The Ambition of the Dreadlord Raveres

Part IV: Sa'an'ishar!

Episode Thirty

"Is he dead?"

Two sailors stood looking at the mess of a humanoid shape that was tied to the ship's foremast. The slave was breathing raggedly, slumped forwards with his arms limply hanging around the wooden mast.

A tanned, short haired man turned to his companion and tried to alleviate the horrible sight, remarking dryly, "I bet he wishes he were…"

Letting a sharp noise escape his mouth the other sailor agreed, "You know I heard tell that when she was working on him below, she was also rubbing salt in the wounds."

Cringing the short haired sailor looked back at the slave, whispering under his breath, "By the gods."

They stepped closer towards the unconscious body, only to hear the ragged breathing increase before a raspy mumble escaped from the bound man. The short haired sailor stopped, trying to discern words from the mumble, "What was that?"

"Water…" the other sailor nodded, "He asked for water."

The two looked at one another tensely for a moment before a sudden burst of charity and pity overtook their hearts. Both men were Tilean; free-sailors and shipmen of fortune. Neither had spent much time in Araby, content to earn their keep on the sea, moving from port to port, they weren't as accustomed to seeing the broken and pure defeated image of a slave so bloodied and punished.

Refusing said slave water, when he'd visibly been deprived of it since being bound to the mast, was an even taller order than to saying nothing about him.

So, after a short while the sailors loosened some of Arathar's bonds, enough so that they could help him move from his leaning position and sit down. Going even further by helping him drink fresh water from a small wooden bowl.

"He tried to escape, right? I wasn't close when it happened, but were you Enzo?"

"Aye. He fought like an animal but they…" Enzo looked over his shoulder surreptitiously, "The others relished fighting him and holding him down. Gods, you should have heard the screaming afterwards."

"She, our, cagna cattiva, she's beaten him next to death."

Arathar weakly blinked as he downed another bowlful of water. Though he heard their words, he was so exhausted that even if they spoke Asurian he still wouldn't have listened.

All he could do was desperately lap and gulp at the water, nearly moaning in relief as the lukewarm liquid filled his mouth and bathed his tongue.

Watching Arathar's sputtering the other Tilean furrowed his brow and pulled the bowl back some, remarking, "Woah, not so fast there, knife-ear."

Though the sailor had masked his concern behind the insult, the racial epithet went unnoticed; Arathar's emerald eyes were glossed over, their colour faded, accompanying his blank and distant expression. Other than breathing and letting out heavy breaths of pain, he wasn't about to say or do anything else.

Once his thirst was somewhat satiated the two sailors merely looked over the Asur's bloodied and bruised body. Breathing shallowly and curling himself on the planks he shivered and started mumbling.

Speaking over the Asur's low voice Enzo begrudgingly stated, "We'll have to tie him back up though you know."

Clearing his throat, the sailor continued, "It's good we gave him a reprieve but, I don't want to give that pale, mad-eyed, bitch any reason to punish us either, aye?"

It was no secret among the crew that the owner of their vessel, and the woman paying their wages, was a black-hearted creature. The fact she was a Druchii was only assuaged among their number by the promise that once they'd seen her off to her country, the ship and a healthy portion of profit would be theirs.

By comparison, the men adored Captain Kohler, but there was next to no desire to try and mutiny to get rid of La Signora Raveresa. From the slaves in the hold, to the regular crewmen, there had grown an almost superstitious fear of the silver-haired she-elf, from what was told of her, to what they began spinning about her parting from Araby it was impossible to tell what was true and what had become embellished.

The shorter haired sailor looked down, shivering at the prospect of facing Raveres' ire as he looked over what she'd done to her fellow elf. Nodding he begrudgingly agreed, "Right, but… let's give him a few more moments Enzo, for pity's sake. It wouldn't be godly."

Enzo blinked and drew a breath through his teeth, eventually acquiescing, "As you say Marcus, it's… it's only right."

"What's even the Asur's name? You know?"

Enzo considered it and began thinking aloud, "Arthara? Artur?"

Quietly a third voice responded, answering and correcting, "Arathar…"

The two Tileans watched as the bloodied Asur struggled to speak his name, his voice whisper quiet as he struggled to enunciate the syllables, "Arathar Ranûil…"

Yet when he finished saying his name his shoulders and body appeared to straighten just a fraction, the reminder of his name rousing whatever was left of his pride.

The elf's beautiful sand-blonde hair was thick and darkened with grease, and it bore brownish spots of crusted, dry blood. His freckled face and shoulders were red and sunburnt. But his back…

Marcus shuddered as he looked over the wounds and Enzo grunted, looking away as he repeated, "Right… that's, that's only right."

The elf's back was covered in ripples; deep, long gashes which had been drawn and made in his flesh by the ends of a scourge. The intersecting and layered wounds were countless and looked horrid. The blood had mostly dried, but there were some spots wherein the cracking, flaking scab was giving way, and fresh, carmine, plasma flowed up in bubble-like oozing drops.

Down from his torso towards his legs there were bruises, deep and purple across the back of the elf's thighs and calves, his left leg was vibrating involuntarily from the beating it had received, a visible knot of muscle tightened in the middle of the battered area. To anyone it appeared that Arathar had been rendered physically incapable of running let alone walking, and without the mast and the rope holding him up it was a wonder if he could even stand at all.

All the elf slave had for clothing was a tattered undergarment, it looked primitive, but at least his manhood was covered…

Finally, Marcus blinked and looked away, asking his companion earnestly, "He's been there for nearly a week. Is he going to die Enzo?"

