Chapter Seven #2
“It seems you have emptied yourself,” he said while I teetered to the left, falling into a pile of pillows.
Porgo had been muttering to himself throughout, waving his arms about, his gold and silver bangles clattering loudly.
My head ached from the sound of bracelet on bracelet.
If I were able, I would cleave his damn forearms from his body and toss the noisy stubs over the side of the boat.
But I was not able. I could not even raise my head.
“I suspect you are stricken either with a bout of befouled food or the sickness of sea travel.”
“Mainlanders,” Porgo spat out. I was too weak to form a reply, but it would have been cutting, of that I was sure.
“Try to sip some tea.” Teryn cupped the back of my head to dribble some tea into my dry lips. The cool drink felt wonderful as it slid down my tender throat. I was sure I had vomited pure dragon fire, given how sore my throat was, but no, it had only been rancid cheese and fish.
“I may never eat fish again,” I groaned, rolling to my back to stare at the canvas flapping overhead.
A sour belch rolled out of me. I broke out in a cold sweat.
The tea threatened to come back up as a wave of nausea swept over me.
“You must be disappointed in your choice of protector. Spot the kitten would be a more dangerous guardian than I right now.”
“You are a fine guardian.” He held up the cup once more, the rim smooth and cool where it touched my lower lip.
I drank lightly, unsure of my heaving gut.
“I could not have chosen better. Lie down now. Close your eyes. Rest. We have a few hours more to go, then we will find a shallow lagoon in the small Gulf of Renedith. There we will hide while Porgo rests and you recuperate.”
That sounded terrible. There were small bands of scavengers that roamed the edges of the Renedith coast. They scavenged wreckages and the like and were known for their brutality when finding shipwrecked survivors.
The Renedith guard had battled with them for centuries, but they were hard to bring to heel as they seemingly arrived like vultures when a ship ran ashore and swam off when they had pilfered what they wished.
Many along the coast whispered that they were half-elf and half-fish…
A wave of sickness hit me once more. Thankfully, there was naught left inside of me to bring up, so I retched aggressively. “Mighty Ihdos, I swear on the feet of your most…sacred toes I shall never…touch goat or fish cheese again.”
Teryn moved closer. The smell of sand sage arriving on the wind to push away the stink of sickness.
He placed a cool, wet cloth on my brow. I sighed.
“If my son were here, he would know just what herbs to grind or brew to ease your discomfort. Sadly, my skills are not of the healing variety, but we will do what we can to ease your malady. Try to rest, Pasil.”
The touch of that chilled cloth and the sound of his voice eased me into an exhausted slumber filled with fever dreams. Crabs feasting on my face as I lay dying in the sand…
being pulled into the sea by a creature with a gaping maw of a mouth…
the howl of a yeti losing its hand and the snow around us speckled with rich, red blood…
Coming awake, I moved to my side, eyes glued shut with unshed tears, the foulness of sickness on my tongue.
I lay still, the warmth of the sun falling on the canopy.
The sound of ocean birds, the lap of the sea on the wooden sides of the ship, and the rousing snore of a man a few feet away greeted me.
Rubbing at my gummy eyes, I eased myself up to one arm, resting on my left hip, and found that my malady was much improved.
The rocking of the ship, gentle now, was still making my gut sway, but not so badly.
Tentatively, I moved to sit on my backside, pleased to see that Teryn had curled up behind me.
I ran a hand over his hip as he slept. One leg was bared, his feet free of sandals.
The gold charms lay on his shoulder in the crease where his arm met his neck.
I longed to place my lips on that spot, but my mouth was foul.
Slowly getting to my feet, fatigue feeling like a deadweight around my neck, I made my way to the rail to look out at a tiny cove.
Soft white sands met the Silvura. The chirps of the tawny pipers as they walked along the beach on thin, long legs rose up to meet me.
Hand shielding my eyes, I looked skyward.
The moon sisters were gone. The sun rested overhead, so it was perhaps half day or a bit later.
There were no signs of people near the water’s edge.
But far in the distance, one could hear the bells of a small temple pealing.
