Pirates Of Gohar

Chapter 13

Shell Island was only five days from Gohar if the winds cooperated. On Blade's voyage they didn't, and it took his ship ten. About noon on the ninth day Blade heard men moving on deck, and the ship drifted to a stop. Then a boat came bumping alongside and loud-voiced men scrambled aboard. The pilot to guide the ship through the twisting channel to Shell Island was aboard.

All that afternoon the ship tacked back and forth, masts and rigging creaking and groaning and the sailors cursing at the extra work. As the sky began to turn red, they gave Blade the largest meal he'd ever eaten on board-meat, a huge bowl of porridge, bread with oil and spices, even some dried fruit. He couldn't help thinking of «the condemned man's last meal,» but in spite of this he fell asleep more easily than he'd expected.

Blade awoke with another painful headache, a dry mouth, salt-caked lips, and a stomach rumbling with hunger and quivering with nausea. He felt as if he'd been on a truly awesome binge and was now paying the price in the form of an equally impressive hangover.

Unfortunately, there was gritty sand and small pebbles under him, a hot sun blazing on his bare skin, and a salt-scented wind blowing across his body. Not far off sea birds were crying, and waves rolled in on a beach.

Blade turned his head so that he wouldn't be dazzled by the sun, then opened his eyes. Even then he couldn't see anything for a while. Finally he saw that he was lying at the foot of a sand dune on the narrow gravel and sand beach between the dune and the water. Small waves splashed and died on the sand twenty yards away.

The sand dune cut off Blade's view toward the land, but to seaward he could make out a line of white as waves broke over a half-submerged reef. From the position of the sun, it was midmorning, a few hours before noon.

He'd been drugged at dinner, then dumped on Shell Island during the night. At least he couldn't see any reason to believe he wasn't on Shell Island, and he was certain he'd been drugged. He sat up, tried to stand, and found that his legs wouldn't stay under him. The movement made his stomach rebel, and up came the remnants of last night's dinner.

Now his stomach felt better, though not his head. Gradually the headache also faded, and the second time he tried to stand he found he could do it. He still decided to stay where he was for a little longer. The prisoners of Shell Island were often hostile to newcomers until they'd proved themselves in a few fights. Blade knew he might have to fight the moment he left the shelter of the dune, couldn't afford to lose, and wanted to be completely fit.

He stretched out on a patch of the softest sand he could find in the shade of the dune and tried to relax and breathe deeply. Now he found himself wondering why he'd been dumped here, on an isolated beach of Shell Island. Normally prisoners for the island were taken to a fort on the southern tip and registered before they were turned loose. The Goharans were advanced enough to have invented bureaucracy and bureaucrats who insisted on keeping useless statistics.

It occurred to Blade that he might be more useful to Kloret if he wasn't registered. If nobody except his fellow prisoners, who wouldn't know who he was, knew that he was on Shell Island, this reduced the chances of any of his friends or any of Kloret's enemies tracing him. Of course the ship's crew might be a link between Gohar and Shell Island, so those sailors were probably doomed. If ever there was a believer in the rule «Dead men tell no tales,» it was Kloret.

Blade wondered how Kloret would manage to dispose of the sailors, but found it hard to concentrate. The sun was getting warmer, the fresh air after days in the musty hold was delicious, and the sand under him was softer than the dirty planks. He also hadn't got all the drug out of his system.

He looked at the sand dune, and it seemed to blur and waver. It probably would hide him for another few hours of sleep. Even if it didn't, he was in no shape to fight. Blade's ferocious survival instincts could recognize an impossible proposition when they saw one.

He shifted position until he was almost comfortable, and was asleep almost at once.

He woke up with a bare foot prodding him gently but persistently in the ribs. He found that most of the drug was out of his system and all his senses were normal again. He was trying to decide whether to play sick or show signs of life, when from somewhere above him a voice spoke.

«Ullo, ullo, man from the Sea. What do you here?»

The voice was a woman's, rich and deep, with an accent Blade recognized as Mythoran. He sat up and found himself staring at a pair of magnificent breasts, supported but hardly concealed by a narrow band of rawhide. He stood up and stepped back, to survey the owner of the breasts from head to foot.

For a Goharan woman, she was almost a giant-nearly six feet tall, and big-boned as well. She'd been eating well enough not to lose her figure, but there wasn't any fat on her. There was plenty of muscle, though, smooth and supple under a brown skin further darkened by sun and wind and soot. Her face was long, with high cheekbones, and framed in sun-bleached light brown hair. She wore a wider strip of rawhide around her waist, and sandals of what looked like snakeskin.

She looked more like a queen than Elyana ever would.

