Barbarian Tales 1: Mistress of the Sword - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Trial by Water

It took Shailaja only a quarter of a moon to find her way from Fellem to the port city of Svend, and through the blessing of Mirana she was subjected to no further misadventures. The road was primarily downhill and the countryside became progressively more settled, a factor that made it more difficult to hunt for food. She was, however, able to stop at farms along the way to purchase food and stay the night. Although the coastal region was supposedly part of Kaltara, as she had discovered in Fellem, warriors, especially female warriors, were something of a curiosity. But she had no trouble finding farmers who would allow her to sleep in their barns and sell her what she needed to survive.

Closer to the coast the towns were more common and she was able to stay at inns. However, this was hard on the relatively small supply of coin she was hoarding. She had no idea how long she might have to make the money last, so she camped off the road where possible, keeping in mind the fact that when she reached Svend she would need money for her passage.

As a result of her previous adventures she had a adopted a rather brusque manner, and had taken to drawing her sword when approaching strangers. This frequently resulted in children and sometimes adults fleeing from her presence, but she found this preferable to being ambushed and taken prisoner as had already happened twice. Usually if she waited long enough those who fled to the shelter of their hovels would open the door to see what she wanted. When staying at inns she made sure that she was placed in a room by herself and slept against the door just in case it was opened during the night. In this way she traveled in safety for the rest of her journey.

Finally the town of Svend came into sight and with it the sea. Located on a high ridge that juts into the sea, the seaport of Svend was situated in a magnificent coastal setting and Shailaja was afforded a spectacular view of the sea and the port area. She had never seen salt water before and although she understood that seas existed, she never expected to see so vast an expanse of water. The sight was so overwhelming that she dismounted and stood beside her horse and studied it for a full turn of the glass.

Below her and stretching to the horizon was the blue of the sea, and upon it were many vessels both large and small; some at anchor; some tied up at the extensive docks; some leaving; and some arriving. She was able to make little sense of it except to understand that the port seemed very busy with myriad inhabitants going about myriad tasks.

With some trepidation she remounted her horse and headed toward the town. After her reception at Fellem she was somewhat concerned about how she might be received, as a result she sold her horse and mule at a livery stable outside the gates of the town and waited for nightfall.

Still very young and inexperienced, Shailaja worried that there might once again be an attempt made to arrest her as she entered the town. Narahan had assured her that this should not happen as no one in the town had any reason to think ill of her, but she was taking no chances. With the money for her passage in her pocket she retired with her bedroll to a small grove of trees within sight of the walls and waited until midnight. Then moving from her hiding place she crept to the walls, scaled them, and made her way into the town undetected.

It was easier than she had hoped, as she was helped by a blanket of fog so thick that she could barely see an arm's-length in front of her. Indeed, she almost walked into the wall. However, once at its base she found that the stones had numerous gaps that made climbing easy even in the dead of night and surrounded by the impenetrable gloom of the fog.

Reaching the top of the wall she descended to the streets and made her way as best she could toward the waterfront. In this endeavour she found the fog to be a handicap and it was not long before she lost her way. However, she had achieved her goal. She was in the town and all she had to do was wait until morning and then make her way to the dockside; and that is what she did.

---

Once again Mirana smiled upon her. The day dawned bright and warm and soon burned off the fog and with the help of a few townsfolk who were polite enough to direct her, she was able to make her way to the dockside.

The town of Svend proved to be quite a revelation. Except for Fellem, which hardly qualified as a major settlement, the only town Shailaja had known was Lorholm. Svend was both larger and a great deal more confusing. Where the streets of the Kaltaran capital had been wide and lined with buildings of wood just one or two stories tall, Svend was built of stone and the streets were so narrow that in most places two hand carts could not have passed one another. The buildings loomed over the street, blocking out most of the light and in some cases the upper stories almost touched.

It was also crowded with people, most of whom pushed and shoved as they made their way past one another, although Shailaja was quick to note that they were quick to step out of her path. As usual her appearance attracted stares, and not a few comments, but she ignored them and continued toward the waterfront. No one tried to stop her and she grew more confident as she moved through the town, eventually reaching the dock area. She saw a few Kaltarans as she walked, easily distinguishable by their height, but avoided contact, not wishing to draw attention to herself, and finally reached the confusion of the dockside.

To the untrained eye, and Shailaja's certainly fitted that description, a busy harbour epitomizes chaos. Dozens of men and not a few women hurried to and fro, carrying bales and crates; and pushing carts and barrows. Here and there large nets were being used to hoist cargo onto a ship or to hoist cargo off a ship. Bewildering as the streets of the town had been she had reached an area of even greater confusion. Dozens of workers scurried about the dockside loading and unloading the huge vessels docked alongside the wharf.

She had never seen a sailing vessel before, being familiar only with the small boats used upon rivers and lakes and they were both much larger and much more complex than she had ever imagined. She had never seen such a confusing maze of ropes, most of which seemed to have no use that she could fathom. She supposed there must be a way of contacting someone about boarding one of these vessels and so she worked her way through the mystifying throng until she spotted someone who looked as if he might be in command.

He was a large man, not as tall as her, of course, but probably weighing at least twice her weight. He was bawling orders at a trio of sailors who were hauling on a rope. She stopped before him, directly in his line of sight and caught his eye.

"What do ye be about, girl?" he demanded. "Can't ye see I'm busy?"

"I would like passage on a ship," Shailaja replied. She stared directly into his eyes and attempted to look as confident and unafraid as possible.

"Would ye now?" he asked. "All by yerself?"

"I am a warrior of Kaltara," she answered. "I need no one to accompany me."

"Aye," the man agreed, looking her up and down in a manner she did not particularly care for. "I can see that yer well grown. It's just that few women travel alone."

"A warrior of Kaltara does not answer to anyone," Shailaja replied angrily. She was getting very tired of men who refused to see her for what she was and her temper began to rise. "I thought you someone who might offer me passage, but I see I was mistaken." As she spoke she began to turn away, but he stopped her with a hand upon her arm.

Shailaja returned him a glare for that indignity and he immediately withdrew his hand. "Begging your pardon, miss," he apologized. "I can see that yer well able to look after yerself. As I said, few women come down to the docks alone, but I reckon a Kaltaran warrior need fear no one."

