Chapter 20.
She quickly discovered that she hated being on deck. The sun was lovely and the breeze was soothing, but the completely open skies unsettled her. She felt exposed, and she disliked the way the world and sky seemed to merge together, because she could not make out the horizon line. Even the gulls above her, which she could hear quite clearly, ere no more than darkened blurs on the azure sky.
She had decided to start with the rope, reading his detailed description of how she was to coil the large lines and which ones she was to tighten and which to let loose. So she started at the stem, placing her rose on a barrel near where she was working with the heavy line, and began.
She was shocked at how heavy the thick coils weighed, and unaccustomed to physical labor, never before having a need to perform it, by the time she had finished piling the first line in an orderly circle, she was aching all over and the skin of her palms stung. The wind was soothing, but she was sweating badly, and found herself extremely thirsty.
"Let's go get some water," she panted, gingerly picking up the rose, toting it back to the cabin. She had no idea where to find more water than what he had provided, so her first thought was that he perhaps kept it in bottles or something in his cabin. She got up to approach a cabinet when she heard a shrill creaking.
She jumped at the sudden sound, whirling around to see where it had come from, but nothing in the cabin was moving, except to the steady sway of the swell of the surf. The grating shriek continued, and curious as to the source, she grabbed her rose and wandered out of the cabin into the groggy passages below decks.
It was even more sweltering there, and she could feel trails of sweat rolling in beads down her skin and her clothes where sticking to her in a most unpleasant manner, and she found herself plucking at the fabric in the most of unseemly of location to try and make it more comfortable as she tracked the mysterious sound through the bowels of the ship.
She finally arrived at a wide room, with two sets of wooden tables and benches, and one wall lined with pantries. She discovered the harsh shrieking noise was a swaying lantern that looked like it had seen better days. And as she watched, the ring by which it was mounted to the ceiling wore through and it fell, landing on the barrel beneath it with a sloshing thud.
Her ears perked up at the sound and she walked up to the barrel, listening intently as she detected the faint sound of water moving in time with the ship.
"Do you think?" she asked the rose in her hand, before reaching forward to lift the rusted lantern off the barrel lid, placing it on the table behind her. She lifted the lid and nearly laughed in delight. The barrel was full to the brim with water, a small ladle bobbing at the edge, tied to the lid with a small string.
With excitement, she placed the rose down, picked up the ladle, and drew up a full draught of water, bringing it reverently to her lips. It was cold and fresh, without any hint of lemon whatsoever. Never in her life had she experienced such a thirst as she did at the moment and it was without a single ounce of grace that she shoveled as much water into her mouth as she could, uncaring of the excess that dribbled onto her already sweat soaked clothes.
She actually moaned as she felt the refreshing liquid trickle down her throat and then shivered as she felt it slowly pool in her belly, finally helping to sooth the heat of the day. She didn't think she had been more grateful for a sip of water in her whole life.
When she had finally quenched her thirst, she lazily dropped the ladle back into the barrel before shifting the lid back to cover the water, noticing the sting on her palms. With a hiss, she pressed the skin against the edge of the barrel, the sharp pain making her immediately stop. It was so foreign to her. Even when she had given birth to her son, she had been given a potion to help ease his birth and reduce her pain, so that she need not needlessly suffer. She couldn't help but wonder at it now.
She stared down at the reddened skin of her palms, assessing the burn in her hands and the shaking in her muscles. Never before had she questioned her lifestyle, but now, faced with the fact that only an hour's toil had left her weary, she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps her protected life had not been detrimental to her.
She knew that in their past lives, both of her parents had felt the pains of physical labor, but in her youth, when she was but a child, whenever she had brought that up, trying to argue for being allowed to go riding or to play with the other children, her parents always insisted that they had fought and toiled so she would never have to. And as she grew, she simply didn't bother bringing it up anymore. For what more could she want that what the castle could supply?
She rubbed her fingers together, knowing with the number of ropes the Captain had requested coiled, her hands were likely going to end up bloodied at the rate they had been rubbed raw. And while the idea of pain had her hesitating, as she thought about it, she realized she wanted to finish this task. It was her doing, under her own strength and her own effort. Nothing before in her life had been thus, and filled with a new fervor, she straightened, plucking up her rose.
