Chapter
21: Island
Vasanta saw the waves catch
Shailaja and hurl her into the great black rock, but there was nothing she
could do to help her as the same wave picked her up and turned her backside
over head and finished by slamming her hard into the boulder-strewn
beach. A second wave picked her
up before she could recover and threw her farther up the beach, this time
selecting a large boulder to halt her
progress. The impact knocked
the breath from her and it was an easy matter for the ebbing wave to drag
her back out where still a third wave picked her up and drove her headfirst
once more into the sea bottom.
She was going under for
a fourth time when a sharp pain surged through her
scalp. Mixed with all of the
other hurts she had suffered she hardly noticed it until her head was pulled
above the surface and she was dragged across the rough stone surface of the
beach and then dumped on the wave smoothed rocks of the
beach. It was only then that
she realized Guered had caught her by the hair and dragged her free of the
breakers. Pushing herself up
by straightening her arms she saw the Hector heading back toward the
ocean.
Shailaja she
thought.
She’s still out
there. She tried to stand
up by was struck by a wave of dizziness and fell back down with a thump;
bruising her buttocks on the wet stones.
Ignoring this failed attempt she tried to get up once more, but once
again found that her rubbery legs would not support
her. Frustrated she could only
watch as Guered disappeared around the boulder that Shailaja had been swept
into.
Exactly why she wanted to
help rescue the Kaltaran warrior she could not put into
words. It just seemed the right
thing to do after all they had endured
together.
And of course, I still want
to kill her and I can’t do that if she
drowns.
At that moment Guered
reappeared. Either by good luck
or some skill Vasanta could not imagine he had survived the
waves. His body was bent sharply
forward as he staggered up the beach dragging Shailaja’s limp
body. She was dead weight, making
no effort to help herself as Guered heaved her over her the rocky berm and
above the point where the waves were
breaking. He fell to his knees,
supporting himself on his hands and looked at
her. “Help me if you can,”
he implored.
Once more Vasanta tried
to get to her feet, and this time, by moving a little more slowly she was
successful. Guered had already
turned back to Shailaja and was trying to drag her toward a low boulder that
stuck out of the beach gravel.
Vasanta joined him and between the two of them they managed to drape
her face down over the boulder.
During this time Shailaja
made not the slightest sound and made no effort to help
herself. For all appearances
she seemed dead, completely unmoving, her damp skin cool to the
touch.
Guered adjusted the Kaltaran
warrior’s body so that she was positioned with her rounded backside
highest and her face at the base of the
rock. “We’ve got to
get the water out of her,” he
gasped. He pushed down hard on
her back and was rewarded when a pint or so of seawater gurgled out of the
redhead’s mouth. Vasanta
scrambled forward. Both she and
Guered were exhausted, but they were going to do what they could to help
the Kaltaran.
Adding her hands to
Guered’s, Vasanta pushed as well, expelling even more
water. They repeated this two
more times with diminishing results and Guered shifted his
position. “Help me turn
her over,” he said. It was
plain to Vasanta that he could barely stand and she was not in any better
shape, but she lent her strength to his and together they heaved Shailaja
onto her back. The redhead was
an impressive weight and in their exhausted state it took all of their strength
to arrange her to Guered’s
satisfaction. However, Guered’s
efforts with Shailaja were just starting.
Placing his mouth over hers
and pinching off her nose he first blew into her mouth causing Shailaja’s
chest to rise. He did this once
more and then placing both hands in the middle of her chest he pushed down
hard, depressing her sternum.
Vasanta could not help noticing the quivering of Shailaja’s
impressive breasts even as she moved at Guered’s
instructions. “Pinch her
nostrils as I did and blow into her mouth every second
heartbeat.”
Vasanta did as she was told
and placed her mouth over
Shailaja’s. It was sort
of like a kiss she supposed. A
kiss of life if it actually worked.
Shailaja’s lips and
mouth tasted of salt water, but felt ice
cold. There was not the slightest
hint that the Kaltaran warrior was alive.
Her tall body lay limp and lifeless, her long arms and legs unmoving
with not a twitch of a finger or toe and her eyes stared blankly at the
sky. For some reason Vasanta
felt an overwhelming sense of dejection flow over
her. It seemed a sad way for
a warrior who had faced so many enemies to end
up. Drowning hardly seemed a
warrior’s death.