Enzo's lip rose in a disgusted sneer as he looked over the elf's grisly wounds. Eventually he responded, his voice low and hollow, "I don't know"

Arathar moved his left hand towards his mouth, now mumbling more fervently, as he repeated the same phrase over and over.

"What's he saying?"

Listening closer, over the sound of the water against the hull, the wind in the sails, and the other men of the night's watch, Enzo began isolating what he could discern.

"He's praying. Isha." He nodded, "That's what he's saying. He's calling to Isha."

Seeing his companions' confusion, he clarified, "She's the elven mother goddess. Like Shallya."

Marcus nodded, "Right…" whispering under his breath he remarked, "a goddess of mercy."

Then he blinked and looked upwards and off the bow. Though it was night the sky was clear, save for a formation of clouds up ahead blowing in from the north. Enzo looked up too and remarked, "Looks like some rain ahead, let's get him tied and get back to work."

The two men quickly stooped and lifted Arathar, slowly and unhappily tying him back to the mast. Letting out a small helpless cry Arathar moaned in pain and shuddered.

Enzo looked at his hands and turned away, nearly gagging from the smell and the blood. Both his palms were now smeared with the Asur's plasma. "Ugh, gods. I… I'll be back Marcus."

"Right."

Watching Enzo leave to clean his hands Marcus was about to step away from the Asur before he heard the elf's voice again. Low and uneven with pain he spoke in pained mumbles.

Marcus blinked in surprise, it sounded as if the elf had asked for help, but he couldn't tell. looking around nervously the human stepped closer, "I… I cannot aid you. I, I'm sorry."

Arathar shivered in disappointment and his head leant forwards against the mast, the message was easily understood.

Overhead in the masts a lookout called down, "Squall ahead!"

Marcus looked away from the elf and past him, the clouds and winds he'd seen earlier had darkened considerably and now flashes of lightning a wall of rain was visible nearly ten miles forward and closing.

A whistle blew and the officer on watch used a brass speaking-horn to order to the men, "Make ready! Men, make ready!"

To avoid the storm the ships' pilot began adjusting their course.

Marcus cursed and was about to run to his duties when the Asur reached out, grabbing his shirt sleeve and eyeing him madly.

Snapping Marcus' attention away the officer bellowed, "Get away from that slave!"

Pulling his arm from Arathar's reach he stepped along and nodded, "Aye sir!"

Slumping back from the pull Arathar leaned against his bonds and felt them give just a little before he moved back against the mast for comfort.

…

"Rathy… Rathy…"

The voice was as taunting as it was sickening to hear as Raveres paced around the male slave in the centre of her room.

After his escape had failed Arathar was stripped and bound to a table. Rhea was still hooked and hanging at the side of the room, but she had since been gagged to quiet her wailing. Now she mutely wept and mumbled into the cloth tied tightly around her face and mouth.

The third of the Druchii's slaves, Maya stood beside the room's door stiffly, silently watching her mistress.

Kneeling in front of Arathar, Raveres eyed the Asur and continued to speak, "I will dispel any illusions that you may still have Arathar… I am going to hurt you; I am going to make you weep and cry out for your mother. And, when I'm finished, you will be cursing her and your father for ever giving you life."

Growling and his voice cracking in response Arathar spat back, "You are as damned and despicable as the whole of your pathetic, race!"

Raveres' eyes glinted and her lips moved in a perverse smile of entertainment, as if egging him on.

"I hope that you become as barren and desolate as your eunuch, pretender king! May the whole of this crew rape you, you evil… f-fucking witch."

His bravery and courage faltered, the reality and the cool air of the moment finally sapped whatever resistance he had left, and Arathar let out a whimper and a stifled cry of his own.

Then Raveres' voice returned as she moved some of his hair off his brow and nose.

"When I'm done with you, I plan on tying your body to the mast so you might watch our journey as we sail past Northwatch, and the northern isles of Chrace."

Moving her hand up she began stroking her fingers through Arathar's dirty blonde locks, pushing them past his ear.

"I want you to see Ulthuan, one last time. To see just how close it is, and yet how far from your reach."

Whether this was their course or not Raveres sought to taunt him as deeply as she could. And he growled and shook against the tight bonds on his arms and legs, moving the whole table as he let out an animalistic noise and wept.

She cooed and continued, "When I am done with you… you will ache at my touch and you will never refuse me again."

Arathar's voice came out in a quiet whispering plea, "let me go…"

"You'll have to speak up Rathy."

"Please, in Chrace, I, I have family. Coin, gold… please, just let me go."

Raveres leant her head towards him, pressing her forehead against his and closing her eyes for a long moment.

"Your face and cock."

She leant away and Arathar furrowed his brow.

"I promise, those are the two things which I swear to leave unmarred."

His face began to contort and he shook against his ropes as Raveres stood up and produced a scourge.

It was a simple one; a length of rope uncoiled, with a handle of leather. There were nine or so dangling strips of varying thickness and length, but at the head of each was a bead; a glittering piece of either metal, ivory, or clay, which had been tied into the material.

Seeing the implement so clearly now made the Asur cringe and sputter, sharply and desperately continuing to plead,

"Please! No! No! My lady… No!"

Stepping around the table and out of Arathar's sight Raveres gloated, "Fear not Arathar! Pain is the greatest reminder of life! It soothes the mind and brings immediate focus to that which is most important."

Maya swallowed and Rhea shut her eyes, moaning and crying into her gag as Raveres cocked her arm back and readied her first strike.

The moment and the terrifying anticipation were interrupted when Raveres extended her right hand and touched Arathar's bare back. He sputtered and let out a shivering noise at the touch but instantly stiffened when Raveres spoke,

"I'll offer you one piece of grace Arathar." He dared not speak, so she continued, "That is, if you'd like it. Would you want something to bite down on?"