"That is indeed the case," she said, somewhat mollified. "Are you in a position to be of service?"

"Aye, that I am," he replied, offering his hand. "I'm Captain of the Pelican, Margus Torg."

Shailaja took his hand, noting that it was twice the size of her own, and her hands were not small by the standards of most women. However, she was not the least bit intimidated. Captain Torg's size mattered little to a warrior of Kaltara.

She returned his greeting, "I am Shailaja of the Kaltara, and I wish passage to Tungay," she said, naming the country that lay southwest of Svend and across the Gulf of Sorban. It was the closest place to Svend by sea and probably within the amount of coin that she had. It was also far enough away that she would have no trouble losing herself and escaping any pursuit that might follow her.

"Then yer in luck," the captain grinned, his white teeth shining through his heavy black beard. "I'm bound fer Dorhulf just across the gulf. Four to six days sailing should see us there. However, the Pelican's cargo. No fancy cabin fer a lady."

"I know nothing of this thing you call a lady," Shailaja replied, somewhat angrily. "I can sleep where the crew sleeps."

The captain laughed. "I expect they'd like that," he chuckled. "But do ye really mean to say yer alone? I've never carried a woman without an escort."

Shailaja reached over her shoulder and drew her sword. "This is my own escort," she replied. "I need no man to protect me."

Torg stepped back from her blade, an expression of cunning flickering briefly across his face, but in her inexperience Shailaja missed it. "I see," he said, his features returning to normal. "It's just unusual fer a woman to be by herself, but as ye are I can cut ye a deal. Twenty silver gets ye a cabin next to me. It's cramped but private and one we use fer passengers."

She had not the slightest idea as to whether the captain's demand was fair or not, but guessed he was probably asking more than was required. She had only six gold pieces in total, plus a few silver and copper coins and had no idea of how the money added up in Svend. She knew that in Lorholm one gold piece was worth forty silver, but she had found as she travelled that coins often varied in weight and purity. However, she guessed that an area like the docklands would probably have a moneychanger nearby and it would also give her a chance to properly evaluate the captain's demand.

"I will return later," she told Torg. "Do not leave without me."

"The wind and tide wait fer no one," Torg replied. "The Pelican sails in three turns of the glass. Be here with yer money if ye wants passage."

Shailaja nodded her understanding and moved back toward the town. A few questions got her directed to a moneychanger located two streets from the docks. She found that her six gold converted into just sixty silver, making Torg's asking price a little steep. However, armed with that information she returned to the Pelican and found the captain where she had left him.

"I have money," she said. "But not the amount you demand. I can give you ten and no more."

Torg was an adept haggler and countered with sixteen, whereupon they bargained back and forth for the next hundred or so heartbeats, finally settling on fourteen silver. Torg took her money and motioned her toward the ship. "I'll have one of the crew help with yer luggage," the captain offered.

"You see my luggage," Shailaja answered, indicating her bedroll and pack.

Torg gave her another curious look, but said nothing. Instead he called to one of his men. "Roker, this lady will be sailing with us. Help her with her gear and show her where she'll be staying. Put her in the passenger cabin."

Roker too gave her an odd stare at these instructions, but asked no questions. "Right, captain." He reached for her pack, but Shailaja picked it up easily and waited for him to show her the way to the cabin. With a shrug he turned. "Follow me if ye please, mistress." He headed toward the ship and she followed.

Eyes wide with curiosity Shailaja studied the ship as she followed Roker. She was immediately aware of a slight rolling sensation as she stepped upon the deck. She found it a little unsettling, but was able to follow Roker well enough and soon reached a short steep stairway that led into the interior of the ship. Never having been on a ship before she found everything quite interesting, although she understood less than half of what she saw. She also discovered that she was as much of a curiosity to the sailors who were loading the ship as the ship and crew was to her.

"Well, this is a change," said one. "The captain's got us something interesting this time."

"Very interesting," another agreed. "Maybe the entertainment will be a bit more than just fiddle playing this time."

Shailaja did not understand what either of the men was talking about nor did she appreciate the wide smiles of the other men. After her encounters with the Brothers Belehm and her misadventure in Fellem she should have been a little wiser, but sadly it was to take another lesson before she truly appreciated what could happen to a lone woman in the world of men.

Roker opened the door and motioned her within. She found herself in a small windowless room that contained a small table and a bench that ran down one wall. There seemed to be no place to sleep until Roker fetched down a roll of canvas and showed her that it could be suspended on hooks from one side of the cabin to the other. "Ye sleep here," he explained.

It seemed strange to Shailaja to sleep in a sort of swing until she considered that a bed would have taken up most of the room. Later she found that the hanging bed, which Roker called a hammock, was also well suited to the motion of the ship. In fact she became rather too well acquainted with her hammock when she discovered that the slight motion of the ship alongside the dock was far from its normal motion upon the open sea.

With nothing better to do, she stowed her few possessions in her cabin and returned to the deck where she ignored the stares of the crew and watched the preparations for departure. A short time later Captain Torg returned to the ship, and catching sight of her walked over to where she was. "Perhaps ye should stand with me," he suggested. "We are about to cast off and the main deck is going to get very busy." He motioned her toward the back of the ship which she later found out was called the stern. This section of the ship was raised and featured two massive oars which were used to steer the ship. They were worked by two men, although a single strong man could move them if necessary.

From this place of relative calm Shailaja watched the crew scurry about the deck and rigging of the ship, performing all sorts of incomprehensible tasks as they got the ship ready to sail.

Not having been on anything larger than the small oared boats used to navigate the rivers and lakes of Kaltara, she found the Pelican to be huge. It had a single very large mast in the middle of the central deck, which she learned was usually called midships. This mast supported several crossbeams called spars, which in turn carried the sails. Everything seemed held together with rope and looked very complicated so she watched in fascination as the last of the cargo was stowed in the ship's hold and the decks were cleared for sailing.

The ship was pushed off from the dock and then four large oars were pushed through holes in the rail of the midships deck. Each was manned by three sailors, and pulling on these huge sweeps, they soon had the vessel underway.

