By Jane Carver
The gods apparently didn’t hear him. A fist pounded at the panel of their cabin door. An authoritative voice rang out, “Mistress Windrum, Captain Merlo needs you immediately. I will accompany you.”
Silence fell within the room. Would murder right now be justified, Gambrel wondered? Caught in this situation, his body lay in a state of readiness not soon to be eased, it appeared.
He had forgotten the circumstances under which they sailed. The lives of all aboard ship and those of the fleet might be in danger, and Merlo wanted Vangee for some reason. Though his mind accepted the truth, his body refused to acknowledge the end of their tryst.
The man in the passageway pounded again. “Mistress Windrum, you are needed now.”
“’Brel, I must go.” To belie her hasty words, she kissed his rump and ran her tongue along the base of his spine. Bumps of anticipation rose over his skin. One hand fondled the sweet curve of his ass. She stretched out until she lay on her back at his side.
Did she recognize the raw need in his gaze? Evidently, she did. She pressed a quick but hot kiss on his stubborn lips. “This is not over, Gambrel Sarjean.” She whirled around until her feet thumped the floor. But before she left his bed, she gave him one of Dara’s coquettish flirts. “I promise. This is not over.”
“I am coming.” Her words rang out to the man in the corridor, sounding like the every day Vangee. Not like a woman who almost seduced Gambrel in his own bed.
“Rest while I see what the captain needs. Do you think you can do that?” Her voice teased him, her words saucy and tempting.
Wicked woman! Of course he could not rest properly. She had filled his body with need and now planned on leaving. His soul demanded completion, but Gambrel knew in the sensible part of his mind that duty called.
“I will lay here, woman, but rest is not possible.” His words came out in a fierce growl intended to frighten her.
Instead, she giggled. She brushed his hair to one side and whispered softly. “I know nothing of loving, and yet my body vibrates. Rest? I know I could not rest either. I shall hurry.”
Her gray clock wrapped around her and the hood concealing her face, Vangee left. The high his body’s need eventually drained away. Gambrel waited but not graciously.
* * * *
Gambrel became aware that Vangee returned to the cabin because she woke him. Her restless pacing sent her careening into a chair. She came back from her meeting in a far different mood than when she left.
When she acted so agitated, he grew concerned. “What did the captain want?” Rest had stiffened muscles weakened by injury. He found it difficult to watch her while lying on his stomach.
She paced, lost in her own thoughts, heedless of his question.
Apprehension growing, Gambrel swiveled until he sat at the edge of the bed, pain riding him hard. The cover lay loosely over his lap. The medicine across his back no longer soothed because the long swath of torn skin again tortured him. Vangee had been gone a long time.
“What is the matter?” He pulled himself straighter, ready to help if needed though his body protested every movement.
“The fleet is in panic. Rather, the souls aboard are. Riots have broken out. Many of the ships’ crews have been through rock showers. Land passengers from Ancade have not. They fear…with good reason. Nevertheless, their terror threatens the fleet’s safety. Danger comes from within the ships as well as out. As fleet commander, Captain Merlo asked for my help.”
When Gambrel pulled his brows together in a frown, she reminded him of a fact he conveniently forgot. “Do you not remember what I am? A Radiant, ‘Brel. Remember? I project and control emotions.”
“Why does the captain want you?” When he tried to stand, she waved him down then sat beside him. Her woebegone expression stressed him.
“Captain Merlo expects me to calm the fleet. Project tranquility and hope.” She wrung her hands, one over the other in repetitive moves that caught Gambrel’s attention.
“So? You can do this. Can’t you?”
“I can. Yes, but…” Her words trailed off.
“There’s a problem?”
She nodded and twisted her hands harder. He seized them in one of his and held them pressed to the bed.
“Tell me.” His strength was limited at the moment, but he would help if possible. Meanwhile his back and rear burned. He slumped in discomfort.
“Lie down. You have been hurt badly, and won’t get over it soon. Rest.” She tried to push him on to the bed, but he resisted.
“Something’s wrong. Tell me why Merlo’s request distresses you so.”
“I just can’t.” Her face set in a stubborn grimace, she turned her back to him.
“You can’t? Or you won’t?” Her attitude surprised then infuriated him. She, of all people, held life most valuable. Why did she refuse to help those in panic? When she didn’t answer, he slid his hand onto her thigh. Using subtle pressure, he squeezed, seeking her attention.
Finally, she relented. “All right. I won’t project.” She jumped off his bed and ran across the cabin to her own bunk where she flung herself down and began to cry.