The Asur let out a shuddering anxious breath, resigned to what was to come, and then finally nodded. But no one, save Rhea, could see Raveres' sadistic, fang-filled grin at what he'd agreed to.

Moving her left hand to her belt Raveres drew a dagger and in a swift motion slammed it down towards Arathar's left hand. His fingers were wrapped around and gripped the edge of the table. The sudden noise of the slam made Arathar's ears ring, and Rhea's screams added to the disorienting moment, but he swore he heard something 'thud' after the dagger.

Arathar quickly moved his head towards the tingling, burning sensation of pain which was erupting in his hand.

Then he saw what had happened.

Raveres had driven her steel through his pinkie finger and cut it off, widening his eyes in horror he began screaming in pain as blood flowed freely from the stump.

Stepping around the table Raveres stooped to pick up the removed digit. Eyeing it curiously for a moment before she moved forwards and ordered, "Open your mouth."

Arathar screamed and shook his head, his mind struggling to comprehend the fact that a finger from his left hand was now separated from his body and being held right in front of his face. Growling and letting out a roar Raveres repeated herself, "Open your mouth!" before forcing the bleeding finger between Arathar's teeth.

Then she stepped back around the table and readied her arm to let the scourge fly, her voice almost cheerful as she jovially remarked, "Now, let's begin!"

The pain of the first strike was unreal and Arathar involuntarily bit down into his own finger so hard his teeth met bone. But by the fourth strike he had since spat the finger out and began weeping as well as hyperventilating. Struggling to take in shallow breaths while Raveres continued to whip the scourge along the flesh of his back.

He lost count at how many hits she delivered, but eventually she changed weapons and began using a cudgel across the back of his legs, ordering and forcing Maya to take over and participate in the beating.

The pain was indescribable and Arathar was sure he had slipped from consciousness several times, waking only when he felt the burning, melting, inescapable sensation of salt being aggressively rubbed into his wounds.

When it was finally over, he awoke to the scent of burnt flesh, his own he discovered.

While he was unconscious the stump of his finger had been cauterised, and a blackened, ill-smelling, round wound was left at the end of his hand where the missing finger ought to have been.

He was unbound and lying on the floor of cabin somewhere else in the ship, and upon waking he began moaning in general anguish as he tried to move his stiff neck and look around.

"A-are you truly awake this time?" came a meek, mousy, voice.

Looking to the side of the cabin he saw Rhea, her face was concealed on one side by her hair, and her lip was swollen, it appeared that she too received some battering.

"I tried to clean you as, as best I could…" she shuddered, "L-lady Raveres said… wh-when you awake, you're going to be t-tied to the foremast."

Arathar tried moving and shuddered, grunting and letting out a series of sharp cries of pain as his back flexed.

"Ah! I… oh gods!"

He moaned and began breathing shallowly, finding it difficult and painful with every one he took.

Rhea sniffled and crawled closer, "I'm so sorry…" she began weeping and shaking her head from side to side as she broke down, "I… I… she…"

Hiding her face Rhea slowly turned away from Arathar as she continued to cry and apologise.

Blinking slowly and panting, Arathar looked towards the dark cabin's door and eventually croaked out, "I never should have left Ulthuan…"

Rhea eventually quieted and looked back at the elf. Extending her hand towards his face she lightly touched his cheek.

"Sh-she said that it's near a fortnight's worth of sailing till we pass that country." she sobbed, "Then, Lady Raveres says it's near a week more till Karond Kar…"

Rhea shivered, "I know nothing of that city but, its name… I don't like how it sounds."

Letting out another sob she forced chuckle, "It sounds like a sickness. 'You have the, the Karond Kar' an apothecary might say."

She forced a smile and Arathar looked back at her, his voice quiet as he responded, "It is a sickness."

He let out a breath of fear, "It's worse than that… it's a disease, a plague… cancer."

Rhea swallowed her breath and stiffened.

"That's what Druchii are too… backwards, far flung, dying outcasts."

The blonde imperial blinked and shivered, "P-please, save your strength to heal. It's nearly night, and tomorrow Lady Raveres hopes to have you tied up."

He shook his head, "I don't know what she has in store for me, nor… nor do I care." He grunted in pain, "You must listen, as soon as you can, try to break from her grip. Escape her clutches… Lest she consume you."

Rhea's lip arched and her eyes began to well up as she listened, "I… I ca- What about you?"

She tried stroking his hair.

Shuddering at the touch Arathar closed his eyes and drew a breath, "I wager that I'll be thrown into the waters off of Ulthuan," he cringed in pain and let out a sharp breath, "if I'm lucky I'll not live till Karond Kar."

Rhea's face paled, her eyes revealing the wound his words had created in her heart. Reaching his left hand towards her Arathar closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing as he pressed his palm against the woman's leg.

"Trust… no one. And if you can't escape before she takes you to Naggaroth, then south… Run south, along the coast till you reach Arnheim."

Seething in pain his eyelids fluttered as he tried to nod, "Run, south… south."

She shuddered and drew a breath, finishing her earlier protest, "I can't. I am a slave Arathar… I can't…"

…

The slamming against her door woke Raveres up, but it was the loud whipping of the wind along her glass windows, the waves colliding with the hull, and the fearful girlish cries of her slaves which kept her up.

The surprise of the noises made her rise from her bed with a start and look around in the darkness. Maya was muttering and praying to herself in her bedroll on the floor, absolutely terrified of the storm, while Rhea shivered in the tanned slave's lap and cried.