Captain Torg explained things as she watched and she learned that the sails would not be raised until they were farther out and the danger of collision with other ships would be lower. It was as he said. The ship was rowed to the middle of the harbour and then the oars were shipped and the sailors ran to the sails. She watched with interest and admiration as the sailors scampered up the rope ladders to the spars and began to unfurl the sails.

They let them out only partway at first, until the ship had sailed a bit farther from land and into more open water and then they let them down all the way. The wind caught, blowing the sails out like huge sheets on a line of laundry and she ship picked up speed, moving across the harbour and out toward the open sea. It was then that Shailaja began to notice a most disturbing sensation in her stomach, a sensation that quickly eclipsed the wonder of her first moments at sea.

Captain Torg quickly picked up on her condition. "Ye look a bit green around the gills, girl. I think ye've got a bit of the sea sickness."

Sea sickness was an apt description. Within a few heartbeats Shailaja went from being merely uncomfortable to decidedly ill. It took her only three strides to make it to the rail, but even so she barely made it. Less than a heartbeat later she spewed whatever food she had eaten into the blue-green water moving past the ship.

Torg was quick to sympathise with her plight. "Ah, girl. You're sick as a dog. Yer no good to anyone that way. I was hoping the crew and I would not have to wait on ye, but I guess we'll have to wait until ye get yer sea legs."

Shailaja was too busy trying to bring up even more of what was no longer in her stomach to pay much attention to Torg's words. If she had, she may have been better prepared for what happened later. "Help the girl to her cabin," the captain continued. "Bring her something to settle her stomach and we'll see if we can't help her through this."

Roker was there to carry out the command. To Shailaja's shame she was so ill that she had to lean on him even though he was a good head shorter than she was. She stumbled as she walked, her legs confused by the motion of the ship, while her stomach continued its attempts to bring up what was left of its contents.

She and Roker finally made the cabin, but there was little relief for her there. Her stomach heaved and burbled and she could do nothing except sit on the bench and hold hard to the table in an effort to try to control her churning guts while waiting for Roker to return.

He finally showed up carrying a small flask. She guessed what was in it before he opened it. It seemed that the people of the western region of Kaltara were obsessed with spahr as a cure-all for almost anything that ailed them; whenever they were not using it to drink themselves into a stupor. He held the bottle to her lips, and in spite of her reluctance she swallowed. Surprisingly, the powerful drink seemed to help, her queasiness easing somewhat. Unfortunately, her recovery was only momentary. Within a few heartbeats she was once again heading for the ship's rail, a place where she spent a good deal of the rest of the day.

Roker attended her, offering her spahr whenever she could force herself away from the rail. She drank as much as she could, hoping by some blessing of the gods that if she swallowed enough of the fiery liquid she might drink herself into insensibility. Forgotten was the one thing she had determined she would not do, and that was leave herself vulnerable to attack by the dozen men on board the Pelican.

Tormented by her rebellious gut she was quite oblivious to what was happening around her. Thus she did not notice when her weapons disappeared until it was too late.

---

For three days Shailaja fought the seasickness or rather she fought to survive the seasickness. Unable to eat more than a mouthful without bringing it up; and half drunk much of the time due to the large amounts of spahr Roker forced into her, she hardly knew where she was. Finally on the morning of the third day after leaving port, she awoke ravenous, slightly, dizzy from the drinking of too much spahr, stinking of sweat and vomit, and desperately thirsty. It was also at that time that she noticed her sword, dagger, and bow were gone.

She swung out of her hammock where she had lain for most of the three days, when she was not rushing to the rail in a desperate attempt not to foul the ship, and made one final check to determine if by some mistake she had overlooked her weapons. But the tiny cabin was too small. She began to realize that her untimely and debilitating bout of seasickness had left her at the mercy of the captain and crew.

She looked about the cabin for a possible weapon, but it seemed that all she had was her hands and feet, weapons which normally would have been quite deadly. But her three days of illness and deprivation had left her weakened. Against multiple opponents she would have a difficult time. However, if she wished to avoid capture it appeared she had little choice.

Just as she resigned herself to a desperate battle, however, the cabin door opened and Roker appeared. She prepared to defend herself, but to her surprise and relief he offered not the slightest sign of hostility. "Ah," he said. "You seem much better. Perhaps you would like some food and drink."

For the first time in days the notion of food had Shailaja's stomach rumbling in anticipation rather than revulsion, however, she was still on her guard. "Where are my weapons?" she demanded. "Return them at once."

"Don't worry," Roker answered, seemingly undisturbed by her anger. "They are quite safe. You were delirious for awhile and we thought it best to put them where you would not harm yourself or anyone else."

"I remember being sick," Shailaja retorted. "Not delirious."

"Too much spahr no doubt has left you confused, as well as the fact that you have not eaten since you came aboard," Roker replied calmly. "Come with me and I will take you to your weapons and also see that you get some food."

Foolishly Shailaja followed him from the cabin; although in retrospect, there is little else that she could have done. Certainly she could not have remained trapped in the tiny room without the least chance of escape and without food and water. She had to do as he requested.

She followed him up the steep stairway, moving slowly due to her weakness and emerged onto the deck. She was immediately seized by several pair of hands and forced to her knees. As she had half-expected the attack she responded immediately, breaking the grip on her arms and lashing out at the men around her. Those who held her were caught completely off guard, no doubt not expecting any sort of resistance at all, and for a few heartbeats she broke free. But her success did not last long. She was surrounded by half the crew and they surged toward her. Had she not been so weakened by her illness she might have put up a better fight, but she lasted only a few heartbeats before they had her.

Someone tackled her, wrapping his arms around her thighs; several others grabbed at her arms and one seized her hair. Once again she was forced to her knees and this time they made sure that she stayed there by tying her ankles. They also tied one of her arms, securing her left hand behind her with a length of rope they tied to her ankles. She was left kneeling on the deck, arched back with her right arm free, but not able to do much with it.

Captain Torg came to stand before her. "Now settle down, girl. We've got ye good and proper and yer not going to get away. Ye might as well make things easy on yerself with a little cooperation. The more ye fight the more ye are likely to get hurt and we don't want to hurt a beauty like ye, just have a bit of fun until we reach port."

"Release me," Shailaja demanded. "Your treatment of me is quite dishonourable. I entered into a contract for passage with you that was fair and equitable. You have no right to treat me like this."

