Abiel laughed out loud- her mother and companions had wanted her away from the Gurvir, to be safe and to keep others safe as well, she surmised. Where ever she was, the Gurvir had found her, tried to kill her and many times over, someone had died in her stead. 'Death is the echo of your footsteps'. That had been the most honest thing anyone had ever said. Pouty's words seemed more a comfort to her now. Abiel was calm, the only calm being in the secure cage she was bound in. Despite the crying and pleas for mercy and release, there was an unnatural quiet surrounding them. The captives could make all of the noise in the world and scream at the top of their lungs, but it would do nothing, catch no one's attention. No one would hear. Magic, Abiel deduced. Brilliant.
Again, she laughed to herself. Abiel had survived assassination attempts, hordes of well, she laughed aloud, Horde. Poisoned in the Great Forge, fleeing from the Gurvir armies only to fall from the cliffs of the Vale, assassins in the tavern at Sperling, the over-running of Coste Volte, raid after raid on Gurvir patrols that seemed to have emerged through out the kingdoms from no where. It had been more than five years. How many deaths would she overcome? How many would lose their life with no chance at all to return? Abiel wondered if she'd meet her fate as some sort of chicken herder in a pink castle, what bizarre end was waiting for her at the end of this new journey. She was becoming bored as her mind wandered, came to appreciate the efficiency of her kidnappers, blindfolding her, binding her hands behind her back and not in front, her feet were tightly bound but not so much so that it might cause injury to the merchandise. The scarf tied over her mouth was clean, that she was grateful for. The problem with being the victim and being bound as such, was that it was terribly uncomfortable and tested her patience with every lurch and bump causing her to fall into the wailing woman next to her or the other woman falling onto her.
Until this day, Abiel would have been full of sympathy, ready to come to anothers aid and considered the sudden lack of feeling beyond the mild frustration weighing down upon her. It would take little effort to snap the ropes binding her wrists and ankles, to destroy everything and save these people. But saving them meant saving herself, a selfish thing, the most selfish thing she was sure she'd ever done. Abiel had chosen to be here, to let life take her where it willed, and if it meant sacrificing these people to make her own choices and live a new life, well, she was willing to live with it. The fear of the other captives was palpable, irritating. Abiel wished she had been kidnapped alongside others who were more prepared for such events. Such was not to be the case and Abi' decided she'd sleep as best she could until the time came to be a less than model captive if necessary. Amid the whimpering and stifled pleas, Abiel conjured a vision of Shiftie and faded into the darkness of dreams with him.
Abiel and Shiftie danced playfully beside a large bonfire in the darkness. Music such as she had never heard emanated from the forest that surrounded them, they were alone yet Abiel was sure thousands of eyes were upon them. She had never before had a dream such as this. In all other dreams, they were at war or rushing to it. Always an element of danger. There was no Dragon, there were no animals, there were no friends here, only the two of them, her one conscious dream. She longed to stay here with him in this wondrous place, the look of love in the high elf's eyes was one she had never seen before and was not ready to relinquish. The gem-blue eyes began to shift and swirl, and change to a dark-golden amber that she'd desired for a millenia. Nasir was watching her, loving her, twirling her, smiling a smile that she could never remember him having made, but the same smile that Shiftie held upon his face so often. Yes, the two men were the same, she cared not and made no attempt to understand why the man before her was the ever-changing image of two men she'd known and loved with every breath in two very different lives, and yet somehow... Abiel felt herself smile a magnificent smile. He was there as she had always wanted him to be...
Abiel's eyes burst open behind the loosening blindfold. Whatever the dream had been, it did not linger in her memory except for one burning vision soft brilliant amber eyes that she did not know but felt terribly familiar, and a longing that nearly enveloped her in desperation. With that came a searing pain in her her chest and an irritability she could not recall ever having in this life, leading to a rage that could not possibly be her own. The cart jostled as it moved quickly over a rough dirt path. The crying had stopped, which was a relief and Abiel decided sleep was still her best option.
Abiel was sure she would have remembered her dream this time had she not been woken up so hastily with a body knocking into her. Shouting and screams of terror erupted. Despite the gag wrapped around her head, she cursed loudly, irritably- there it was again- and kicked out. She caught someone in the shin, a man, based on the grunt of pain and cursing that followed and immediately she was hoisted up, drug over what she surmised were bodies and unceremoniously tossed from the cart. She waited to hit the ground, let the air out of her chest to avoid it being knocked from her, hoping not to land on her head. Instead, strong hands wrapped around her shoulders, catching her and keeping her steady on her bound feet.