On the other side of the door, Raveres could tell that Yurin's voice was breathy, panicked, serious, as he announced, "My lady I'm entering!"

Before he entered Raveres knew, 'Something bad is going on.'

Throwing her covers off and sitting up Raveres rubbed her eyes as Yurin entered the room bearing a small lantern,

"Captain Kohler asked me to wake you!"

Yurin was in his sleep-clothes of a thin cotton hosen and a thicker, loose-fitting tunic. With the door now open behind him Raveres saw in the halls the moving and yelling of crewmen.

Standing up and moving for her clothes Raveres began dressing as she asked, "What's going on Yuri?"

"A storm my lady, a sudden and swift one! Kohler is with the officers in the wardroom, he's told me that we need to plot a new course."

Growling and nodding reluctantly Raveres pulled a white tunic over her bare chest, growling, "Goddamn it!"

Before leaving her cabin she hastily armed herself with a dagger and tightened her belt, ignoring Maya's fearful mumbles and Rhea's wailing.

"How long ago? When'd it hit us?"

Yurin looked at the terrified slave and shook his head, "Not even a half hour."

Grunting and forcing herself to be more alert Raveres slapped her cheeks as she passed Yurin and marched towards the wardroom. Pushing her dirty hair off her face and into a loose ponytail, she tied it off before turning back to Yurin with a glint of inconvenienced anger, "Whoever was on the night watch I want whipped for this!"

Yurin nodded hesitantly, "Aye milady."

Entering into the improvised map-room Raveres was greeted by Kohler and three of his junior officers. One of them was drenched in water and gasping as he spoke with them.

Instantly Raveres decided that he'd be the target of her ire, and her voice snarled interrupting their discussion, "You sailed us right into a goddamn storm you blind fool?!"

The man blinked in surprise, his tongue twisting before he found his voice, "It's a mid-summer squall! It, it can't be helped my lady!"

Raveres was unappreciative of the response and looked from man to man sternly. In front of them a map was splayed across the table and Kohler and the watch officers indicated it as they began to better explain the situation.

When the storm was spotted the crew was alarmed by the ship's bell and the officers were immediately appraised; though the pilot had tried to avoid the worst of it, the rains and the crashing lightning overhead had seemingly enveloped them.

Yurin, his face green with sea-sickness, moved towards a corner of the room, locating with haste a small pail against the room's bulkhead.

Above, the deck was continuing to be battered by winds and rain, as the sea around them began swelling with waves of increasing size, tossing their vessel from side to side.

As the men spoke and she became more awake, Raveres levelled out, though she still retained her serious expression.

Clearing his throat, the dripping wet officer of the night watch explained, while pointing to the map and his charcoal markings; "If we sail farther south, and then cut closer to Ulthuan it will surely dissipate, but I don't imagine we'll be out of this if we continue a straight westward course. We may even be stuck in this for a whole day of sailing if it is to be so!"

Ignoring the concerned tone of the man's voice Raveres spoke, revealing just how ignorant of their predicament she was, "And if we ride this out and stay on our heading? I don't want to add more days to this damned voyage by hanging a turn southwards! Nor do I actually want to be spotted by Ulthuan."

Raveres looked up from the map at Kohler and the three other men. Yurin watched on uneasily, clutching his wooden pail for dear life, as the sailors looked at one another in nervous disbelief until Kohler spoke,

"My lady, with respect, this ship will not last if we keep heading out over deeper waters. We don't know how long this weather will go on, but we do know that it's coming from the north."

He drew a breath and nodded, "We must head south-west, if need be, until we can see land. With the shelf of Ulthuan under us there will be fewer storms, save for an unlikely hurricane, and we'll have a far more stable voyage."

Raveres clenched her teeth and folded her arms as if in defiance.

"M-my lady," Yurin pleaded, "We're surely not suspect to the Asur, how could they know? We can risk some expos-" directing his head back to his bucket he suddenly and violently vomited. One of the officers nervously sniggered.

Kohler took charge and spoke, though his voice was rough, "The retainer is correct my lady. We're not known by sight to Asurian patrols. To them we're but a human vessel, and not worth their concern."

Almost in response the ship received a broadside hit of water and the whole vessel tilted to the port, the officers stumbled and some exclaimed as they tried to keep their footing. Yurin remained sitting on the floor, but spilt some of his vomit onto his sleep-tunic, crying in horror and disgust.

Raveres struggled to keep her own footing, and stumbled backwards, colliding with one of the ships' beams. Growling and spitting onto the floor she loudly cursed, repeating her earlier protest, "Mathlaan can kiss my cunt! I do not want to waste a weeks' worth of sailing southwest!"

Grabbing hold of the table's edge Kohler shook his head, raising his voice over the groaning of the wood, the complaining of Yurin, and the anger of his patroness, "My lady! We will break apart if we continue on like this!"

Reluctantly Raveres met his eye and scowled.

Kohler's lips remained pursed, his eyes and body stiff and defiant. Even though he was directly challenging her, his expression was undeterred.

Furrowing his sweat dappled brow, Kohler spoke, his voice as even-toned and serious as he could muster, "We have no idea how many more squalls lie in wait for us along this latitude. We must turn south and take our chances with the Asur patrols. If we continue with this storm, we will have no chance!"

Another officer, the ships' lieutenant nodded, "If we don't change course now milady, we'll be too deep in and we will founder!"

Realising how grave the situation really was Raveres blinked.

Eyeing the map one more time the Druchii finally relented, a brief flash of fear showing through her guise as she gave in, "Fine! Damn it!"

