A/N Sorry it's been a while since I updated, Christmas sort of got in the way! I'm glad so many of you forgave me for not kicking Dumah around, I did try, but somehow, I couldn't make that storyline work. I guess I got to feeling sorry for the poor li'l bloodsucker, being left like that, hanging somewhere between life and death for a millennium or so, even if it was his own fault! Anyway, without any further ado, here's the next chapter.
19 The Voyage
From the moment she steps onto the narrow gangplank and looks down at the oily blackness of the water below, Jas knows she is not going to enjoy the voyage to the Hylden city.
The ship is a small affair, a sailing ship with a crew of twenty men, all experienced sailors and all drawn from the ranks of the vampire worshippers. Besides herself there are three other passengers on board, all of them Adepts, their function being to attend to Jas' needs and also, to ensure the spiritual welfare of the crew.
The leader of the Adepts is a man in his late forties, stoutish, coarse-featured and with a thick head of iron-grey curls. He introduces himself as Lord Praxtos, bowing low before Jas and Kain as they step onto the deck; Jas takes an almost instant dislike to him.
He is muscular, but years of rich living have softened the contours of his body and this, as well as the lavish robes and heavy jewellery that he wears, conceals his strength from casual observation. He wields his power with obvious relish, ordering the two younger Adepts around as if they were his slaves, but he greets Kain and Jas obsequiously, bowing so often, that it seems natural for him to bob rather than walk.
He reminds Jas of one of the curs that were common in the slums of Meridian, when she was young, cringing and whining around his masters for favour, but like such a dog, she imagines he could turn very easily, if favour were not forthcoming.
He informs them that he will conduct a ceremony of welcome and blessing before they set sail. Jas frowns, she would much prefer to go to her cabin and avoid the drivellings of these religious zealots, but, she realises, her presence is obligatory; compliance in the rites and rituals of the vampire worshippers being part of the unspoken price of her passage.
She follows Kain's lead throughout the ceremony, and finds herself wondering how he has the patience to sit through all the unadulterated nonsense that is mumbled in his name. At the conclusion of the ritual, the two young Adepts come forward to be bled for their gods. Kain and Jas accept the offering of blood, a token only, since neither is in need of nourishment. The offering is presented to them with a great deal of unnecessary bowing, scraping and speech making, in the inevitable golden goblets.
When Kain has left, Lord Praxtos approaches Jas. She tells him bluntly that she wants as little to do with the crew as possible; one advantage in being a god, there is no need for her to be polite. He assures her that she will not be bothered unnecessarily by the other mortals, and then shows her to her cabin, taking great interest, in her meagre possessions, her sword, dagger and the orb, which is locked securely in its own casket next to her bunk. His own cabin is next to hers; so, he informs her, no one may approach her, without first passing him. She nods curtly to him on receipt of this information, though if it is meant to reassure her, it does not particularly, and then she retires.
*
They get underway almost at once; she can hear the crew shouting orders to each other above her head and the creaking of sail and timber as the ship slips out of the harbour.
Jas knows little about boats, she has never been on one before and she wishes she were not on one now, she tries hard not to think about the vast volumes of water beneath her, but that is nearly impossible, with the constant sound of the waves against the sides of the ship to remind her. She lies on her bunk, listening to all the strange noises and feeling distinctly uncomfortable as the ship begins to roll with the swell.
Later, she forces herself out of her cabin, determined at least, to look at the sea, otherwise, she fears, she may end up imprisoned below decks for the entire voyage. Lord Praxtos is in front of her, before her door is even closed.
"Highness?" He enquires.
She gives him a cold look, narrowing her eyes. How dare he address her so boldly?
"I am going up on deck." She informs him.
He bows low, his robes sweeping ostentatiously around him. Then, he turns, clearly intending to precede her.
"Alone." She adds firmly.
He bows low again, but now there is a glint of annoyance in his hooded eyes. He lowers his lids a little more before he replies, deliberately seeking to hide his emotions, but not because he fears her, she realizes; he doesn't fear her, at all.
"As you wish, Highness," he murmurs, "as you wish."
He backs into the doorway of his cabin, and remains bowing, until she has walked past him.
Jas frowns in annoyance as she mounts the steps that lead up to the deck. This man disturbs her, he could even be dangerous she thinks, and, if Kain's calculations are correct, she will have to endure him for at least eight weeks. That is a long time to be stuck on a boat, especially with someone she does not trust.
When she gets onto the deck, she finds she is not alone. The youngest of the Adepts is hanging over the side, his face a sickly green. He retches violently, too sick even to turn his head and acknowledge her. She turns around, and goes down once more to her cabin; staying on deck does not seem very attractive if she has to share the night with a mortal in that condition.
Lord Praxtos is still standing in his doorway, a further irritation. Is it simply devotion that has him watching her so closely?
"What ails your companion?" she asks him.
He bows deeply before he answers, and she finds herself growing increasingly impatient with his over-blown manners.
"Alas Highness," he says, "the boy is sorely troubled with the sea-sickness. Shall I have him confined to quarters to spare you further annoyance?"
