but the kitchen knife in her hand was evidence of her willingness to protect herself and her lady.

  It took most of the morning to maneuver toward the shore, far longer than Tanden’s earlier two hour estimate. They were slowed by the sails popping and snapping, luffing badly, not catching the light wind’s full force. Tanden thought he could see some slight progress, but he didn’t think the White Wind was any closer to shore than it had been an hour earlier.

  The coast might have been no more than an hour’s walk had they been on dry land. The ship was heading straight down the bay. Great cliffs rose on three sides, appearing to be somewhat closer to the starboard side, though the distance may have been an illusion.

  Finally, Heraclius shouted, “Enough. Turn to port to catch the wind. We’ve stopped moving. Sail toward shore.”

  Tanden replied, “Rocks, Heraclius. Are you familiar with this coast? There may be rocks here to send us all to the deep.”

  Gregin said, “What would you suggest, Tanden?”

  The man had changed into his blue order priestly robes; all white with a splash of blue from the elbow to the hands. Blue magicians wore white robes with blue arms and torso and blue wizards wore blue robes with a hint of white trim. The Blue Wizard, the highest and most powerful man in the order, wore an all blue robe.

  Tanden wondered where the man had hidden his robe. Durrban kept his white acolyte robe with only a blotch of green color on the chest in the ship’s stores, never trying to hide it. Still, there were cubbyholes all over the ship. He knew them all, but rarely inspected them. He allowed crewmen to buy and ship a few small goods of their own for extra profit. He had never given his crew any reason to hide anything brought aboard.

  He answered the blue priest, “Continue down the center of the bay to the point. We may find good anchorage there.”

  Heraclius hissed, “He’s just trying to lengthen his life.”

  “Maybe, Gregin,” Tanden said, ignoring Heraclius. “But I’m also trying to save the lives of the women and this good ship.”

  Heraclius said, “I said enough. Gregin, you gave me the command of this ship. Gadon, turn to port. Now!”

  Gregin asked, “Gadon, you’re at the tiller. Are there rocks here?”

  Gadon shrugged. “There may be, there may not. We won’t know until we run aground on one.”

  “Heraclius,” Gregin sighed, “I don’t think it would be wise to sail too close in unknown waters. Yet, you may do as you wish.”

  With a sweeping gesture toward the captives, Heraclius said, “What I wish, is just to toss these over the side and sail back to Stantinstadt and then on to Tunston. Let’s get on with it!”

  Gregin moved to the hatch leading below. At the top of the ladder, he paused long enough to say, “Get on with it then. I’m also anxious to get back to Tunston.”

  Tanden’s head whipped around when someone let out a whoop, but he wasn’t able to identify who shouted. “Gregin, wait! As a priest of the blue way and an honorable man, you promised to put us peaceably on shore.”

  The priest halted on the ladder. “No, Tanden. You don’t remember. My promise was to sail toward the shore. I promised to let you leave the ship peaceably if there was no further violence. It’s of no concern to me if we haven’t reached shore when you leave the ship.” He continued over Tanden’s objections, “And, if you wish to break your promise and not leave peaceably, then that’s also no concern of mine. Heraclius, toss them over the side.”

  A babble of voices followed Gregin down the ladder until he was out of sight.

  Tanden shouted to his loyal crew, “Hold. I promised to leave peaceably. Any man who follows my command will do the same. I won’t break my promise, nor allow any other to cause me to lie. Heraclius, we will leave peaceably. Please untie me so I may try to swim to shore.”

  Heraclius said, “Slowly. I want to enjoy this. Greeta, you and Tuba untie and throw the ogre over first.”

  “Wait,” Durrban cried. “Seenger can’t swim. Allow me to go first so I may aid him.”

  “Do it,” Heraclius said. “They can drown together; a dirty Huzzuzz ogre and a dirty greenie.”

