A House Beneath the Stars

Bromm could feel himself building to a climax and Asara's moans of delight grew faster and higher in pitch. Just before he burst, he pulled his cock out and grabbed Asara by the hair with one hand. With his other hand pinching his cock shut, he mounted the bed and pulled her up onto her knees. Thrusting the cock in her face, he unleashed a stream of hot cum into her face.

Asara was no stranger to the act; she closed her eyes and opened her mouth. Laughing as each spurt landed on her face, she leaned her head back so that the cum might fall onto her naked chest. When Bromm's cock had spurted its last and fallen limp, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, then the men watching through the skylight.

"Thank you, Master," she said, stroking his cock and giving the head a kiss. She waved to the men above and then slumped back onto the bed.

Bromm was out of breath and stepped off the bed to lean against the wall for a moment. Asara settled down on the bed and closed her eyes, the cum on her face and breasts still glistening in the sunlight.

I ignored her piercings, he thought of the missed opportunity. Next time, I will get those in my mouth. When he had caught his breath, he dressed himself and went up to the helm. Topii, Onrey the navigator and the helmsman, Manex, were standing at the ship's wheel. A gaggle of other sailors were still crowded around the skylight, looking down into the cabin.

"So nice of you to join us, Captain," Onrey said, shifting a bundle of charts under his arm.

"Good show, Cap'n!" called one of the men standing by the skylight. Bromm ignored them and pointed at the charts.

"Show me those. We've a course to set."

Onrey spread the sea charts over the ship's rail and marked their location on the map. They were five hundred miles west of Emperor's Town, where the Stallion had sailed from. A hundred miles to their east lay mist-shrouded shores of the Isle of the Dead, where Bromm's ships had anchored to take on fruit and fresh water. Once on the hunt, they had quickly spotted and run down the Stallion, but Bromm was hungry for more. The Imperial treasure fleet had left not long before, and the vast convoy often cast off stragglers who could not keep up. While pirates dreamed of taking one of the treasure galleons laden with gold and silver, the more reasonable expectation was to capture ships carrying valuable dyes, pearls, sugar, or some other commodity which could easily be sold off in Torvuls.

"We are likely not far behind the treasure fleet," Topii said, tracing their usual route from Emperor's Town to the great city of Sostrum.

"Aye," Onrey agreed, scratching out his calculations on a scrap of paper. "If these winds hold, we will catch the fleet somewhere south of the Harpy Isles."

"We are not prepared to take on a whole convoy," Manex cut in.

"No," Bromm agreed, "We hope to cut one off the from the fleet or perhaps find a straggler. Failing that, perhaps a night raid."

"Or shadow the fleet until it makes port," Manex suggested.

"It won't make port until Sostrum, where it will be defended by thousands of soldiers and cannons."

"In a bay accessible only by a narrow strait watched by heavy guns on the heights," Topii added. "Sostrum is a fortress. If we miss the treasure fleet, we must return to hunting smaller prey."

"If we miss the treasure fleet," Bromm decided, "we will turn south to the Ivory Straits. There will be prizes aplenty there, after which we can return to Torvuls."

Topii and Onrey were satisfied with that and collected the charts for storage.

"All set to sail, Captain!" Parash called down from the Stallion's rail.

"Fine work, Parash!" Bromm shouted back. "I wish you Eldrin's favor and I will see you in Torvuls soon!"

"Apliss smile on you, Captain! I will meet you at the Naked Nymph and have the rum ready! So long!"

The crew of the three ships cheered as the Stallion cast off the boarding ropes and unfurled her sails before slipping out between her captors and turning northeast, towards Torvuls, where all manner of pleasures awaited a successful pirate.

Bromm watched her go with a sense of satisfaction. Many hunts ended without a successful capture and here had one already. Even if he returned from this westward jaunt empty-handed, the capture of the Lauratian Stallion would mark this as a success.

With one prize secure, Horizon and Fortune turned west on the treasure fleet's trail, hungry for more.

Late in the afternoon, they were in the open sea with the faintest hint of islands on their southern horizon when came the cry they had all been waiting for.

"Sail on the horizon!" the lookout shouted. "She's a big one, and missing a mast too!"

Apliss had smiled upon them. A lone, lame, straggler from the treasure fleet what every pirate went to sleep dreaming of. Old salts in the taverns relayed tales from their younger days of seizing the richest prizes on the seas and living like kings on their loot. Not since the days of Thoramar the Starfarer had a treasure ship been taken at sea by pirates. Now Bromm and his two little ships had the ultimate prize in reach.

"She must have lost a mast in the storm," Topii exclaimed excitedly.

"She'll be easy pickings for us," Tyralf said with a shark's smile.

Bromm jumped into action, barking orders at his own crew and through the bullhorn to Fortune's crew. The crew rushed to the bow to peer at the dark spot on the horizon in the hopes of making out something of interest, but it was no use. Only the lookouts with their spyglasses and high perches could tell anything about the vessel.