Men began to speak rapidly, some yelling, others barking in a serious tone in a language that was new to her ears. She waited, tried to listen to determine how many surrounded her, then found that she was beginning to understand what was being said and was becoming as familiar to her as her own language. Suddenly, she was yanked upon by the back of her hair, forced to stand taller than she was, the blindfold pulled from her head. It was mid afternoon, her eyes squinted in the blazing sun. She tried to quickly take in her surroundings. A small caravan of secure barred box carts, pulled by teams of brown and gray draft horses, surrounded by a small but fearsome band of warriors of varying races and skin color. Half-elves, some half blood-elf, she noticed humans, dark and light-skinned, about two dozen in all.
There were supply carts-everything covered or enclosed-but the man holding her- a light copper skinned elf with the height of a high elf but the musculature of a human, black-haired, heavily tattooed over much of his neck and shoulders, he wore his thin shirt open, he was muscular and armed. Abiel pushed aside the sudden knowledge that she understood what was being said, mostly debates about beating sense into her in various uncreative manners. They were angry about the interruption Abiel took long looks at all of the faces to be sure to exact her revenge at some point. There was a rustling coming from behind her in the cart and Abiel was wheeled around. She barely kept her balance. Two men carried a third to the edge of the cart where others held a canvas litter. The man being carried was set onto it, he was moaning quietly, grasping at his broken leg. A tall husky dark skinned man stepped forward to speak.
"Oh please," she said haughtily in the foreign tongue she'd never spoken before, "you don't kick me in the ribs and expect a kiss. He got in the way of my feet."
Abiel heard snickering from the riders behind her and she did not try very hard to conceal her own smirk. She received a slap to the back of the head from someone that had been standing behind her.
"Are you trying to die or are you too much of a simpleton to know better?" He asked in a heavy accent in her own language and came to stand directly before her. "You are costing me time and that equals money. Mark my words- any incidental costs you cause I will get back tenfold from you."
Abiel was struck by the growl in his words. The leader took the look in Abiel's eyes as a fearful understanding and agreement. In reality, it had reminded her so much of the berating she'd received from Toatle, she could barely contain her anger. The half-elf, who appeared in body more of his human side with a thick muscular frame, stepped toward her, putting his face in her to glare into her eyes. He received a broken nose for his trouble when Abiel smashed her forehead into his face. Blood sprayed out and in a blink, the skin surrounding his eyes blackened, swelling his eyes nearly shut. He let out a slew profanities and Abiel felt another guard grab her bound wrists. She dodged a wild punch from the bleeding foreman, who found only the temple of the guard who had just attempted to subdue Abiel. A loud crash sounded and the ground beneath their feet shook hard enough to cause the ring of guards and her to fall. None of the riders seemed affected. Abiel looked up as she heard footsteps approaching.
Standing over her was an elf of some kind that she did not recognize. Based on his tan skin and light golden hair, he looked as much a blood elf as he didn't. He knelt down beside her, gave the guards rushing at her a fearsome glance and they fell back. He returned his gaze to Abiel.
"Two choices," the elf pushed the hair back from her face so that she could look at him directly. "Settle down and cause no more grief- you can do this by choice or you can sleep for the duration of the trip." The the elf pulled back his sleeve enough to expose a leather and silk bracelet ornately beaded-she'd seen these before, but had never seen them so closely. The elf pulled a bead-headed pin from the fabric. If he put the pin into her flesh at certain points of her body, she could be put to sleep or worse. Zykon had told her of these pins, an art of his land, though to her knowledge there were no elves in Tin Wor. "Or I suppose there is a third choice," he said softly, replacing the needle in the wrap and held out his hand. A small globe of gold and blue light grew, hovering above the palm of his hand, tiny bolts of energy crackled. "It's not a pleasant way to be bound," he said and the magic faded.
"I'll behave," she argued, "on my own terms." Abiel said sincerely. "Allow me to ride with you so that I may see the world. So that whatever comes of me, I do not spend my last days in a cage among weaklings and their disparities."
