I accidently added a pay subscription to my last post–this one Chapter 10. NO! This is free for all.
By Jane Carver
For a while, Gambrel observed the fleet then strolled down the deck. Those who greeted him got a curt nod in return. He scanned each group and picked out those he thought might rebel against authority, those who might submit without a fight. Among the men were some like Jacon, men who preferred peace but would fight if necessary and not quibble. Such men he wanted by his side even if he didn’t understand their noble logic.
A few on deck appeared ill, as if the motion of the ship disagreed with them. Better get used to it. The solid feel of a planet beneath one’s feet would not come again for months.
When he first saw the Fenix, he didn’t think it this large. But what did he know about sailing ships? Not much, but he’d learn before he left. His thoughts refused to dwell on leaving Vangee, so he wandered the lower deck.
At the far end of the deck, he found a corner, quiet, and dim. He propped his shoulder against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared into space. Like any fighting man, he took his rest where he could. Soon his chin fell, and a small thundering snore rattled his body.
Some extra sense woke him. His eyes opened to slits, he scanned the deck. No one paid attention to him. Someone watched him. A chill ran up his back. He took a slow deep breath in an attempt to smell anything unusual. He detected nothing different. The sensation niggled at him, but with no evidence of a watcher, he pushed the idea to the back of his mind. His eyelids slid closed again, and he settled his shoulder more comfortably against the hard wall.
Some sound, a motion, something brought him awake though he never moved. Never let your enemy know you are aware of him. Again, he scanned the area around him. Turning his head slightly so he could see the deck above, he still found no one’s attention focused on him.
Seldom did his sense of warning betray him. A watcher stood close by. Just then, a sound near his boots alerted him. Without being obvious, his gaze swept the floor. With a small chuckle and the beginning of a smile, Gambrel relaxed.
A tiny one stood close to his leg. Her head rested back on her shoulders, the better to look up his length. One digit lay secure deep in her mouth. Large dark eyes in a face of pale peach-colored skin studied him with an intensity he saw only in adults. A mass of wavy brilliant orange locks fell to her knees. Hide britches encased her chubby legs, and a long faded brown shirt covered her from shoulder to thigh.
Her gaze amused him. So serious yet unafraid she appeared. Rather than engage the child in conversation, he decided to ignore her. He closed his eyes again and took a deep cleansing breath.
It didn’t work.
He sensed her presence though she said nothing. Her gaze seemed to penetrate his closed eyelids. With a sigh, he knew he would have to send the girl on her way.
“Go to your mother, little one.” His voice, one used to scare the intestinal masses out of many an evil one, elicited no response from her. When she didn’t move, he tried again.
“Go away.” A wave of his hand gestured her back to the women standing not far away. The child refused to leave his side.
A fissure of concern arose in him. What was he to do? His sleep vanished the minute he saw her so close. If he left, would she follow him? Some mother might get upset thinking he might hurt her. Nothing could be further from the truth, but he didn’t want a fight to prove it.
Ignore her. She’d go away, grow tired of waiting for a response he didn’t plan to give. With exaggerated motions, he snapped his eyes closed, firmly tucked each hand under his armpits, and let his head fall with a thunk on to his chest. He even crossed his legs at the ankles though he was careful not to hit the little one.
This time he felt no discomfort. The child must have moved away. A second’s worth of regret touched him then vanished. Years ago, so many that time misted the memory, a child had tugged at his boots.
Bury the thought! Forget it.
As he settled, a small body wrap around his boot. One thin arm clung as she rested against the smooth hide. Peering over his arms, he smiled this time as the girl propped her body next to his, using his leg for a resting post. One digit still hid in her wet mouth. She even crossed her ankles like him.
The child must go, return to shelter. To be near him wasn’t always the safest place, and he knew it. Slowly he straightened. She clung tenaciously to his leg.
Only when he took one step away did she let him go. Again, she tilted her head far back. Whatever she thought, she finally released her soaked digit and put both hands on her hips. Furrows appeared in her forehead above brows dipped in frustration. Her mouth pursed into a thin line.
No grown woman could look so put out. Gambrel actually chuckled at the indignant stance of this woman-child. To see what she would do, he put his own hands on his hips, imitating her. The next moment stretched long and silent as the staring contest continued.
The child relented first with a delighted crow of laughter and a squeal. With one word, Dara, she stretched up her arms, a clear sign she wanted him to pick her up.
What the fick? He took another step back and frowned. What did she mean? Did she want to be held? By him?
He wasn’t holding anyone—man, woman or child!
The child giggled again and repeated her invitation, reaching for him, even standing on her toes. Dara, she said though he wasn’t sure what the word meant. When he came no closer, she dropped her arms, but did not leave. Using those feminine wiles that would win her a mate one day, she pouted and ducked her head. But she cut those dark sparking eyes up and caught his gaze. Like some spirit being, she held his glance until he knew he would give in.