  Greeta moved to loosen the bindings on Durrban’s hands. Tuba stood warily watching for any hostile movement. Durrban stood slowly and stretched. Shaking his hands in the air and wiggling his fingers, he stepped to the starboard railing. He glanced back at Seenger, who firmly nodded to him. Turning, he quietly saluted Tanden and stepped off the starboard side dropping into the sea.

  Tuba whooped and rushed to the edge. “Quick,” he said, shouting back to Greeta, “Untie Seenger.”

  Untied, Seenger stood and without any fanfare or flourish, went to the rail and into the sea. Tuba whooped again. “Look. I’ll wager that’s the first bath Seenger has ever had in his life. An ogre in the water! I didn’t think I’d ever see that. Look at ‘em splash.”

  Heraclius said, “Get on with it, Tuba. Let’s not take all day. Isn’t there a brothel in Stantinstadt that you want to get to?”

  Tanden thought, “Am I going to overboard with such style? Do I go like this or do I get tossed overboard kicking and screaming? No! If Seenger can step off with quiet dignity when he can’t even swim, I must do no less. If he drowns, is it my fault? I hired him on as a sailor when no one else would take on any foreigner, much less an ogre. Is it my fault if any drown? I took on Heraclius and Gregin knowing they weren’t of Holden. Alton is from Holden and it’ll be my fault if he dies here. And Durrban. And Seenger. And Tuller and Gadon, too.”

  Tanden clamped his teeth together in determination. “No! I’ll not die here. I will not. Damn Gregin and all these mutinous pus pockets. I’ll go over the side with the pride befitting a son of Holden. I mustn’t do less, or I won’t be fit to be the messenger of vengeance on these children of the dark demons.”

  Tanden watched while three of the mutineers advanced on Gadon at the helm to throw him overboard. “Gadon,” he shouted. “Do not make me a liar. I’ve made promises and given my word. Go quietly. Wait for Tuller and try for the starboard shore. I’ll be along shortly.”

  Unable to do anything Tanden watched while Heraclius, Greeta, and Tuba pounced on Gadon. Gritting his teeth, he saw flurries of kicks and punches rain down on the unnaturally docile Gadon.

  “Obey me, Gadon,” Tanden silently willed his friend. “Damn me, my vow may get my oldest friend beaten to death.”

  Tanden looked to Tuller. The man’s face was strained with the effort of trying to break his bonds. A glance at Obert showed the man was more interested in picking at the small wounds I-Sheera had given him than guarding Tuller, Alton, or Tanden. Obert was muttering to himself and watching the women furtively out the corners of his eyes.

  Heraclius, Greeta, and Tuba finally picked Gadon up and cast him over the port side of the ship. Tanden’s peripheral vision registered Tuller as he ran straight toward the three men. His broken bonds lay on the deck. Quicker than Tanden could call for him not to fight the mu
tineers, Tuller crashed through the three men sending them scattering about the deck. He dived over the side out of Tanden’s sight, obviously near his brother Gadon.

  Alton quickly followed the others into the sea.

  Tanden thought, “None but these diseased mongrels are here to witness my embarrassment if I can’t go to the sea with my honor intact.” He gave no thought of the women’s opinion, after all, princess or slave girl, they were only women.”

  All three men attacked Tanden at the same time. Clamping his teeth shut, he tensed against the blows striking his exposed body. “Cowards,” he thought. “Not one of them ever challenged my authority face-to-face. They’re no more than animals. I won’t expose my fears to such creatures.”

  Tanden was lifted up and carried to the starboard side. He struggled with his thoughts and anger, trying not to fight back. Still tied hand and foot—and against his conscious effort—rather than be tossed bound into the sea, he kicked and struggled, to no avail.

  Fortunately, he felt the ties ripping away as he was tossed into the sea like yesterday’s trash.

  Hitting the water felt like ripping a veil from his eyes. He realized he must have taken a blow to the head. Anyone would be fuzzy headed to even think of fighting back. Tanden knew in his heart it did not matter that he was unsuccessful struggling against the men. It only mattered that he tried. Tanden vented his frustration and anger on the water about him.

