Richard Parker: The Black Horseman

Karl, breathing hard from his exertions, half climbed onto the planking, which measured nearly six feet square, and immediately dropped his head down and closed his eyes. Gwaynn climbed from Karl’s back and scrambled onto the makeshift raft next to him. It felt good not to have to tread water for a bit, though both did have to fight to stay on the planking as the sea continued to try to dump them off every few minutes. Silently they rode the waves, up and down, up and down, and the rain continued and the lightning crashed until the afternoon turned to night.

They fought to survive together and the storm waned so slowly that neither noticed when it finally stopped nor sometime later when the seas finally grew calm once more. They both slept, though very fitfully, each amazed when the sun moved above the horizon announcing the fact that morning had come and they were still both alive.

Karl woke first, thirsty and looked about the calm seas. He held out the hope of spotting other survivors, but deep inside he knew he would find none, and he didn’t. He turned to check on Gwaynn and found the boy awake and looking across the sea.

“Se…” Karl tried to say and then swallowed. Gwaynn looked toward him. “See…see anyone?” He finally managed knowing the boy’s eyes were far better than his own.

Gwaynn shook his head, also very thirsty. He wished he had thought to drink more of the rain that was coming down so plentifully last night. He felt like crying, but didn’t, and in fact, he knew he never would again, not that he was going to survive very long out here. Even if they didn’t drowned they would surely die of thirst before they reached land, if they ever reached land.

“I have to survive,” Gwaynn said softly.

“You will lad,” Karl said, mistaking the boy’s statement for fear. “You will. Come,” he added checking the sun. “We need to start moving if we can..moving north. Hopefully we’ll stumble across the Islands.” Together they worked themselves around to the other side of the makeshift raft, and without a word began to swim.

They both kicked for nearly an hour before Gwaynn began to seriously tire. Karl grabbed him and hoisted him up higher on the planks.

“Rest a bit lad. We’ve all day to swim,” he said, a smile in his voice, though he did not have enough strength to put one on his face. Gwaynn said nothing, just closed his eyes and concentrated on the movement of the raft in the water. Karl continued to kick, but he could not be sure of his exact direction, and being low in the water as they were their line of sight was very limited. Swimming, however, gave him something to do other than thinking of their impending deaths. At the moment Karl had strength to spare.

Gwaynn sprawled on the raft for several hours before Karl noticed how red his back was becoming, and cursed softly to himself. After spending most of the previous afternoon naked in the sun tied to that damn scaffold, Karl had now let him lay exposed in and out of the water.

“Gwaynn, get back in the water,” Karl croaked. “You’re burning to a crisp, and starting to smell good.” The boy didn’t react, and Karl nudged him, and then again before Gwaynn groaned and looked about. He didn’t say anything, and showed no sign that he had even heard Karl, so the big man reached up, and as gently as he could, pulled the boy back into the water.

“You’re burning,” he explained, but Gwaynn remained quiet, and they both just held on and floated with the current for several more hours before suddenly Gwaynn began to kick again. Karl, who was half sleeping, woke and looked over at the boy, who was smiling at him.

“I’m sure this is the right way,” he said so softly Karl almost didn’t hear him though he was less than a foot away. Karl smiled at him and began to kick also, though both kicked very lazily and rested often before starting up once again. They found a rhythm and kept it up most of the afternoon before each stopped to rest again. Dehydration was now setting in for both of them, and thinking clearly was becoming difficult even when they had thoughts. For the most part, they just hung on, mostly out of habit and instinct, and floated. Night came without either noticing, but when Karl finally did he used nearly all of his strength to haul Gwaynn back up onto the planks. Karl pulled himself half out of the water, knowing that he was likely to tip the boy if he was to try and haul himself all the way on top. He was not even sure the raft would hold his full weight, so he continued to hang on, his legs dangling in the water, kicking off and on the entire night.

Morning found Karl neither refreshed, nor rested, and he did not bother to even pull the boy into the water when the sun drew higher in the sky. He just continued to float and kick. The morning passed just as the night had, but with Karl resting more and more, and Gwaynn draped face down on the wet planking. Karl was not even sure the boy was alive anymore, but did not have the strength or inclination to check. Long stretches of time passed without a coherent thought, neither was holding out any hope of surviving, but living on just the same. How long he had been in the water, Karl could not say and it was nearly an hour before sunset when he first noticed the call of birds. He could hear them plainly and vaguely realized that he had been hearing the sounds for quite a while. He raised his head and looked about. The gulls circled over his head and flew up and down just above the wave tops.

‘Land must be somewhere close,’ Karl thought and his heart soared. He looked around for any sign but found it hard to focus, so he rested a moment, and then tried again. It took a few minutes, but finally from the crest of a wave he spotted land close, not even half a league away.

“Prince,” Karl croaked, barely above a whisper. “Land.” Gwaynn did not respond as Karl began to kick weakly, trying to steer them to salvation.

“Prince…” He said again, this time even softer than the last time. Gwaynn still made no move, and Karl gave up, not having the strength to continue. He just kicked and kicked, sometimes catching sight of the land growing closer, but mostly he just kicking mindlessly. Without thought he continued to swim, finally hearing the breakwater, knowing they were getting very close. He was not aware of how close until the waves began to lift them higher, and suddenly the surf flipped Gwaynn off the raft and threw Karl head over heals, tearing the planking free of his grip. Karl struggled to right himself underwater, and was surprised when his feet touched sand. He pushed off and shot to the surface just in time for the next wave to crash into him; it sent him reeling once more. When he finally managed to surface again, he looked first for the next wave and somehow managed to ride over the top of it, then he frantically looked about for Gwaynn. He spotted the boy’s light skin not far away. He was face down in the sea. Karl fought his way to him, exhausted, catching him just as the next wave struck them. Karl held on, however and with what strength he had left, tried to guide them both to land. The waves helped, pushing them up until finally the big man was able to crawl more than swim his way up onto the beach. He pulled Gwaynn up after him, and with a final titanic effort drew them both out of the water and as far up on the beach as he could manage before he collapsed from the effort and was still.

ǂ

Far to the south, in the former Capital City of the Massi, King Arsinol Deutzani was not amused.

“The Rattan just returned to port; the Captain is reporting the Calais is missing at sea as well as the Londalay,” Ja Brude, the King’s advisor said entering the former throne room of the Massi royal family. He glanced curiously at the three suspended women hanging from a hastily erected scaffold in the center of the room. All three were completely naked and Ja’s first impression was that the one on the far right could not rightly be called a woman. But after closer inspection he saw that though she was indeed young, she was clearly not a child. She was thin, much too thin, with underdeveloped breasts and nearly straight hips. Her body was closer to that of a young boy than a woman, except of course for the genitalia. Ja Brude kept his face carefully neutral as he gazed at her. She was built exactly to the King’s liking.