His instincts rebelling all the way, Gambrel dropped to one knee. She was tinier than he first thought. However, her chunky body shaped the promise of delicate fingers, slim arms, and long legs some day.
For a minute, they stared at each other. Her fiery locks tossed over one shoulder, she tilted her head to one side as if questioning his motives for ignoring her. With a coquettish lift of one eyebrow, she grinned at him. When he smiled back, she threw herself into his arms.
Only quick reflexes let him catch the miniature body. His arms wrapped up her tiny frame, and he inhaled a deep breath of baby smell. While memories washed over him, she buried her face in the curve of his shoulder, locked her arms around his thick neck, and snuggled as if she found a long-lost home. With a sigh of contentment, she repeated, Dara.
Now what to do? She clung like an Amburian cankle. When he stood, she swung her short legs as far around him as possible but her hold lacked security. He tucked his arm under her rear and patted her back in assurance. One thump and he remembered to touch cautiously. Small bones broke easily.
As he left the corner where he had sheltered for most of the afternoon, the wind caught his black hair and tangled his tresses with her orange ones. For a moment, they stood in a virtual whirlwind. She lifted her head from his shoulder and laughed. One pudgy hand patted his cheek. She invited him to enjoy her fun. When he didn’t smile, hers disappeared, replaced by a childish expression of concern. Again, she patted his cheek, but this time sympathy flared between them. Her own soft skin against his weather roughened cheek, she cuddled for a second then kissed him.
“Sire?” A woman stood to one side of Gambrel. She resembled the girl enough to be her mother. “I see my daughter has captured another heart. She’s very good at that.”
“Dara? What are you doing, my sweet?” The woman brushed the orange hair to one side to reveal a brilliant but impish smile. Dara seemed perfectly content to stay in Gambrel’s arms. “I am Effie, Dara’s mother. This little one faded away from me. She’s good at that too, I’m afraid. Watching her aboard ship will be a challenge.”
The woman held out her arms. Dara didn’t fight her mother’s invitation, but she gave Gambrel an inquiring glance first. He sensed she asked a question. Not knowing what else to do, he slid the child into Effie’s embrace. He suffered an unexpected emptiness when she left.
Mother and daughter strolled away, neither apparently concerned he might hurt them. Effie turned and gave him a smile. A giggle of delight and Dara waved from her mother’s arms.
Once again, he remembered he would not let anyone get close to him. He returned to his corner. Something dear had been torn from his arms though. Such feelings of loss ruffled his ire. He grumbled under his breath, impatient with himself and the world.
* * * *
The light in space would fade soon. The dying sun the Ancadians sought to escape lit what should be a night sky. Gambrel stood at ease in front of the large windows of his cabin. The hour was late, but sleep would come only when he blocked the light.
Even as he thought of welcoming darkness, the window tint changed, filling in until the light faded, and the cabin grew dark. He wished for a small light to aid in finding his way to bed. Conjured by his wishes, a small glow appeared across the room. His weary sigh filled the silence. How did these things work? He needed to learn more about this ship as soon as possible.
A light tap on the door almost escaped his notice, but being a fighting man, he heard what others normally missed. His life often depended on such. A curt word Come brought in…Vangee.
She startled him, coming in silently, carrying a plate and a cup. She placed the meal on the table.
“You did not eat. Food waited below decks for all. I suppose no one told you. That is my fault. It is my duty to make you aware of everything.” Her words, coming from the depths of her hood, sounded apologetic and a bit tired.
“No need to express regret, lady. I’ll survive.” He turned away from her to gaze at the darkened windows. He clasped his hands behind his back and took a broad stance in deference to the slight sway of the ship as it sailed through the night.
“Yes, ‘Brel, you will survive, but you might do so better if you eat while this is hot.”
Reluctant to do so, he turned toward the voice he craved. She must not be here alone with him. Others would get the wrong impression. The lady’s reputation must be safeguarded.
Vangee stood by the table, her cloak over a high-backed chair. Her gray outfit hugged every lovely curve of her woman’s lush body. His mouth lost its water, dried up to dust. Unable to help himself, he swallowed nosily.
“Come. Sit and eat. You must have questions. After you finish, we shall go below deck, and I will introduce you to some of our fellow passengers. The ship’s carpenters will have an opportunity to construct a larger bed for you.” She glanced toward the built-in bed then to the smaller one against the wall. No way would his bulk fit either.
“No need. I can sleep on the floor.” He stood beyond the table, hoping his body would not break into a sweat of longing, being so near her.
She laughed, a delicate sound.
His body tightened, and his eyes dimmed, his desire so great. His heart thudded heavily, and his thick fingers dug into the chair’s back. He needed air but refused to show himself so weak. He longed to suck in great draughts of her perfume. He tried to meet her gaze but failed.
“Gambrel Sarjean, we will be aboard ship for many moon-times. No one sleeps on the floor when a bit of carpentry will fix the problem. Sit.” With a wave of her hand, she indicated the chair he held on to for security. She pulled out hers and sat.