"Come on, we have work to do."
She then marched up the stairs and back into the light, going back to where she had left her list laying on a barrel. Grabbing it she read over his directions for the next line she needed to haul, and then walked over to it. She found a spot to put her rose then set about starting her task.
The rope burned her hands immediately, but she refused to stop. She needed something to distract her from the burn in her hands, even as she found relief from her fears in the strain of her labor, so she decided to sing to herself. It was an old lullaby that one of her nursemaids had hummed on nights when the thunderstorm had frightened her, the untamable fury of the skies terrifying the girl who like all her world contained.
Fire cannot burn me
Ice cannot freeze me
Water cannot drown me
Earth cannot touch me
But who am I?
Who am I?
I am here
I am now
I was lost in a world
that could not hear me
but no more
but no more
As she sang the song between panting breaths, she felt the strength from the night before well up within her. A strength she hadn't ever felt before, and she was able to grasp the rope tightly and pull, grasp tightly and pull, feeling the sun burn down on her, and the wind whipped around her sweating form. Grasp and pull, grasp and pull.
Rain cannot soothe me
Sun cannot parch me
Wind cannot chill me
Lightning cannot strike me
But who am I?
Who am I?
I am there
I am then
I was lost in a world
that could not see me
But no more
But no more
She barely even noticed when she finished the song, simply restarting as many times as needed, until the rope was finished, and then, almost in a trance, she moved to the next one on the list, her hands working in a steady time with the refrain of the song. She felt a sort of warm, bussing sensation settle under her skin as one hand passed in front of the other, tugging the rope tightly. Grasp and pull, grasp and pull.
I burn the heart
I freeze the soul
I free the mind
I make you whole
But who am I?
Who am I?
I am where
I am when
I was lost in a world
That could not feel me
But no more
But no more
She barely noticed the ship beginning to creak in time with her almost mindless chant, her focus being on the sensation of the rope fibers against her hand, the catch in her shoulder muscle from the strain, the single droplet of sweat that rolled down her back, the cramp in her calf from bracing herself against the planks beneath her. She had no idea how many times she repeated the little ditty, but when she suddenly felt the first drops of rain, she jolted so hard she almost dropped the last bit of rope she had left to coil.
Glancing upward, she realized the sky was black and the wind was whipping around her with a vengeance. What started out as a few drops turned almost instantly into a deluge, and she quickly finished the last loop, before hurriedly grabbing her list and rose off the barrel and sprinting
for the cover of below decks. As soon as she had made it below, the hatch slammed shut above her.
"Well that was lucky," she mused to the rose, before throwing a considering look down the pitching passageway. There was no way that she was going to be able to clean the hold while the ship was rocking this violently, as if to affirm her thoughts, the door to that passageway swung shut as the ship rolled with another wave.
"I'll do it later then," she murmured and began to stagger her way back to the Captain's Quarters as the ship continued to dip and slid with the storm. The heady sensation that her labor on deck had brought was still lingering in her veins and she was able to get herself into the cabin and to the bed before it faded away and terror of the storm and the pain of her labor had her curling up against the wood paneling.
The first clap of thunder had her flinching up against the wood, humming frantically under her breath, trying to find the calm she had discovered in spite of the frightening expanse of sky on deck. But as a flash of lightening threw sharp shadows across the room, and a whimper escaped her lips as the clap of thunder.
Her courage was gone. As the storm raged, she found herself crying in hopelessness. She was like a ship in an ocean, at the mercy of the wind and tides, to be tossed around and buffeted by forces beyond comprehension. She honestly thought that her deal with the embodiment of evil was going to end well for her or her family? And even if he did uphold his end of the deal, she would never see them again. She would be alone, locked in a ship with a man who, according to legend, was one of the most evil and notorious pirates to have ever lived, and she had willingly put herself to his beck and call.
She would never be able to save her family or her kingdom. Everybody would have just been better off is she had been taken instead. Her parents would have been able to carry on without her. He son would have grown into a fine man without her guidance. She was useless.