Looking upwards at the room's roof Raveres' lip twitched in unbridled rage, "Damn all the gods of water for this rotten turn of luck!"

Pointing to Kohler she continued, "Get us out of this shit! If we bust a seam, we'll have no place to anchor 'till Karond Kar but the bottom of the sea."

Kohler let out a breath of relief, before agreeing with her accurate assessment, "Aye-aye milady."

Turning to his men he nodded, "Let us get above and escape this storm if we're still able!"

The officers spoke in unison and Yurin grunted in agreement but made no effort to move from where he was seated. As the men exited the room towards the hall and stairs, Raveres followed ordering to the retainer, "Yurin, secure my belongings before seeing to Maya and Rhea!"

Struggling to his feet Yurin retched and nodded, his voice cracking as he responded, "A-aye my lady…"

Turning Kohler slowed and held his hand out in concern, "I'd say it's best for you to stay below as well my lady."

Raveres paused and smirked, before boasting, "You underestimate my people's affinity for spite Captain! And besides, I want to watch Mathlaan's rage."

Kohler let out a laugh of surprise as they climbed to the deck, hoping to garner some affinity he asked jokingly, "Sa'an'ishar?"

Revealing a toothy smirk, Raveres nodded as they mounted the stairs, "Sa'an'ishar."

When they exited the small stairwell, water smashed across the deck, levelling men and drenching Raveres, Kohler, and the other officers. Stepping across the swaying, slippery deck, towards a small mooring station Kohler took hold of a cable and loudly called to Raveres, motioning to the rope.

"You'll want this my lady! It's a life-line! Should a wave smash you, or another sailor overboard, there's at least some possibility we can pull you back on!"

Blinking her eyes through the cold rains Raveres recalled her last swim with startling displeasure.

Immediately taking the line she wrapped it around her midsection and tied a tight knot. Kohler reached his hands closely to her abdomen and pulled at her tying job, with a nod and a pat he smirked, "Not bad for a noblewoman!"

Raveres watched his hands and wanted to shoot him a retort before she realised how much she had enjoyed the tease and the energy of the chaos around them. And before she could think of an adequate response, he held her shoulder as he leant towards her ear to yelled over the noise,

"Now my lady, stay out of the way, alright?"

Kohler pulled away and set towards captaining; directing and bellowing his orders to the men as the scrambled around the water drenched deck.

Turning and observing the crew, Raveres felt an exhilarating thrill warm her chest.

With the freezing rain battering her from all angles, and the black water to their sides, only occasionally was she able to discern the horison and the sea's level. When she realised why she felt another alien sensation.

The waves and the water, coupled with the thick rain and clouds over head, only gained any definition in the night-time when light from the moon Mannslieb came through spots in the clouds.

Then, and only then, could she see the truly daunting size of the ocean around them.

Kohler, though a human, pointed and directed the men and the pilot, yelling and moving as if he was truly born to the sea… Somehow, despite the bitter wind and the water drops battering his face, he was able to squint and see through the darkness.

Watching him Raveres eventually remarked in astonishment, 'Impossible' Then she chuckled with the bitter wind, 'Perhaps he was a Druchii raver in a past life.'

An officer with a brass voice-trumpet yelled along the deck, "All free hands along the starboard rail! Lifelines! Fore and aft! Now!"

The action and the chaos of the storm was responded to by swift movements of the crewmen, and Raveres watched on until a thought crossed her mind at first, she thought it funny, but then she felt a flash of worry at the prospect of losing her sweetmeat…

'How is Arathar enjoying this deluge?'

Eyeing her lifeline, she stomped across the deck, keeping herself balanced as the ship moved from side to side and water continued to pelt her face and body with near-coin sized drops.

Her boots, clothes, and hair had become soaked the moment that she stepped from the stairs, and now her white blouse clung to her skin as if it were frozen, her rough-spun pants weighed double what the cloth ought to have, and the wind passed through her body as if she hadn't anything on at all.

Cupping a hand around her mouth she bellowed up the deck, "Arathar!"

Her voice was barely audible over the sound of the storm.

Using her right hand to balance and her left to shield her eyes she squinted to see towards the forecastle and the upper deck of the ship. Eyeing the mast, she eventually made out the form of her Asur slave, writhing and moving from side to side, still tied to the wood. Gritting her teeth and pulling at her lifeline for more slack she trudged closer. Until she could hear the wails and the cries of the tortured Asurian noble.

Once he saw her though, he laughed, and yelled in defiance, "I sincerely hope Mathlaan drowns you all!"

Raveres watched him intensely, and a strange urge began rising inside her. As he moved and wriggled, she saw how his green eyes glittered through the gloomy night, and she recognised his expression as nothing short of pure hatred.

Tauntingly she chuckled before spreading her legs apart for balance, "If only saying made it so!"

Arathar grunted in pain before trying to turn and get a better look at his Druchii tormentour.

He pursed his lips and forced his neck to tilt his chin upwards. The wind whipped his hair around and he wordlessly looked back at her, despite the sting of the cold water and the salt in his wounds, he became as still as he could.

Overhead the storm worsened and Raveres turned back around, "What are you idiots doing? Sailing us deeper into it!?"

Lightning now crackled and the air began to taste like magic as thunder rolled in the distance.

Blinking and looking upwards Raveres watched a long arcing spear of white light split along the roof of the sky. Then the noise rolled across the water and roared louder than anything she'd ever heard before.

Arathar shook as he began chanting a prayer.

Looking back down Raveres growled and stepped along the deck towards her slave, "Rathy quit your muttering!"