She instantly suppressed
the emotion and blew harder into Shailaja’s
mouth.
Come
on you bitch, breathe or I’ll never get to kill
you.”
Guered was calling to Shailaja,
speaking to her as if she were still
conscious. “Come on my proud
warrior. You can do
it. Come back from wherever you
are. Come back to
us.”
As if in response Shailaja
suddenly coughed, spurting up a pint of water and
phlegm. She coughed again, several
times, but Vasanta could see that her eyes were moving and her deathly pale
skin now had some colour in it.
About
time, she thought.
“You’re
not going to get off that easily.
Shailaja was aware of a
loud echoing roaring in her ears.
She was swimming in blackness, fighting against a whirlpool that was
trying to suck her down to oblivion.
It would have been so very easy to surrender to the current and let
it take her where it would; but somewhere a voice was shouting at
her. Twisting her body against
the flow she swam in the direction of the voice and detected a faint point
of light. It grew brighter and
the voice louder as she swam toward it.
“Breathe,
Shailaja.
Breathe.”
The instructions seemed
completely foolish, immersed in water as she was, but the voice was insistent,
imploring her again and again to do as it asked until finally she gave up
her resistance and opened her lungs.
She coughed violently as
her lungs filled with water, but strangely the voice seemed
elated. “That’s it,
cough it out, girl. Cough it
out.”
She needed no encouragement
to do what came naturally. She
coughed again and again, her lungs heaving
painfully. She was aware as she
did so that the light brightened, eventually driving away the
darkness.
“She’s alive,”
another voice exclaimed. It was
a voice she knew but she could not quite place it.
The first voice spoke
again. “Of course she
is. It will take more than a
little water in her lungs to kill her.”
Shailaja’s vision cleared
and she blinked in the painful and startling brightness of the
sunlight. Her lungs hurt, her
head hurt, and as she became more aware she realized that almost every part
of her body hurt. She let out
a moan; too weak to hold it back.
It was a shameful display
of weakness, but it was out before she could control
herself. Furious, she bit back
the next groan, gritting her teeth against the
pain.
“Easy,” the first
voice said again.
“You’re pretty beaten
up. Don’t try to
move.”
Shailaja had not realized
she was moving. Her vision was
clearer now and she could make out the faces of the two individuals sitting
beside her. “Guered,”
she gasped. She realized as she
said it that it was the first time she had ever spoken his
name. She turned her head in
the other direction and looked into Vasanta’s perfect
features. The dark eyes of the
Nahn princess gave little away but for the briefest of moments Shailaja thought
she detected a brief flicker of emotion and then it was
gone.
“We should move her,”
Guered said, speaking as if Shailaja was still
unconscious. “We can’t
leave her in the sun.”
Shailaja coughed again,
bringing up a bit more phlegm, but clearing her
lungs. “I’ll move
myself,” she gasped.
While Guered and Vasanta
watched in some amazement Shailaja rolled to her hands and knees and then
forced herself upright, placing her hands on her knees to brace
herself. And then slowly she
staggered to her feet.
“Damned stubborn,
barbarian,” Guered muttered.
He didn’t touch her, but remained close by just in case Shailaja
fell. But she mulishly placed
one foot in front of her, following Vasanta to the shelter of a rock
overhang. It got her out of the
sun, but at considerable expense to what little strength she
had. Having reached her goal
she quickly sank to her knees before she
fell.
“That was foolish,”
Guered chided. “We both
know you are a great warrior. There
is no point in proving it at the risk of further harm to
yourself.”
Shailaja did not
reply. The effort of walking
just a short distance had left her exhausted and shown her just how true
his words were. She knew that
getting to her feet again would be next to
impossible. Slowly she shifted
her body allowing her back to rest against a large boulder and extending
her legs straight out in front of her.
Rarely had she felt so beaten and as she examined the damage to her
body it became more than obvious as to why she felt that
way.
In addition to the injuries
inflicted upon her at the hands of the Seldarans, her body was marked in
dozens of places where she had come into contact with the barnacle and shellfish
encrusted rocks. None of the
injuries shamed her like the mark on her left breast, however, and none was
more painful. Fortunately, her
little adventure in the sea seemed to have left most of her wounds relatively
clean, but she knew that they would bear watching in the tropical
environment. She lay back and
closed her eyes, barely able to remain
conscious.
