Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves (13 page)

withhim.

 

withhim.I got my arms about himand crushed himto me to hold

 

himstill. Thankfully, he did not struggle.

There was a noise in the dark beyond our alcove, and we tensed. There was a new and harder light shifting over the crates beyond the soft spill of our lantern’s illumination. Our den seemed small and constrained: a trap we could easily be shut in. Our whole world was dark and cramped and stank. I hated this damn hold. I hated all ships. I swore that once we were free of this I would never again go below on any ship.
Once we were free of this
… What was this:a Hellofour ownmaking?

“Who goes there?” I called hoarsely as Gaston’s fingers closed ona knife.
“Cudro. I’malone.”
I was surprised. Gaston and I looked to one another. The Child was in his eyes. I stifled a sigh of frustration. I had hoped to speak with Cudro:he was stillcaptain, and Gaston and I had harbored a forlorn hope that he would be sympathetic to our request to go ashore where we wished, or at least to return our weapons. He was one ofthe few people who had deigned to visit us, but never alone, and thus we had not had the discussion we wished. And now he chose to come when Gaston was so very…
I sighed again and shook my matelot lightly. “I must speak to him,”I hissed.
Gaston appeared chastised, and he pulled away obediently. I sighed yet again and kissed his forehead before easingout ofour den.

Cudro was a huge and looming specter in the harsh light

Cudro was a huge and looming specter in the harsh light of the lantern he held high near his face. I started at the sight of him.

“It’s almost dawn. Allis quiet and… I heard… arguing,” he offered bywayofexplanationfor his intrusion.
I forced myself to smile. “We have been discussing Gaston’s letter to his father.”
“Ah,”Cudro said, but curiositysuffused his features. “So he’s writinghis father now?”
“Oui, it is a rather large missive: an attempt to chronicle all that has befallen us since last we saw him. We thought it best to write it now whilst we had little to do. If it is done by the time we arrive, it can be posted immediately in Cayonne if there is a France-bound vessel.”
He nodded agreeably to that. “Will it be done by tomorrow?”
“What?”
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “We’re anchored off the Coast tonight. We’ll sail into the passage in the morning. We wanted to be able to see everything in the port and passage before we anchored. We’re planning to send a boat ashore as well—to see ifanyone has beeninquiringofus.”
My heart pounded. “Cudro, we do not wish to go to Cayonne,” I blurted. “It is best if we do not. We are not… ourselves. We willdo more harmthangood there.”
“Will…” Cudro sighed with concern and settled onto a barrel, settingthe lanternona crate before him. “Striker said…”
“What? That we were mad?”I snapped.
Cudro frowned. “That Gaston felt the need to run
Cudro frowned. “That Gaston felt the need to run around in the woods like he used to, and you were addled enoughto want to go withhimthis time.”
“That is essentially true, but not precisely accurate,” I said. I stopped before I could blurt more. I could not trust himto be reasonable. I could not trust anyofthem.
I tried a different tack. “Cayonne is a place ofintrigue for us. We do not know what Gaston’s status is under French law. We cannot know ifmyfather has hired agents there.”
“All the more reason for us to stay together, Will,” he said. “Hiding on the Haiti… We won’t be able to find you if something is wrong. Hell, we won’t be able to find you if everything is fine. And the Haitiis a hard place, Will. And you… I can’t see you clearly down here, but I remember how you looked when they brought you aboard. You can’t be healed yet.”
“Cayonne willnot speed myrecovery,”I said tiredly.
“What happened, Will?” he asked kindly. “Striker said theytried to cure youofsodomy…”
“My sodomiacal tendencies: my love of men,” I finished

for him.Cudro smirked only to quickly try to compose himself.

 

“How? I mean…”

I did not wish to discuss it; yet, I wished to garner his sympathy. “My father sent a parson to instruct me in the Bible’s condemnation of sodomy; and when that failed, I was beaten and tortured; and when I fought even that… They began to do alltheycould to make me hate the touchor presence ofa man.”

“Good God, Will…” he breathed. His face took on a

“Good God, Will…” he breathed. His face took on a pallor I could see eveninthe wanlight.
“Theyfailed.”I felt it a lie.
“Muchto your matelot’s relief, I’msure,”he said.
“Oui, but… I amstillrecovering.”
Cudro sighed, his face contorted with concern. “I’m sorry, Will. We didn’t know. We thought you would be well

enough.”“I know. I know. But… Then let us not repeat that

mistake. We willnot be wellenough in Cayonne. Truly. It willbe a hardship for us—for both of us. We wish to retreat and heal for a time.”

He frowned and his gaze became speculative. “Let us care for you, Will. Suffering all you say… I understand why you claimyouare not well. And Will, you’ve never beenonthe Haiti. It’s a harsh land, and now harsher still that there are men crawling all over it: men without scruples: planters and the like with no knowledge of the Way of the Coast. The Haiti has changed since Gaston was last upon it. And look at you: you tremble whenyoustand. Whytrouble yourselfso?”

