In the Eye of the Wind by Katherine Wyvern

Author:Katherine Wyvern
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, gay, lgbt, fantasy, novel
Publisher: Evernight Publishing

Chapter Five

Elgali Bay

Gael

The Rüven cruised for ten days off Cape Edrar before sailing into Elgali Bay to water. They had passed the cape itself at night, and Gael never saw it.

The sea was stingy for once, and they never sighted a sail, except on the very last day, when a small Andalouan tartan limped in sight. Limped, because there had been another stormy night. They were becoming more frequent as the autumn approached. The Rüven had weathered it well, despite her lightness (no cargo to speak of, and hardly any water left aboard), but the tartan, an elderly and undermanned boat, had had a wretched time of it. She was still busy knotting and splicing her tattered rigging when the Rüven descended on her like an angel of destruction. They had not the least chance of escaping the powerful, fast xebec, and they didn’t even try.

“A useless, discouraged set of lubbers,” grumbled Rikko’ as if the lack of a proper fight displeased him.

“Can’t you let them go?” asked Gael dejectedly.

“Why, no, Gael, I can’t. I have a responsibility to the owners, and I need to make a living somehow, especially now, what with having three children to feed and all. We can’t all study to be doctors. There’d be nobody left for you to cure, my sweet. But I promise they’ll be treated decently as long as they are aboard.”

The tartan had no cargo worth a damn (Vasili said), being a fisherman blown off the Andalouan coast by the storm, and the ship itself was such a decrepit pint-sized embarrassment (in Kerl’s words) that Rikko’ had the Andalouan crew (twelve men in all) brought aboard the Rüven with what little of their catch could be salvaged for dinner, and ordered the ship burnt.

Then they turned towards Elgali Bay.

****

Rikko’

There was a stream of the purest, clearest fresh water dropping from the cliffs on the eastern side of Elgali Bay, a stream well known to the Beyas’kahli, and even to the Andalouans, although they seldom used the anchorages on this side of the Circled Sea, unless they were forced to by the violence of the weather. The water trickled slowly at most times, at the bottom of a narrow inlet, and although it ran a little faster today, after the recent storms, it was a tedious job to fill barrel after barrel. However, since the stream came so close to the sea that a boat could bring the barrels right up to it, it was not as hard work as it could have been. The day was perfect, sunny but cooled by a steady northerly breeze that made the Rüven rock gently in her anchorage, and many of the hands were busy fishing over the side, hoping to catch some fresh fish, mending clothes, or, in the case of those ashore with the barrels, wandering about the narrow strand or up the cliff. It was one of these intrepid climbers that raised the alarm.

“Sail, ho!” came the cry down the rock wall.

Rikko’, who was onboard the xebec, climbed up in the rigging to get to a better vantage point.

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