Her body throbbed like a
giant wound. It took all of her
remaining strength and courage not to whimper in
pain. She felt herself slipping
away and fought to keep awake, afraid that if she fell asleep she might not
regain consciousness. But her
injuries and exhaustion overcame her and she lapsed into dream-filled sleep
in which she was repeatedly captured and lizardmen and Seldarans subjected
her to savage torture.
When she finally awoke it
was to find Guered bending over her.
He was holding her in his arms while he spoke to
Vasanta. “She’s
feverish. It may be the result
of what she has been through or she might have picked up some sort of
ague. Without access to medicines
I can’t treat her.”
“Keeping her warm will
help. It’s really all we
can do,” Vasanta answered.
Shailaja had never felt
colder and her body was shaking like a
leaf. She could feel the heat
of a nearby fire on her skin, but it didn’t seem to warm
her. The sweat of fever beaded
her skin. She tried to speak,
but her tongue was stuck to the roof of her
mouth. Guered noticed that she
was awake and held something to her lips.
“Drink this, princess,” he
urged. “It might help a
little.”
Shailaja
swallowed. The cup held water
and she wondered where Guered had gotten
it.
She managed a few swallows
and then struggled out a “Thank you.”
“Don’t try to
talk,” Guered cautioned.
“Drink some more. You
need water to help fight the fever.”
Shailaja realized that he
was holding a shell filled with water to her lips and drank
again. She kept on drinking until
she was satisfied. When Guered
raised the cup again she managed a slight shake of her head and he set it
down.
Shailaja was mortified to
feel so weak, especially as Guered and Vasanta seemed to have come through
the same ordeal without being so completely
beaten. She felt she had shamed
herself as a warrior. But there
was nothing she could do except lay back and let the heat of the fire play
over her and hope that her weakness would pass.
She must had dozed off again,
because the next time she woke it was completely dark and the fire had died
down to a few glowing coals. She
was lying between Guered and Vasanta both of whom had their bodies pressed
up against hers. She supposed
they had done that to keep her warm.
In spite of the tropical environment it was cool in the little rock
shelter they had dragged her to and she was glad of the warmth of their
bodies.
However, she was now beset
by another urgent physical need, and one she had no intention of asking her
companions to help her with. She
pushed herself into a sitting position; readying herself for the pain she
knew would come. She was not
disappointed in that regard. Every
injury she had suffered announced itself with renewed urgency, and she almost
cried out. But she had prepared
herself for it and managed to hold it down to a quick agonized intake of
her breath.
To her relief both Guered
and Vasanta seemed to be so exhausted that they only moaned softly in their
sleep as she moved from between them and struggled to her
feet. Every movement was sheer
agony, but she persevered, making her way toward the sound of waves breaking
on the rocks. Fortunately it
was a clear starlit night and both moons were up, providing plenty of light
for her to find her way. Reaching
a suitable spot near the water’s edge she relieved herself and made
her way back to the rock overhang.
Vasanta and Guered were
still sleeping; too worn out from their ordeal to even notice that her
absence. Without Shailaja to
support her Vasanta had slumped over and lay with her head in Guered’s
lap, a position she would almost certainly have found mortifying had she
been aware of it.
Careful to make as little
noise as possible, Shailaja heaped a few more logs on the fire and slumped
down across from it. Even the
short walk had drained her of what remained of her
energy. But she did not sleep
again; at least not immediately. By
the light of the fire she examined her
injuries. There was hardly a
part of her body that was not bruised or
cut. The symbol burned into her
breast was by far the worst. It
hurt infernally and would heal so that it left a permanent
mark. It was a mark of shame
that would be with her for the rest of her life; one that both of her companions
wore as well.
Hatred welled up within
her. The Seldarans had done this
to her, and one day with Marana’s blessing she would wreak vengeance
upon them. That thought reminded
her that she had not prayed to the patron goddess of the Kaltarans for some
time. Ignoring the pain she forced
herself into a kneeling position and sent out her thoughts to her
goddess.