Her actions surprised Gambrel so much his jaw dropped. Like an aged one with brittle bones and aching limbs, he struggled off the bed, the sheet held in one massive fist. Across the floor he shuffled until he stood next to her bunk. His body pressed against the wall, he worked his way through what he had learned since joining the fleet.
“You project emotions. I’ve seen this. Been part of it. Your aura seems limited. Big enough for both of us, if I recall from that fight on Ancade when we met. Yet you control crowds. Merlo told me so. Now the captain wants you to communicate peace and calm to a fleet of five hundred ships?” Thoughts tumbled through his mind. The mechanics of how she did what she did escaped him.
“How do you send emotion to and control a crowd, like those on a single ship or perhaps in a meeting on Ancade?” He let the question hang. For a minute, he feared she would not answer.
While he waited, he smelled her fear. A sharp bitter stench. Here in this room where she should feel safest, she was afraid? Of what she did naturally?
She rolled on to her back, and he saw her eyes. Those golden spots inside the gray held such sorrow he now feared her answer.
“When I am by myself or with one other like you, I draw power from myself. When I control a large group, I draw power from those around me. With so many, most feel tired, but remain unharmed. Definitely not aware of what I do. The minute amount of power I use amplifies my own. Do you understand?” A tear slipped down her cheek to soak into her hair. Her explanation apparently did nothing to calm her fears. Clinched muscles and her head tossed side to side reflected her mounting tension.
He understood the mechanics of her ability now. And her fear. “If you project to the fleet at such a distance, you will require many. The harm will increase?” Her nod confirmed his guess.
He shifted his stance, his back throbbing. The cover rode low on his hips, his fistful of cloth at his manhood. He should dress, but other things took priority over modesty.
“Have you ever tried such a long projecting before?”
Vangee shook her head. She looked at him with something akin to hope.
“If someone big and strong helped, could you reach the fleet? At least a greater portion?” Gambrel offered his body and soul, knowing he might die.
In an instant she realized what he did. Off the bed she shot, like one of the fire rocks still bombarding the ship. Their noisy rattle and bang provided the background to an intense argument.
“I will not endanger your life for this.” She pounded both fists against his chest, her words intimate, raw, desperate. “They do not need my help to survive.” Again, she hit him, fighting both him and his offer. Tears coursed down her cheeks. “Your injuries… Your strength is not …” Her words trailed off. “What if you die?”
He held her away. She wasn’t hurting him, merely bruising her hands against his chest muscles. He allowed her a moment of rage before shaking her—hard.
“Listen to me. You can prevent these souls from harming themselves and others. If Pessios, Effie or Dara were out there—as indeed they are—would you hesitate? No! By the gods, you can do this. We can do this. You project, and I will fuel your power.” He left the next thought unspoken—he would assist as long as possible.
“No! I will not do this!” She whirled away, her eyes wide like a frightened animal trapped in a small space. When her frantic pacing brought her close to Gambrel again, he grabbed and held her in his embrace with one stout arm, fully against his body.
“Listen to me, woman,” he hissed. “We have seen happier times aboard this ship. Song and laughter rode the tides as surely as we did. That time is past, and these souls have lost the memory. Give them peace. Hope.”
When she wiggled and shook her head, her tears falling in messy drops on his chest, he jerked her hard. “I love you. With every fiber of my heart, body, and soul. We almost had it all not long ago, and you promised me an ending.” He pulled her closer yet, hurting her even as he proclaimed his love. “You promised.”
His embrace eased a bit. “But if you do not help those in need, you are not the woman I think you are. The woman I love. And,” he paused for effect, “you are not the woman you know yourself to be. You would never get over the damage done this day if you do not act—and soon.”
He eased her feet to the worn planks. “You project, and I will help. The gods of the universe set this before us.” He pushed her away. She stood on her own. “Will you do this?”
Frozen in place, her face told him so many things. Anger, in the heavy silence she gave him. Longing. One hand rested, fist closed, over her heart. Finally, she broke her self-imposed stillness. “I yearn for an earlier time, before our sun came to die. I mourn that cannot be, for I wish to have met you then. Loved you then.”
She spoke as if saying farewell. “You tell me that you love me. I know no love other than a daughter for a father. Your kind of love I want to learn. So many emotions, so conflicting. Soaring joy one minute, vast despair the next. I want to be consumed by the emotion a mate has for her chosen one. Love will shine through me, eat me whole, and leave nothing behind but my feelings for you. But…” Her anguish turned to humor. “I suppose this must be done first if I have any chance of keeping my promise.”
