The Hope of Vitality, page 2
Kamash nodded.
The Ahran gazed thoughtfully at the little vessel for several minutes. “Now, I think,” he finally said, before adding, “Tomorrow, we talk?”
Kamash nodded again, and they turned their backs on the boat, setting off for their shelter.
That night the old man’s thoughts churned restlessly as he waited in vain for sleep to take him. He had been more than a little relieved at his companion’s restraint—Gharpin had not even attempted to closely examine the boat. For all his drivenness, the Ahran was apparently less impulsive than Kamash might have expected. Nevertheless, Kamash didn’t doubt that the shipwrecked captain would want to leave, and soon.
A difficult choice lay ahead.
Gharpin was an accomplished sailor who needed no help from an old man. The simplest option would be to give him the boat and remain on the island when he left. The loss of the craft was of no real concern to Kamash—he had never made a final decision about keeping it anyway.
While it might be the simplest solution, somehow it didn’t sit right. If he understood correctly, Gharpin had lost his ship along with his entire crew as a result of deliberate sabotage ordered by an Ahran official. The most likely reason was that the official wanted to silence him. What secrets was Gharpin hiding? And what would happen when he suddenly reappeared after mysteriously escaping a watery grave?
And where would he go? Sturdy as the little boat might be, Gharpin would never be able to sail as far as the empire. If he tried, then sooner or later he would encounter an Ahran ship. Any such encounter could prove fatal if a powerful official wanted him dead.
His future would be equally uncertain if he sailed to Rogand. He couldn’t pass himself off as Rogandan, and Ahrans were not exactly held in high honor in Rog at that time.
Kamash sighed. He would never be able to live with himself if he abandoned Gharpin to his fate. That left only one practical alternative—he would need to accompany his new companion to Rog and advocate on his behalf to King Krasmir.
In his innocence the old man had imagined he’d escaped human turmoil and intrigue forever. With a heavy heart he faced the reality that he was about to be thrust back into human society once more. And right into the center of the maelstrom.
2
King Rupert of Castel stirred, waking from a nightmare that lingered at the edge of his awareness. Where was he?
His world lurched suddenly, accompanied by the loud creaking of timbers and the swaying of a hammock beneath him. Everything abruptly came flooding back.
Was Tasha still at his side?
Propping himself up on one elbow, he peered into the darkness, trying to make out the other hammock in the storage room where they had been imprisoned. He could see nothing. The single candle left by their captors had gone out, and no light penetrated this deep into the bowels of the ship.
Rupert lay back quietly again, confident he could not have slept through Tasha being removed from the room. She was most likely asleep. If so, he saw no reason to disturb her.
With nothing else to distract him, a torrent of thoughts raced through his mind. He knew King Krasmir would be searching for them; the Rogandan monarch would never rest until he had freed his daughter. The Ahrans had made that task much more difficult by removing the captives from Rogand though. He wondered if they were being taken to the capital of the empire, Kat Ahket.
The disruption would by no means be limited to Rogand. Castel would be forced to continue without its king. In his absence, Count Gordan had been acting as regent, and Rupert had every confidence in him. But what would Gordan do if the Ahrans decided to bargain with Rupert’s life? And how would King Krasmir react if he was forced to choose between his daughter and the interests of his kingdom?
What would become of them all? As for Tasha and him, they had fallen into a deep, deep hole, and Rupert wondered if they would ever make it out again.
Unwilling to dwell on the worst possible outcome, he reminded himself that Princess Neira was under heavy guard in Rog. Perhaps an exchange could be arranged.
“Are you awake?” a soft voice asked.
“Yes, I am,” he replied eagerly. “Did you manage to get any sleep?”
“Not much. Not as much as you.”
He frowned in the dark. “How do you know how much sleep I got?”
Her reply was blunt. “You snore.”
A deep flush warmed his face. For reasons he couldn’t understand, this simple pronouncement did almost as much to deflate him as everything that had happened so far.
“Not loudly,” she added belatedly. “Just enough that I knew you were asleep.”
With his perspective restored, he confronted his own sensitivity. How did princesses manage to be so effective at discomposing him? Did it come naturally to them, or did they learn it as part of their training? He ran a hand across his face, grateful that the darkness concealed his embarrassment.
For a time there were no sounds apart from the noises of the ship.
A quavering voice eventually broke the silence. “Do you hate me, Rupert?”
Taken by surprise, he responded as cheerfully as he could manage. “How could I hate a person who’s joining me on the adventure of a lifetime?”
Her choked off response might have been an ironic snort. More likely it was a sob.
When she said nothing further, he added, “We’re not going to let them beat us, Tasha!”
A full minute must have passed before she responded. “No. We’re not.” Her words were accompanied by a loud sniff, but her voice was steadier.
* * *
Without daylight it was difficult for Rupert to judge the passage of time. Their isolation was interrupted only when their captors brought food and water, occasionally leaving behind a flickering candle to chase away the darkness for a while.