The elf laughed loudly and almost fell on his rear end from it. He got to his feet, grabbing Abiel by her arm. He cut the ropes from her wrists, whistled for an extra horse to be prepared. A flood of angry objections flowed in several languages. The blood elf silenced them all with another look. The elf handed Abiel the small knife to cut the ties around her ankles. She stood straight and handed him back the knife.
"My name is-" Abiel started but the elf cut her off.
"Unimportant. I call you Ishiro, and that is what you will be called for as long as you are in my presence until our paths separate. You'll answer to it as if it were your given name at birth."
A guard approached with a saddled gray.
"With me at all times." Was the elf's final command to her. "You may call me Genkichi, or Gen if this is easier."
"Your given name at birth?" She smirked.
"Naturally," he smirked.
Gen reminded her of Shiftie- strong, crafty, and wildly intelligent. Abiel had won a victory today, she thought. To what end and what cost though, she was not concerned.
Moments later, the caravan was on its way. Abiel sat relieved atop the speckled gray, stroking its neck and mane gratefully, silently, aware of the many sets of eyes upon her back. Happy to be away from the other captives and their "fragility", she was at ease and took in the sights and tried to catch long glimpses of her new warder. He was more broad shouldered than Shiftie but none the less lean, muscled and battle-hardened. He sat upon his saddle with a false-ease. Gen was comfortable because he was in charge. It was not the power that gave him the confidence though. No, she thought, just as with Shiftie, his confidence comes because of his proven abilities and because he knows all of the plans and because he has no fear of leading or of failing his duties, what ever those encompassed. The difference between Gen and Shiftie for Abiel was that she did not care who he was, where he had come from. Outside of being an elven race she'd never seen before, the only thing that mattered to Abiel as far as Gen was concerned, was that he get her as far from the Lorelands as he could as quickly as he could. She would be the truest ally Gen had ever known, so long as he got her what he wanted.
The caravan was larger than she had initially anticipated. There were nearly a dozen carts and the crew totaled 40 or so large well armed men and elves. It traveled at a faster pace than normal, aided by magic over a well-worn traders road, wide enough for several large ox carts to move side-by-side in either direction. Being mid-day, it should have been warmer, but Abiel realized the cool breeze flowing about them was from an ocean. She tried to imagine Shiftie's maps in her mind to gauge their possible whereabouts and route given that she'd been taken at least several days before. For three days and nights, (Abiel was thrilled to be able to count them now), they traveled with few and very brief stops. The blood elven guards tended to the animals with their magic to keep them from reaching exhaustion. The human and half blood elves sought to the needs of the human captives quickly, efficiently. No one was harmed, but the captives were hurried and learned quickly to do as they were instructed and remain silent. Abiel rarely saw the others- men and women, young boys and girls, the youngest maybe 10 years old- now that she was accompanying Gen.
She was always aware of him watching her, though she never caught him staring directly. Like most elves, Gen's age was indeterminate. If she'd had to judge based on human years, he might be in his 20's. For an elf, he could be 100 or 400 or somewhere in between. He was old enough and known well by the others, commanding a respect she did not see given often. The others deferred to him frequently over the actual foreman of the caravan, who did not seem to mind, and frequently sought Gen's advice himself. This gave Abiel a sense of pride and she sat a little straighter in the saddle by day five.
Day seven and Abiel was road weary and bored, not to mention sore. Her legs and behind burned and she was tired of the seemingly never-ending plains of tall grass. Abiel wondered when they would reach the ocean, if that was in fact where they were headed. The caravan was making excellent time now, she heard the leader remark, despite their delays- He paused to look disdainfully at Abiel from his perch at the front of one of the slave carts. Abiel smiled brightly at him. When she thought she could take no more of the tall grass and vast skyline, the landscape began to change. The open plains gave way to rows and rows of trees. As the foliage thickened, Abiel felt Gen's mood shift. He and the men were more on guard, which seemed impossible given that they were always on guard, but Abiel said nothing. The road began to climb upward, even with magic the caravan slowed.
"Stay close to me." Gen said quietly.
'As if there were another option,' Abiel thought to herself.