"You can forget about that, girl," Torg replied. "On the sea my word is law and I've decided that ye'll fetch a mighty fine price in the slave markets of Thar. And while we are on the way there we might as well have a little enjoyment from ye. First though, ye need to be fed and watered."

He stepped aside and Roker was already there with a pannikin of food. This time Shailaja's stomach did not revolt at the sight of it. Three days of starvation had left her so hungry she would have eaten almost anything and what was presented to her was decent victuals. Using her free hand she wolfed it down and finished it with a mug of beer. With each bite she felt the strength flow back into her, and she could have eaten more, but that was all she was to get for the moment.

Satisfied that her hunger had been attended to, Torg next ordered that she be properly cleaned. For this her left wrist was untied from her ankles and her captors proceeded to undress her. It would have done her no good to protest this indignity and there was little she could have done to prevent it as each of her arms was tightly held while her shirt and vest were stripped from her. With the removal of her bandeau she was stripped to the waist, the sight of her full, rounded breasts drawing the usual admiring comments.

By this time Shailaja was almost used to such degradation, although she raged at the effrontery of her captors. She was filled with fury at the way men seemed to think nothing of the taking of a woman and using her for their own use, much as if she were little more than a chattel to be used in any way they pleased. It was, she supposed, a form of slavery, and she was thoroughly sick and tired of being treated in such a manner.

But there was nothing she could do about it. Stripped to the waist, and surrounded by a dozen strong men she could only fume at the injustice forced upon her. Her hands were quickly tied in front of her and her captors then proceeded to the next stage of her disrobing.

She was pushed face down to the deck and held there while her boots and trousers were removed. Then, completely nude, she was hauled to her feet. She expected the usual immediate use of her body, but there was one more ritual to undergo before her captors were ready for her.

She was taken to the bow of the ship; a place she knew was used for the performance of bodily functions. She had been there several times in the early stages of her seasickness, until she became so ill that she was unable to make there it in time. She also knew that even at the best of times it could be an extremely unpleasant place to be.

The Pelican, like all ships had a miserable habit of riding up one wave and then pitching forward into the next. The result was a wall of water that rolled over the bow and the supports placed there for the use of the crew. It was a good idea, allowing the sea to wash away any human waste that missed falling into the sea. However, a possible consequence of using the facility was the likelihood of being in the middle of a breaking wave. Unfortunately for Shailaja, that was exactly what Torg and his crew had in mind.

A length of rope was tied to her already bound wrists and quickly secured to a spar that normally served to load cargo into the forward hold. She was then raised into the air, her feet dangling a body length over the deck, and then swung out over the bow and lowered to just in front of the bowsprit. In that position she was helpless as the Pelican plunged into the next wave.

The shock of suddenly being immersed in cold water would no doubt have left most persons breathless, but Shailaja had endured much colder baths in her native land. Still, it was not a pleasant experience after what she had already suffered, especially since the wave buffeted her body, threatening to slam it against the bow of the ship, and completely submerged her for several heartbeats.

However, it accomplished what Torg and the crew wished, washing the filth and sweat of her illness from her; especially since they left her hanging over the bow for three successive waves. She was returned to the deck completely soaked and lowered only far enough for her toes to touch. She stood there, her arms stretched over her head and her feet barely touching the deck, exhibited for the pleasure of the captain and the crew.

Her chest heaving, and her pale skin freckled with drops of water she presented a most pleasing sight and the crew was quick to surround her each eager to participate in the spoils her body represented.

"She is a beauty, is she not?" Torg intoned. "She will give us much pleasure between here and Thar, but we must be careful to use her gently so as not to wear her out."

Looking at the rough sailors surrounding her, Shailaja wondered what use of a woman they would consider gentle. With the exception of Narahan most men had used her hard and she expected little more from the crew of the Pelican.

Captain Torg approached her, moving to within less than an arm's length. With her body stretched taut she could do nothing to defend herself against him, but she determined that she would not surrender without some show of resistance.

Few men would have dared approach so close to a Kaltaran warrior, even one restrained as Shailaja was, without making sure that her feet were secured first. Apparently lulled into false confidence by her lack of real resistance, Torg had grown careless, supposing her his helpless captive. In fact she was almost helpless, but that did not mean she was not dangerous. As he stood before her she struck out with her right foot.

It caught him where it would do the most good and in a heartbeat he was writhing on the deck, his hands clutched over his manhood and moaning in agony. The crew was quick to respond, swarming toward her with the clear intent of dealing out swift retribution.

She waited until they were upon her, and then seizing the rope that bound her wrists she swung clear of the deck. It left both feet free to slam into the startled bodies of her attackers.

Two men went down at once and then another, but she could not defend in all directions at once and was seized from behind by a man who wrapped his arms about her waist, while still another caught hold of her hair, pulling her head back painfully. However, neither thought to grab her legs and she made them pay for their mistake. Releasing her grip on the rope she let her weight fall upon her left leg and then struck back and up with her right foot. It caught the man holding her waist hard in the crotch and he joined Torg on the deck. With one man out of the way she turned her attention on the other, and twisting her body with the aid of the rope that forced her arms over her head, she was able to find him, driving her foot into his midsection and hurling him away from her, his grip on her hair broken.

This sudden and unexpected success from one the crew of the Pelican had thought helpless caused the rest of the crew to back off. Although they outnumbered her by over twelve to one it was clear that they were not used to fighting a true warrior and they circled her as if she was a cornered beast, keeping just out of reach of her legs.

However, their timidity did not last long. Realizing that she could not move from where she was they moved in search of weapons and soon found them in abundance. The most common weapon they found was a sort of club

Shailaja had learned was called a belaying pin. Aboard a ship it was normally used as a means of quickly securing the many ropes that were needed to operate a ship, but it was a tool that fitted well into the hand and very quickly she was faced by a score of men armed with these makeshift but deadly effective weapons.

It would no doubt have gone very hard with her had not Torg recovered from the blow she had dealt him. It was fortunate that she was worth more to him on the auction block at the slave market than as a beaten and submissive plaything for him and his crew. "Hold off," he shouted. "We don't want her marred. She'll fetch a very poor price if she's scarred. There are other more pleasant ways to punish her."