It might have been two or three days before they were eventually led from their prison and rowed to what appeared to be a small island bustling with activity. Uncomfortable after so long in the dark, they climbed out of the longboat onto the beach, covering their eyes against the dazzling light. Having delivered the prisoners, their captors returned immediately to their ship, leaving them to the dubious mercies of the men already on the island.
Glancing around uncertainly, Rupert saw a large group of men hard at work erecting several structures, directed with unruffled efficiency by a wiry man with a thick beard. Building materials lay scattered about an open space beyond the beach. After a brief glance toward the newly arrived prisoners, the workers and their overseer ignored them entirely.
Glancing out to sea, Rupert saw a second ship lying at anchor off the beach, presumably the vessel that had transported the men and materials already on the island.
Released into an open space at last, he began pacing back and forth restlessly.
It took a supreme effort to calm himself for long enough to check on Tasha. “Are you well?”
She responded with a halfhearted nod. Emotionally exhausted by the ordeal, she seemed wooden and detached.
* * *
By the time the sun set, workmen had erected several simple huts.
The bearded overseer strode purposefully toward them. “My name is Dessue,” he said in passable Rogandan. “I am in authority on this island. Please follow me.”
Two huts had been built apart from the others, and he led them to the nearest. “This will be your hut,” he told Rupert. Turning to Tasha, he pointed. “Your hut is behind it.”
“Thank you,” said Rupert tightly.
Speaking courteously to any of their captors cost him an effort, but he remembered his father saying that a king should behave like one, whatever the circumstances.
Dessue assessed him. “You have spent a long time in the dark.” His tone was gruff, but not unkind. “Hot food will be brought to you as soon as my men have prepared it.” He nodded once, then he left them.
Rupert and Tasha sat together outside Rupert’s hut. More comfortable in the dim light of dusk, they gazed out at the waves breaking endlessly onto the rocks.
Some life had returned to Tasha. “Our situation seems to have improved,” she observed.
Rupert nodded once. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”
Food was brought to them as Dessue had promised. Simple as it was, the meal seemed sumptuous after the provisions tossed indifferently into their prison room on the ship.
The events of the previous few days had taken their toll. Rupert felt weary beyond words. Tasha was clearly in no better state. “I need to sleep,” he told her. “I won’t be far away. Call if you need me.”
She returned a sleepy nod, and they retired to their huts.
Rupert’s sleeping quarters might have been basic, but at least the low bed was not swaying. The guards did not disturb him, and he slept soundly for the first time since his captivity. In the morning he discovered that Tasha’s experience had been similar.
After another meal was delivered, Dessue paid them a second visit. “I trust that your huts are adequate.” After a nod from Rupert, he told them, “I have been given responsibility for keeping you safe and in good health. You may wander the island freely. Two guards will accompany you at all times, but that is purely for your own safety.” He addressed Tasha in particular. “My superiors have made it clear that you are not to be interfered with in any way, and I have made sure the men are aware of that.”
Rupert managed another muted thank you. But whether he showed it or not, he was greatly relieved by Dessue’s assurance to Tasha.
“You will not be treated badly if you behave well,” Dessue promised curtly.
The moment he had gone, Tasha stood up and stretched. “Shall we see if he was serious about letting us explore the island?” She sounded remarkably buoyant.
Rupert did not hesitate. “Certainly! I need exercise!”
Leaving the beach and the huts, they headed into the trees.
“We’re being followed,” he whispered, jerking his head behind him.
She peered back over her shoulder at two guards who had set off after them. “Should we try to lose them?”
He shook his head. “Let’s not push the boundaries. We don’t want Dessue deciding he’s been too lenient.”
The guards followed at a distance, but it soon became apparent they had no intention of intruding. After a while Rupert was almost able to ignore them.
They hadn’t walked far when a steep hill rose before them, its tree lined slopes obscuring the summit.
Tasha gazed up at it. “I wonder if that might give us a view across the whole island.”
After a glance back at their guards, he shrugged. “Let’s find out.” He had no idea if the hill was off limits. If it was, it would soon become obvious.
The guards made no attempt to stop them, and they reached the top puffing from their exertions. Peering back down the slope, Rupert saw the two men leaning against trees some distance below them. They had avoided the steepest part of the climb while choosing a location that would allow them to see whenever he and Tasha left the hill. Eavesdropping did not appear to be on their agenda.
Putting the Ahrans from his mind, he allowed himself to appreciate the view. Blue ocean could be seen in every direction. Three smaller islands lay not far away. Apart from visible greenery—presumably trees—none of the three appeared to be any more than featureless lumps of rock. Tiny smudges on the horizon hinted at other islands further away. As far as Rupert could tell, no landmass of any size lay within reach.
Their own island was modestly sized and covered with vegetation. Birdlife was plentiful, and the barking of sea lions carried faintly to their current position. He guessed that a range of marine birds and animals used the island as a breeding ground.
Apart from the beach where they had landed, only one other strip of sand was visible. It was small and inaccessible from the surrounding cliffs. The rest of the coastline appeared rocky and forbidding, at least to humans.
“Where are we?” asked Tasha.
Rupert shook his head. “I have no idea. We might be halfway to Ahr-chitani for all I know.”