With twilight approaching, Gen stopped the caravan. They would be resting for the night, the first time they'd ever rested this early or for that long. With quiet frustration, the men began to unload their captives. In groups of three and four, the captives were taken into the woods for ablutions then returned to the camp to be fed, clearly the least favorite chores of their captors. Once fed, the detainees were put back into their windowless cages and locked in securely. The men built a small fire, using their horse packs and horse blankets for comfort as they ate and spoke quietly.
Abiel sat upon her horse blanket, picking lightly at the piece of bread Gen had given her. She wondered if she should say anything, she had questions but it never felt an appropriate time to ask them. As the darkness fell, the summit was no longer visible. She watched again out of the corner of her eye as Gen ate silently. She thought of Shiftie, recalling how ill at ease she would have been in this situation, traveling this much and not speaking. It would have meant that he was angry. The band of men appeared to be waiting for something, that much she realized. But what could it be? Were they meeting someone? Something? Was something out there? The horses were no more tired that evening than they had been on any other day since their journey began. Abiel fed her questions with the food in her hands, let out a long slow breath, and laid down at Gen's feet.
Sleep came more easily than she had expected. Abi' awoke to Gen's whisper and a gentle nudge to her back. Abiel opened her eyes and sat up as Gen knelt over her in the darkness.
"Time to leave." Gen said quietly.
Abiel stood and began to pick up her things. Gen whispered again, "If I gave you a weapon,"
"Who do you want me to kill?" Abiel replied quietly.
Gen raised an eyebrow. "Stay close to me."
"If something bad is about to happen, tell me now." Both Abiel and Gen appeared to only be packing their horses.
"We are smugglers with important contraband. There will always be some who want to take what we have rightfully stolen. We have been tracked the last two days. With only two days to go to reach port, attacking us once we reached the summit would be the best plan of attack, were we to be attacked. So I ask again, if I gave you a weapon?"
"And again I say to you, who do you want me to kill?"
Gen stepped closely to Abiel and slipped a large dagger into her hands. "I assume you know what to do with this and that it will not find its way into my back?"
"You can be assured that if I were to harm you, I would need no weapon."
"Then we are at an understanding, Ishiro."
Abiel did nothing differently than she had since they'd allowed her to ride with Gen. It occurred to her that she was much different in these circumstances when Shiftie was not with her. She felt very at ease, excited, like Raxus or Toatle, when a threat loomed. There was an eagerness within her that was often quelled. For all of the teaching and training Shiftie had given her, for all of the assurance and evidence Pouty and Juldain had given her that Abiel was in fact the Paladin of lore, she was always being shielded by Shiftie. She never felt this confident, this energized. And when she was panicked over his safety or that of her friends, she became an uncontrollable monster that harmed innocent people, stemming from an initial desire to protect. Away from him, away from their friends, Abiel could not remember a time in the last ten years where she'd lost control of herself. Away from Shiftie, she truly excelled and was the warrior she'd always wanted to be. Abiel had never wanted to be some legendary knight, this 'kidnapping' of her, was evidence of that. Abiel looked to Gen, who returned her gaze, waiting for her to speak, but she said nothing. She wondered what would become of her once Gen and his men saw what she was capable of and whether or not it would change their original intentions for her, what ever they might be. Abiel smiled weakly at Gen and pretended to focus on the road ahead, tried to remain vigilant should the caravan be attacked.
Just as Gen had predicted, the caravan of smugglers was attacked at sundown as it neared the summit. It wasn't until Abiel was nearly pushed over the side of the cliff that she had realized it was as steep and nasty a drop as any she had seen, and most of her view was impeded by the growing darkness and fog rolling in below. Who ever they were, the bandits were adept and skillful, and there were many. There seemed to be four of them for each of Gen's men, making it difficult for them to fend off the raiders and protect their goods at the same time. They used the trees adeptly, attempting to draw Gen's men into the forested area, but Gen's men were also skilled and this was not the first ambush they'd fought in.
Abiel realized early on that if she simply gave in to the joy of it, the rogues were no match for her. She'd taken swords from the first two attackers she'd killed and was cleaving her way through the melee with ease. Gen and his men however, seemed equally matched if not simply because they were outnumbered and protecting cargo. While she truly couldn't have cared whether his men lived or died, Abiel was determined to see herself safely to where ever they were taking their cargo, and as such did what she could to help the men protect the carts of passengers. Bodies strewn across the blood-soaked ground, this was a strangely-comforting sight for her, and on she fought without a care in the world. She heard the foreman shout and turned to see him on his back and a sword being plunged through his chest and the silhouette of someone tumbling over the side of the summit, a slight yelp and curse as the body went. It was Gen. In the darkness, Abiel cut down the raiders in her path as she rushed to aid Gen if she could. She found her way to the spot she'd seen him fall over the ledge and shouted for him.