His bellow had the desired effect. The crew surrounded her, but kept out of reach of her legs and took no action against her. She waited, her chest heaving from exertion and the awkwardness of her position.

"Secure her legs," Torg ordered. "Use a few lengths of rope and keep out of her reach."

It was easily done. In spite of her best efforts it took the crew no more that a few moments to wrap several lengths of rope about her thighs and pull them tight. Thus immobilized, she was unable to prevent what Torg ordered next. "Slack off the rope holding her arms and then tie her ankles to her thighs."

It was done as he commanded. She was lowered to the deck and forced to her belly. Then each of her legs was bent at the knee and tied securely to her thigh. Following Torg's further instructions, her wrists were then untied and pulled behind her back and then retied at the point where her ankles met her thighs. Further ropes were then added to so that she could once again be lifted into the air. As she was finding out, sailors were very good with ropes and knots and she found herself suspended above the deck just below waist height.

Shailaja presented a most enticing sight to the men gathered about her. Her full breasts swayed as she swung slowly back and forth, her body glistening with sweat brought on by her helpless struggles. She had fought every effort to bind her, fruitless as the effort had been, and now she swung helplessly, completely at the mercy of her captors and they were quick to take advantage of it.

"You're a feisty one to be sure," Torg observed. "I should give ye a beating fer that little trick ye pulled, but I think there's better ways to punish ye."

Shailaja was already being punished simply because of the way she was bound. Swinging a yard over the deck, all of her weight was carried by ropes passed under her arms and ankles. It placed a great strain on her arms and shoulders and made it so hard to breathe that she panted as she waited for Torg to enjoy her.

He lifted her heavy mane of hair and let it fall over her left shoulder; then using both hands he massaged her shoulders and back, moving his hands steadily lower as he did so and then moving them back up again, but this time stroking her sides until he reached her lower ribs. At that point his fingers slipped lower and found the sides of her breasts.

Shailaja gasped as he caressed her breasts, his fingers brushing gently against the firm, supple flesh, slowly moving lower and lower until he cupped them, his thumbs flicking over her hardening nipples. Once again as it had done when she had been previously taken her body betrayed her. In spite of the painful manner in which she was tied and the peril of her situation she could not prevent her body from responding.

A flush spread from her cheeks to her neck and then to her shoulders and chest. Her breasts firmed, swelling as the blood poured into them and her nipples became erect and proud, and so sensitive that the slightest touch forced her to suppress a moan of desire. Between her thighs her petals throbbed and Selene's sweet river began to flow within her.

Her state of arousal was plain for all to see in spite of her best efforts to hide it. She had to clench her teeth to hold back a cry of craving as Torg slipped his hands between her thighs.

"She's as slippery as an eel," Torg grinned as his fingers came away from between her legs. "She tries to hide her awakening, but she's as ripe for taking as a seal cow in mating season."

Shailaja did not understand his reference, never having seen a seal cow, but there was no denying the writhing of her body as Torg brought her to a state of undeniable readiness.

"Now, girl its time fer ye to receive what ye got coming." Torg moved behind her as he spoke, and gripping her knees forced her legs apart. Her thighs opened all too willingly and this time she could not hold back a cry as she felt the outside of his thighs pushing hers apart.

He took her all at once, driving full into her and forcing a cry sharp from her lips. The suddenness of his penetration had her arching her back in pain, but it was her moan of pleasure that shamed her.

"Ye like that, girl?" Torg taunted. "I hope so. Yer going to get plenty more of it." He withdrew a little and then rammed back in even harder, forcing another cry from her lips. Then he began to punish her fiercely, pounding her about as hard as she had ever been taken. She took it for a short time, the panting of her breath the only sound, but soon her gasps turned to moans of pleasure, and then cries of desire. Like a river bursting its banks her passion seemed to overflow and she responded uncontrollably.

"Fer all yer reluctance ye seem to like this well enough," grunted Torg as he finished within her.

Shrouded in shame Shailaja could not reply, unfortunately neither could she hide her disappointment that he had finished so early. She need not have worried; the rest of the crew was more than happy to satisfy her eagerness and they did so immediately, each one taking her with such enthusiasm any normal woman would have been more than satisfied.

To her utter shame the flames of her desire raged even higher, so much so that she cried out with eager acceptance as each man took her. Even the pain of her bondage and the awkward position of her body could not dim the light of her passion and she was sorely used by every man on the ship until finally the last man took her. Only then did Torg order that she be taken down.

It was only as her feet returned to the deck that her ardour left her. Her knees buckled, too weak to support her weight after her use by two dozen crew members and she knelt on the deck. However, Torg was not about to return her to her cabin without removing the evidence of her ordeal from her body first. He ordered her swung over the bow once more and let the ocean wash the sweat and filth of her use from her body. This time the shock of the water drained the last of her strength and she crumbled to the deck when she was returned to the ship.

Although it was not necessary her wrists were bound, and then two members of the crew half-walked, half-carried her back to her cabin. There she was placed in her hammock and left to rest up for the next time the crew decided to use her.

As Shailaja lay in the dark of the cabin, listening to the creak of the ship's timbers, she was filled with shame. Once again she had allowed her basest instincts to rise to the fore, allowing her captors to have full use of her body. It was an act so dishonourable she was ashamed to call herself a warrior.

The fact that she had been taken under duress did not mitigate the distress she felt at her reaction to being so used. Her actions had not been those of a warrior and to make matters worse it was the second time that she had reacted in so base a fashion. With these depressing thoughts whirling about in her head exhaustion caught up with her and she slept.

---

She awoke with the usual soreness that accompanied heavy use by many men. Fortunately, Torg was true to his word. She was allowed to rest all of that day and all of the daylight hours the following day.

However, her hours of leisure were not particularly pleasant. She was kept in her cabin and although she was not bound there was little to do but sleep. The only light came in through cracks around the frame of the door. The only saving grace was that she was not bound, the heavy door providing more than enough security. Searching for some way out she explored every nook and cranny of the cabin and even crashed her full weight against the door to test its strength. That effort resulted in the door finally being opened, but not through her efforts, but those of captain Torg.

He stood in the doorway backed up by half his crew. "I'm glad to see yer so well recovered. I thought it would take a little longer than that, but I won't have ye hammering at the cabin door. Continue to heave yerself against it and I'll have ye tied up again."

