World of Cypheria - Teledrine's Story - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"So I will be used here just as I was as a slave! What the hell is the difference if I spread my legs on your orders, or on the command of that bitch that used to own me?"

Teldrine found himself thinking of how aroused he once would have been by the view of cleavage he had. Lida leaned over his desk aggressively, knuckles braced on the dark wood as she glared at him. He wondered if she realized how big a change in her condition was evidenced by her behavior, facing him down. He didn't realize the lingering reflection of slavery found in both of their voices, low and intense to protect themselves from being overheard. Such caution was engraved in their minds by the slave holds they were raised in.

"The difference is that I don't order, I suggest. IF you find him attractive, IF the two of you get along, IF you want to, then I believe that a romantic attachment wouldn't hurt our chances with him. This man could be the key to all our plans, but only if he joins us willingly. I don't want him deceived or coerced. There will be a place for such things in this business, but not with those we want as our friends. He could bring us the support of not only Marapal, but possibly even Kahlzistan herself!" Teldrine stared into her eyes, looking for understanding.

She turned away, looking out the stern windows at the ocean flowing away. She said nothing. Nothing at all.

---

Teldrine approached Byock from behind, coming up to where he sat in the shade, back propped against the main mast. "You're looking better!"

Byock turned and looked up over his shoulder. "I feel like a lizard, all my scales peeling off. But I feel much better. Thank you for your care of this lowly hostage!" He grinned at his captor, more secure now in the knowledge that whatever happened, he wasn't likely to be abused at this late date. "Where do we sail?"

Teldrine looked appraisingly at him, studying the lines of his face, the set of his eyes. "I'm a pirate. We go to take a ship." He waited for the expected reaction, and was not disappointed.

Byock's face closed up, expression stiff and cold. "How could I have forgotten. You talk of freedom, then you use it to kill and steal. You hardly need my skills and knowledge for this. I almost believed you actually wouldn't sell me to the highest bidder. More fool me. Tell me, what price do you expect to get? Will you fence me along with your other stolen goods?"

Teldrine smiled, a predatory expression. "We go after a slaver. I want you to see what I fight against, what I want you to fight against. You need not join the fight, but you will see what we find at the end of it." He rose and swiftly stepped away, striding toward the sterncastle and the helm. His eyes caught Lida hanging in the rigging, staring toward Byock with a speculative look on her face. He managed not to smile as he checked their heading and position. The man was, after all, a handsome prince.

He spent the rest of the day with the crew in preparations. Huge barrels were placed on deck and filled with sea water. Bags were ferried to shore and filled with sand and reloaded in piles on deck. Arrows were stacked. Weapons were checked and rechecked. Various pieces of armor appeared on some individuals. Nothing that weighed much. They were all quiet, a subdued murmur of working chatter. The skies clouded over, smooth high clouds that presaged a dark night.

Nobody suggested turning around, although they all knew as well as he did that they risked their lives for no profit and a continuing life of hardship for the slaves. They could not be just let off at the next port. That would send them right back to slavery. These were bred slaves, they had no families to return to, few skills beyond common labor, no knowledge of how to manage their own lives. They would be taken to an island and left with what supplies the ship could spare, some tools and hunting weapons. The ship and any others they could send would stop by with what supplies could be found. They could not afford to do this often, yet. But it was a start. Those slaves that survived and showed some independence and ability might be useful for placement in the cities where Teldrine hoped to build his web of information, influence, and business. The ship quieted for the night, sails reefed, breeze smelling of green things from the island. The cool smell of the sea came out of the darkness of the cloudy night.

---

Byock came on deck in the morning light, not sure what he would find. Nothing, it seemed. The sailors were lounging about the deck, and although perhaps a few more than usual were attending to the keenness of their blades, there wasn't much else going on. He caught sight of the woman who had spoken to him last night, but she swung up into the rigging on some task. Teldrine was still at the helm, writing in some kind of book. Byock supposed it was the ship's log. He took his tea over to the rail and leaned, staring out at sea. The broken teeth of the islands scattered across the waves. Green jungle in places, desolate rock in others, they suited his mood. He used to wander too far in his hunts to assuage the restlessness that ate at him when he was home in rustic Marapal. Now he had trouble even seeing it in his mind, and yet it ached in his heart.