She felt a renewed sob bubble up in her chest and she clutched her flower tightly to her with one hand as she pushed herself into the corner of the bunk with her other, fingertips sliding into the slick groove in the wood left by its usual occupant. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," she begged her parents, her son, the rose, the ship, the storm to understand. "I can't do this. I'm so afraid. I can't do this. I'm not strong enough. I don't want to be alone. Please..." her voice petered out.
"I am so afraid to be alone." Tears rolled face and she clenched her eyes shut and pressed the rose to her lips in a prayer to anything that might give her comfort as she braced her burning hand against the wood, trying to find something solid to cling to reality.
There was another flash of light that she saw, even through her closed lids, and a second later another violent crash of thunder that set the whole cabin shaking. She heard a crash as something fell from where it was perched and at the sudden noise her eyes flicked open against her will, just as another bolt of lightning illuminated the cabin.
She screamed as the white light pouring in through the window, just for the fraction of a moment that it lasted, outlined the dark silhouette of a man standing in the middle of the cabin. She pulled as far back into the cabin wall as she could, eyes frantically seeking out any movement in the darkness, the storm seeming to ascend to higher and more violent heights as the wind screamed around the vessel.
Nothing moved in the cabin, and for a fraction of a moment she convinced herself that she had imagined it. But on the next flash, she let out another scream as the figure reappeared, closer than before. And seeming by fate, a series of successive lightening strikes kept the room in a flickering glow just bright enough for her to watch the form move towards her and he pulled away trying to flatten herself against the wood of the bunk.
But as the light died and the continuous peals of thunder rolled around the cabin, shaking her very bones with its might, and the screaming wind howled obscenities at the night, she thought she heard the faintest whisper.
"Not alone."
And on the next strike, the figure was right at the edge of the bed, looming above her. She screamed again, and closed her eyes, and prepared herself for whatever fate this thing was going to condemn her too. But when nothing came, she opened her eyes, tentatively, still terrified. The cabin was empty.
She blinked the still falling tears from her eyes in an attempt to make sure she could see clearly that the cabin was empty. Then the next flash of lightning came. And she froze. The thing was kneeling on the bed and was inches away from her. And she could see straight through it to the cabin beyond.
She simply shut down in terror, her throat refusing to scream and her limbs refusing to move. She could do nothing. The light flickered out, but not two moments later, another flash illuminated the room again. And then the form shifted, a hand coming up to the apple of her cheek.
Suddenly the whole world froze. Sound became muted and the ship seemed to still. As the fingertips caressed her skin, it was as if all of existence was holding its breath, and from the touch, she felt warmth flow through her. Her clutching hands both slid down to her lap, limp, all fear of the thing gone as the comfort and safety of its touched radiated through her. The form leaned forward to press its forehead to hers, and she mirrored the movement, her eyes locked on to where its eyes should have been, somehow knowing that it could see her.
The light faded, but she could still feel it. And a flickering of light later, it reappeared. She felt the hand on her face slid down her neck to gentle grip her hands, which now lay motionless in her lap, the rose still between them. She felt a soothing cool seep into her from the points of contact, and this time when the lightening faded, she could still make out the hazy outline of the thing against the shadows of the room. Then the form shifted and she felt it, a white heat that jolted into her very soul as the thing pressed a shadowy kiss to her forehead.
On the next bolt of light, she gasped, for now the outline appeared in the form of a giant wolf, its back legs on the floor, one paw braced on the bed, the other placed on her hands, and its muzzle resting on her forehead.
"Not alone."
And then the light died and the form with it and suddenly the storm seemed to have its voice again. She waited, half in anticipation, half in fear, for the next bought of lightening, but the shape never reappeared. But as a sudden wave of drowsiness overcame her, she felt as if something in her had shifted back into place. The small fire of courage rekindled and she was able to force herself to lie down, pressed up against the wall of the cabin, the small groove pressing as an imperfection into her back as she clutched her rose to her and tried to hide from the tempest's fury., and after pressing the flower to lips she was able to let her eyes fall shut and find sleep during a storm for the first time in her life.
Just as she passed over the brink into the abyss, she whispered to her silent guardian, hoping that it might hear.
"Thank you for not leaving me alone."