Before she could step closer, another arc of white light snapped from the north and struck the foremast. The smell of burnt wood, electricity, and brimstone filled the air as the middle of the mast exploded and cracked almost as loudly as the lightning did. Raveres watched on as the top of the mast broke and began falling towards the port side of the ship.

Charred and ember-covered splinters of wood fell down and simmered onto the deck. And as the water put out the lightning's flame Raveres watched as Arathar fell away from the rope bindings holding him to the trunk of the mast.

The surprise of the lightning emptied her mind and she remarked rather dully, 'He's free?'

Blinking and wiping the water from her eyes Raveres couldn't believe it as she watched the Asur begin to crawl away from the base of the now broken mast, impressed he still had the strength to move.

As it fell overboard the mast snapped through the port rail of the forecastle and brought cables and ropes taut before they quickly gave way under the stress. Then, following the direction Arathar was looking Raveres saw the hole which was now available for escape, even to a crawling man…

Then she was spurred on to move again, "Don't you dare!"

Attempting to run on the water-slick deck Raveres slipped and fell, only to trip again on her lifeline.

Arathar though, crawled, forcing himself, through his pain and without hesitation, towards the edge of the ship.

Madly Raveres' voice cracked as she tried moving towards him,

"Arathar!"

Raveres had reached the forecastle when her lifeline pulled taut and she could move no farther forwards. Her eyes widened in horror and she looked down at her midsection, moving her hands to undo the soaked rope-knot.

"No, no, no!"

Arathar watched her struggle and his exhausted, anguished expression softened, he let out a sharp breath of relief at the realisation that she wouldn't reach him in time to stop him. Then his voice came out in splendid finality, as if he were an actor in a play,

"Goodbye… Cousin."

Raveres looked up, her face struggling to contain her emotions as Arathar grunted, rolled himself towards the hole, and fell off the side of the ship into the dark waters below.

With a loud cry Raveres screamed, "No!"

Drawing her dagger from her belt she cut her lifeline and dropped the weapon before diving towards the edge of the ship.

Over-side, in the sloshing, churning, waters, she saw the remains of the mast being swept away from their vessel, but there was no discernible trace of the Asur in the featureless, pitch black ocean. Scanning and searching the water she was hit with a wave as she cried in anger.

Arathar, had escaped her.

Behind, a sailor bellowed over the noise of the storm, "La signora! Raveresa!"

It wasn't long after till she felt a man leap towards her and pull her away from the edge.

"I've got you!" he cried, "I've got you milady!"

Yet she ignored him, even as he pulled her up, away from the edge, and back towards the middle of the deck, she ignored everything.

Arathar slipped from her fingers…

She was shivering, not from the water or the freezing wind which assaulted their ship, but from the disbelief that the Asur had been able to spite her and die on his own terms, and out of her grasp.

"What happened?" Kohler bellowed.

Moving away from the helmsman and towards the sailors carrying Raveres towards the stairs, the captain repeated, "What happened?"

"Her lifeline snapped; she nearly fell in!"

"The men up the foremast they're lost and her slave too!" belted another.

Kohler shook his head, as another tall wave crashed over the deck, "Get her below! See to it her man Yuri gets her dry! If she dies, none of us are getting paid! Then rouse the off watch, we need more men!"

"Aye sir!"

The man who'd jumped after Raveres wrapped her left arm around his shoulder as another man moved to her right. Together they moved quickly and spirited her below.

As they helped her off the deck and down the stairs, they looked at her with greater concern; a low, building laugh started emanated from the Druchii and now that they were below, they could hear her voice, despite not understanding her words.

"He escaped!"

Now arching her head backwards, she shook her head in disbelief as she smiled, "He a-actually did it! He succeeded!"

Her laughter howled louder as the men helped her into her cabin and onto her bed, leaving her quickly to search for Yurin.

Maya and Rhea watched their water drenched mistress as she rose from the bed. Blinking in shock Raveres began slowly pulling her drenched tunic off as she continued to chuckle, her bottom jaw chattered as she shook with a bone-chilling cold, repeating to herself in an astonished whisper,

"He did it, he actually did it…"

…

For hours the men battled the elements, the creaking sails, and the shuddering, groaning, vessel, until, when the waters began to slow, the ship had finally made its turn towards the storm's exit.

The clouds overhead thinned, and the men heralded the growing appearance of daylight with a triumphant cry and the dinging of the ship's bell. Kohler looked over the men and nodded to them before clapping and applauding their efforts.

As the men above began a revelry at surviving their near-brush with a watery death, below deck, and wrapped in fleece blankets, Raveres sat on her bed while Maya accompanied her under the covers, and combed her hair.

Still cold, Raveres' eyes had darkened and her gaze looked to Yurin as if it could burn a hole through paper. Maya was pressing her body against her mistress' as she slowly worked a small ivory comb through the silver locks of damp hair.

"Now that the weather has calmed, I can bring you warm tea milady. I could also ask Captain Kohler where we are now?"

This drew her attention and she waved Maya off, before turning to look at Yurin. "We won't be able to know that until tonight and the stars are visible. Right now, they'll only be sailing southwest as best as the ship's compass indicates."

Yurin nodded slowly, dejected for having forgotten such nautical details he'd read ages before, "A-aye milady, of course."

Raveres didn't notice his embarrassment and sighed before reaching for Maya's right hand. Directing the human's palm under the back of her tunic and towards her shoulder and down the front of her chest, repeating the motion and wordlessly indicating she desired a massage.

Nodding the southlander understood the order and quickly complied, and as soon as Maya's fingers pressed into and along the Druchii's pale flesh, Raveres issued a low groan of approval before speaking again,

"For now, Yuri bring the tea. Afterwards you may speak with Kohler; bring me his report and so on…"

Yurin nodded and moved towards the cabin's door, "As you wish milady."