He noticed he was receiving more harsh glances than usual as the morning wore on. Wandering restlessly through the ship, he found himself back to the same spot on the rail when the others showed their distaste for his company. He left Teldrine alone. He kept his mind carefully away from the battle ahead, forcing himself to review old lessons from his father's advisors. He thought if he could apply some of their logic to the situation, he might find a way to guide himself through this bizarre position he found himself in. He wasn't having much luck.

Ship's biscuits and tea were passed out for noon meal, with a couple strips of dried meat and cold tea. No fire since early morning. Byock supposed there was a coal pot somewhere, they would need hot fire rapidly to treat some of the injuries after. Byock dragged his mind firmly back to theory, away from rapidly approaching real events. Like his first real battle, a slave ship, and a decision with possible consequences that made him realize for the first time just what a Prince really was. And the recurring thought that he had no weapon.

---

Byock was stunned to realize he had been drowsing when the ship came to life around him in the late afternoon. Then he realized he was stunned because it was happening. The ship was already in motion, the lounging sailors each no more than a step or two from their appointed tasks when they moved suddenly to work. He must have missed the signal from shore when the slave ship was sighted. The mainsail luffed into taughtness before the wind, and the ship seemed to shudder into full motion.

He turned forward, watching over the bowsprit for his first sight of the slaver. It was a merchant's cargo ship, slow and ungainly against the great warship of Teldrine's escape. He could see no large weapons, like the small catapults the pirates had assembled yesterday. From this distance he could see nothing of the people on board, and he thought sardonically he would soon wish he had seen no more of them. The rushing sound of the ship cutting through the waves and the movement of the ships were deceptively peaceful.

They had come out ahead of the slaver, and tacked to an intercepting course, forcing the slaver to turn off the wind and slow even more while the pirates matched course. A sailor grabbed Byock's arm and told him to come. "Captain wants you to stay put here until you are sent for." He positioned Byock near the aft door to below decks, out of the direct path to anywhere, but close enough to a defensible position if things went wrong. Byock stayed, scowling in resentment and excitement, and a dozen other sensations he couldn't think to identify.

Bows were taken up and arrows knocked. "Loose!" was called, and then echoed from the other ship and the thum of arrows leaving the string filled the air, to be followed with the hiss of them falling. They were fewer than what Byock thought they had sent, and it seemed more cries came across the water than went up from this side. But the arrows sent by the other side were burning. Men stationed at water tubs and sand bags ran to put out the fires. The sails were furled on commands shouted from the stern deck. The ship had enough headway and was close enough to come along side in moments. Byock saw all this with sort of a filtered awareness, as if on the other side of a glass window.

But the archers were shooting again, and the hissing rain fell again, and the cries came again, and there was an arrow quivering near his right toe. Then a second, a hand span from the first. He looked back up and the grapplers were preparing to cast their lines across the gap, and he could see the faces on the other side. Many of the were women.

It was an Arbigahlan slave ship. He didn't know why that had never occurred to him. It would be owned, managed, captained, officered, and at least partly crewed by women. There were women among the pirates, but he hadn't thought about the other ship. He stared at them.

They were dressed as most aboard this ship were, the officers slightly better than the crew. They had the weathered faces common to the sea, and hair cut short or bound out of the breeze. Some were scarred, all were muscular and hard. Their weapons looked serviceable enough. There were not enough of them, he thought as the grapples flew. The opposing crew tried to block the grappling hooks and toss them back, and were successful with many, but one caught a woman by the thigh and pinned her screaming to the rail as the pirates slapped tension to it to keep the other side from releasing it. Enough hooks bit that the ships drifted closer together inexorably.

The slavers held long spears now, to try and fend off boarders. The pirates went back to arrows, point blank now, able to target instead of just arching them randomly onto the ship. It was devastating.

Byock watched as crew members on both sides fell to the decks with arrows through them, screams flying over the water and fading. Then the ships touched, wooden sides groaning together as they found a tentative equilibrium. Pirate crew members, men and women, dodged the spears or grabbed them and pulled as they were stabbed forward. One found a mark in the press of bodies, and a sailor Byock had been used to seeing in the kitchen clutched at his belly. The spearhead yanked a ribbon of pink out of it, cutting itself free as the man fell to the deck, agony on his face but no breath to scream.