She stares; she doubts this treatment would improve his condition.
"No," she says. "Don't trouble yourself. At the moment, he is emptying the contents of his stomach. I think he is better doing that, where he is."
*
The first week of the voyage passes without incident. Three of the crew are sacrificed to provide blood for Jas, which she thinks excessive. She finds herself worrying that food may run low if the voyage is longer than expected, and how will the remaining men handle the ship, especially if there is a storm? When she expresses her concerns to Lord Praxtos, he dismisses them, informing her very politely but firmly, that managing the crew is his business and he has all eventualities planned for. She is not convinced.
Jas soon gets into the habit of taking the air on deck in the evenings. She has not gotten over her dislike of the water but she has to admit, the wildlife it supports is fascinating. She loves to watch the dolphins that follow the ship, sometimes for nights on end, especially when they leap high above the waves, apparently for no other reason than the sheer joy of being able to do so. Other sights are more strange, the wreck of jellyfish that they sail through on the fourth night being probably the strangest. She watches fascinated as their translucent bodies pulse through the murky depths of the water, trailing long, luminous tentacles in their wake.
The young Adept who was sea-sick is still suffering. On the seventh night, he approaches her. He kneels before her, his head bowed, his face a perfect study in sickness and misery.
"Forgive my intrusion Highness." He whispers, looking anxiously towards the steps that lead to her cabin, and to Lord Praxtos.
"What is it?" she asks.
He takes a deep breath and gulps before forcing out what he has been wanting to say for days.
"If it would please you to accept, I would like to offer myself as the next blood-sacrifice."
She stares at him.
"I can't stand this sickness," he continues. "I'll never be a sailor. If I have to feel like this for the next seven weeks, then I'd rather die!" He raises his hands towards her, "Please Highness, be merciful. I cannot serve you any other way, I am useless as I am."
She looks down at him. She has fed recently, but even if she had not, she doubts he would have looked particularly appetising, his skin is still tinged with green, and a thin trail of vomit stains the front of his robe.
"And what does Lord Praxtos say," she asks him.
"Lord Praxtos says I am being punished, for my sins or my lack of faith. He says I must pray to Lord Kain and when my faith is strong enough, then my suffering will pass."
Kain, a cure for sea-sickness? It is all she can do to keep a straight face. The idiocy of these mortals is obviously boundless! However, she sees no reason to alienate Praxtos over matters of doctrine, so she does not give voice to these heretical thoughts.
"You should abide by his decision," she says. "He will know when the time is right for you to make the sacrifice."
The youth groans, his misery compounded by his discovery that the only one who can help him, is indifferent to his suffering.
"Please," he whispers. "Please, end it now. I'm begging you."
She turns away in disgust.
"It is very unbecoming for a priest to forget himself in this manner." She says sharply. "What kind of example do you think you are setting to your fellows? You should not have even spoken to me. Go down to your cabin, and mumble your prayers, I do not wish to see you again. Is that clear?"
He drags himself to his feet and stumbles towards his quarters.
"Of course, Highness." He murmurs. "You are right, of course. Please forgive me."
While Jas thinks no more of him, his indiscretion has not escaped his superior's notice. The next day, Lord Praxtos punishes him personally, for this breach of discipline. He has the boy tied to the mast and then he whips him in front of the entire crew, flaying the skin from his back with an implement artfully constructed to make the punishment as cruel as possible. The whipping continues until the boy is dead, which in his weakened condition, does not take very long, something Lord Praxtos is not particularly pleased about. He wished to make an example of the youth, and for such purposes the longer the disciplining lasts, the better. The first Jas knows of his fate, is when her sleep is disturbed by the young Adept's screams. She emerges from her cabin, to witnesses two of the crew unceremoniously heaving his body over the side. She walks over to Praxtos, furious.
"How dare you waste his blood?" She asks.
Lord Praxtos turns slowly towards her, he is unpleasantly surprised to find his charge capable of withstanding sunlight, he had assumed she could not. He bows very low, arranging his features into an expression of bland assurance, before he makes an answer.
"He was unworthy, Highness. Surely, you could see that?"
"What I see," she says, "is that we are only eight days into our voyage, and already we have four dead, one of whom has been blatantly wasted. You are mismanaging our resources, Praxtos. From now on, you will not punish anyone without consulting me, first. Do you understand?"
Lord Praxtos bows his head.
"Highness, I have only your interests at heart, believe me." He says, clearly unrepentant. "And there will be no further need for punishments, not now the crew have witnessed this."
He bows low again and then walks over to retrieve his whip from the deck, where he had laid it when Jas first appeared. He coils the tails around his hand, running his thumb lovingly along their slick, bloodied lengths, caressing the tiny, hard knots in the leather, each one of which holds a sharp metal barb.
Then he looks around the deck, making eye-contact with every man present, not one is able to return his gaze for more than a few seconds. On seeing their reaction, Lord Praxtos relaxes a little. He presses his lips together in an expression of grim satisfaction.
They, at least, know who is in charge.