"I have nothing to do," Shailaja railed. "You keep me confined like some animal in a pen. What else am I to do but try to escape?"

Torg seemed to think a few moments and then replied. "Ye have a point. I don't want ye pining away in there. Perhaps I can find a way to let ye spend more time on deck. In the meantime stay away from the door or ye'll not like the consequences of yer actions."

He closed the door and she was left in frustration in the dark. Angrily she returned to her hammock and tried to sleep.

She must have dozed, because when she awoke the light no longer shone through the cracks around the door. However, she was not left alone. A noise outside the door told her that her captors had returned and with them they brought a "gift."

It was not something she would have chosen had she any choice. She was ordered out to the deck and her wrists were bound and then the ship's carpenter came forward. He was carrying a wooden contraption that judging from the newness of the wood, he had apparently fashioned that very day. It was a padded wooden collar and it was quickly placed about her throat and locked in place with a heavy padlock that fastened at the back of her neck. Dangling from the lock was a length of chain and another lock.

"It's a good fit," Torg declared. "It should allow ye a bit more freedom than just staying in yer cabin."

Shailaja could not hide her anger at being subjected to still one more indignity, but she held her peace knowing there was little she could do to alter the way things were. However, the collar was the least of her worries. Torg had decided that she had rested long enough. Wearing her new collar she was walked across the deck to the mainmast, her wrists still bound behind her back.

She had been allowed to dress and so was fully clothed, but she now knew that a good deal of the pleasure men have when they use a woman comes from the ritual of undressing her, either willingly or unwillingly.

Reaching the mast, her new chain and collar were put to immediate use. She was bent forward and the chain secured to an iron ring at the bottom of the mast. It prevented her from moving from where she was placed or even standing upright. The best she could do was to kneel at the base of the mast, but that position was not what Torg had in mind.

The crew closed in around her, lifting her to her feet. Her wrists were untied and once again her shirt and vest were stripped from her. Shailaja was helpless to prevent this although she tried, however, her arms were each held by two strong men and with the chain holding her head down, she was able to offer only token resistance. Her boots and trousers went next, but not before her wrists had been tied behind her back again. With her head still down she gasped in pain as her arms were pulled suddenly upward, wrenching them painfully at the shoulders. She was forced to her feet, her legs spread slightly for balance, with her arms pulled up painfully behind her. She stayed in that position as the rest of her disrobing continued. Finally she stood as seemed to be her fate in the company of men. Completely nude she was at their mercy and expected another painful and prolonged session at their hands.

Her expectations were met, but it was not to be as protracted as she had feared. Torg took her first. The captain moved behind her while one of his crew members held each of her ankles. It was apparent that a lesson had been learned and that she would not surprise the captain or his crew again.

Tog's hands found the moons of her buttocks. "You going to take her up the spout, captain?" some wag shouted.

"Not likely," Torg replied. "She could crush a man with muscles like these." He squeezed her moons to emphasize his point and then moved lower and between her legs. "Already warm and wet," he observed, touching Shailaja in a place that made her gasp and arch upward.

To her shame his observation was correct. Selene's sweet nectar flowed freely, truly indicating her shameful eagerness. In truth this time the heat of passion had arisen within her as soon as her captors had forced her into the submissive position in which she was bound. Painful and humiliating as it was she could not contain the flames of desire that ignited within her.

In spite of her all too obvious state of readiness, however, Torg was not content to take her quickly. He opened his trousers and then leaned against her, allowing her to feel his hardness. She moaned in anticipation and then gasped as he pressed against her and found her breasts. Her nipples were already hard as thimbles and it was not due to the cool sea breeze that pushed against the ship.

She moaned again, arching her back even more sharply and presenting her firming breasts for even greater stimulation while at the same time anticipating the hard thrust of Torg's maleness. When it did not come she cursed in frustration.

"You have me," she cried. "Now do what you would with me and have done with it."

Her words were intended to hide her pain, but they fooled no one. "You will receive what ye deserve when I decide, girl, and no sooner," Torg replied. He continued to play with her, teasing her nipples and massaging her breasts until she was almost mad with desire. Around her the crew jeered at her agony and cheered on their captain as he lowered his hands to the place between her thighs. She needed only the lightest of touches there to make her scream.

"Take me," she pleaded. "Take me now. End this torture."

Her words, or more likely Torg's own burning lust, seemed to have the desired effect. Shifting his hands from between her thighs to her hips, he steadied her and then forced his staff deep into her.

In truth, in spite of the free flow of Selene's waters, his penetration was not easy. Still sore and swollen from her use of just two days before she felt as much pain as pleasure, but the latter was so powerful that it was worth all that she suffered.

Shailaja screamed her enjoyment, her body quivering in passion as he took her, actually attempting to push back into him in order to further his use of her body. He eagerly reciprocated her actions, driving even harder into her so that each thrust penetrated fully. It took her little time to respond. With remarkable intensity her body convulsed, clamping so hard around Torg's member that he cried out in surprise. "By the gods, ye are a real woman," he gasped. "I've never had anyone like ye. If ye wouldn't fetch such a fine price I should keep ye fer myself."

Panting from her reaction, she moaned as Torg finished her off, finally finding his own release while at the same time rekindling her heat. She whimpered in disappointment as he withdrew, but she was not left unattended long. Roker stepped up next and without preamble began to use her almost as hard as had Torg. Her grunts and groans of pleasure were immediately restored; if anything they were even louder, a fact that she was not proud of, but could not deny. For a second time her loins contracted; this time with an even stronger reaction. And then to her further shame it happened again as Roker continued to plough her furrow.

Her condition could hardly been hidden and the sailors around her were quick to applaud. Fortunately her pride was to suffer no further blows.

"That'll be all fer tonight," Torg declared as Roker finished. "We'll be more than a month reaching Thar with good winds and I don't want ye worn out. Tomorrow ye'll be given to two more of the crew until each has had a share."

Shailaja found Torg's concern for her welfare most unusual, especially considering that he and his crew had already used her thoroughly. The captain of the Pelican, however, was a merchant trader and so far as he was concerned she was simply merchandise. However, she was merchandise that must be cared for, and to that end he intended that she arrive at her destination in saleable condition.