It was a kaleidoscope now, images everywhere, moving so fast, shifting in position and angle as the two ships rode the swells in their own ways. Screams and bellows of rage echoed in his ears above the deep groan of burdened timbers ground together. A woman ran past him to a gap forming in the slaver's line near by. She positioned herself to hold the gap open, and another member of her team took position opposite her. The other members of the group began leaping across the gap and turning to either side to widen the gap in the defenses. The woman sailor moved closer and closer to Byock. A slaver crew member stabbed at her with a spear, and she knocked it aside, clamping it under her arm as it slid by her. Another enemy took the chance to swing at her. While she fended him off, the one with the spear let go and leapt past her drawing his sword and turning to take her from behind as she fought to hold the gap on the other ship.

Byock stepped forward and swept his feet from behind. He fell backwards and Byock leapt on his sword hand, feeling bones crunch under his foot as he snatched up the cutlass and turned the grab into a backswing across the surprised man's neck. The pirate was aware of what happened and kept trying to keep an eye on him without getting herself killed. He wasn't sure himself what he was going to do, his body had moved without his thoughts to consciously propel it. It did so again as her distraction cost her a block and she had to throw herself backward away from the slaver's latest slash.

She landed at his feet, looking up as the breath wooshed out of her. The woman attacking threw herself into the air behind, aiming to stomp the downed pirate and slash at Byock on her way down. Byock parried the descending strike and brought his new sword to slice her ear and down into her chest as she straightened from her landing. Her blood sprayed out as her backhand stroke at him lost its smooth trajectory and he blocked it easily. He saw her eyes go even wider as the pirate's sword entered her from below. She fell, and he had the odd thought that it was no different from killing a man, when the swords were flying.

"Well, come on!" The pirate grabbed him by the arm and yanked him toward the rail, where pirate crew members were now flooding over to the slave ship, the last pockets of resistance dying quickly. Byock leapt the gap easily, but met no resistance. It occurred to Byock again that there weren't as many sailors or guards on the slaver ship as he would expect. Not enough for a proper defense of a merchant ship. As the battled ground to a halt, he noticed the smell. It seemed to emanate from the ship, with a palpable presence.

Teldrine strode toward him, looking him up and down. He realized that he still held his captured sword, and was covered in blood like all the rest, a broad spray up his trouser leg and splashed across his chest and face, dripping from his fist around the hilt of the sword. He said nothing to the pirate Captain.

"Come with me." Teldrine turned away toward the cargo hold doors.

Two sailors where opening the barred hatch doors, lifting them to fall back on the deck. The stench floated up from below. Humanity, pressed too close together, with too little air, too little movement. He followed Teldrine slowly down into the depths of a murky hell. There were rows of bunks stretching the length of the ship, several tiers high, packed tightly together along narrow aisles. They were built wide enough for one, long enough for most to stretch out on. Each had enough space for a human to roll over, but no room to sit up. Below each was sluice running below holes in the bunks where slaves were expected to aim their waste products. The sluices were angled slightly from the center of the ship to the sides where they joined and ran down to a collection tub. It was equipped to be pumped out periodically. A pump up top could run sea water through the sluices to flush things down the system. It didn't seem to be done nearly often enough. And clearly nobody cleaned the bunks or the slaves themselves. The slaves lay chained to their bunks by collars. They were all naked, bodies thin but not emaciated. They stared at the pirates, some with fear, most blankly, waiting for the next event in their lives. They all had bruises in various places from the hard bunks. No hygiene had been provided them other than the rude sanitation. No light.

Teldrine was not unlocking them. Byock turned to stare at him. The hate in his eyes, and the despair made him step back. Teldrine moved forward and spoke in a strong voice that echoed through the hold. "I am Teldrine. I escaped from the Empress and claimed my freedom from the slavery of Arbigahl. Now I have claimed your freedom, too. You will be released shortly, and more will be said then. Water and food will be brought soon. Nobody will be hurt." There was a sort of whimpering sigh from around the hold, but nobody said a word. Pirates spread out through the aisles. Still, nobody moved to release the slaves. Teldrine turned to leave.