"I'm here," he shouted back. He was near, how far down she could not tell.
"Can you hang on a few more moments?" Abiel pleaded and reached down hoping to feel his hand or some part of him to grab onto.
"The rocks are cutting into my palms and the dirt is starting to give way under my feet, if that is any indication." Gen said rather light-heartedly.
"Just hang on as long as you can. I'll settle this and get you." Abiel swore.
Gen mumbled something with a snicker that Abiel did not understand. This little skirmish needed to end. She snatched the long-sword protruding from the foreman's chest and grabbed another as she went, taking care not to accidentally murder one of Gen's men as she went about hacking her way through several raiders and letting out a loud whistle.
"Gen's riders, stay with your cargo!" she roared in an unnaturally loud manner that was completely new to her. Abiel hesitated for a moment before continuing forward. She could barely see now, but this was her element. Gen was in trouble and the raiders either needed to retreat or die as quickly as she could see to it. She took a deep breath and let it out quickly before advancing, Pouty's voice ringing like a Vale chime so clearly in her mind. "Death is the echo of your foot steps." "And so it shall be." she whispered softly.
It might as well have been an eternity for Gen, clinging to rocks and roots, having slipped one time too many. He'd considered letting go in order to avoid the continuous stopping of his panicked heart each time he slipped a little further. When the torch flames lit the wall of earth he clung to so desperately, he sighed with relief, his rider Permun holding the torch and calling for others that he'd found Gen. Gen was not nearly as far down the face of the cliff as he'd thought and a moment later and to his surprise, there was 'Ishiro' lying down on the ground and reaching down for him.
"Lower," she called up and the men holding her by her legs let her slide further down the face of the cliff until she had Gen by the wrists.
"Hello there," she smiled at Gen. "Ready?" she asked grabbing him by the wrists with a strength that was hurting him as much as it was surprising him. He barely gurgled a 'yes' and Abiel called for the men to pull them up. Gen instinctively scrambled with his feet to aid in the recovery. "Don't," Abiel said sternly. As the men dragged her, she pulled Gen and as his body was pulled up, she twisted so that he was lying opposite her when the rescue was complete. Gen laid stunned for several moments, then pushed himself up to sitting in order to take a good look at the girl who was getting to her feet and dusting herself off in such a relaxed manner he wanted to throttle her. If the men had ever said two words to his little Ishiro, they were not about to now. They gave her a wide berth and stared in an unnerved manner not typical to their personalities.
She offered him her hand, he reluctantly took it and rubbed his sore bruised wrists.
"Collect our dead," Gen ordered the half-elf Permun without looking at him. The survivors rushed to help, anything to get away from Gen's pet. Gen picked up a torch that one of the men had staked into the ground and held it between him and Abiel, inspecting her in the golden-orange glow. The dancing flames and shadows across her muddy clothes and face did nothing to ease is mind.
"Who are you?" Gen asked.
"Ishiro," Abiel replied. She could see by the look on his face that now was not the time for humor, but she was as serious as he was, though he did not appreciate the answer.
"WHO are you?" Gen asked again.
"Ishiro," Abiel replied again. He wanted to punch her square in the mouth.
She did not understand. The one order he'd ever given her was to accept that her name was the one he had given to her. Without being asked specifically what he wanted to know, Abiel was not going to provide any other information, lest it be a test of some sort. Gen grabbed her by the arm and led her further from the camp.
"Who are you really?" he whispered, his frustration growing.
"My name is Abiel, I am from Coste Volte, or what used to be." Abiel said softly.
"I do not recognize your name. Should I?" Gen asked.
"If you traveled further within the Lorelands, you might, you might not." Abiel looked at his nose to appear as though she were looking at him eye to eye.
"And if we travelled to the Lorelands, what would I come to find about you?" Gen became sorry he'd asked. The look on her face told him he might one day regret having kidnapped the girl, although he now realized with certainty that she could have killed everyone and escaped any time she had liked. This led to other questions he was not sure he wanted the answers to.