No choice left, he took the seat opposite her. When he did not reach for the food, she pushed it toward him. “Eat” her only instruction. His eyes on his plate, he ate enough to satisfy then pushed the remains away. He drained the cup of what tasted like fine ale.
“You have questions?” Vangee sat with folded hands.
For one second, Gambrel stared at her boldly. His gaze traveled from the tip of her wildly curled purple hair down to her face with its lustrous glow. A sliver of feral yellow in her dark eyes reminded him of the great felines on Kandirous. Broad shoulders and impressive lush breasts begged for the caress of his hands, hardened his lower body, sent it raging. Glad he was to be sitting.
Like a wind that blows in courage then sucks it out, he dropped his eyes and played with the crumb at the table’s edge. “I have questions.” Then he wondered what he would ask. His mind emptied like a broken wine cask, holding no thoughts but of the woman across the table from him.
“Yes?” A soft prompt.
“Why do the windows turn dark by themselves?” By the gods of the universe! Was there nothing better to ask? He almost groaned over his own stupidity.
“Sensors pick up thoughts. Your mind controls the glow and glaston. Did you not notice the smaller glow brighten when the room grew dark? When you wished for light?”
He nodded. That’s exactly what happened.
“What about food, drink? Do you know all the souls aboard? How long before we make landfall?” He rattled off those questions and realized he had more.
“Replicators create any food you want. Most will be Ancadian. Other beings on board are not of our world. The same machines can produce what they desire. No, I am not acquainted with all aboard so we will meet them together.” She dropped her gaze for a minute and nervously laid her hands on the table. “I do not enjoy meeting strangers. They tend to…” She faltered. “They tend to grow nervous around me. All acknowledge my presence. Few speak voluntarily. None approach willingly.”
She described his normal life. No one interacted with him unless a matter of life or death. But all accepted his presence whether wanted or not.
Vangee answered his other questions. “How long before we stop at a port? I don’t know. Several moon-times, I suspect. We will consult Captain Merlo. We must make the best of our situation while ship-bound.”
“Lady?” His next question stuck in a suddenly dry throat. He wanted an answer but feared the knowledge at the same time. Again, he swallowed, but the words remained locked in his mind. To alleviate the tightness in his chest, he stood and wandered across to the darkened windows.
“Yes, ‘Brel?”
“Lady? What is my position among these people?” He kept his back turned. Refused to admit how much her answer meant.
“Sire?” She sounded confused.
“Who am I aboard the Fenix?”
“You are my friend and fellow passenger. You are entitled to the spot my father left vacant. Whatever we get or give passes the same for you.” She explained carefully as if to a child.
“I am not Ancadian. I only met you and your father the night before this fleet sailed. How does that entitle me to anything?” His growl sounded loud in the small cabin.
Vangee tried to alleviate his concern. She moved closer but did not touch him. “I invited you to sail with us. That is as it should be. Make no matter of it. If you are unhappy, you may depart the ship when next we dock.” Forlorn-sounding words.
“You misunderstand. I am not dissatisfied, only wondering at my luck. No one does favors for me without expecting something in return. That is the way of my life.” He glanced over his shoulder.
Vangee sat wringing her hands as if upset.
Heaving a windy sigh, he yearned to still her nervous hands, but refused to touch her. “Forgive me for causing you concern. I am but a rough wanderer earning a living by his strength and wits, not used to gentle company.” He bowed slightly to show he was aware of her distress and sorry to be the cause.
She caught his gaze and held it. Whatever she read on his face eased her worries.
His confidence as an intimidating enforcer, however, dissolved into the awkwardness of a large man in a small room with a desirable woman. He cleared his throat and nodded toward the door. Meeting others did not appeal to him, but an overwhelming urge to leave this enclosed place where Vangee tempted him forced him to invite her out. “Lady, you said men must work here before I can rest. Perhaps we should go and let them at it.” With controlled movements, he pulled on the worn black coat. He adjusted it for the empty holsters at his side, thinking he would pack them away until needed again.
Both acted like strangers when his instincts said they could be more.
At the top of the narrow stairs, Vangee pulled her hood over her head. Two men carrying tool boxes headed toward the cabin they left. She moved to Gambrel’s side and heaved a sigh.
“They respect you. Have no fear of that.” He sought to ease her discomfort at meeting so many. For himself, he had no wish to meet his fellow passengers but had no choice. They strolled side-by-side, a tall square man with broad shoulders and long legs and a child-like woman.
“’Brel?”
“Yes, lady?”
“Where do you come from?” Her question startled him.
“Everywhere and nowhere in particular.” His huge shoulders shrugged in a gesture as old as time, meaning he wasn’t going to say more.
“Were you happy as you traveled to your nowhere?” She teased him.
“Happiness. Sadness. Neither have a place in my life.” He held the hatch open. In the light from below, he acknowledged the sadness in her eyes.
A Story Begins Now 