So yes, close to midday. A barrel of fresh water sat along the rail.
I moved to it then dipped a ladleful, drinking long and deep.
The water hit my gut with a splash, touching off a shuddering fit that made me sweat slightly.
My gut was a mess still, obviously, but the water had stayed down.
So far. Sipping from the ladle, I looked out over the sea. Porgo snorted loudly in his sleep.
The sea seemed peaceful. I dumped some water over my head, shook like a hound, and then drank more, and then more, until my stomach was full.
The sun was warm on my head. I tipped my face up to let it bathe my cheeks.
If I could summon the strength, I would drop over the side to let my feet touch dry land.
It would be a test of sorts to see if my infirmity came from the barracks food or the lurching of the ocean.
Deep down, I prayed it would be the food, for we had a long sea journey to make, and I could not do my job if I were vomiting all over myself like a newborn.
With a clearer mind—somewhat—even though a lingering ache behind my eyes persisted, I calculated we were anchored in a small inlet.
There were numerous white and black hydrawood trees to shelter us from the sun and prying eyes.
Porgo had done a fine job of sailing us into the narrow tidewater backwash.
A splash off the front of the ship grabbed my attention.
Keeping a hand on the rail, for my legs were not seaworthy—or even landworthy, I suspected—I made my way to the prow of the ship.
Ripples cascaded outward from where a large fish had surfaced.
Rubbing my chest to help with the burn left over from being ill, I studied the clear blue water.
Small schools of lemon darts streaked by.
They were bright yellow fish with small black dots on their fins.
A few longer fish, ones that I did not know by sight, followed the lemon darts.
Perhaps hunting. Looking down made my head ache, so I righted, padded over to the other side, and scanned the area for land.
A small break in the tangled roots of the hydrawood trees revealed a short stretch of beach.
The shore was coated with shells and dead seaweed, but it was land.
Peeling off my black outfit until I stood in my small clothes, I eased over the side of the ship into the ocean.
The waves here were subtle crests, barely enough to notice as I swam along toward the sand, eager to find a tiny oasis of solid ground.
The distance was short, thankfully, as my skills at keeping afloat were low.
One did not spend much time swimming when one grew up in the western skids.
The only water was that which flowed along the worn cobblestone streets.
Not exactly an ideal place to play, although we did when the sun was hot.
How any of us survived to adulthood was a miracle indeed.
Splashing about now in the runoff of a butcher shop, the rainwater thick with offal, made me wince.
I found solid footing quickly—soft, warm sand I could bury my toes into. Head throbbing a low beat, stomach tender, legs still wobbly as a newborn doeling, I pushed out of the water and dropped to my knees in the sand, just along the shore.
“Ihdos, thank you,” I whispered skyward.
There was no sun here, the thick fronds of the hydrawood blocking out the rays.
Feeling no motion under me, I cracked a smile, fell to my stomach, and lay there, arms akimbo, cheek in the sand.
Oh, the glory of land. The sea was not my calling, nor my mistress, nor even my friend.
The Silvura was an evil entity hellbent on watching me die a slow, miserable death.
My eyes drifted shut as I lay there mentally cursing the ocean and all who inhabited it.
Perhaps not the lemon darts, for they were fetching fish, but all others that called the sea their home were unkind.
How long I slept there on the warm sands, I had no clue.
A skittering sensation on my bare foot pulled me from a dreamless slumber.
Kicking out, I moved to my side, licked my lips, and got a mouthful of sand.
Spitting the tiny granules out, something tickled the sole of my foot.
I booted at whatever it was. A sound OOF!
followed by a splash brought me to full wakefulness.
Scurrying to my knees, I saw Teryn splashing about in the lagoon.
I chuckled at him as he righted himself and paddled his arms gently in the brackish water, a playful smirk pulling at his lips.
“That is what one deserves when one tickles the foot of the bronze warrior. A firm kick to the chest and a dunking in the sea,” he called out and moved to his back to float atop the tranquil surges of the sea. He was naked, his soft cock and heavy balls on display for all the birds above us to see.