Episode 7:
Escape into Danger

N EEKIN BEGAN TO BACK AWAY FROM THE UNNAMED mistress of this uncharted cay -- slowly, cautiously. "I simply wish too return to my ship," Neekin said.

Again the woman moved without Neekin being fully aware of the action. One moment she was where she was, the next she was standing right before Neekin. A hand struck out, knotting in the back of Neekin's unkempt hair, pulling her close to the woman. The woman was taller than she, forcing Neekin up on her tip toes. Another hand came around and gripped Neekin's naked bottom, pressing her body hard against the woman. Neekin winced as sharp nails dug into her buttock.

"But I thought we could play first," hissed the woman, her tongue licking up Neekin's face from jaw to eye.

"Bitch!" sneered Neekin, struggling, amazed at the woman's strength. The woman's mouth closed hungrily about Neekin's, teeth clacking against teeth. Neekin moaned, eyes rolling up, as a tongue invaded her mouth, plunging down her throat. She began to panic as she realized the tongue was thicker, rounder, than any human tongue. And as the woman's hips wedged themselves between Neekin's soft thighs, she knew the woman's lower body felt odd as well. Neekin began to claw and scrape frantically at the woman's shoulders and back, but her muscles were like a child's compared to the woman's preternatural strength, her screams muffled as she gagged on that thrusting tongue.

Suddenly the woman spasmed and Neekin saw a wooden shaft quiver from her shoulder. Then another shaft rocked her body and she flung Neekin away from her to whirl about. Neekin hit the clay earth, coughing, but managing to glimpse the men of The Falcon's Heart upon the ridge, one armed with a short bow.

The freakish woman hissed, her tongue darting out, a living snake head upon its prehensile tip. On seeing this, and still tasting that unnatural tongue as it had ravished her mouth, Neekin's stomach heaved drily. Then she gaped as the woman threw off her robe, and beneath her womanly torso were the hips and legs of some sort of insect.

"Hasih's Blood!" someone screamed.

Then the woman-creature darted into the tunnel, and her ragged minions scampered after, until only Neekin was left in the pit, with a smouldering corpse as her sole companion.

Neekin gagged a few more times, curled in a ball upon the moist clay, trying desperately to assimilate all that had occurred. Dimly she was aware of the sound of grunts and dislodging shale as the sailors struggled down the sides of the natural hollow that formed this sunken amphitheatre.

Neekin realized there were ancient things in this world that she might not be equipped to fully understand -- and the nature of those who dwelt within the borders of the Xarolouth Ocean might well be numbered among those. So she forced her mind away from what had just occurred, barricading it off, and directed her thoughts instead toward the reason they were here in the first place. While she waited for the sailors to join her, she rose unsteadily to her feet and approached the blackened corpse of the man they had pursued to this cay.

She stepped gingerly about the carcass, as if fearful there might sill be life within it and one charred arm would suddenly reach out for her. It was clear that there had been something unnatural about the man, but Neekin had never seen him clearly. And now, burned beyond recognition, she never would.

Vaguely she was aware of the squishing sound of booted feet in wet clay, and she turned, expecting to be caught up in Alombo's strong embrace. Instead, he staggered to a halt a few paces from her, his gaze uncertain in the moonlight.

She stared at him, hands on the alluring swells of her hips. She was totally nude, the intoxicating curves of her firm, young body glistening from the oil that had been poured on her. But she stood there boldly, affecting a nonchalance as the sailors eyed her lasciviously.

Was Alombo affronted by her nakedness in front of his crew, she wondered -- did she appear wanton because she made no effort to girlishly cover herself? Had seeing her being molested by that she-creature rendered her tainted in his eyes? Neekin scowled, then looked at the cluster of men. "Where are-?" She stopped, realizing she did not know the names of many in the crew. "Where are the others?"

"They did not make it," Alombo said stiffly. "There are other things on this island, too -- deadly things."

Neekin shivered, thinking of how she had heard something rustle in the bushes earlier as it passed her, and dismissed it.

"More good men died...yet you still live," muttered one of them.

Neekin shot a glance at the group, but in the shadow thick moonlight could not make out who said it. Pointedly ignoring the comment, she turned away. "There is the man -- the whatever -- we sought," she said.

"Burned?" asked Alombo, stating the obvious.