“To be free,” I snarled. “To be free of men of who think theyknow best for us.”
He winced but countered quickly. “You said it yourself, Will: you’re not well. Sometimes a man needs others to look after him.”
Panic assailed me, and I felt the fear Gaston had been berating me with these past days: that they would lock us away somewhere until we came to our senses: until we behaved as theywished.
I would not suffer that again.
Cudro regarded me with concern, and I knew not what he saw upon my countenance: I could not control my plunging Horse or racingheart, muchless mycomposure.
“This willbe decided whenwe are ashore, then,”I said.
He seemed relieved bythis, and stood to go. “Everything willbe well, Will.”
“Oui,” I said with great conviction as I turned to squat in the doorway of our den. I snatched up a belaying pin we had appropriated as animpromptuweapon.
Cudro was just beginning to pick up the lantern and leave when I lunged and struck himwith the pin. He slowly spun and crumpled to the floor. Until he fell, I thought the expression of surprise on his face meant I had not hit himhard enough; and then once he was down, I was scared by his stillness that I had hit himtoo hard.
Gaston was now at my side. He quickly dove to snatch the toppled lantern before it could ignite the oil it was beginning to spill. Then his hands were upon Cudro. He looked up at me. His eyes held nothing but Man:a thoughtfuland surprised man…
“He is not dead,” he said as he adjusted Cudro’s head and neck to a less-strained position.
“Good,”I said withsincere relief.
“What did he say?”Gastonasked. “Where are we?”
“Offthe Haiti.”
My matelot sighed with relief. “That will make it easier,” he said witha strange calm. “We willstillhave to swim, though.”
I tried not to think about how we should not be calmas I dove into our den and began shoving our meager possessions in our bags. My frantic, questing hands were stopped by the quill and ink. Without any great deliberation, I pulled the finished letter pages fromthe nook and found the last one. I scrawled an inelegant post script.

Due to all that has been conveyed, we are lost to madness. We know little of the future. We love you, and wish we could better serve you, but for now, we must retreat and heal.
-
Will

I dusted it and folded it with only the barest hope it would not smear. Gaston had pushed me aside and finished loading our bags and ejecting them from the den as I made a hurried job of sealing the missive. He saw what I was about, but he did not goad me to hurry, nor did he ask what I had written or make comment.

I stuffed the letter in my belt and went to join him in the passageway. He had relieved the still-unconscious Cudro of the one pistoland cutlass the bigmanwas wearing.

“We will need our weapons,” Gaston said resolutely. Then he shrugged and sighed. “We could survive without them, but… it would be best.”

“The cabin?”I asked and picked up Cudro’s lantern. Mymatelot sighed and nodded withresignation. “It is still dark, they are likely sleeping,” I said as I led

himto the hatchsteps.
“Pete will hear us sneaking about—even if he is drunk,” mymatelot said quite reasonably. “We willanger themifwe hold the pistolonthem.”

“I care not, to either; and I plan to do more than that,” I snarled.
I crept up the steps and peered over the hatch threshold. There were two men speaking quietly on the quarterdeck; their backs were to me. Allothers appeared to be snoring. I was sure there was a man on watch at the bow, but he was likely looking to sea as he should be. The sky was the first grey of dawn. A longand low shadow ofland lurked to starboard.
Gaston was not beside me. I looked down and saw him standingat the foot ofthe steps witha bemused expressioninthe wanlanternlight.
He smiled as our gaze met. “One ofus must be sane,”he whispered with amusement. “I am always surprised when it is me.”
My gut churned, and my Horse eyed him with concern: he was the only one who could change our course. “I will not be reasonable,”I whispered. “We are escapingtheir clutches.”
He nodded. “I love you.”Thenhe was beside me.
We dove out the hatch and threaded our way through the sprawled limbs of sleeping men to reach the cabin door. Once there, I tore it open and charged into the room with the lantern held high before me. The Bard and Dickey’s hammock was occupied—presumably by them. I ignored them. The upper hammock was also sagging: I ignored it as well for the moment. Myeyes were onthe unlikelysight ofPete curled companionably withmysister inthe lower hammock.
Pete’s blue eyes were open and squinting at the sudden light. He began to move: one hand pulling himself up, the other reachingfor a pistolinthe nettingabove his head.
I tossed the lantern at him. As he scrambled to catch it, I darted in and grabbed my sister’s arm. Then—with my madness and fear granting me the strength of ten men—I hauled her from the hammock and into myarms whilst crossingthe roomto press my back against the beam between the gallery windows. Once there, I wrapped my arm tightly about her chest and put the blade I held to her throat.
Pete cursed. Sarahscreamed. I roared for silence.
Thenallwas still. Gastonwas beside me withhis back to the wall of windows. Pete held the hot lantern balanced on his fingertips: his eyes held murder. Striker was a bleary-eyed presence peering down at us. Sarah gasped in my arms like a fishout ofwater, but she did not squirm.
A drawled, “Oh Bloody Hell…” emanated from the Bard’s hammock.
“We want our weapons, and we are leaving,”I hissed.
“Will…” Striker breathed. “You’re truly mad. Let…” He beganto crawlfromtheir hammock.
“Do not doubt my resolve!” I yelled. “She has betrayed me as has everyother personofmyrelation.”
“Oh, Will,”Sarahsobbed. “I did not…”
“ShutUp, Sarah,” Pete said. He carefully moved to set the lantern on the floor. Then his gaze locked with mine. “I’llNotForgiveThis.”
“Nay, you will not,” I said with surety. “Which is why I cannot release her now. But I will not be held against my will again. You are no better than the damn men you rescued me from. I do not live to serve your interests any more than I live to serve myfather’s. I willnot be told how to live or think or feelby