"I suppose it depends on who you heard it from. There are some that believe that I was born.... special, or at least to be special." Abiel debated on how vague to be. "Others believe that if I am special, that I should die forthwith, that I am an abomination."
Gen stared hard at the exposed scar below her lip, wondered how she had received it now. She was always bundled, her cloak always tied high and tight. She had always been very careful to keep it covered.
"Show me." he ordered quietly, not taking his eyes off of it.
Abiel unclasped the cloak, already in the firelight Gen could see that it moved down her throat. It was old, that much he could tell, the stitching had been crude, terrible at best and obvious magic had not been enough for the would to heal more cleanly. Abiel had peeled off her over-shirt, she untied the lacing of the undershirt and pulled the collar down so that he could see that at the very least, it went down to her chest. She saw the confusion in the blood elf's eyes, saw him trying to puzzle out what he was looking at. Any warrior would know that no living being should have a scar like this down their throat and chest and still be alive. She'd seen the look so many times. The only fear she held now was that he would abandon her or for some reason betray her.
"Before you ask 'what' I am, I don't know. Not truly. Perhaps I am an abomination, some sort of demon. Maybe I am... 'special' in the way that so many people believe that I am." She spat out the word special with such disgust that Gen looked to her eyes. "Many people have many theories, some evidence to prove that I should live or that I should die. Whom ever is right, I don't much care. All I want is to live a simple and ordinary life, as far from my home as I can get, as far from their wars and the Gurvir as I can achieve." Abiel decided it was best not to mention the blood bounty and searched the elves angry eyes for some hope of understanding.
Gen said nothing for several long moments, staring at her or off into the darkness.
"It is a sacred thing, life. And you spared mine. This is a debt I am supposed to repay by never leaving your side, such is the way of my people. In this line of work, many are not held to the vow. I have seen what you are, I think. Perhaps you are a demon, and I would venture to say that you are special, even if this is something you do not wish to be. I would offer you a position at my side so that I may one day repay the debt and so that you might have another life away from your home as you wish. It is a small offer really, as my death is always in the balance of the life I have chosen to lead. As you have seen tonight, death seeks me."
Abiel raised an eyebrow, this was an intriguing offer.
"I wish that I could agree to this. I do not wish to hold you to your debt. I do not think I could stomach the snatching of people for long and while my backside might eventually get used to the hard travels of the road, it would only bring me nearer to my home than I would ever wish to be and far too often, as well as bringing dangers upon you that I don't know that I could shield you from." It was far more ominous than Abiel had wanted to sound, but it was the truth.
"I would request a different bargain, if I might be so bold?"
Gen waited to hear this trade, more and more questions growing in his mind.
"Take me as far as you go, sell me... I assume you are in deed intending to sell us?" Abiel asked, Gen confirmed this with a nod of his head. "You've been doing this a long time? I am sure you know someone who would buy me that might perhaps treat me well?" Abiel laughed at herself. "An owner that would hire me for my strength and leave me be? Or at the very least leave me in a place where my presence as a Lorelander would not be unusual, where I might find work of an appropriate nature?"
Gen stared at the girl long and hard. He couldn't kill her even if he wanted to, which he didn't. He liked her enough in his own way and his curiosity was getting the better of him.
"I will take you to Yaruk. I know of a noble house where you might find work suitable to your desires, I am most certain you will be left alone and treated well enough." Gen decided.
"I thank you for this favor." Abiel bowed to Gen from the waist.
A long moment of awkward silence fell between them. Abiel waited patiently until Gen turned suddenly on his heel and began barking orders to his men that they would head on immediately through the night.
CHAPTER
It was late morning when the caravan reached the port city of Farlenk. Gen wasted no time in getting his cargo on board one of the largest ships Abiel had ever been on. It held five masts, with five levels below the deck. The ship's crew eyed Abiel greedily, she stayed a step behind the desert elf at all times. The ship set sail by mid day. The captain, a large man with a serious demeanor, approached Gen and Abiel at the bow. The men clasped forearms and began to speak in Gen's native language. This seemed slightly laboring for the captain, who was glad when Gen stated that Abiel could let in on the conversation, Gen knowing full well she could understand every word any way.
"The weather stands to be clear, we should make port in about ten days." the captain said.