  Hearing laughter from the ship, Tanden looked around him. Seenger and Durrban should be near him, but the slight rippling of waves blocked his view. From his vantage point, any of his men could have been five feet away and he wouldn’t see them.

  Tanden considered shouting, but every man in the water would need all of his breath to make it to shore. He hoped they would find a beach or a shoreline when they got to the water’s edge. The verticle high rock walls did not look inviting.

  “Hold. Damn it!” A voice shouted from above him.

  Looking up, he tilted his head back in the water trying to see the edge of the White Wind’s deck. He could not see who shouted.

  “Throw the harpy over, too.”

  Tanden easily recognized Obert’s whine.

  Another voice echoed, “Yeah, yeah, let’s do it. I’ve had all of her mouth I ever want to hear.”

  Tanden shouted, “No! No! No! Women are to be protected, not drowned, you fools.” He realized with a start that he hadn’t shouted out loud.

  “Why?” he asked himself. “Why didn’t I speak out loud? Am I that much of a coward? What more can these men do to me?”

  A voice from the ship said, “Might as well throw her overboard. She’s too scrawny to fetch much of a price from any slaver I know. Besides, I wouldn’t screw her with Obert’s tool.”

  The crude laughter didn’t die down until Tanden heard a woman’s scream. He was unable to recognize if the scream was Lady Yasthera il-Aldigg or her servant, I-Sheera.

  Tanden had already sworn personal revenge. Promising to bring further pain and suffering was futile.

  I-Sheera was propelled over the rail from the shoulders of the mutineers. She screamed and flailed at the air on her way to the sea. Stark terror on her face was evident. Her layers and layers of flimsy clothing floated around her like a cloud.

  The slow headway the White Wind was making hadn’t taken the ship more than a short distance from Tanden. He momentarily thought she would hit the water on top of him, taking them both under to drown. He’d seen men drown before, dragged under by wet clothing long before they could strip it off.

  She missed him. Her splashing and thrashing threw stale saltwater into his eyes, momentarily blinding him.

  He thought, “This is stupid. Don’t do this. Let her drown.”

  Nonetheless, he immediately reached to grab her. Even reacting as quickly as he had, she was sinking fast. Tanden grasped a handful of cloth. He yanked upward toward the air and the sun. The action should have plunged Tanden downward below the surface, but that reaction did not account for his rapid descent. Her flapping arms and legs clutching at him dragged him underwater before he could gulp air into his lungs.

  “See,” he told himself. “I told you this was stupid. Let this creature go or we’ll both drown.”

  Tanden pushed downward and away from I-Sheera, propelling himself up again into the air. As he broke the surface, he saw the White Wind turning, coming around to catch the wind. Indistinct faces were turning away from him toward the rigging. Tanden knew from personal experience it is one thing to send a person to their death and quite another to stand and watch it. The putrid walking dead did not have the courage to face what they had started.

  Tanden spun around in the water to look for I-Sheera. She was nowhere in sight.

  The Black Sea isn’t like the great Almodovar Ocean. In many places of the Almodovar, Tanden could have seen I-Sheera sitting on the bottom, many fathoms under the water. Here, the water was dark, quickly hiding anything in its wet silty folds.

  Tanden ducked his head under water and felt around. His fingers brushed against something. He clutched and found himself holding a mass of wild tangled hair. Raising his head, taking a deep breath, he yanked upward. Prepared this time against I-Sheera’s panicked assault, Tanden was able to keep his face in the air.

  I-Sheera’s head popped up facing Tanden. She sputtered, spitting water in Tanden’s eyes and raggedly gasping for air. Her arms and legs reached out to tangle around Tanden, trying to climb onto him. Without a shirt, his wet skin was slippery, making it difficult for her to cling to with any sense of permanence.