Marana
forgive my weakness and neglect.
Give me the strength to survive the perfidy and cruelty of my
enemies. With your guidance I
will take bloody vengeance upon
them.
With these pleasant reflections
upon her lips Shailaja settled herself beside the fire and was soon once
again asleep.
She awoke, cold, stiff,
and hungry. Her injuries were
still extremely painful, but once again she forced herself to
move. Across from her Vasanta
moaned and then opened her eyes.
The slight noise woke Guered as
well. He seemed startled to find
Vasanta’s head in his lap, especially no doubt as he was completely
nude, but other than a slight smile he gave no indication of anything out
of the ordinary as Vasanta suddenly jerked herself away from
him. The movement must have caused
her some pain; but she seemed more mortified that anything
else. Her dark complexion darkened
in a deep blush and she turned away so that Guered would not notice her
chagrin. However, she knew that
she had not escaped Shailaja’s gaze and she gave the Kaltaran warrior
a withering look of warning.
She need not have
worried. Shailaja was beyond
bringing further shame to the Nahn
princess. What she wanted was
something to eat and she forced herself to her
feet. She experienced a wave
of dizziness, replaced by anger.
She hated being so weak.
Forcing herself to wait until the spelled of light-headedness had
passed she eased herself out of the rock shelter and surveyed her new
home.
There wasn’t much to
see in front of her. About fifty
yards away the waves swirled around and broke upon the jagged rocks that
guarded the island’s shores.
They did so with an intensity that was reassuring as it meant that
the Seldarans would probably not try to follow
them. In fact the sea was so
violent that it was no surprise that she had barely survived her passage
through the rocky barrier.
“Breakfast time I
think,” Guered said, his voice at her right
elbow. Without waiting for a
reply he stepped past her and made his way down to the water’s
edge. He bent and with a quick
movement came up with a bizarre sea creature in his
hands. It looked very much like
a giant spider except that two of its legs ended in
claws.
Shailaja looked at it dubiously
as did Vasanta, but they were both too hungry to argue with
Guered. If he thought they could
eat some sort of sea spider then they would do
it. Within short order Guered
caught three more of the “crabs” as he called
them. It turned out that they
were more like the freshwater crayfish both warrior women were familiar with
and it didn’t take long before they had the large claws roasting on
the hot ashes of the fire.
He also collected a number
of black-shelled organisms clinging to the
rocks. It was the sharp-edged
shells of these sea creatures that had cut up Shailaja’s body so
badly. She and Vasanta recognized
them as relatives of the fresh-water mussels they had collected from the
mountain streams of their homelands.
In all it was quite a feast,
especially considering that they had not eaten for more than a
day. The meal went a long way
to restoring their strength if not their
spirits. For the two warrior
women nothing could so easily erase the shame of the mark that had been burned
into their flesh. However, there
was now something of an acceptance of what had been done to them, especially
as there was nothing they could do to change
it.
They rested after the meal,
none of them feeling up to doing any more than they had already
done. Their cramped shelter offered
little comfort, but it at least kept them out of the sun and allowed them
to rest. Shailaja knew from
experience that the best cure for most injuries was food and sleep and she
put together a crude bed of dried seaweed and settled down on
it. Guered and Vasanta followed
her lead and within a hundred heartbeats they were all
asleep.
Shailaja awoke to the sound
of a fire once again. It seemed
that Guered had wakened before her and once again collected
wood. He had also scrounged up
more shellfish, a number of which were being heated on the
fire. Still very stiff and sore,
Shailaja nevertheless felt much better.
She joined Guered by the fire and he handed her another shellfish,
one that still dripped salt water.
She watched as Guered took
the sharp edge of one of the mussel shells and sliced through the back of
the shell. Using his fingers
he pried it open, raised it to his lips and swallowed the slimy
contents. He nodded at her indicating
that she should do the same.
“You eat these
uncooked?” she asked dubiously.
“Is that safe?”
“Safe enough,”
Guered smiled. “Eating them
raw is supposed to give oysters certain qualities.”
“Such as?” Shailaja
asked as she took the mussel shell from Guered’s
fingers.
“They supposedly enhance
sexual desire,” Guered answered
flatly. His features were completely
blank, but Shailaja saw his mouth twitch
slightly.
