The Hope of Vitality, page 15
He sighed in resignation. It seemed they would be chasing the Ahran ship.
The ship’s masts were already disappearing below the horizon when he looked up. “You do realize we can’t keep pace with them.”
With no response from Gharpin, he shrugged. What did it matter? The Ahrans might hold to their current course, but without visual contact there was no chance Gharpin could steer in exactly the same direction. In the vastness of the ocean, the smallest deviation would guarantee a wide divergence in the courses of the two vessels. Even if the final destination of the larger vessel was within reach, they would probably never discover it.
Gharpin must have been equally aware of these realities, yet he appeared undismayed. He sat at the tiller, staring grimly ahead, betraying no sign of tiredness.
Kamash decided to leave his companion to it. After sailing around searching for a couple of days they would be forced to give up anyway, and he could see no real harm in another detour. If they ran short of food they would just go hungry for a while.
With the conditions unusually good and his eyes drooping uncontrollably, there would never be a better time to take a nap. Stretching out in the bottom of the boat, he closed his eyes.
* * *
The little boat glided through the water, Kamash at the tiller. When Gharpin had finally succumbed to exhaustion, he raised his eyebrows questioningly before relinquishing his seat. The Ahran had yielded control only after the old man had answered the unspoken question with a firm nod, accompanied by a sigh of resignation. When he awoke, he sat peering forward intently.
Open sea lay before them with no sign of ships. Islands were dotted about throughout these seas, but none of those nearby were large enough to support habitation. Kamash eyed his companion hopefully. Surely even Gharpin must be ready to admit defeat soon.
Then the tiniest hint of a mast appeared, far ahead. Kamash immediately swung the boat about, steering for the nearest island. To the old man’s relief, they reached its shelter long before they could have been seen.
The vessel was unmistakably Ahran. Even Kamash felt certain it was the same vessel they had been following.
Gharpin moved to the tiller, waving at Kamash to move aside. The old man complied, rolling his eyes in mute protest. His companion ignored him.
As soon as the ship had disappeared entirely, Gharpin resumed their journey, continuing in the same direction as before. Kamash understood. The Ahran ship had probably stopped somewhere—almost certainly at an island—before heading back the way it had come. If they were fortunate, sailing back along its wake might lead them to the island it had visited.
They had not sailed for long before several islands came into view.
As they drew closer, Kamash spotted a thin plume of smoke rising lazily into the air from one of them. Surprised to find such a small island inhabited, he pointed to it at once. Gharpin immediately changed tack, steering instead for a closer island that was even smaller.
“Will they be able to see us?” asked Kamash, pointing to the island with the smoke.
Gharpin clearly understood the question. He responded with a shrug.
They soon reached the smaller island. Anchoring the boat in the sheltered waters behind a promontory, they quickly removed the sail.
Swimming to the rocks and clambering out of the water, they peered out toward the larger island. It was too far away to draw firm conclusions, but it seemed almost certain that the island was inhabited. Having chosen a not dissimilar setting for his self-imposed exile, Kamash understood why someone might choose to live in such isolation. But he also knew how unusual such behavior was. Who was living there, and why? And, more importantly, why had they received a visit from an Ahran ship?
Such questions were better answered by the Varasans or the Rogandans. They could send a warship with armed sailors to explore the island. Kamash and Gharpin merely needed to ensure they could provide details of its location.
“We can leave after dark,” Kamash suggested.
His companion shook his head. “Dark is good. Good for quiet visit.”
Just the suggestion of spying was enough to flood Kamash with alarm again.
“You can’t be serious!” he said.
“Serious?” Gharpin seemed to consider. He finally returned a determined nod. “Serious,” he said, poking at his own chest.
He swept an arm across the vastness of the ocean before pointing at the island. “Why Ahrans? Why here?” He shook his head. “No good, no good.”
Kamash readily understood these concerns, but he had no desire to go anywhere near the island, in the dark or not. He could well believe that Ahran captains would be expected to gather intelligence for the empire while traveling abroad, but he saw no reason to suppose they were trained as spies. Even if Gharpin had received such coaching, he himself was certainly not equipped to do it.
The sun set without any resolution to Kamash’s concerns. Frustrated at his inability to sustain the simplest of conversations with Gharpin, he eyed his companion uneasily. The two men had been sharing a simple meal using supplies from their boat, and they were almost finished. What was Gharpin planning to do next? Did he expect Kamash to help him?
It occurred to him to wonder what his companion might do if he found himself among his countrymen once more. Would he grasp the opportunity to put the past behind him and make common cause with the Ahrans, in spite of everything that had happened?
He quickly saw he had no reason for doubt. Even in the failing light, a glance at the former captain showed his face rigid with determination.
Gharpin was a man on a mission. He would never rest until it was accomplished.
The boat glided silently forward, Gharpin sitting keen-eyed at the tiller. In the moonlight, the sail would surely be visible from the island. Thankfully the moon had not yet risen.
The island was little more than a smudge against the brightly twinkling stars, but it stood out enough to show them where they needed to go. Landing on a beach was out of the question—they would need to find a suitable place to anchor nearby.