Her weak grin brightened when he pulled her into a real embrace and kissed her. Once. Hard. “We will keep that promise, sweet one.” Gambrel rested his chin on top of her head, his smile gone in the face of the reality that awaited them and the pain he suffered already. Vangee’s fear and hopelessness showed him how dangerous this undertaking was. The possibility existed one or the other—perhaps both—might not survive the projecting.
His attempt at humor prepared the stage for their task. “Perhaps I should dress more appropriately but, in honest words, my rear hurts too much to put on clothes.”
“Oh, I don’t know, ‘Brel.” She stood with hands on hips, head tilted first one way then the other. “I think the cover quite seductive.”
Her light words masked her worries, he sensed. “Come, love. Let us do what needs to be done this day.” He moved her next to his large bed. “In case I turn unmindful. I want to land on something soft.” He turned his back to the bed. “How do we proceed?”
“I will call on my power then draw from you. You will feel strange. Perhaps lose your senses. I’m not sure. I’ve never spoken to anyone I used.” She turned so that her shoulders rested against his chest. “Once before you guarded my back. Move in close, hulking one.” Her words reminded him of the first time they met when all she saw was a huge man in need of protection. She stretched out her arms and widened her stance.
As soon as her eyes closed, he matched her posture. His thicker arms surpassed her length, and his height overshadowed hers. The bed cover fell at his feet.
Vangee pulled in deep breaths, released each slowly, deliberately.
In order to aid her to the best of his ability, Gambrel imitated her. He closed his eyes and aligned his body to hers. As her back expanded and fell against his chest, her head rested against him. Her arms gravitated to his so they stood pressed firmly together. The seam of her rear cradled his manhood which now lay docile. Lust and desire had no place in their cabin at that moment.
By degrees, the very fragrance of the air around Gambrel changed. Grew sharper, like the flavor a perfume might have if it were food. Pressure bore down on him. For an instant, he swayed, light-headed, and wondered if he would go mindless. But he drew a steadying breath and let his muscles go limp. A buzzing rang somewhere. He located the annoying sound—in his mind. Was Vangee drawing on his power? His life force?
Brightness filtered through his closed eyelids. He opened them to slits then snapped both open. A glow emanated in front of him, touched him.
Vangee glowed, shimmered with radiants of power. Brilliant streaks of light flared from her. Brighter still and longer did the colored stripes grow. She drew on Gambrel’s life force, no question now. Flares of radiant luminosity expanded as she demanded more.
For a minute, his sight faded. He fought to remain in his senses while his breathing labored. Individual thumps interspersed by intermittent spaces of time became his heartbeat. Air became hotter, thicker. His skin prickled as if the moisture in it were being drawn out. As she pulled away his energy, his monstrous frame seemed to shrink and diminish.
Shallow draughts of stifling air filled his lungs only because Gambrel intentionally expanded then contracted his aching lungs. Nothing worked as usual. His back arched so rigidly that the burned flesh crinkled. Blood ran down his spine to splat on the deck in noisy drops. Even the chaotic pounding of the rock shower receded as Vangee reached for the fleet. His skin seemed to shrivel. Taunt muscles bulged so tight his body hurt.
Pain pounded between his ears, behind his eyelids. Muscles stretched to the limit of endurance, and still he supported one who literally used him to hold her upright. Did her skin burn? Did her eyes feel like they were pushed out of her head? Was she aware of an overpowering sweetness or hear the clattering of a thousand night flyers in her imagination?
Blackness threatened Gambrel. He would not—must not—fade, or she might be lost. No one knew what consequences would come of this eventide’s work. The pain that once shouted its presence no longer seemed important. When his legs grew too weak to stand, he sank to the edge of the bed. Not for the world though did he release Vangee. He grabbed her by the hips and held fast while he rested his head in the small of her back. Stay awake, he repeated over and over. Do not leave her alone.
Lungs begged for air, and his body grew numb. Though he touched Vangee, he no longer registered the sensation. For the first time in his life, Gambrel knew himself to be more than he imagined.
The cabin glowed. He thought the Radiant still sat on his lap but wasn’t sure. Sight faded then returned, teased him. A roar filled his ears so even the thud of the rock shower fell away. With little conscious awareness, Gambrel slipped from the world.
* * * *
Jacon and Captain Merlo leaned over the couple. Only the shallow movement of each chest attested to their being alive. When the two entered the cabin at morning rise, they found Gambrel flat on his back, Vangee sprawled on top of him. Even moving him to one side, turning him on his stomach, and gently pulling off the bed covers stuck to the dried blood of his back did not wake the man. They lay Vangee next to him.