“Wonderful.
That is exactly what I need,” Shailaja answered
drily. She opened the oyster
the way that Guered had and looked suspiciously at the contents of the
shell. It looked like something
she sometimes spat up when she had a cold, but deciding that she could probably
eat anything that Guered could eat, she upended the contents and swallowed
the slippery mess.
The best that could be said
of the contents of the oyster was that she managed to keep it
down. She also experienced no
increase in her libido, a not surprising event considering the injuries she
had suffered. She still hurt
everywhere, but especially the brand burned into her
breast. It throbbed continually
and she glanced down at it, wondering what it symbolized.
She knew nothing of the Seldaran
language and the mark on her body resembled nothing she had seen
before.
It consisted of an elliptical
oval within a circle. She supposed
Guered might know what it meant, but she didn’t
ask. The shame of the mark was
bad enough. She didn’t have
to know what it meant to understand that she had been
dishonoured.
As if guessing her thoughts,
however, Guered spoke up.
“I’m not sure of the mark’s meaning, but I have seen
it before when the Seldaran ambassador visited my
court. It was worked in metal
and was fixed to the top of a staff carried by a piece attached to the
embassy. I can only surmise that
we have been marked for service in their religion; perhaps as sacrifices
to their god.”
Shailaja hardly found that
thought soothing. Nor did
Vasanta. “I would expect
nothing less of the sort of cowards who would stoop to torturing helpless
captives. No doubt they worship
some sort of vile abomination that finds pleasure in torture and
suffering.”
It was not a topic Shailaja
wished to pursue. There was nothing
she could do at the moment to avenge the cruel indignities inflicted on
her. It was best that she
concentrated on regaining her strength and finding some way off the
island.
Thankfully both Vasanta
and Guered seemed to share her thoughts.
They ate the rest of the meal in silence and then Shailaja forced
herself to her feet. She was
still far from healed, but her restless nature would not let her sit
still. She limped out of the
shelter and surveyed her surroundings.
There was not much to see
from where she stood. Before
her waves broke on the rocks that she and her companions had been slammed
into when they came ashore. Behind
her was the bulk of the island. She
turned and began to climb, working her way through a jumble of large boulders
that had fallen from the sea cliff on that side of the
island.
The climbing was not difficult,
but she was far from being in the best condition and she laboured painfully
as she climbed. Halfway up she
stopped to rest and found that Guered and Vasanta had followed
her. They said nothing as they
joined her, but their heavy breathing showed that they too had found the
short climb taxing.
Their resting place afforded
them a panoramic view of the rocky beach below and beyond it the
sea. It was easy to see why the
Seldarans had made no effort to send a boat after
them. The surf crashed heavily
on the rocks sending spray several yards into the
air. Any boat attempting to get
to the beach would be quickly reduced to
splinters. That did not mean,
however, that the Seldarans might not have landed on the other side of the
island and Shailaja turned and began to climb once again determined to discover
the extent of their refuge.
Tiring as the climb was
it seemed to help get the kinks out of her stiffened
body. She knew that it would
take some time for the many cuts and bruises to heal completely, but it helped
to move. Working her way around
a final boulder she found herself at the highest point on the
island. It was then that she
got a bit of a shock.
She had expected only a
bare expanse of broken rock; but standing before her was a temple-like structure
built out of finely cut stone. It
was, however quite unlike most temples she had
seen. It consisted of a large
circular platform at the edge of which were set four arches that came together
some ten yards over the centre of the
platform. There were no other
architectural features, but it was the carvings inscribed on the arches and
on the surface of the platform that held Shailaja’s attention and that
of her companions.
“What is this?”
she muttered. “Do the gods
mock us?”
Guered had no answer for
her question, and Vasanta hissed in anger and
amazement. The symbol that had
been burned into her breast and that of her companions was repeated in exquisite
detail hundreds of time over the surface of the platform and the curve of
the arches, culminating in a large image in the exact centre of the
circle. Shailaja shuddered as
a chill ran down her spine. This
seemed more than mere coincidence, but she had no idea what to make of
it.
She stepped forward mounting
the circular steps that surrounded the main
platform. As her bare feet touched
the stone she felt a strange tingling sensation similar to what she had
experienced as a child when she had been chilled from staying outside too
long in Kaltara’s frozen winters.
