A Curse to Break; Chapter 8

The next few days pass without any excitement. I sit silently in the back of the covered wagon as we move during the day and at night, the leader now forces me to sit out by the campfire until I'm yawning. I still don't know where they're taking me. I can't muster up the courage to ask where I'm being taken; not that they were likely to give me an answer anyway. My dread grows with each passing day. I can't help but wonder if I am actually being taken anywhere. They could be taking me in circles for all I knew. Either way, the dread continues to grow. Why me? If this 'captain' had done his research, he'd know I was a useless captive. My family wouldn't pay much for me.

We're on the verge of a week spent traveling when the routine is broken. When the wagon stops, I assume it's a routine stop, yet it's not followed by the normal sounds of a stop. My curiosity is burning though. For a while now, a strange scent had filled the air. It wasn't a bad one either. It was rather pleasant. It was oddly reminiscent of the salt baths Mother liked to take every now and then. Daniel had once called the smell 'sea air.' Were we nearing the ocean? Was I foolish for wanting a glimpse of it if we were?

"Miss Levine," the leader calls, slipping through the back flaps of the wagon, "I've excellent news. We're nearly there. By the end of the day, we'll have reached our first destination."

I blink in surprise, thoughts of seeing the ocean fading away. "First destination?"

He pauses, thinking for a moment. "I must have forgotten to mention that. This is a two-legged journey. Have you ever been on a ship before?" He asks, reaching for the leather flask hanging from a peg on one of the wagon's arches.

I can't help the spark of excitement that comes first. We had to be near the ocean if he was asking that. I wouldn't just get to see the ocean. I'd get to sail on it. As quickly as my excitement had come it vanishes.

A two-legged journey that had to be finished by ship? Where were they taking me? And why?

The fear continues stirring as he opens the flask. He then proceeds to pull a vial from his pocket. Opening it, he lifts it to the lip of the flask.

"Well, have you?" He prompts.

I had forgotten to answer. I quickly shake my head. "No."

He nods, dumping the contents of the vial into the flask. "Then I'd try drinking this. Better to try soothing your stomach before the waters can upset it." He winks at me as he hands me the flask. "I don't think seasick would look pretty on you. Not really pretty on anyone."

I had heard of people getting seasick on ships, set off by the rocking of the waves. Would I be one of those people? Did I really want to find out? Drink whatever he had just added to the flask or find out were my only options, and for once, the choice was easy.

Raising the flask to my lips, I take a tentative sip and nearly choke on the water. Whatever he had added was sour, bitter, and burned. It's absolutely revolting. Thankfully, it's just a cough that comes on. Not so thankfully, the taste sticks to my tongue.

I shove the flask back at the man. I'd rather risk getting seasick. The man just laughs as he accepts it back, replacing the cork.

"I'll hold on to this in case you change your mind. Now," he holds out a hand, "Our ship awaits."

I can't help the flicker of confusion I feel as I reach for his hand. As far as I could tell, we hadn't entered a town. There couldn't be any docks nearby.

He releases my hand so he can jump down, but offers it to me again to help me down. Our small caravan has stopped at the edge of the sand, most of the men already making their way across it. I let him lead me along, allowing my eyes to wander about, taking in the view. It's amazing.

The sand slopes gently down all the way to the water. I can see the waves crashing gently into the shore, turning up small clouds of white before rushing back. The ocean itself stretches to the horizon, blue waves turning flat as it stretches out. White birds dash along the shore, quick to rush out when the waves pull back and quicker to run when they come back in.

When my eyes land on the ship, I can't help but marvel at it as well. I had seen plenty of pictures and miniatures, but to see an actual ship. . . I knew they'd be large but it still seemed massive. Its sails are down but its flag is still up, flapping lazily in the breeze. I freeze when I recognize it; it’s a jolly roger. That would make these men pirates. I can't help but feel a little stupid for not realizing that sooner.

"You've already come this far," the leader tsks, "I'd hate to have to drag you the rest of the way."

I shake my head, trying and failing not to tremble. Just what did they want with me? Taking me from the palace was one thing; taking me from the country was another.

