First mate Armitage clapped the lad on the back. “Now we just need to find out if the Cassinni have bedded down with the High King,” he commented.
Wicks pursed her lips. “Lift oars,” she commanded. “Let’s come to a stop. They will have to make the first move. We can’t risk sailing into them if they’ve joined Mastoc. The ship’s speed dropped off and soon they were dead in the water, bobbing up and down with the passing of the low swells.
“Turn the ships,” Armitage shouted and at once the small group of Toranado ships came about, preparing to flee.
But such precautions were not necessary, for only one heavy trireme of the Cassinni approached, breaking away from the others to sail closer all alone.
“It would seem,” Wicks commented, “that our caution has not gone unnoticed.”
“And that the Cassinni have not joined with Caiman…the traitor,” Armitage added with a smile.
“That still has yet to be seen,” Wicks answered, ever cautious, but the signs were good and they all had reason for optimism as the lone ship approached closer and closer, coming with only half oars.
“Slip starboard,” Armitage yelled the order as the Cassinni ship drew in and the two ships moved in unison in order to get just as close as possible in the mild seas. Even so, with their oars in the way, they could not come near enough to communicate other than through shouts, but once close, the Cassinni vessel lowered a small row boat over the side and five men climbed down to fill it, then the small boat made its way quickly to the side of the Universe.
“Hallo!” Shouted a small man who stood at the bow of the rowboat. He shifted his weight smoothly as it rose and fell in the swells of the turbulent water between the two large ships, obviously a seasoned seaman. He was smiling up at Captain Wicks cheerfully, and waving excitedly.
“And you are?” She asked, but nodded to her first mate to continue with the boarding process. The man did not answer as he struggled up the rope ladder that dropped over the pitching Universe.
“Ah…that’s much better,” the little round man said once he climbed aboard.
Captain Fatima Wicks fought hard to conceal her amusement. The little man was obviously an admiral, but his stature was something of a surprise, especially when he stood next to the towering Armitage. As Fatima greeted him she noticed he was easily a half head shorter than she, though the man was stout with broad shoulders. But Wicks was not a tall woman, above average perhaps…but not tall.
“I’m Captain Wicks of the Toranado,” she said with a formal bow, and if possible the little man’s smile grew larger.
“Ah yes…Captain Wicks…Thomas spoke very highly of you on several occasions,” the man answered and it took Fatima several seconds to realize that he was referring to Admiral Cantu, her old commander and mentor.
“And you are?” She asked, repeating her question.
“Oh yes…Admiral Seymour of the Cassinni, at your service.”
“At my service?” Wicks asked taking the man’s hand.
Seymour nodded. “Yes, King Marc has ruled that we will place a blockade around the Massi homeland at the request of Prince Gwaynn.”
“Blockade?”
Again Seymour smiled and nodded. “We’ve five hundred ships that will stretch from the tip of the Massi finger to Cape if you so allow. No Palmerrio or Rhondono warships will be permitted to land.”
Wicks stood stunned for several moments and then glanced at the smiling Armitage.
“You know what this means?” she asked her first mate.
“The hunt is on,” Armitage confirmed with a nod and broke into a smile. Captain Wicks reached out and took Admiral Seymour’s hand once more, pumping it up and down enthusiastically.
“Well met Admiral,” she said, “very well met.”
ǂ
Gwaynn slept through the entire night, all the next morning and into the afternoon. While he slept, Samantha helped Cobb out to the north side of town to see Doctor Linkler. Cobb was cut badly but he was far from murdered and required thirty-three stitches across his large chest and a cool rag for the knot on his head. Once he was patched up Samantha enlisted the help of the townsfolk and they all buried Emm, Adna and Raisa Botnick in the light cool mist that hung over the land. It felt strange to Samantha that the Botnick’s should be dead, that they were gone the previous night even as she and Gwaynn slept in their home. She’d slept well, comforted by the warm presence of her lover and even now, as she and Cobb left the cemetery with the Botnick’s safely resting under fresh dirt; she felt a guilty pleasure at the idea of returning to their home to be with Gwaynn once more.
Samantha was thankful that Cobb remained quiet on the walk back home. She didn’t want to talk; she felt as if she might never want to talk again. She waddled a bit now…growing heavy with child, and walked with one hand on her growing abdomen.
‘Emm was dead. The Botnick’s were dead.’ She should feel something for them but all she felt was her own living body. They were dead, but she was oddly conscious of her own breathing, the comfortable feel of her chest as it rose and fell in time with her steps. The Botnick’s were no longer breathing and they couldn’t feel the fine mist as it collected on their cheeks and ran in droplets under their collars. But their home was still here; filled with the many things the couple collected over the years together. It was strange that somehow these things, the home itself, were somehow more permanent and lasting than the inhabitants themselves.
‘Why should that be?’ Samantha thought to herself. ‘And why, with the Botnick’s so recently dead, should I feel not sadness…instead I’m happy and excited to be going home to Gwaynn.’
She did not have the answers, and she found that as she drew closer to the fine house of the late town magistrate she didn’t need an answer. She was both happy and relieved to be alive…overjoyed that Gwaynn was likewise alive. It was a blessing.
“Emm’s with Krys now,” Cobb finally said walking slowly by her side, his head hanging low.
“Yes,” Samantha confirmed in response. Emm had taken the poison knife meant for her own chest.
‘Why would that happen? Why had Emm even come to the Botnick’s?’ Again the answers were not forthcoming, but as they walked up the front porch Samantha felt emboldened by her own good fortune. The Black Horseman did not want her; in fact he was blatantly ignoring her. He could have taken her so many times, from the time she’d fallen from Sunshine, her first pony; to the time Navarra tied her to the block and especially when she lost her arm in battle. In war, death was all around, sowing so many young men and women…harvest time. Looking back she realized that there were countless moments in her life when death was nearby, so very close. It would have been so easy for the Black Horseman to reach out and snatch her up, take her on, take her elsewhere. But to this very day, death had always passed her by.
‘I’m meant to live!’ Samantha thought happily as she entered the front door and bounced through the parlor and into the kitchen. Gwaynn was there, awake and eating. The house was still in disarray, there were large bloodstains at the foot of the stairs and crusty pools of it in the room off the kitchen. But Samantha found she didn’t really mind. Gwaynn smiled at her and before she knew it she was crying and running, and when she was in his arms she found she was happier than she’d ever been. They held each other for several long minutes then Gwaynn broke away, taking a piece of her heart as he went, but he did not go far, just returned to the table to continue with his meal.