Page 53 of Gentling the Beast

Apart of me is not ready to leave the next morning, and a part of me cannot wait to be rid of this place and the memories that linger in that corridor I have to take every day.

We wrap up warm, the rain already turning to sleet. The sweltering heat of only a week ago is no more than a memory.

Melody is lifted up onto a wagon laden with supplies. Although she does not mind walking, it is a reasonable distance to the docks and wharf where sailing ships are waiting for us. She is very excited about both the wagon ride and the ship, and whoops with delight.

Our escort of orc guards are used to her antics and pay her no mind. They are dressed for war today, carrying long pikes, clubs, axes, sometimes swords, and they wear heavy leather armor with cloaks against the rain. I have been given similarly warm clothes, a basic dress, sturdy boots, and the cloak Rignor gifted me the day Doug was freed.

We make a procession through the streets, which lack their usual bustle. Any of Krug’s residents who choose to go out in this weather hasten between their squat dwellings and the markets. The sky is overcast and filled with yet more rain, and by the time we reach the docks, the weather has taken on an icy chill, although at least the rain has slowed almost to a stop. The buildings here—the same squat mud creations—are of broader construction than the city and given over to warehousing of supplies.

I have never been on a ship before nor sailed upon the sea—I have never even seen the sea, although the path we use to approach offers me no view. The two ships, though, are a wonder to me as we come out onto the wharf. Tall-masted, built from glistening dark wood, they roll gently in the swell, and are so huge and sturdy that I question how they float. Around them are several smaller vessels, the farthest of which is being unloaded. Bondservants form a steady stream carrying hessian sacks from the boat through an open archway into a nearby building.

I send a furtive glance to my left, where Doug walks, decked out in leather armor and a thick cloak, very much an orc ready for war. His eyes shift to meet mine, and I find reassurance in that look.

“Have you been on a ship before?”

He nods once.

Okay then. I can do this. People sail ships all the time, and they rarely sink.Rarely… I cling to that word, for sometimes they clearly do.

The cart bearing Melody comes to a rumbling stop on the wooden planks of the wharf before the first ship.

“Yippee!”

Her excitement brings a smile to my lips. If Melody can do this, so can I.

Bellowed orders come from ahead. Gangplanks are laid down, and the ship’s grizzly human captain, with a weathered face, bristly beard, and long gray hair whipped in the breeze, hastens us to board.

“Hold my hand, Melody,” Bard says, using his stern voice as though sensing the fairy child is about to get up to mischief.

“Can I climb the mast?” she asks.

“No,” Bard says. “Fairies are forbidden from climbing masts.”

“Why?”

He sighs heavily. I bite my lip to hide my smile as Melody turns and gives me an impish grin. “Can Doug climb the mast?”

“No,” Bard says. “Orcs are too heavy to climb masts. That is for small human boys.”

“I could be a small human boy,” she persists. “If I cut my hair short, no one would know.”

“They would see your pointed ears and know instantly that you were a fairy up to mischief, and you would be in very serious trouble indeed.”

“What would they do to me?” she demands to know, aghast. “Would they feed me to the sharks? I think I would like to meet a shark or a dolphin. Do you think we shall see any dolphins?”

I don’t hear the rest of what they say as they walk onto the gangplank. My stomach is full of fluttery nerves as I follow and see the dark, murky water lapping at the side of the ship.

It is a small relief to reach the deck, although I do not like the movement one bit.

“Are you a pirate?” Melody demands of the gruff captain, who does have a bit of a pirate look to him with his faded red jacket and cutlass at his hip.

“Aye, wee lass, I am,” the captain says, offering a conspiring wink to Bard. “Ye best nah be gettin’ ideas about climbin’ me mast lest I feed ye t’ the sharks.”

Eyes wide, Melody backs up into Bard, who places a hand on her shoulder.

“I like your jacket very much,” she announces, after gazing at the captain consideringly. She slips away from Bard to take a wandering route toward the commander of the ship.

“Melody, come away from the pir—captain,” Bard admonishes. “He is a very busy man.”

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