"Excellent. Thank you, Captain." Gen inclined his head for a moment.
"There is a matter of an extra bunk for the girl." The captain was pointedly not looking at Abiel.
"She will need no bunk as she stays with me." There was an underlying tone, a threatening one, in Gen's voice. "I want it made known that any man with poor intentions toward her shall be buried at sea. She is my property."
"Of course, of course!" the captain hurriedly attempted to assure Gen. "You have my oath that nothing untoward shall befall her."
"I expected no less from you, Captain." Gen clasped forearms again with the man, who left them immediately and began barking orders.
Gen turned to face her. "I hope that sharing quarters is acceptable to you. While I have every confidence that the captain will impress upon the men the fatality that awaits them should they as much as approach you, it only takes one to slip up." He could see that she understood. "As for the sharing of quarters, I hope this does not displease you too much. I will take the floor."
"I don't mind sleeping on the floor," Abiel laughed. "I'll fight you for it." She cracked a wicked smile. Gen almost smiled, which was close enough for her.
Gen led her down to the second deck passed the galley and modest but no less large dining area to the cabin they would be sharing. It was larger and more comfortable than she had imagined. Her gear was stacked neatly on the floor at the foot of the large mattress.
"Isn't this lovely." Abiel said, taking in the room. Gen cocked an eyebrow as he looked through one of his saddle bags. "With a bed this large, we can share it." Gen looked up, objection written across his face.
"We've slept closer on the ground. Afraid I'll try and steal your virtue?" she laughed. Gen shook his head and continued to search through and unpack some of his belongings.
"We should rest up a bit, they will be serving dinner soon." he said and removed his cloak and boots before laying down as close to the edge of the side of the bed as he could.
"As you wish." Abiel removed her cloak and boots as well and laid down on the opposite edge, half-mocking the elf. If she had been tired, Abiel hadn't realized it. But within a few moments, the even rocking of the ship pulled her quickly into sleep.
CHAPTER
A knock on the door along with the slight smell of food brought Abiel from her dreamless slumber, Gen sat up and pulled his boots on. Abiel followed suit and followed her keeper out into the hall and down to the dining area. It was loud and boisterous, most of the ships crew sat together in the furthest, darkest corner they could cram in to, Gen's men sat across the room shoving food and ale as fast as they could. Abiel followed Gen to the long buffet table that had clearly once been piled high with food and was coming to the last of it. Much of what was there, Abiel did not recognize, her hunger pushing aside the wondering of what she was about to ingest. She was sure to grab plenty of bread and a tankard of dark ale. Gen led her to the table where his men had open seats. Their conversation quieted when Abiel approached. She smiled sincerely, trying to put them at ease. In their desire to forget that she was there, but so as not to offend Gen, they resumed their conversations with all due haste as Abiel began to consume her food and inhale her drink.
What ever the ale was, Abiel rather enjoyed the rich taste of it. So much so that she had had at least six. Gen watched her drink one after another. Some of the men were quite impressed with this and her intoxicated state had Abiel feeling relaxed, happy and talkative. Occasionally, she smiled brightly at Gen, attempting to engage him within the conversations, knowing full well that he would not respond, but Abiel tried none the less, in hopes that it would confirm that she was Gen's property and to assure that the men did not forget it.
As the evening wore on, Abiel was less inclined to be the center of attention and excused herself and made her way up to the deck of the ship. The captain inclined his head at her approach and returned to tending the helm. Holding fast to the railing, Abiel closed her eyes, enjoying the rocking of the ship as it mingled with the drink moving through her. The cold did not affect her, nor the sea spray, but pulling her cloak about her felt comforting. It was a near cloudless night, the moon already shifting downward to welcome the new day. Abiel heard boot steps drawing toward her and turned to smile at Gen, who did not seem to enjoy the cold and damp.
"I apologize if I offended in some way in the dinner hall. It has been some time since I have enjoyed the company of others and spoke. I am sure your men think me stranger than before." Abiel turned to look again at the rolling ocean in the darkness.
Gen said nothing, she'd not expected him to. He stood firmly beside her, shivering slightly.
"I am warm, if it will help our ruse." Abiel whispered, though it was doubtful much would be heard by the captain or anyone else who wasn't directly near them over the rushing waters and creaking of the massive wooden ship.