Her companions felt it too,
Vasanta actually jumping back from the step as if she had been
burned. True to her nature she
spat toward the temple. “I
curse you. In the name of Bieltan
I curse you,” she growled, invoking the name of the Nahn war
god.
Feeling no harm from the
strange sensation, Shailaja stepped cautiously to the centre of the stone
circle. From that vantage point
she could see the entire island and the area around
it. As she had already guessed
the island was ringed with rocks, making it completely
inaccessible. That made the existence
of the temple even stranger. Who
would build a temple they could not easily
reach? And how had the materials
of the temple been brought to the island?
Vasanta followed less willingly
and Guered as well, but it was clear that the Nahn princess was not comfortable
with the mysterious temple.
“This is an evil place,” she
pronounced. “We should get
away from here.”
Shailaja was willing to
agree. Getting off the island
seemed like a very good idea, but exactly how they were to do that remained
to be seen. She noted that there
was plenty of driftwood scattered about the island; enough perhaps to build
a raft. On the horizon she could
make out the shadow of the mainland.
If they could reach that they might be able to make their way back
to Thar. She did not relish the
thought of returning to the city of slaves, but Guered had stated that she
and Vasanta were free and she was willing to take him at his
word.
She had seen enough for
now. Before any raft building
took place she needed to rest up and regain her
strength. Without waiting for
Guered or Vasanta she headed back down to the water’s
edge.
She was still very weak
and she sat down on a rock to rest when she reached he rocky
beach. Sitting in the sun felt
good although she had to turn her body a little to keep its rays from aggravating
the burn on her breast. However,
she did not remain idle for long.
She wanted a bit more to eat than crabs and
shellfish. Gathering up a long
slender piece of driftwood she used the sharp edge of the oyster shells to
shape the end of it into a slender point.
She notched the crude spearhead with the shell and then went down
to the water’s edge where she crouched on a large rock over the water;
and then she waited.
Watching from a few yards
away, Guered shook his head. The
redheaded barbarian was indomitable.
She had suffered through an ordeal that would have laid up any other
woman for weeks and yet there she was, just a day after being pulled unconscious
from the water, crouching spear in hand, waiting for some unfortunate fish
to swim by.
He
reflected that the dark-haired barbarian was not much
different. She had not suffered
as much as Shailaja, but her injuries were still
painful. He noted that she was
studying Shailaja with that cool, calculating look he had come to know and
wondered what she was thinking. He
suspected she still harboured a grudge toward the Kaltaran, but that her
sense of honour would not allow her to seek
vengeance. He had learned something
of that from his Slavemaster and decided it would pay to learn more about
it.
For now, however, he was
content to simply let his eyes play over the exquisite bodies of the two
women. It was a pleasant
task. He had never seen two more
prefect female physiques. Even
battered as they were their incredible beauty shone through.
Shailaja
is like the sun, he decided,
and Vasanta like
His voyeuristic pleasure
was interrupted when Shailaja’s arm suddenly darted
forward. With a quick motion
she twisted her crude spear and heaved a large fish over her
shoulder. It landed several yards
behind her where Vasanta pounced on it.
Shailaja nodded her approval and went back to waiting for another
fish while Vasanta proceeded to use the oyster shell to slit the fish open
and remove its guts.
Shailaja caught two more
fish and Vasanta prepared each of them while Guered busied himself with making
a fire, more to take his mind off Shailaja and Vasanta than anything
else. Within a short time all
three fish were roasting over hot coals and a short time after they were
ready to eat. It was a real feast
and they ate until they were full.
It was just as they were finishing that Shailaja got to her feet and
looked toward the horizon. Guered
and Vasanta followed her gaze. A
bright flicker of lightning brightened the
sky. Its appearance was followed
several heartbeats later by a low rumble.
It was a storm and as they watched it began to move toward
them.
“There is danger there,
great danger,” Vasanta remarked.
Her eyes swept to the top of the island and Shailaja knew what she
was thinking. There was not a
scrap of vegetation on the island and there was every evidence that during
a storm the waves probably swept right up to the level of the
temple.
“In that case I suggest
we move,” Guered said.