  Tanden realized she was trying desperately to stand on him. He pushed her away again.

  She whipped her arms around, churning the water into froth.

  He shouted, “Stop fighting me or drown.” Reaching forward, he gave her body a push to rotate her in the water.

  Down she went.

  Tanden thought, “I’m going to tire myself and not have the strength to swim to shore if I continue wrestling with this woman. But damn me, I can’t go to my death knowing I didn’t try.”

  He reached into the sea again. Once again, he grabbed a fist full of wet tangled hair. He pulled I-Sheera into the sun.

  This time she spat and sputtered away from him. Not releasing his grasp on her hair, Tanden roughly pushed a fist into the small of her back, twisted her head backward, forcing her face to the sky. She gulped, more from pain and fear of drowning than lack of air.

  Tanden said calmly, “Fear not. Relax and we’ll both live.” To emphasize his point, he pushed her head under water, but just as quickly, he pulled her up again.

  I-Sheera had enough breath this time to begin cursing in a whining voice, “You foul camel dung eater—.”

  Tanden interrupted her curses by dunking and slowly raising her again. “Obey me or die. Now!”

  “Yes, sir.” Her voice quivered with fear, without the whine Tanden had come to expect. Her body relaxed and floated easily in his grasp. Her long eastern style robe swirled in the water about them.

  “Trust me, girl. I won’t let you drown, but you mustn’t fight against me. Relax. Do all that I say. Don’t fight me. Curse me again and I’ll leave you to curse the fishes.”

  I-Sheera started to speak, but Tanden interrupted, “Don’t say another word until I give you permission. I give you breath to live, not to corrupt the air with your tongue. Do you understand?”

  Her head nodded slightly in acceptance.

  He said, with more calm than he felt, “We’ll live, but it’s a long way to the shore. I must swim for both of us. Your robe is already tangling my legs. Remove them as best you can. Now!”

  Tanden struggled against the sea, using one hand and his legs to keep himself above water. Loosely wrapping his other arm around I-Sheera’s throat, he put as much upward pressure on her chin as he could.

  His legs came free of the cloth. “Don’t release your robe. Bundle and hold it. You’ll need it when we reach land.”

  He tho
ught, “Or so is my desire. Am I such a coward that I fear drowning here or at the shore? Am I so dishonest that I will lie to a woman to bolster my own lack of courage?”

  He said, “Relax now. As I swim, let your feet float to the surface. Don’t fight against me. I’ll save us both.”

  Despite having his own doubts, Tanden thought it best for both of them to not worry about how much danger they were facing. He glanced at the sun almost directly overhead. He was able to see each shore, but the cliffs themselves gave him no clue as to which way to swim. North had been to the right. With a practiced sailor’s eye, he struck out for the northern shore with more confidence than he truly wanted to admit, even to himself.

  Handful after handful of water, Tanden moved closer to the cliffs. At least, he hoped they were moving closer to the cliffs. From his vantage point at sea level, he could not judge the distance with any accuracy. Their progress was far too slow to be apparent.

  The woman allowed herself to be towed quietly, but it was not long before Tanden’s breath become labored as he fought against even the small waves of the bay. Tanden’s limbs had been tied all morning. The strain and stretch of swimming in the sea felt good at first, but now his arms and legs started to ache in the chilly water.

  The Black Sea’s temperature at this time of the year was survivable but still cold enough to sap his strength. Swimming kept his body heated, but he felt I-Sheera shivering where her body pressed against his side and hip.

  “Girl, move your arms and legs up and down through the water. It’ll warm you. Don’t move in a forward and back motion as that will work at cross purposes to our movement to the shore. Do you understand?”

  He felt her nod against his arm, but she held her tongue.

  Tanden wanted to shout and look for his friends and crewmen, but looking would waste his time and shouting would waste his air. Stroke after stroke, he swam toward the shore, not sure he could swim that far, even without towing another person.

  CHAPTER FOUR