The island loomed larger, and Kamash’s heart began to pound. As Gharpin steered them in close to the beach they saw fires flickering brightly among the trees. Figures were briefly outlined as they moved in front of them. It wasn’t possible to guess anything about the identity of the people or why they were there.
Turning the boat about, Gharpin swung into a rocky bay not far from the beach. Low hills overlooked the sea, with a gully emptying into the little bay. For anyone willing to grope over rocks in the dark, the gully might provide a path onto the island.
The thought held no appeal for Kamash. Drawing close to his companion, he hissed, “This is a bad idea!”
If Gharpin understood the warning, he ignored it. “I go,” he said softly. “Sun comes, you go.” His hand flicked away from the island, out to sea.
He didn’t pause for a reply. Slipping over the side, he struck out for the shore.
Kamash saw him reach the rocks. He pulled himself out of the water and stood dripping for a while. Then, slowly and carefully, he climbed toward the gully. A moment later he was lost in the darkness.
The old man sat alone in the boat, tense and unhappy. How long would his companion be gone? Gharpin would be careful, wouldn’t he? Surely he would do nothing worse than sneak around for a while. When he discovered nothing sinister, he’d return. He should be back well before dawn.
The night had scarcely begun, though, and he didn’t find the waiting easy. Anxious and jumpy, he flinched at the slightest sound. Each time, concluding there was no reason for concern, he would peer into the darkness, hoping for his friend’s return.
The hours wore by without any sign of Gharpin. Perhaps he had been forced to hide. It was also possible that he had been caught. What if he had injured himself climbing in the darkness? Kamash steadfastly pushed the more morbid possibilities from his mind.
At some point he realized that he was at risk as well. If Gharpin was spotted, it would be obvious that a boat had reached the island. Enemies might be searching for him at that very moment.
Was there another boat on the island? They might be in trouble if there was.
Clammy palms and a pounding heart told him he was becoming overwrought. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath and tried to calm himself.
* * *
Kamash could deny it no longer. The sky was showing clear signs of brightening.
What should he do? If he left now, Gharpin might arrive to find himself stranded. If he waited much longer, he might be seen from the island as he was leaving.
Eventually he decided to take Gharpin’s words seriously. “Sun comes, you go.” He would return as soon as it was dark. If Gharpin had been forced to hide for some reason, he would reappear under the cover of darkness.
Rowing clear of the rocks, he hoisted the sail and made for the nearby smaller island.
A sleepless night lay behind him, with the prospect of another to come. As soon as the boat was safely hidden, he threw out the anchor and lay down to rest.
The afternoon was wearing away by the time he woke. He helped himself to food and drink and waited restlessly for the sun to set again.
Gharpin might find his way back to the boat that night, but Kamash was no longer hopeful about it. He couldn’t continue to avoid the question that had been nagging at him. What should he do?
He could take the risk of doing a search of his own. Or he could resume the journey to Rog, and lead a rescue team back to the island. The sun set without him reaching a decision.
Sailing back to the island, he anchored the boat and sat wrestling with his thoughts.
A full hour passed before he decided. He could never live with himself if he made no attempt to discover the fate of the Ahran. Gharpin might be lying injured nearby. Sailing away might be condemning him to a slow and painful death.
With a sigh of resignation he lowered himself into the sea, swam to the rocks, and struggled ashore. Having committed himself, he took a deep breath and followed Gharpin into the gully.
17
Kamash reached the top of the gully without seeing Gharpin or anyone else. All activity seemed to be centered around the beach. Moving as noiselessly as he could, he crept forward in that direction.
He continued until he reached the edge of a large clearing. People were moving about, their shapes revealed in the dim light from a couple of large fires. He could also make out the outlines of a number of huts within the clearing.
None of the people seemed especially alert. That gave him hope. If Gharpin had been found, or even seen, surely the coastline would be swarming with people searching for his boat.
With no way to resolve the mystery of the Ahran’s disappearance, he took the only option available to him. Positioning himself well out of the range of any firelight, he settled down to watch and wait.
A couple of hours had passed with nothing to show for it, when he felt a hand settle firmly on his shoulder. Leaping to his feet and spinning around in alarm, he barely managed to restrain himself from crying out.
Kamash found himself confronted with the familiar visage of Gharpin. Still trying to calm his racing heart, he gaped in wide-eyed amazement. Finally he threw up his hands in exasperation.
Apparently surprised at the reaction he had provoked, the Ahran responded with a dispassionate shrug. Pointing across the clearing at two small buildings, he began speaking animatedly in a low voice.
Kamash could not understand a word of it. “Stop! I don’t understand you,” he said. He was forced to repeat it with increasing intensity before Gharpin’s flow of words eventually came to an end.
His companion pointed into the clearing, then touched his ears.
“You heard them talking. And they speak your language.”
Pointing once more at the buildings, Gharpin held up his arms, tightly connecting them immediately below his wrists.
“Bound at the wrists,” murmured Kamash. “Prisoners!”