After untying the ropes that pulled her wrists upward, and releasing the end of the chain from the ring at the base of the mast, she was allowed to return to her cabin. There she was untied and the collar removed from her neck, following which she was allowed to fall into her hammock.

No doubt Torg intended that the routine he had established for Shailaja would continue until she reached Thar. However, by the grace of Marana she was spared the fate of being permanently enslaved. Knowing nothing of the sea she had no idea how far the Pelican had traveled in the time she had been aboard. Thus it was with some surprise that when she awoke the next morning she sensed a change in the motion of the ship and the sound of the crew moving about the deck.

Her ears told her what happened next. The sound of the oars being placed in the rowing ports was unmistakable as was the sound of sea birds, which had been largely absent once the ship had passed out of sight of land. They were coming into a port and she could only assume it was Dorhulf, the very place that Torg had contracted to take her.

It appeared that in a fashion the captain had lived up to his part of the bargain, but not in a manner that did Shailaja the least bit of good. She ground her teeth in frustration. She was possibly only a few hundreds yards away from freedom, but was confined in the prison of her cabin without any way of getting out. Further sounds informed her that the ship was now pulling into the dock. It went on like that for quite some time, with the sounds of cargo being unloaded and then new cargo loaded.

Several times she was tempted to crash her weight against the heavy door, but resisted, knowing that it was a futile waste of her strength. It never occurred to her to scream for help. Warriors did not depend on others for their freedom, and the sound of her voice would probably not have carried far through the heavy timbers of the cabin. Frustrated, she paced the tiny cabin, three strides one way and three the other, until finally giving it up, she retired to her hammock and tried to sleep.

The ship remained in port all of that day and all of that night. During all of that time Shailaja remained locked in the cabin, her only view of the outside a very brief glimpse when Roker brought her food and drink. Mercifully she was not brought on deck for the entertainment of the crew, but neither was she allowed even the briefest visit to the deck, not even for her personal needs. For that she was forced to make do with a bucket Roker left in her cabin and came to remove later.

She was not sure of the reasons for her day long confinement and supposed that it had something to do with being in port. She later learned that slavery was not one of the customs of the realm known as Tungay and no doubt Torg was anxious to keep her out of sight of the port authorities. Whatever the reason, she was stuck in the cabin until the next day, when once again she was let out on deck.

Once again she was controlled with the collar and chain, an arrangement she found even more depressing than being bound. Somehow the weight of the collar on her neck signalled captivity and enslavement more than anything else that had been done to her.

Once upon the deck she saw to her dismay that the harbour of Dorhulf was far behind them. The sail was up and the Pelican was ploughing through the waves, however, this time she noticed a difference. Before the ship had sailed directly for the open sea, but this time the ship was sailing on a northwest heading, parallel to the coast. She later learned that this was the normal pattern of most sailing vessels. Few captains sailed out of sight of land if they could help it unless they knew exactly where they were going and the journey was not a long one. Her first voyage had been unusual in that respect and Torg had dared it because the weather was fair and the distance short. Now he kept within sight of the coast and her spirits revived somewhat with the hope that she might somehow contrive a way to escape.

Roker led her from her cabin to the ladder leading to the raised upper deck. Torg was waiting there between the two steersmen. With her hands free she was able to climb the ladder by herself and she was soon standing beside the captain. Roker used the padlock and locked the chain to the rail, making it more than obvious that this was to be her place for the next little while.

From the sun Shailaja estimated it to be mid-morning and she stayed on the steering deck most of the day, even taking her meals there. For some reason Torg seemed to enjoy her company, explaining the workings of the ship and pointing out landmarks along the coast as the Pelican glided slowly past them. However, she kept fully in mind the fact that he had betrayed and shamed her and that she owed him and his crew a debt of vengeance. How she was to obtain that vengeance she had no idea, but it was to come much sooner than she hoped.

The ship sailed into late afternoon and it was then that Shailaja learned something else about following the coast. Due to the danger of shipwreck at night the custom was for the ship to move a little farther out to sea and then sail more slowly parallel to the coast. In more uncertain regions the captain would sometimes order the ship into a sheltered bay and wait until the dawn. It made for slow sailing, but at least the ship survived to reach its destination.

It was under these early evening conditions that Torg decided it was time Shailaja earned her keep. "Get on yer knees, girl," He ordered, licking his lips. "Tonight yer going to pleasure me with yer mouth. Do it well and yer service to me is done; displease me and the entire crew will use ye again."

Although Torg had decreed that she was to be used each day by two different crew members until the end of the voyage, that did not stop him from taking an extra measure for himself, and the choice he had given her was very clear; submit voluntarily and perform an act that was highly repugnant to her or suffer an even lengthier ordeal. Slowly she went to her knees, her green eyes blazing in anger.

"I like that look, girl," Torg commented. "Yer eyes are like green fire and it tells me yer not broken. A spirited filly fetches a better price and I don't doubt that with careful use ye'll retain that spirit until we reach Thar."

He released the drawstrings on his trousers and presented his member to her. It was fully ready and seemed even larger than she remembered it. On its tip a single drop of male dew gleamed in the light of the setting sun. Unconsciously she licked her lips, her loins warming as libidinous thoughts coursed through her mind. A slave to her passions, she eagerly applied herself to the task Torg had given her.

His member was firm between her lips and became even more so as she swirled her tongue about the purplish tip. Torg grunted in pleasure as she swallowed him, taking him deep within her throat.

"Fer one who pretends so much to dislike a man inside ye," Torg commented, "ye do a right good job of it." He took her head in his hands and helped a little, holding her head still while he plumbed the warm depths of her throat. Then he retreated, allowing her lips and tongue to finish him. It took very little time for him to find release, filling her mouth with his rich cream. And then it was the turn of his crew.

"Ye'll make some man very happy, girl," Torg grinned as he returned his now depleted member to his trousers. "I hope ye get a master that treats ye right."

So well had she done her job that Torg did something he had taken care not to do since her first day on the Pelican; he removed the padlock that kept her chained to the rail without calling on several of his crew members to make sure she caused no trouble. He realized his error as soon as he saw the look in her eyes, but she was already moving.