anyone!”Pete frowned, and then the anger slipped from his face

 

until he regarded me with sad eyes. He spared a disparaging glance at his matelot.

“Do not blame me for this!” Striker growled. He turned his gaze back to me. “Will, this is… We wish you no harm, damnit! Youmust know that! We’re your friends.”

“Aye,” I snapped, fiercely holding onto my anger in the face of his reasonable words. “And you think you know better thanwe how we should behave or what we should do.”

“Aye, I think it’s the duty of a friend to protect a man from hurting himself when he’s not able to think clearly. When he’s mad withrumor… just mad.”His gaze flicked to Gaston.

My matelot snorted disparagingly. “I amquite wellat the moment.” He leaned out the window. “We can swim it.” He whispered to me in French. He overturned the table and began to kick two ofthe legs free.

The pitying look upon Striker’s face re-ignited my flaggingpurpose.
“We are not goingto die!”I yelled. “It is our choice! It is my choice! I will love who I will. I will bed who I will. I will live where I will. Friendship and caring does not give you the right to tellme how to live.”

“Will! For Christ’s sake!” Striker sputtered. “We would

“Will! For Christ’s sake!” Striker sputtered. “We would never… Damn it! Aye, I made a mistake in Porto Bello! I have not repeated it. We only locked Gaston away because he was threateningto killpeople ifwe did not do as he wished.”

“As I amnow!”I howled.

Striker was dumbfounded, and his mouth opened and closed severaltimes before saying, “Will, youwould do the same ifit were Pete or I.”

“Aye, whichis whyI cannot trust younow!”I yelled.

The Bard’s hammock wiggled until the sound of quiet chuckling escaped it. “Give themtheir damn weapons,” the Bard said.

Aweak smile had slowly suffused Striker’s features; and Pete, his hands held wide in supplication, had moved to retrieve the oilcloth-wrapped bundle of our muskets from where they were stowed beneaththe hammocks.

The door burst open, and Cudro filled the frame, one hand held to his head where I had struck him. He glanced about the room before locking his gaze with Gaston. “What the Devil are yougoingto do, swim?”he roared.

“Oui,”Gastonsighed. “I was goingto place the weapons onthis table and tow it behind us.”
Cudro swore profanelyinDutchbefore turningto bellow at the menbehind him. “Fetcha canoe!”
I shook my head. “Nay, we cannot go out on deck to board it. Youwillbe uponus ifwe do.”
Cudro looked to me with incredulity before turning his gaze onStriker.

Striker shrugged. “I say let them go kill themselves if

Striker shrugged. “I say let them go kill themselves if that’s what theywant.”
“For the love of God!” Cudro sighed. “Fine! We’ll push the canoe through here and you can launch it through the window. Let your sister go, though, Will. If you let her go then this willbe a thing we can all laugh about over a bottle someday. You have my word no one will stop you. If you’re this damn determined then…”He shrugged.
I looked about. Pete seemed resigned but calm. Striker seemed deeply saddened. Dickey’s eyes were wide with fear and concern. The Bard—whose gaze I had not met since I was pulled aboard the night of my rescue—was sympathetic: pitying perhaps. I cringed.
I felt Gaston’s steadyinghand onmyshoulder.
I released Sarah.
She spun about and slapped me. “You arse! Why are all the meninour familydamned, self-servingfools?”
I had no counter for her charge. I nodded meekly. “I do not know, but you are correct: I am no different from him. We are fools, self-servingfools ofthe highest order. I amsorry.”
That truth burned in the pit of my soul as if a brand had been thrust there. “I just wish to be happy,” I whispered, and wondered if that was what my father wished for. Why did our happiness have to be at suchcross purposes?
“They raped and beat him to make him forsake me,” Gaston said quietly. “And you ask us to go to Cayonne, where the Churchwillask me, as a lord, to forsake him, and…”
The light of understanding dawning in their eyes seemed brighter than the lantern. I knew pity would follow. I could not brighter than the lantern. I knew pity would follow. I could not bear it. Gaston’s arms closed about me as I attempted to dive through the window. He pulled me to the floor and held me