The princess peered off into the distance. “If we hadn’t been sailing for so long before we arrived, we might be near the Rogandan coastline. There are plenty of islands to the north of Rogand.”
“There are islands off the coast of Castel and Varas as well,” he replied. “It would take longer to sail there, so I suppose one of them might be a possibility.”
She peered around at the island, screwing up her face. “It certainly isn’t appealing, wherever it’s located. Unless you happen to be a sea lion, I suppose.”
He snorted. “No. I imagine the Ahrans wanted somewhere that wouldn’t attract attention. If so, they chose well.”
* * *
For better or for worse this place was now home. As the days slowly passed, they did their best to adjust. Dessue occasionally visited them. The visits were brief, and Rupert saw no point to them, but the Ahran was at least making an effort to be accessible. Although neither he nor his guards showed them any particular deference, they served an adequate meal twice each day while apparently expecting nothing in return.
The first sign of change was the arrival of an Ahran ship. Having spotted it in the distance from their hilltop lookout, they made their way to the beach, curious to see what was happening. Keeping out of sight among the trees, they watched as supplies were unloaded and the boat returned to the ship carrying several passengers.
“Is that Dessue in the longboat?” asked Rupert in surprise.
“It appears to be. Perhaps he’s meeting with the ship’s captain.”
As they watched, half a dozen men they didn’t recognize were rowed to the island. The men had all the appearance of new arrivals intent on settling in. The impression was confirmed a couple of hours later when the ship raised anchor and departed. It left with Dessue still on board.
Rupert couldn’t shake off a sense of foreboding, but he decided to put a positive face on it. “It looks like we’re going to have a change of administration,” he said, speaking as cheerfully as he could manage.
“So it appears.” Tasha sounded less than enthusiastic.
Dessue’s replacement wasted no time in making his presence felt. Within the hour he approached their huts, surrounded by guards. Assessing the captives through narrowed eyes, he spoke to them in Rogandan. “I am told that my predecessor treated you as guests. You are not guests—you are prisoners.”
He eyed them coldly. “Your food will be provided, in keeping with the emperor’s benevolence to prisoners throughout his empire. However, I will not tolerate laziness. You can no longer expect my men to do menial tasks on your behalf. Do them yourselves. The work of preparing your meals will, of course, fall to you.”
With that he turned on his heel, leaving them gaping open-mouthed.
Tasha made no attempt to hide her contempt. “He didn’t even bother to tell us his name!”
Rupert gazed uneasily at the retreating form of the Ahran. “I wonder if he’s planning to restrict our freedom of movement.”
It didn’t take long to find out. To Rupert’s surprise, nothing was done to hinder them when they next set off on a walk. Two men followed them as before. The guards had now become blatant in their efforts to listen in on Rupert and Tasha’s conversations, but apart from that no obvious differences emerged.
For the next few days, life continued much as it had under Dessue. Everything changed when they went for a long walk.
Having climbed the tallest hill on the island, they stood gazing at the horizon.
“I’ll race you to the bottom!” said Tasha with a grin, bouncing off toward the trees below without waiting for an answer.
Rupert hesitated for a moment. Then, throwing caution to the winds, he set off after her.
Careering down a steep slope dodging trees was more than enough to occupy his full attention. But he was drawing close.
Hearing him coming, Tasha put on an extra burst of speed. As she drew away from him, her laugh turned into a cry of alarm as she lost her footing and tumbled down the slope.
Rupert watched in horror as she rolled helplessly downward, her head barely missing more than one tree. Tumbling into a ditch, she came at last to a jarring halt.
Frantic and agitated, Rupert hurried to her side.
She stared up at him, pale and wincing with pain. “My ankle! I think I might have broken it.”
Rupert called to the guards. “Come and help me!”
To his astonishment, they ignored him completely. They must surely have witnessed the whole episode. Yet they appeared unmoved by Tasha’s plight.
“Your master will hear of this!” Rupert growled.
Their response was a harsh laugh.
Helping Tasha upright, he placed her arm around his shoulder. She took a tentative step forward, Rupert bearing her weight as best he could.
“Can you manage?” he asked.
She nodded tightly, and they set off for her hut.
Every hop jarred her injured ankle, and more than once she cried out in pain. The indifference of the guards and their refusal to help incensed Rupert. He gritted his teeth and tried to limit his focus on where to place his next step. Nevertheless, his fury grew as the minutes dragged painfully by.
By the time they reached her hut, Tasha was barely able to cope with the pain and the shock. After making her as comfortable as he could, Rupert hurried off to find the Ahran leader.
The man was not alone when Rupert found him. Wisdom dictated that any interaction should take place in private, especially since most of the guards understood at least some Rogandan.
Rupert was too angry to care. “The princess has seriously injured her foot! She needs urgent medical attention! Your guards have done nothing whatever to help!”
The two guards had arrived at the same time, and the leader immediately addressed them in their own language. After a rapid interaction, he turned to Rupert indifferently. “The prisoner has injured herself as a result of her own foolishness. I do not regard that as an emergency—for me or for my men.”