With a quick jerk on the chain Shailaja wrenched it from his hands along with the heavy padlock that was used to secure it. Torg immediately let out a yell, at the same time reaching for his knife, but it was too late. Although the hated wooden collar still enclosed her neck she could still wield the chain effectively and it was much like one of the weapons she had trained with.

The war flail was not a weapon Shailaja favoured, but she had worked at it until she was proficient; and although the proper weapon had a long wooden handle, she could swing the chain well enough to make up for that lack.

She swung the chain in an arc and then struck with it, glad that the ship's carpenter had chosen so heavy a length of chain. Torg made a desperate and futile effort to defend himself, raising his knife to take the blow, but she had struck beyond the blade so that the chain, weighted with the heavy padlock, struck him full on top of his head. He went down like a bull that had been pole-axed and lay unmoving upon the deck, but she paid him little attention, and instead moved toward the two steersmen. They dropped the steering oars and reached for their knives, but they were fighting a trained warrior and she took them out in quick succession. Picking up the knives they had dropped, she stopped to assess the situation.

On the main deck the crew had massed, not in any particular order, and led by Roker they were rushing toward the ladder leading to the steering deck. She let them come and made good use of her dominant position, striking at them as they came up the ladder, taking them out with ease as they came up one at a time. Roker came first and she sent him sprawling amidships and then punished two more in the same way. That seemed to lessen the crew's enthusiasm for battle, at least so far as a direct assault was concerned.

Several of the crew, however, scampered into the rigging and attempted to come at her from above. After she had caught one and hurled him overboard, and flogged another unconscious with the chain, they gave up this tactic as well. By this time Torg was moaning as he slowly regained his senses, and not wishing to have to deal with a possible threat from that direction she picked him up and hurled him down among the crew, but not without first relieving him of the key to the padlock. With a sense of relief she let the heavy collar fall to the deck. The two steersmen remained sprawled on the deck and for good measure she tossed them amidships as well.

It was well for her that the Pelican seemed to carry no missile weapons. Shailaja would have expected at least a crossbow or two on board, but no one produced such a weapon.

Torg finally regained his feet. His face was covered with blood from where the chain had struck him, but she felt no remorse over his condition. He had betrayed, kidnapped, and abused her, and deserved even more than he had received. However, when he spoke she was minded to listen to his words.

"We're drifting for the rocks," he shouted, pointing toward a line of white water she could see a few hundred yards toward the shore. "If we hit we'll all drown."

Shailaja looked to the shore. In the interval when the crew had been fighting her the ship had drifted aimlessly toward the shore and was in danger of running aground; however, she was unperturbed. "You will drown," she retorted. "I can swim."

"You'll be smashed against the rocks, girl," Torg countered. "You won't have a chance to swim."

Shailaja considered the fact that Torg's last statement might be correct. But there was another equally important concern. All of her gear was somewhere on the ship, including the medallion and dagger given to her by her parents. She had no intention of giving them up if there was any way to save them.

"Then what would you have me do?" she asked.

"Turn the ship back over to me and the crew, and stand away from the tiller," Torg replied.

"I am not such a fool as to do that," she replied. "I will control the ship and you will follow my orders. If that is not acceptable to you then I await your efforts to force me to do otherwise." She swung the chain to emphasise this point.

Torg's face took on a look of desperation; but she knew she had him. Attempting to drive her from her position had failed and during their brief conversation the ship had veered close enough to the breakers that the sound of the waves could now be heard as they broke upon the rocks. "Man the sweeps," he ordered, and several sailors rushed to push the huge oars through the holes provided for them.

Shailaja gave an order of her own. "Return my possessions, or I let the ship go onto the rocks."

"Yer mad, girl," Torg replied, but he sent one of his crew scampering to obey her orders.

That left her to deal with the steering oars and although she had never guided a vessel the size of the Pelican she managed well enough, although she kept her eyes on the crew just in case there were any attempts to rush her position.

While she steered she also waited for her possessions to be returned. There was a slight danger in this, as they included her bow and it would give Torg and his crew a weapon that could reach her, but she doubted that anyone aboard had the skill to use such a weapon.

As she had hoped no one dared oppose her and she soon had her sword, bow and dagger back. She discarded the chain by tossing it over the side. Now free, and with her weapons in place, it was time to plan the next stage of her escape. Somehow she had to get ashore and by chance she saw her opportunity to do that and pay back Torg and his crew for their treachery.

"There is just one more thing," she said. "Bring me a purse of silver. Let's say one hundred pieces, otherwise the ship finds the rocks."

Torg did as asked, tossing the bag at her feet. "You're going to have a hard time spending it," he growled. "You're not going to get off this ship."

"You forget who is in control," she replied. She pulled the steering oars hard over, swinging the ship toward shore. She had waited until the Pelican was past the rocks and crossing a shallow bay. It would do well as her landing place.

"What are you doing, girl?" Torg raged. "You'll run us aground."

Since that was her intention Shailaja ignored him, holding the Pelican on course for the middle of the bay.

"Stop rowing," Torg shouted to the oarsmen. But it was too late. The wind and waves had already caught the Pelican, pushing her steadily toward the beach. "Get her," Torg screamed, but she had dropped the steering oar and stood with her sword and dagger at the ready. Confronted by a true Kaltaran warrior none of the crew dared come at her and Torg could do nothing but rail helplessly as every wave took his ship closer and closer to the shore.

The Pelican struck with a grinding crash that heeled the ship over so sharply that Shailaja was pitched across the deck as was everyone else on board. Fortunately she had kept hold of her sword and knife and the bag of silver was tied to her belt. Scrambling to her feet she moved across the tilted deck and made her way to the side. The ship was listing at such an extreme angle that the deck was only a few yards above the water. Less than a hundred yards away the waves lapped the beach. She took one step and jumped in and plunged to the bottom.

By Marana's good graces the bottom was only the depth of her chest and she didn't even have to swim. Wading ashore she headed inland, dripping water but otherwise unhurt. On the deck of the Pelican Torg shouted curses after her, but she was safe. She also knew that it was unlikely that he or any of his crew would follow. Tomorrow with luck they might refloat the Pelican on the tide. Shailaja cared not. She had reached the realm of Tangay and her escape was complete. Now she only had to find a way to survive in this new land.

Continued in Chapter 11

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