"And Yuri? Let Rhea know what happened."

Rhea, hysterical from the storm had been taken to the ship's infirmary during the worst of it, if only to spare Raveres' ears. But once she'd be informed of Arathar's death, well… Raveres was glad the human was out of her cabin.

Yurin stopped and looked downwards, "And what did happen, my lady?"

Closing her eyes and straightening her back Raveres groaned as Maya rubbed her hands along her mistress' shoulders.

"I retrieved Arathar from the mast, a wave struck the ship and he was carried off along with two sailors. Gods be good, I nearly fell in myself."

Something about how she spoke made Yurin distrust it, but then Raveres' face stiffened and she looked down, a strange melancholy surrounding her before she added, "He slipped from my grasp…"

This seemed truer than the rest, and Yurin bowed his head, hiding his unease before replying and opening the door, "I'll see how she is, and let her know my lady."

When the door closed Raveres turned and looked at Maya, her voice curt as she ordered, "Harder."

Maya averted her eyes and slowed, not understanding. Reaching a hand towards one of the human's Raveres pressed it down and repeated, "Harder."

Pressing her fingers deeper into the Druchii's flesh Maya repeated the word, "Har-der"

Raveres turned her head back ahead as she nodded and closed her eyes, speaking dryly "You'll be speaking Druhir in no time."

Quietly enjoying the rubbing across her shoulders, the Druchii shuddered and her jaw chattered at a sudden, brief, chill. Reached for the edges of her blankets and pulling them tighter, she sniggered, "It's good you know so little of my kind Maya, and that the significance of losing such sweetmeat is lost on you."

Leaning backwards and ending the massage Raveres pressed her body against Maya's chest, feeling the warmth of the human and letting out breath.

"And lest you find humour in my hate of the cold."

Closing her eyes, Raveres laid backwards until Maya was forced to lie down; with the she-elf on her torso.

Shifting her weight and her head against Maya's chest and breasts, she eventually let out a weary sigh, like a dog who'd finally found the right position to settle on.

Maya blinked and looked down at the face protruding from the lumps in the blankets and studied the face of her elven mistress for a long while. Then letting out a breath of resignation the Southern Arabyan resolved that she'd never understand the brutal, seemingly illogical, and totally alien mind laying upon her.

Instead she risked something else, and raised a hand to touch along the cartilage which made elves so immediately different in appearance to man.

Raveres didn't open her eyes but instead issued a lacklustre warning, "Careful doing that… There are those who consider touching an elf's ear sinful."

Maya was undeterred by the foreign words and slowly stroked the long tip curiously as Raveres took a deeper breath and exhaled; permitting, and all but endorsing the touch.

Retreating into her thoughts she sought to forget the results of the storm and the loss of her Asur prize.

…

True to Raveres' estimate the adjustment southwest had added nearly a week to their voyage to Karond Kar, and with the loss of the foremast, the ship was down nearly a third of its total speed, increasing their time at sea almost by a month.

Cutting closer to the northern shores of Ulthuan did decrease the frequency of poor weather, but it also increased the number of ships they saw on the horison in nearly every direction.

Which did nothing but plague upon Raveres' general unrest.

A mounting change was perceivable in the Druchii by Yurin, Kohler, and even Maya as they continued on to their destination; she grew quieter, her expressions sterner, and her voice colder.

Filling her time, Raveres drilled herself and trained on deck with her sword, in armour, and without. Sparring with and tutoring Yurin in swordplay. At first it was to his chagrin, but quickly the retainer realised that they needed something to do…

Despite his objections, Raveres also employed Maya's existing martial experience. Giving the human woman a weapon, she sparred and trained with the slave at the same time as Yurin. Raveres' intended to make both of them useful and competent in swordplay.

Kohler and his men also began to take a keener interest in the sessions on deck, finding them both good sport; and when the two women were less-dressed for the beating sun, somewhat titillating entertainment.

Under the deck, Yurin assisted Rhea in teaching Maya Asurian and helped hone both women's accents for Druhir, letting them know the subtle differences and so on.

The erudite translator sought to show kindness and aid to his fellow human since he broke the news to her of what had happened during the storm. As predicted, hearing of Arathar's death put Rhea beyond distraught. Yurin could tell that her heart had broken, whatever was left of her optimism seemed swept away as well.

It took a while before she could see to Raveres' needs as a maid-slave, and the whole while she privately cursed both Arathar and Raveres for having created the aching pain she now endured.

Although she was wounded, Rhea eventually settled into the motions. Without the comfort of Arathar's presence, she looked at Raveres in an entirely different light; an uncomfortable mix of resentment, dependency, and desperate comfort. And though Rhea wanted to forget, there was nothing yet time and the sea ahead of them.

Eventually a schedule and normalcy came to the ship. And only rarely was this normalcy disrupted. Part of the routine would be when Raveres would have Rhea and Maya sleep with her…

Whether it was merely for them to lay beside her and warm her bed, or it was for carnal pleasure neither slave was ever sure. The pattern being as about predictable as a coin flip.

After one particularly rough evening, weeks since the storm, Rhea displayed some bravery and dared to ask something in the quiet of the night,

"My lady… are you still awake?"

The low flicker of a dying lantern barely lit the cabin, but it provided enough illumination that Rhea could see the unnatural, inhuman eyes of her mistress open to reveal her lilac gaze. Rhea was lying to her mistress' right, while Maya, asleep and under the sheets was nuzzled against Raveres' left.

"I am."