"Why aren't you letting them go!" Byock ran after Teldrine, back up the steep stairs from the hold, glad to be emerging from that hold even as his outrage spilled over. "You can't leave them like that! I thought you were going to free the slaves, what is this, some kind of bargaining chip?" He stopped as Teldrine turned on him, rage glittering from his eyes.

"They will not be in those chains one minute more than necessary. But if I release them now, where will they go? How many do you think would fit on this deck? On my deck? How many do you think would willingly stay below? How many would I have to kill just to keep the ships afloat to get somewhere safe? How long do you think we can sit in the middle of the shipping lanes comforting slaves? Save your outrage, we can use it. But never make the mistake of thinking that you care more about this than I do. Prince!"

Byock stopped as Teldrine stalked away. He swallowed hard. "You'll learn, boy."

The woman Byock had fought alongside stood there now. The crew was sorting through the wounded, killing any slavers that remained alive. Carrying those of their own wounded that had a chance back to their own ship for attention. Those too far gone were given the mercy stroke and sent across on ropes to be placed out of the way for later attention. The slavers were unceremoniously tossed overboard. Byock did not look at the water. There were to many splashes to be accounted for by each body that dropped. He went to look at the rest of the ship.

Crew quarters were cramped, as in most ships. The galley had access to a delegated storage area of the hold to stock the food needed to keep the cargo alive. They were kept weak with hunger, and lightly drugged for the trip, but each loss meant a poorer return on somebody's investment, so every effort was made to keep them alive.

The woman who named herself Lida seemed to have appointed herself to him since the battle. She seemed to know a lot about the routine on board a slave ship. "Slaves are taken on deck in shifts, chained together by their collars. They are fed and watered, walked three times around the deck, and put back below twice a day."

They began doling out buckets of biscuits and strips of meat to those feeding and watering the slaves below. Quiet talk told Byock that the holds were no longer as quiet, as a few of the slaves began to believe what they had been told and either went hysterical or began begging to be released. Most still just watched silently, unable to comprehend the change in their lives, or too drugged or stunned to react.

Byock felt it as the ships separated and got underway again. He continued through the passageway after the feeding was done. He didn't know just what he was looking for, but it seemed the thing to do. The captain's cabin in the stern sat ahead of him, heavy door closed. He opened it. Nobody had had time to look at it yet, as the pirates hurried to get the ships out of the way of any regular shipping traffic that might show over the horizon at any time.

Nobody had found her yet. The woman was tied to the bed, ankles and wrists pulled as far apart as possible, tension in the ropes to keep her almost completely immobile. Apparently the Captain had had unusual tastes for an Arbigahlan, although Byock thought he remembered that the nobles were pretty much allowed any desire they might have. The slave woman showed bruises scattered over most of her body. They were uniform in size, and of many different colors. The blackjack she had been beaten with lay on a shelf near by. Byock stared appalled between her legs, where the handle of something protruded. The woman stared at him, terror in her eyes. A strap covered her mouth, something stretching it wide. Small, awful sounds came from her throat.

Lida pushed past him with an oath and slowly pulled the thing from the slave's crotch. It was a carved wooden stick, with small protrusions knobbing its end. Another strangled sound as it was removed, then Lida unbuckled the gag. A large wooden ball was attached, where it had been filling the woman's mouth. Lida cut the ropes loose and Byock finally moved, finding a rag and pitcher of water on the washstand. He soaked the rag and took it to Lida. The woman was struggling in her arms and she impatiently waved him over to take her.

"She doesn't want another woman right now. Help her!" The woman clung to him and he lifted her to get her out of this room. They went up the stairs to the deck, Lida staying behind and searching the room.

He placed her on the planks near the doors, where some sun had finally broken through the clouds. She hung on to him, so he sat down with her. He began to reassure her, saying anything he could think of in a low steady voice. Slowly her shaking started to ease, but she clutched him tighter whenever he stopped speaking, so he kept on.

They were sailing west by north, threading between islands in the wake of the Empress Woe. Lida came above and gave him an unreadable look as he sat there with the slave woman, now sleeping on his arm. She walked away and swung up into the rigging, and he watched her climb. Her nimble legs flashed in sun as she swung with practiced ease onto a spar to adjust a line. She looked back down at him. He couldn't tell shat her expression was, but he kept watching. She moved on about the work of sailing the ship.