Then Blade noticed that the regal beauty was marred by an ear with a piece gouged out and a broken nose. There was also a faint scar along the left side of her chin, and an ugly one across her right shoulder and down onto the breast. On her right thigh was a broad patch of puckered scar tissue. The little finger on her left hand was missing the last two joints-Blade stopped cataloguing her injuries when he realized she saw what he was doing.

«What does the other fellow look like?» he asked, smiling.

«That long tale, not for telling here,» said the woman, unsmiling. «Can you walk with me?»

«Yes.»

«Good.» She pulled a sharpened length of bone out of her waistband, and kept it in her hand as she stepped back to stand behind Blade. «We go now.»

Blade found that he could walk, but still wasn't quite ready to think of running. The long-legged lady behind him wouldn't have much trouble catching him. That drug must have been powerful!

He tried to make polite conversation as they tramped across the sand dunes, without success. He did find that the battered Amazon's name was Rhodina, and told her his name. That was all. Perhaps Rhodina wasn't unfriendly, but she was certainly not giving anything away.

They covered nearly a mile across the dunes without getting out of sight or smell of the sea. Finally they came to a rough shelter of driftwood tied together with rawhide and covered with seaweed. Rhodina told Blade to sit outside until she called him, then pulled aside a rawhide curtain at the entrance and vanished inside.

For a little while Blade was glad to sit and rest. Then he decided to disobey Rhodina. If they were going to be together for more than a few hours, she was going to have to trust him more than this, and he was going to have to get a weapon. Anything else would be foolish. If she didn't trust him, he could always take a weapon and clothing and move on. He got up, went to the shelter's entrance, and pushed his way in through the curtain.

He caught Rhodina at a disadvantage. She was pushing her waistband down her legs to step out of it, leaving herself naked. All she could do for a moment was scream: «Blade! Get out of here!»

Then she grabbed for her bone knife. Blade found himself within reach of a better weapon-a foot-long chunk of wood set with shark's teeth. He snatched it up, met Rhodina head-on, and cracked her across the knife hand with the back of his weapon while gripping her other wrist. She dropped her knife, and tried to punch Blade in the groin. He turned enough to ride the blow without losing his grip on her wrist. Then he used his judo to throw her. She went down with a crash, knocking out one support of the roof and bringing part of it down on her. She lay there, spitting out oaths and seaweed.

Blade picked up Rhodina's knife, held it by the point, and handed it back to her. «Here. If you want to stick it into me, that's one thing. If you want to feed me like the Emperor and take me to your bed, that's another thing. But you'd better decide if you want to trust me or not.»

He knelt down, within easy striking distance, and started picking the pieces of the roof off her. He kept a watchful eye on her as he did, and noticed she made no effort to grip her knife. Her hands lay in her lap, clenched so tightly the knuckles were turning pale.

«Why didn't you-?»

«Kill you? You hadn't tried to kill me. You'd only done something annoying.»

Rhodina made a disgusted noise. «No man on this island be such a fool. They don't kill women. Use 'em.»

Blade laughed, and saw Rhodina cringe. Her lips trembled slightly. «You don't-care for-«She couldn't get the rest of the words out, but her hands moved over the scars and injuries.

Blade knelt down beside Rhodina, kissed her on the lips, then kissed the scar on her shoulder. «Rhodina, you're magnificent, beautiful, desirable-everything any man could want.» He sensed a desperate need for reassurance under the harsh manner.

«Blade…?» It was half a sigh.

He kissed her again, and realized that if he did it a third time he might not stop. He sat back and smiled. «Rhodina, I'll prove how much I desire you some other time, not now. The rest of that roof looks like it's about to come down on us even without any help.»

Rhodina sat up and shook her head, then combed the last of the seaweed out of her hair with her fingers. «Good, Blade. I think you're a right sort of man. Don't hope to bed me, though. I-he should be back in a few days. It's that he's not back now, has me all-confused, frightened, what you call it. He was-is-first man I could trust. Always before, men…» She shrugged, as if there was nothing more she needed to say.

So Rhodina's lover was missing, and this had affected her judgment. A perfectly reasonable explanation, but: «If you'd said this before, Rhodina-«He broke off as her face set in an expression of fierce pride. This woman wouldn't admit fear or loss unless you put her on the rack-or showed some human sympathy for her.

«Anyway,» Blade continued, «If you want me to move on-«

«No. Stay. Need someone, until-until he comes back or I know he's dead. If he comes, he and we decide. If he doesn't, maybe you can stay?»

«Gladly.» Blade wasn't being polite. This battered, brave Amazon woman was likely to be a better friend and ally than he could expect to find anywhere else on Shell Island.

«Good.» She stood up, still naked, but now completely indifferent to it. «You're right. Time to put the roof back before anything else.»