Rhea faltered under the awkward stare and the intimate conditions she was now speaking in, and for a brief moment she wanted to bare her hatred of the she-elf completely.

Raveres impatiently prodded the human, "What is it?"

"I…" Swallowing and taking a nervous breath Rhea eventually forced out the question she'd agonised over for days, "I fear what will happen to me when we reach Naggarond."

Her eyes fluttered and her lips contorted in emotional distress, while Raveres' expression remained unmoved.

Eventually Rhea croaked out, "I, I don't want to die my lady."

Raveres looked away and towards the ceiling, taking a breath before closing her eyes, "You're not going to."

Rhea stopped herself from crying and licked her lips, blinking and stiffening as she rose from the bed.

Raveres drew a breath, before eventually opening her eyes again, "So long as you serve and please me, there's nothing for you to fear. Despite your natural resentment of me."

The human sat for a few minutes, eventually breaking down and lowering herself back to the bed.

"I shan't hold your thoughts against you. But it would do you well to wear them less plainly."

With her face and mouth buried against the pillow she eventually whispered shamefully, "Forgive me, my lady…"

Closing her eyes Raveres returned to sleep, ignoring Rhea's whimper.

When morning dawned and the ship bell rang in the next day, Rhea and Maya awoke to the sensation of Raveres' fingers through their hair. Rhea mumbled uncomfortably while Maya groaned appreciatively and sighed.

Raveres remained quiet for several seconds before she finally asked aloud,

"Do you know what awaits me?"

Rhea blinked and remained quiet; Maya too merely looked upwards at her mistress' chin as the Druchii spoke, answering her rhetorical question,

"My family's welcome at a successful Hakseer."

"Despite the loss of my crew, of Dorath, Hathan, and a hundred other scummy, leather-necked, Druchii sea-dogs and ravers, despite everything else which has happened, I succeeded."

Petting the two slaves she smirked.

"I'll have crossed the great ocean twice… I bled myself under Khaine's gaze sacking a town of Ulthuan."

"I'm the first of my blood to have set foot on and to stake claim to the wealth of Araby. I slew the man who murdered my crew and nearly took my life, I beseeched Khaine to bless me in that pursuit, and by blood I even sent a foul chaos-spawned abomination to the depths of the sea. I spat in the face and cut the beard off of an Arabyan Emir…"

Raveres closed her eyes and let out a laugh, "I even docked in Bretonnia without the fools being any wiser!"

Looking downwards the Druchii glanced from Rhea to Maya. Rhea averted her eyes, while Maya looked back at her asking,

"What next, you must do? When home?"

Raveres paused, her smile fading,

"Firstly, I must not get fleeced in the markets at Karond Kar. I know what the value of my slaves below are, and I'm not going to let my first herd be underbought by some old Druchii thinking that I'm a fool."

She groaned, imagining the tedium, "I'll have to find a proprietor who'll take my trade goods as well… I don't feel like becoming a grocer or a spice trader myself."

Rhea nodded, her voice treading the line between spiteful and disinterested, as she asked "And then?"

Raveres ignored the tone and answered, "I'll have to secure transport from Karond Kar home, to Blacklight Tower, for me, my retinue, and my cartloads of coin. Ha!"

Maya laughed earnestly, before she then asked, "And then?"

Raveres furrowed her brow, slightly annoyed as she looked from Rhea to Maya slowly.

"I'll actually meet with my family, and I'll lay as much of my earnings at my fathers' feet as necessary, before explaining what has happened…"

Her voice was now uncertain, never having gone much further than this in her private mental plans.

"I had promised him, something else… A more, stable arrangement, but this will do, surely."

Raveres' expression shifted and her mood soured, "They'll have to take it. I've run into far too many turns to let that challenge or daunt me now."

Her hands moved from her slave's hair and Raveres blinked as she drew a shallow, almost nervous breath,

"Then the Hanil Khar."

Maya looked to Rhea, but she too was completely unfamiliar with the term.

Closing her eyes and raising a hand to her cover her brow and rub her skin, Raveres let out a long grumble before explaining, "It's an oath of fealty. Once I've completed my Hakseer I will have to present myself to my Drachau and pledge loyalty to be seen as part of the Black Court."

With another groan Raveres eventually opened her eyes and shook her head, "How could I be so stupid?"

Maya blinked before trying to play down the Druchii's worry, "Perhaps you too hard on yourself mistress?"

Rhea swallowed her resentment and continued with Maya's sentiment, "Maya speaks well. You've had far more pressing matters as of late, and you've been away from home for so long, surely forgetting such events can be forgiven?"

Rhea's voice wavered but Raveres seemed to accept the advice. Then, offering a jest Maya added on, "Not even the prophets knew everything."

Turning her neck and looking at either human Raveres furrowed her brow, "Perhaps, but there are few things which can be forgiven,"

Surprising and interrupting her, Maya leaned forward boldly pressing her nose and lips under Raveres' chin to deliver a small kiss to the she-elf's skin. Letting out a heavy breath Raveres closed her eyes momentarily distracted, before finishing her sentence, "… in Karond Kar."

Seeing how sensual responses had a greater affect than reasonable ones, Rhea placed a warm hand onto Raveres' abdomen and moved it across her scars until it was under the Druchii's right breast.

Shuddering, Raveres quieted and her tongue relented. Moving her arms back under the sheets to wrap around the two, warm, soft, humans. Closing her eyes and tracing her fingers up and down the slave's backs she seemed at ease, her worries and anxiety banished for a few more moments.

"There's a low-borne saying I feel is rather apt, how does it go? 'I'll cross that river when I come to it'?"

Raveres sniggered to herself before sighing, "Yes, that's it."

…