Gharpin held up three fingers.
“Three people,” said Kamash.
The Ahran nodded. He held both hands wide, palms facing. Then he lifted them high, bringing them down slowly on either side of his head.
A couple of minutes went by before the old man made sense of the action. “A crown!” he said. “One of the three people is royal.”
Gharpin cupped a hand on each side of his chest and looked at his companion expectantly.
Kamash frowned. “A woman?”
The Ahran grinned in triumph. Holding up one finger, he repeated first the crown movement and then the woman movement. He then held up two fingers, repeating the crown movement before cupping a hand between his legs.
The old man frowned. “A woman and a man, both of them royal?”
He stared at Gharpin in astonishment. “King Rupert and Princess Teylee? You mean they’re here?”
Ignoring the question, Gharpin held up three fingers. Then he repeated the movements indicating a crown and a woman.
“A third captive? Also royal?” Kamash shook his head in confusion.
It didn’t make sense. For one glorious moment he felt certain they’d found the abducted king and princess. But a third royal? That couldn’t be right. He must have misunderstood what Gharpin was trying to communicate.
A rough voice called out words Kamash did not understand.
Gharpin froze. Grabbing Kamash’s arm, he pulled him away from the clearing.
A second voice was shouting now. The two men ran through the trees, heading for the boat.
Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Kamash saw torches bobbing in their direction. Too many torches. He raced after Gharpin, desperate to keep up.
As the sounds of the sea grew louder, he tripped on a root. Falling headlong, his head hit the ground hard. He lay stunned, blinded by pain and unable to orient himself.
An arm reached down. He was dragged to his feet. Head throbbing, the old man took a stumbling step, then another. Gharpin urged him to greater efforts.
They were in the gully now. Angry shouts rang in his ears. Their pursuers were gaining on them.
Dragging him across the rocks, Gharpin propelled him into the water. He gasped a breath as he went under. Buoyed up by Gharpin, he splashed out feebly for the boat.
Then he was alone. Gharpin reached the boat in a few hurried strokes and hauled himself aboard. Freeing the anchor with a mighty tug, he hurriedly released the sail. An oar appeared in front of Kamash, and he clutched hold of it.
Loud splashes sounded behind them. Time was running out.
Kamash reached the boat. Abandoning his attempts to clamber aboard, he hung on grimly as the boat began to drift away from the rocks.
They were moving too slowly. With swimmers almost upon them, Gharpin reached again for the oar. Kamash felt a hand grab at him, trying to pull him away from the boat. Then abruptly the hand went slack as Gharpin landed a heavy blow on the man’s head.
A breeze began to fill the sail, and they picked up speed. Gharpin sat at the tiller, leaving the old man to hang on as best he could. The effort and the pain were too much. As his hold on the boat began to slip, the Ahran appeared and hauled him aboard.
Kamash began to mumble. “Do…they have…a boat?”
Then everything went black.
* * *
His eyes opened on thin clouds skidding across a blue sky. The boat lurched suddenly, setting his head pounding. He closed his eyes, waiting for the aching to ease.
After a while he rolled onto one side. Propping himself up on one arm, he peered toward the stern. Gharpin sat calmly at the tiller. Seeing the old man awake, he gave him a wink.
The effort was too much for Kamash. Lying back again, he closed his eyes and drifted off to the slap of the boat plowing through the waves.
* * *
When he woke again the sky was ablaze with stars. The pounding in his head had subsided at last.
Sitting up cautiously, he looked around. The boat was racing through a moderate swell, driven by a stiff breeze. They appeared to be sailing almost due east.
Clearly Gharpin had not left the tiller. Moving to his side, Kamash found him barely able to function. Gently wresting the tiller from the Ahran’s hands, he waved him forward. Gharpin was asleep almost before he collapsed into the bottom of the boat.
There was so much to ponder. They had been fortunate indeed to escape from the island. He wished he could speak with Gharpin. Had they been pursued?
He wondered again about the prisoners. Who were they?
The priority now was to pass on what they had discovered.
It would be too late of course. With outsiders discovering the island, the Ahrans would move the prisoners as soon as another ship arrived. By the time they returned with Varasan or Rogandan warships, there would probably be no one there.
He wondered if it might have been possible to rescue the prisoners, but he quickly discarded the idea. With so many guards about, any attempt to spirit away three prisoners would have been a recipe for disaster.
In the end they had done well to escape themselves.
He felt sure Gharpin had an important story to tell. Getting him safely to Rog would be enough of an achievement.
Rupert and Tasha watched warily as the latest Ahran ship appeared around the end of the island and anchored offshore. Longboats were soon making their way to the little beach.
Rupert tried not to imagine what the Ahrans might do next. Anticipating a fresh round of violations would not help anyone.
A group of guards were soon heading their way. To his surprise they had another captive in tow.
Tasha aimed a puzzled glance in his direction. He returned a shrug.
The Ahran leader approached, dragging the captive in front of Rupert. “I’m sure you weren’t expecting a visit from your sister,” he gloated.