---

Late that afternoon they rounded yet another island and sailed into a sheltered bay. There was no sign of habitation. A stream ran into the sea to one side. The island was large enough to have a good sized forest ringing it. Byock guessed game would be likely in it. The thought of hunting flashed through his brain. He quashed it as irrelevant, then reconsidered. Fresh meat might be a very good thing for slaves and sailors alike. And it was something he could surely do.

They dropped anchor and lowered the boats from both ships. Then they began bringing up cargo. Not the slaves, yet, but food stores, the bales of smocks that would have been put on the slaves at arrival in port. Tools, sailcloth, anything the pirates could find that the ships could sail without. It was ferried to shore and piled on the beach, well above the high tide mark.

Last, the slaves were brought up. It was done in shifts, a boatload at a time so there were never too many to handle if they panicked or balked. The woman was added to one of the loads, leaving Byock free to watch. They were ferried ashore as well. Teldrine caught a boat on the return trip and crossed to the slaver. Byock approached him, seeing the wary look in his eyes as he waited for the prince's reaction. There was a glint of surprise as Byock asked only about the hunting trip. The thought of fresh meat was enough to swing the scale and he was allowed ashore with a bow and quiver added to the cutlass he had claimed as battle spoils.

He was exhausted as he stepped ashore, but didn't think he'd have to go too far. He had gauged the terrain from the ship and thought he could cross the first low ridge and have a chance of finding a water source in the small valley behind, and maybe some grazing, if anything large enough to graze inhabited this place. Teldrine had assured him that deer populated many of the larger islands, along with stranger southern creatures. Byock wasn't sure he believed the descriptions of some of them. He hiked up the slope at an angle, to enter the next valley at the uphill end. The sun was slanting down to the west, just the time for watering and grazing for his prey.

The small valley was just as he had hoped, shaped like an arrow head, widening out toward the shore with a stream running down the center. No beaches on this side, though. The land ended at low bluffs, falling off into the sea. A meadow opened up from the stream side about half way down, and spread atop the bluffs. He could see something moving down there, but was too high to make them out clearly. They didn't seem be deer. He plunged back into the thick forest, heading down slope now. He angled for the beginning of the meadow at the stream.

The forest was tall, clean-limbed trees. Large variegated leaves shadowed the ground, and lots of brush grew up in the dappled light below. Fallen branches and layers of leaves made moving quietly a challenge. Byock matched his movements to the sounds of the forest, moving irregularly, with the wind. He seemed to make less noise than he actually did. When he came to the tree line, he turned and followed it until he came in sight of the creatures he had seen from further off.

They sat on their hind legs and peered around, in between bending down to graze on the rich grass. A heavy tail balanced them on the ground like a third hind leg, and small front legs were held close to the chest. Long necks rose to small pointed heads with tall swiveling ears. Then he saw a young one pop its head out of another's stomach. The stories were true! They did have pockets in front! Byock grinned to himself and knocked an arrow.

The Prince returned to the cove along the coast line, maneuvering a long branch with hides stuffed full of meat balancing each end over his shoulder. He found slaves crowding the beach, most sitting, faces blank, stunned. Several, though, were standing with Teldrine and Lida near where huge fires had been built. Large pots from the galleys had been brought ashore and hung on tripods over smaller fires. Byock headed for them with his load of fresh meat. The cooks welcomed him with the first actual approval he had felt in weeks. Then he went and found a patch of beach still warm in the last of the sun and laid down on the unmoving sand.

---

Byock started awake in the darkness when somebody sat down next to him. "I brought you some food, oh mighty hunter." Lida's tone was dry in the darkness.

He wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or just teasing. He sat up and took the soup. "Thank you. I'm glad you recognize the depth of my skills." He tried to match her tone with a deadpan delivery.

Hearing a snort, he realized she was laughing. He grinned in the darkness and tried the stew. It was spicy, highly seasoned as the pirate food was likely to be. They claimed that it kept them from getting sick. The meat was good, strong flavored and rich. He savored it as they ate in silence.

She set aside her bowl about the same time he finished. She reached for his hand and said, Come. Walk with me."

He looked back and saw that he had slept at the edge of the light from the bonfires that string out down the shore. The slaves seemed to be more or less organized around the fires. He saw a few sitting up and facing out, and a group sitting near a smaller fire to the side, talking. Teldrine was there with them. Lida tugged on his hand and drew him off down the beach away from the camp. He noticed she was carrying a blanket over her other arm.