"Apparently Charwan Kan is no more loved here than by your crew. And if his enemies number men of the coast, and Manoori sorcerers, and she-creatures of Xarolouth...what sort of man is it that we hunt?"

No one had an answer for that.

Neekin shrugged. "At least we know we're on the right trail. This is -- this was -- one of his crew, at least according to that, that, whatever she was. Which means, not only is the black ship on this ocean, but in this general area. After all, that Manoori vessel we found adrift was still burning, so the black ship could not have been too far gone."

"Let us back to our vessel," said Alombo. "The Captain should be informed of all that has transpired. And I want to be away from this hellish isle."

                                 *     *     *

At the rude beach, where their dory was moored, Neekin splashed about in the brine, washing away the traces of the flammable oil that she had been coated with. She was aware the men watched her as she bent over, shovelling water over her gleaming contours. She did not begrudge them. She knew she was beautiful, whereas most of them only knew the company of a woman if they paid for it, and then with aging harbour whores with bad skin and worse teeth.

Besides, she was in no position to demand privacy. No one was gallantly offering her their shirts to cover herself, not even Alombo, who seemed decidedly distracted. As such, she would remain naked as they rowed for The Falcon's Heart whether she bathed before them or not.

At last they set off across the undulating dark water, the moonlight glancing off the ocean as if denied entry into its depths.

Huddled by herself at one end of the boat, for the first time Neekin did allow herself to feel self-conscious about her nakedness. The men stared at her in silence, but she was no longer sure it was motivated entirely by desire. She brought her knees up to her body and wrapped her arms around herself and deliberately looked out upon the sea.

Only Alombo, the only man there who had a right to stare at her body, refused to do so.

Neekin suspected she knew what was at the back of the crew's demeanor -- indeed, what had been building for a while.

She would be glad to be back aboard the ship, dressed and, more importantly, armed.

Through the darkness echoed the creaking of the larger vessel's stays, the snap of her sails as an errant wind caught them, the hollow thud of waves against her hull. With a whistle of oars in their stirrups, the dory pulled up along side her and a rope ladder was instantly unfurled down to them.

Neekin went up first, and was greeted with startled gasps as she climbed on deck by men who had last seen her clothed.

"Seems we missed a party, lads," muttered someone, and others laughed coarsely.

But the laughter evaporated as the rest of the shore party climed aboard and they realized not all had returned.

"Report, first mate."

Neekin looked up, startled, to see the reclusive Captain El-Antiague looming over them from the quarterdeck, glowering imperiously, his pale skin afire with the light of the ship's lanterns.

Alombo cast her a glance and whispered, "Go below and get dressed. I'll meet you later." He then strode forward to mount the steps leading to the upper deck.

Neekin started toward the door leading to the cabins below, aware of eyes burning into her. She kept her arms crossed over her full breasts, as though hugging herself, though made no effort to cover her hips. Attempting to conceal herself would only emphasize her exposure as she could not conceal all her feminine attributes, front and back, with just two hands. Yet she was grateful when the door closed behind her.

She hurried to her cabin and shut that door as well.

It did not take much imagination to know what was transpiring, she reflected. They had been on the Xarolouth Ocean for what seemed like a long time now, with the oppressive aura about the place weighing on them, the half-remembered stories traded around port taverns lurking in their minds. They hunted an elusive black ship, had been attacked by a sea serpent, seen one of their men have his throat torn out by a mysterious man who, then, swam and swam and swam away. And now they had tasted of the hospitality of those who called these waters home -- and not all had returned.

Their nerves were frayed. Their superstition allowed to roam unfettered in their minds. Alombo had once told her that the men viewed her as a good omen. But once their minds had painted her in supernatural colours, it was easy for a good omen to become a bad one.

Deciding to dress more demurely than had been her want, she grabbed a pair of men's trousers and pulled them on. She cinched the belt tight around her narrower waist, and rolled up the legs till they dropped no further than her shins.

A knock at the door made her jump, just a little.

"A moment, I'm not dress-"

The door splintered inward and Neekin leapt back as a couple of burly sailors piled in, with more lurking like shadows in the hall beyond.

"Oh, no need to fancy yourself up on our account, witch," sneered one of the men, "dressed like a lady, or naked like the whore you are, it makes no never mind to us..."