He just gently pats my hand. "Don't look so frightened. Captain wants you safe and well. If you went unharmed without his watchful eye, just imagine how much safer you'll be under his watchful eye."

His words give me very little assurance, but when he begins to lead me along again, I still don't fight. He leads me along to the rowboats lined up on the shore. A few have already shoved off. When we reach one of them, the leader helps me in, telling me to sit still. He then helps the other men standing by the boat to shove off. The rocking of the boat as they jump in is disconcerting, but there's nothing for me to grab onto.

None of them say anything as we cut through the water. When we pull up beside the ship, a rope ladder is thrown down along with two long, thick ropes that two of the men take to tie at either end of the boat. Their movements set the boat rocking, but no one else seems concerned by it. In fact, the leader stands easily, offering a hand.

"Ladies first," he says as he smiles down at me.

I look up at the ship again. The deck couldn't be further above our heads than the oak I liked to lay under in the garden, but they couldn't honestly expect me to be able to climb that. I look back at him in alarm. I hadn't even climbed the oak since I was a child.

He frowns. "I had a feeling that'd be a long shot. Well, your options are climbing it yourself or being carried up."

Frankly, I don't like either option. I look back at the rope ladder. One of the men is already scaling it with ease. It doesn't take him long to reach the deck. If I could even make it that far up, it certainly wouldn't be that fast or gracefully. I have the feeling I was more likely to fall than anything else. But the thought of being carried up is somehow much worse.

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and racing heart. I could do this. Taking one more deep breath, I rise to my feet. The boat sways precariously beneath me. For a moment, I'm sure I'm going to fall. Then there's a hand on my arm.

"Easy now," he says, managing to steady me. "I got you."

He keeps his hand on me as I slowly move to the side of the boat. I hate how much it rocks with every little movement. As I grip the rope, I take one last glance towards the deck. What a horrid idea this was.

I lift my foot above the rim of the boat, letting my toes curl around it for a better grip. Before I can think better of it, I place my other hand on the rope, hauling myself up. The ladder sways as my other foot works to find its perch.

Horrible, rotten, no good, stupid idea. I had to be going mad. First trying to run and now this? It's too late to turn back now though. I force myself to keep moving.

One hand after the other, one foot after the other. Up and up, higher and higher. I don't look up. I don't look down. I keep my eyes on my hands, trusting my feet to find their perches. My arms are starting to ache. My legs are starting to tremble. I pray I'm close to the top. I can't bring myself to check. If I'm not, I don't know if I'll have the will to make it. I just keep moving.

Finally, my hand finds the deck. It's searching for the next step of the ladder to grab onto when a hand grabs my arm. I don't fight it as it works to pull me up onto the deck.

My relief at being on the deck only lasts until I look up. A man stands nearby, glowering in my direction. I want to disappear. Nothing good came after glowers. And I can only assume this man is the captain. While the rest of the crew moves about, assumably readying to sail, he stands perfectly still, except for the fingers drumming a steady beat on the hilt of his sword.

His eyes don't remain on me long though, easily turning to something else. I risk following his gaze to find the leader of the group that had grabbed me rising to his feet.

"A word, Liam," the captain calls in a dark voice.

"Yes, captain," the man responds, voice almost resigned.

Liam. It feels odd to finally know his name. As Liam approaches the captain, I'm stuck by their resemblance. Liam could almost pass for a younger version of the captain if his hair were a little lighter and the captain a little taller.

"Take her to her cell," the captain orders.

I don't even have time to fully process his order before I'm grabbed. I try to fight, but it makes little difference. Not that I'd be able to normally resist, but I'm also drained from climbing the ladder. It's not long before I'm shoved in a small cell, door slammed and locked. The men don't even glance back as they leave.

As I settle myself into the far back corner, I find myself bitterly grateful that this cell only has bars across the front, the rest of the walls being made of wood paneling. I know I'm not alone; I can hear voices and movement all around me, but at least they won't see me curled into a small ball, trembling and trying not to cry.