He slipped an arm around her and she moved closer to his side. He stopped and used her momentum to swing her around in front of him, right up against him, almost a dance. She grinned and reached up and grabbed his head. She kissed him, demanding and fierce. His tensions and fears boiled over and he returned her demands, pulling her hard against him. She smelled of the sea. Then she broke away and was pulling him further down the beach. They ran, the surf a thin ribbon of reflection in the starshine to guide them.

The sand ended at a rock wall and a line of underbrush leading back down the beach. She spread the blanket on the sand and turned to begin tugging on his clothes. He ignored her hands and pulled her tight for another kiss. She reached around him and drew her nails down his back through the shirt, then began tugging it up. They parted, pulling clothes off hastily.

He finally felt her skin pressed up against his and nearly threw her down on the blanket, except that she was falling already, pulling him down with her. He landed on top of her and propped himself on one elbow as their mouths joined again, trying to devour each other. His other hand followed her arm down from around his neck to her ribs and his thumb traveled up the side of her breast, brushing the nipple before moving down to her waist.

She moved under him, lifting her body to meet his touch, match his movements. Her arms pulled him closer, nails touching here and there as her hands wandered his back and neck. They broke the kiss to breathe and he shifted over a bit to bring his lips down to her breast. He took the aureole in his mouth and sucked hard, his hand coming back up to hold it to him. Her knee came up around him and lifted her hips up to press against his erection, pulling him down to her.

He heard her moan as he sucked again and then lifted his head to look down at her. Her head was arched back, then she brought her eyes down and stared into his. He saw the need in her eyes match what he felt burn in his own. Her hand moved down his chest and belly and gripped him firmly, bringing a gasp from him. The she guided him inside.

He stopped just inside her, and she moved her hand up around to grab his ass and pull him to her. He resisted. He could feel how wet she was already, and he thrust into her in one slow steady move, stopping when his pelvis was tight against her. He could feel the pressure on the tip of his cock that meant he was filling her well, and she moaned against his neck. Her thighs gripped his hips, her nails ran up his back with a firm pressure, encouraging him to move again.

He waited another instant, enjoying the poised tension of being buried in her. Then he began deep even thrusts, pulling her hard against him. She matched every motion, moving with him and holding him close, a hand wrapped in his hair and another moving from gripping his arm to trail down his back and pull his hips hard into her again. The sensations rocked through him as he moved in her.

Her soft cries and whispers of "Yes, aah, yes! Harder!" drove him on and they moved faster. Her hands went to his shoulders and gripped him tightly as she pulled herself hard to meet his thrusts, grinding her self into him. She turned her face to his and their mouths locked together for another moment before she broke away and buried her face on his shoulder. An instant later she was biting him as she smothered her cries

She went wild in his arms, knees coming up around his ribs and he felt himself move even deeper into her. Her nails raked his back and he felt her clamp down around him, pulling him in with each thrust, milking him as he pulled out to slam into her again. She met him each time, driving herself onto him. He felt himself losing control. She felt it too and began encouraging him. "Yes, now, I want it all now."

Her cries escalated again as he sank into her, feeling her walls stretch to accommodate him. They pulsed and he was over the edge, pumping heat into her. He thrust again, moving with the sensations as he climaxed. His mouth was on her neck now, quieting his own deep groans as he seemed to spend the last of his energy into her.

They finally lay together, not moving, still joined, gasping for breath. He held part of his weight off of her so she could breath, but she still held him tight against her, unwilling to let him move just yet. Byock smiled as he felt the little aftershocks run through her.

Finally she opened her eyes and grinned at him. "Wanna do it again?" Her eyes twinkled, only half in jest.

He laughed back at her and rolled to the side before she could stop him. He heard her gasp as he slipped out of her, then she was rolling with him, staying curled against his side, one let draped over his.

"Maybe in a few minutes," he told her, as his eyelids began to sag.

She yawned and accused him. "Spoil sport." She reached behind her and pulled the blanket over them. Then they slept.

Back at the fire, Teldrine glanced down the beach in their direction, and smiled.

Continued in Chapter 3

---