Bromm looked down through the cabin skylight at Asara, sleeping naked in bed on her side. With the plunder from a treasure galleon, he could clothe her in the finest silks and jewels, and perhaps buy himself some other girls to share their bed as well. His mind filled with possibilities. Perhaps a fine townhouse on Palace Street as a place to store his loot and women when he was away? Or would he even go to sea again if he made himself flush with treasure? The thought of giving up the thrill of adventure and the feel of the sea spray on his face was alien to him, but could it compete with the sensation of sweet wine and soft woman's flesh in his hands? Thoughts raced through his head as Horizon and Fortune themselves raced through the waves towards their quarry.

Soon after, another call came from the crow's nest.

"Storm clouds to the north, they're coming our way and moving fast!"

Bromm peered north with his spyglass. The lookout told the truth, the whole northern horizon was dark with clouds. Lightning flashed beneath them, and the waves churned with ferocity. It was a strange storm, too broad and fast-moving for a common winter storm and moving across the wind to boot. Their ships were riding a swift easterly, but this storm was moving north to south in a great hurry.

Rhamut appeared on the main deck, just below the rail.

"Captain, I do not like the look of that storm. This may be sorcery at work."

Bromm frowned and peered through his spyglass again. The dark clouds belched forth thick sheets of rain, obscuring whatever else lay between them, but Bromm had the distinct sensation that he could see shapes moving in the storm. Shapes of what, he could not say. For the briefest of moments, he formed an image in his mind, but then it was gone again.

"Perhaps our quarry has a sorcerer aboard, who has summoned this storm to speed their escape?" Topii suggested.

"If they have a sorcerer, we had best turn back," Manex said, and Bromm could hear the fear creeping into his voice.

"Perhaps we should change course, make for those islands to the south?" Onrey suggested. Bromm looked in the indicated direction. To their south, stretching along the horizon, were a string of low islands. None were likely to provide much shelter from the storm, but they could find timber there to repair the damage. Taking a closer look through his spyglass, Bromm doubted they were close enough to reach before the storm overtook them.

"We're not going to escape this storm," Bromm concluded quietly. "Make ready to ride it out. Azlit willing, we will make it through to find our prize on the other side."

The crew did not like that, though they saw little reason to argue. His officers dispersed to give out orders, Topii barking through the bullhorn to Serris on Fortune. Bromm went down into his cabin, where he was greeted by the sight of Asara's naked body. Once again, he had to fight down the desire to mount her. It was a distraction he encountered every time he brought a concubine aboard his ship, though of course it never stopped him from doing so.

Rousing himself with thoughts of the oncoming storm, he went to his cabinets and produced sticks of incense and a small silver plaque. These he carried up to the quarterdeck. Hallas, the ship's carpenter, was waiting for him with a small awl. Bromm handed him the silver plate and laced the ship's helm with the incense sticks before setting them alight with the lock from a pistol. Hallas set to engraving a prayer to Azlit, Goddess of Storms, into the plaque.

Bromm, Rhamut and Hallas went to the stern of the ship and raised their arms to the sky. Shouting into the rising winds as loudly as he could manage, Bromm yelled "Azlit, Our Lady of Storms! We are but humble sailors in your domain! We ask for mercy from your storms. If you will not spare us the storm, then spare us a watery doom at the hands of your brother Tarnilaen, so that we might ply the seas once again when your fury as abated. We make to you but this humble offering, but if you allow us to return to port, we will sacrifice an ox in your honor!"

Hallas finished the engraving and together they cast the plaque into the ship's wake. They stood silent a moment, waiting for a response. After an uncomfortably long wait, Bromm said "reef the sails, secure the cannons, and move anything available into ballast. We're going to have to ride this out."

The storm overtook them as night fell. The stern lights of their half-forgotten quarry were still perhaps ten miles ahead, but she was making the same preparations. The galleon was thrice Horizon's mass and, even wounded, had a better chance at riding out the storm than Bromm's two little ships.

"I hope Parash made it around the storm," Topii said as they huddled in Bromm's cabin. "If we survive this, we'll likely have to make for port," Bromm complained, "Paying for repairs will be easier if we have a fluyt full of cargo to sell."

"Apliss willing, we'll get through the storm and find that galleon waiting for us," Rhamut said wishfully, staring out the window at the surging whitecaps. The sails and ensign were snapping in the high winds, adding an ominousness to the not-too-distant roll of thunder. Bromm donned a second coat of sealskin and went out onto the deck. Manex and Onrey stood at the helm, diligently trying to keep the ship from steering into a swell which could swamp its deck. The rest of the crew sheltered belowdecks. Behind them, occasionally visible through the storm, Fortune forged her own way through the ferocious water and driving wind. The two ships had made their preparations together, but not they would have to face the storm alone.

The wind and waves were picking up now, as the sky grew darker. Lightning flashed close by, and a jagged white bolt struck the water. Bromm grasped the ship's rail as he leaned in to consult with Manex.

"Feeling alright here?" he asked, "If you need me to take the helm, just say the word."

Manex nodded wordlessly, his eyes fixed on the sea ahead. The ship's bow plunged through the swell, water running over the gunwale and across the deck before flowing through the open hatch to the hold, where the crew immediately set about bailing it out.