Modesty and convention were long past, Captain Merlo pointed out, when they left the pair sleeping side by side. Enormous power had surged from both. Reports indicated all was well throughout the fleet. Did the couple simply need time to recuperate? Or would they remain in this sleep-like state forever?
“Someone must sit with them until they wake.” Sorrow lined Jacon’s face. Deep furrows crossed across his forehead. “But I have no idea when that might be.”
* * * *
Two seven-days later, Vangee told Gambrel what happened after they collapsed. She entertained him with her tale while friends came and went. Considering her tale, he knew the gods had favored them in their task.
“We finished the projecting and collapsed on your bed. Jacon and Captain Merlo found us the next morning rise. We appeared mindless though alive. From reports back to him, we calmed those who panicked.”
Merlo added more when he visited Gambrel. “By nooning of that day, the Fenix sailed out of the rock shower. By eventide, all ships cleared the phenomenon. Two vanished in fiery blasts when flamers disabled the atmospheric burble then crashed into the propulsion engines. Over two hundred souls gone. The first loss of our voyage. The last, I pray, though I know others will die along the way.”
Once clear of danger, Effie, Jacon, his wife Mirril, the grower Wangon and his wife Chiffro sat with them. Mirril sat with the pair when Vangee opened her eyes.
Vangee brushed a fall of hair off Gambrel’s forehead as she continued the story. “The first thing I saw was the back of your head, the long thick hair laying on your shoulder. Not realizing anyone was near; I curled my body against your side and lifted a handful to smell. When I sighed, someone beside the bed coughed. Diplomatically, I might add.”
She giggled. “My heart almost stopped, I was so frightened. I repeated one of your favorite bad words and embarrassed Mirril.”
Gambrel laughed, and she swatted him.
“Once I awoke, I grew concerned when you remained unmindful. I stayed with you though others checked every day. I dressed your wounds, bathed you, but did not try to feed you. I feared anything going down your throat might kill you if not swallowed properly.”
“On the fifth eventide, Pessios sat with me. You shifted in bed then tried to turn on your side. Pain prevented that, so you wiggled around into a new position. Though you never woke, your sleep seemed more natural than before.” All aboard the Fenix, with a few exceptions she pointed out, rejoiced.
“Last morning rise as the fourth bell rang, Effie visited. Dara played quietly on the bed covers next to you. Effie earlier showed her your mending back and hip and warned the tiny one not to touch. Thanks be to the gods, this time Dara ignored her mother’s warning.”
“While we talked, she crawled over you until she sat by your arm—the one cocked up before your face. She wound up sitting astride your upper arm, one set of foot digits near your nose. I spotted her at that moment. Without saying anything, I caught Effie’s attention but cautioned her to silence. The child teased your nose, using her foot. She tickled then stopped. When you didn’t respond, she tried again. Several times she tapped you and all but wiggled her digits inside. I covered my mouth to keep from laughing aloud.”
“She tired of playing with you. You would not wake up, you see. On her stomach, down on your arm, she rested her chin on her crossed hands. For the longest time she must have pondered your sleepiness, I think. I supposed she wondered why you ignored her. She must have decided that you had slept long enough. First, she patted your cheek. On you slept. Finally, she hit you under your eye.”
Gambrel rubbed his cheek. “I remember coming awake with a roar. I rose up on both hands, and sent Dara flying across the bed to land against the wall. She rebounded with a shriek of delight I first took for pain. I think she was happy I awoke at last. Her short legs churned as fast as possible to me. She threw herself into my arms even though I moved not well. The child babbled like her stored tales needed to come out at one time.”
He laughed. “I wasn’t awake well before being bombarded by one child, two women, and many questions. Long minutes passed before I made sense of what had happened.”
Dara had refused to leave and kicked up a fuss that scandalized her mother and entertained Gambrel. When he had convinced the poor woman he was awake and feeling as well as could be expected, Effie had departed to spread the news of his recovery. Dara remained. Entrenched in the curve of Gambrel’s arm, she didn’t seem to mind when he ignored her. She chattered though he seldom answered. All was as it once was.
Amazed by her tale, he reached for Vangee’s hand and laid it beside him on the bed. She knelt next to him. One hand ran through his hair, turn after turn. Both locked gazes, happy to be awake and in their proper senses.
By early eventide, Gambrel knew the full story. Dara fell asleep next to him. Effie took her to bed while friends welcomed him back from the other side.
***What do you think of Vangee and Gambrel so far? –J Carver
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