“We can gather as much firewood as we can and perhaps try to
rig up some shelter against the rain.”
“But not to the
temple,” Shailaja cautioned.
“Going to the highest point of land in a lightning storm is not
the best practice.”
“Practical as ever,”
Guered agreed. “Perhaps
we can find a place in the rocks just below it.”
“We had best hurry,”
Vasanta urged. “The storm
is moving quickly.”
Shailaja observed that she
was right. She guessed that they
had less than a turn of the glass to
prepare. Already the heavy tropical
air was moving and the waves were flecked with white as far as she could
see.
Once again they scrambled
up the rocky island. This time
they swung around to the other side hoping to find a rock shelter similar
to the one they had used on the beach.
They found one three-quarters of the way to the
top. It was formed from two large
slabs of rock that had fallen together to create a triangular cave some three
yards deep. Shailaja doubted
very much that it would keep the rain out, but it would break up the full
force of the storm and was certainly better than the first place they had
sheltered.
They had each brought an
armload of wood with them which they optimistically stockpiled under the
slope of the rock. Guered scrambled
back down the slope and came back up with a glowing brand from the
fire. He added a few sticks of
wood to it and then they settled down to
wait.
Shailaja’s guess about
the storm’s arrival turned out to be
accurate. The wind steadily picked
up speed and the sky darkened until it resembled early evening rather than
just before
It started slowly at first
with just a few drops, but quickly manifested into a heavy
downpour. Shailaja and her companions
huddled as far back as they could in the shelter, but as the intensity of
the wind increased the rain penetrated even to the farthest reaches of their
primitive shelter. Their small
fire burned valiantly for a short time but was soon
extinguished. Within a few heartbeats
they were wet and cold, huddling against one another for
warmth.
But even that did not last
long. Lightning lit up the sky
and the boom of thunder threatened to split their
eardrums. However, it was the
ocean that quickly made their shelter
untenable. The sea seemed to
leap toward them; the waves increasing in height as the storm
intensified. Although they were
some fifteen yards above the beach the waves soon reached the entrance to
their shelter. One finally crashed
through the narrow entrance, the water rising waist deep and almost sweeping
them off their feet.
“We can’t stay
here,” Vasanta screamed, stating the
obvious. The next wave emphasized
her point. It was chest deep
on Shailaja and slammed all of them into the rocky back of the
shelter.
There was only one place
to go. Staggering out of the
rock shelter into the driving rain they headed for the
temple. Lightning flashed over
them as they negotiated the slippery rocks, trying desperately to climb higher
before the next wave arrived. If
any of them were caught before they reached higher ground they would be dragged
out and then shattered on the rocks.
Shailaja slipped, falling
full length. She desperately
tried to scramble to her feet before the next wave arrived, but was too
late. While her two companions
watched helplessly she was caught in the wave and pulled
backward. This time, however,
luck was with her. She was dragged
into a large boulder and she latched onto it like a leech, clinging to it
with all of her strength. As
the wave receded she started forward again, heaving herself up the slope
and joining Guered and Vasanta.
They stretched out their
hands and helped her the last yard or so as the next wave crashed just below
her feet. Then together they
stepped onto the temple platform.
They were now high enough to escape the deadly danger of the waves,
but their position left them completely exposed to the
elements.
The winds shrieked around
them, its strength fierce enough to threaten to blow them from the platform
and they had to cling to the arches to keep from being blown
away. Overhead the lightning
flashed and crashed\ with blinding intensity and deafening
sound. They could do no more
than hold on for dear life and hope that the next deadly strike would not
find them.
Then, as they waited, each
hoping that their gods would favour them with survival, they felt a strange
prickling of their skin. The
sensation became more and more pronounced and the hair on their bodies tingled,
each follicle stiffening and then rising straight out from their
skin. Shailaja could see that
her body and that of her friends was shimmering with a strange blue
light. The air around them crackled
with energy and almost without thinking they let go of the arches and stepped
toward the centre of the temple platform where they huddled together, touching
one another for reassurance.
Standing on the strange symbol that had been burned into their breast
they waited to see what the gods
intended. There was a sudden
blinding light, a sense of incredible heat, and a terrible wrenching of their
bodies; and then they were hurled into
oblivion.
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