The ship rose and fell with the waves, each time it crashed into a trough Bromm felt his head rattle with the impact. For what seemed like an eternity, they endured a punishing cycle of rising and falling.

Another wave surged over the gunwale, washed over the quarterdeck, and slammed Bromm against the far rail. Something heavy crashed into him and he realized it was Onrey. As the water washed over the ship, it carried Onrey with it. Bromm flailed about, trying to pull his navigator back aboard, but the soaking wet man slipped through his grasp. As the salt water cleared from his eyes, he saw Manex down on his knees and clinging to the wheel.

"Manex!" Bromm shouted over the roar of the storm, "He's gone! Onrey is gone overboard!"

Manex staggered to his feet and shouted towards the men huddled belowdecks. "Man overboard! Bring a line!"

A crew of pirates, led by Rhamut and the contemptible sea rat Wooze, hurried onto the deck, trailing a thick, knotted, line of rope with a weight at one end. Bromm peered over the gunwale into the stormy sea, looking for Onrey. The waves crashed down over and over, but through it all Bromm could not spot his man. When lightning flashed in the distance, he thought for the briefest of moments that he saw an island out there.

"There he is!" Rhamut shouted, pointing into the darkness. "Give me the line!" he whirled the weighted end around his head and then cast it into the churning water.

"Onrey!" Bromm shouted, unable to see the man but trusting Rhamut's eyes, "reach for the line and we'll pull you aboard!"

Rhamut and his crew grasped the line as tightly as they could, waiting for a sharp pull on the other end. Behind him, he hard Manex crying out in prayer to Azlit.

The line jerked, and Rhamut immediately began to pull it in. His crew worked with practiced rhythm, and the rope quickly began to coil behind them. Bromm leaned over the gunwale looking for Onrey and to his delight, he spied the bedraggled navigator clinging to the rope for dear life. He reached down and grasped the man's coat by the collar. Rhamut and Wooze joined in, hauling Onrey aboard where he slumped down against the ship's rail, exhausted.

"Azlit be praised!" he gasped, coughing up a bit of sea water as he did, "I thought I was bound for Tarnilaen for certain!"

"Not if we can help it," Bromm laughed, giving him a slap on the shoulder. "Get yourself belowdecks and rest up now. I'll stand by Manex."

Onrey nodded wearily and Rhamut helped him stand. He staggered down the steps to the main deck supported between two sea rats. Bromm watched them go, but something moved at the edge of his vision. Turning, he beheld a massive wave bearing down on them.

"Get below now!" he shouted, and Onrey looked back to him, bewildered, then followed his gaze to the approaching wave. All of them stood transfixed.

"Hold on, Manex!" Bromm shouted, wrapped his arms around the helm. Manex crouched down and interlaced his arms through the ship's wheel. The roar of the ocean intensified as the wave thundered down upon them. Somewhere far behind him he heard the distant sound of wooden cracking and a despairing wail.

With a deafening crash, the wave broke over his little brig. Bromm felt the water pick him up, wrenching the helm from his grasp, and carry him over the edge. His foot slammed against the gunwale, and he felt his boot yanked off. He plunged into the dark waters of the sea and fought to resurface. He did, only to be pummeled down by yet another wave. Stunned, he found himself staring down into the black depths, into the realm of Tarnilaen. The dark god's visage loomed before him and he tried to scream, only for the salt water to rush into his lungs. Coughing and sputtering, Bromm's aching arms carried him to the surface once again as his breath started to run out. He listened for the call of Rhamut but heard only the storm's fury. Another wave came crashing down on him and he was carried down into Tarnilaen's depths.

Slowly, Bromm began to regain his senses. He felt sand under his fingers and tasted saltwater in his mouth. Slowly he cracked his eyes open, only to shut them again against the blinding light that assailed him. He tried again, and beheld before him a white sand beach, strewn with detritus from the storm. His legs were cut and torn; his breeches reduced to tatters. His sealskin coat was pierced in many places, but intact enough that it had not left his shoulders. The coat and shirt underneath it had been shredded by sharp rocks or reefs, leaving his chest nearly bare. Every inch of his body ached as he pushed himself upright. From a sitting position, he surveyed his surroundings.

He sat upon a long beach of brilliant white sand, stretching for miles in either direction before fading into the horizon. Out to sea, the vast, empty expanse of blue stretched out as far as he could see. Its surface was marred by neither ships nor other islands. Just beyond the shore, the water's surface broke over low reefs, which Bromm realized he had been dragged over. The waves were calm, and the cold winds betrayed no trace of the vicious storm that had carried him here.

In the opposite direction, the edge of the beach gave way to dense green jungle. The tall, broad-leafed trees loomed over the foliage-covered jungle floor, dripping with rainwater. Birds sang happily from perches within the leaves and some beast called from within, but he heard no sounds of people.

When he stood up, what was left of his breeches fell into the sand around his bare feet. His sword belt remained intact, but both the scabbard and his holsters were empty. The powder horn's fastenings had held, though without shot or powder it would do him little good. