Swordsmen of Gor

Chapter Forty-Two I RENEW AN ACQUAINTANCE

I encircled the mighty neck of the beast with my arm, and felt the throb of blood in the throat. It lived. I kicked my way to the surface, and was thrown yards to my right by the wash of water, and went under, and came up, again, and gasped for breath, half blinded by the water, still clinging to that massive, furred neck, and the beast’s head was then, too, out of the water and I heard an explosive exhalation of air, and then I felt through the fur, the expansion of the throat, as massive lungs drew in a volume of air, and there was then an expellation of air and water, choking and eruptive, and the breath was like a burst of smoke in the cold air, and then, again, the beast breathed, and it seemed to rise from the water, pulling me upward, half out of the water, and breathed again, and was then beside me, and we were cast about, together, in the waves. In swells we would be lifted twenty or thirty feet into the air and would then swirl downward into the troughs, to be lifted again and slide downward again, and again. My body began to numb in the water, and my legs and arms began to lose feeling and stiffen, and my arm slipped from the neck of the beast and I was separated from it, surely for yards, and then I felt it beneath me, rising up, and my body was gripped, firmly, gently, in those wide jaws, and lifted up, and my head, gasping, my eyes lashed with wind and salt water, was above the surface, and I breathed. It seemed somehow, in these moments, the beast had renewed its vitality, and had come alive again. I did not think I could last long in waters of this temperature. My head above the water, the jaws released me, and I clung to the fur at its neck. My fingers seemed to stiffen and freeze, and lose their strength, but they were clenched in the fur, fastened there, like cold hooks in that cold, soaked fur. We would die together. It would be madness to put a longboat into that sea. I began, insanely, to count the Ihn, curious to know how long it would be until I lost consciousness, as though it might matter. Then I fought to feel, and to continue to feel, for all the torment and misery, to continue to feel. I determined to count to another Ehn, and then another. I lost consciousness and awakened, and again lost consciousness and again awakened. It seemed there was only the eternal rushing of the water, the lifting and falling, again and again, and the cold, and the large body beside me, to which I numbly clung. I caught sight of the sky over the water. I thought it beautiful. I lost consciousness, again. I do not know how long I was in the water. I awakened, again, in the misery and violence, and heard a low, vibratory rumble beside me, that odd emanation from a large thoracic cavity. My fingers began to slip from the fur. I could cling to it no longer.

“Commander!” I heard, as though from far off.

“Kill the beast!” I heard. “It is attacking the commander!”

“No!” I cried, hoarsely. I hoped they could hear me, if they were truly there. “No! No!”

I became dimly aware of the bulwarks of a pitching galley, her mast down, her oars outboard, about me.

I reached out with my right arm, and caught an oar. It was drawn inward, toward the thole port. I felt hands reach down, over the rail, and seize me, and was drawn inboard, over the rail.

“You went overboard,” said Pertinax.

“Are you all right?” inquired Tajima.

One of the nested galleys had been launched.

“You are fortunate the officer of the watch saw you,” said a man.

“Kill the sleen,” said a mariner.

“Do not,” I said. “Bring it aboard.”

“No,” said a man, “such beasts are dangerous.”

“It is half dead,” said another.

“Leave it,” said an oarsman.

“No,” I said.

“Stop!” cried Pertinax, reaching for me.

I went over the rail, and was in the water, making my way toward the sleen, now some yards abeam.

I caught it by the neck, and drew it toward the galley.

“Oars down!” I said. “Into the water, down!”

“Comply!” cried Tajima to the nearest oarsmen.

“Four oars went under the water, and I drew the body of the sleen over two of them. “Oars up!” I said, from the water. “Bring them inboard, blades out, close to the hull.”

The body of the sleen then, though with difficulty, for its weight, was lifted from the water.

“Take it on board!” I cried.

“Surely not!” said an oarsman.

“Now!” I said.

“Comply,” said Tajima, and he himself, followed by Pertinax, entered the water beside the hull, to roll the body of the sleen closer to the hull.

“See the size of it,” said a mariner.

“It will tear your arm off!” said an oarsmen.

“Get ropes, lift,” said a mariner.

I was aided aboard, again, and Tajima and Pertinax, in the freezing water, encircled the body of the sleen with ropes, and it was lifted aboard.

“Bring blankets,” said Torgus, who had commanded the galley, adding, “for both.”

“This thing, recovered, could kill everyone on board,” said an oarsman.

“Yes,” I said, shivering, “but it will not do so.”

Tajima and Pertinax were then assisted in boarding.

“You did not fall overboard, did you?” said Pertinax.

“Perhaps not,” I said.

With one blanket I tried, as I could, to dry the fur of the sleen, and put two others about it.

“So we have here,” said Torgus, “three fools.”

“And a beast brought on board,” said an oarsman.

“Fitting for a voyage of madness,” said a mariner.

Tajima, Pertinax, and I, shuddering and miserable, then availed ourselves of blankets.

“Put about,” said Torgus. “Return to the ship.”

“I could use a cup of kal-da,” said an oarsman.

“So could we all,” said another.

“This is a sleen,” said Tajima, looking down.

A rumbling emanated from within its thoracic cavity. Then it closed its eyes, and slept.

“His name,” I said, “is Ramar.”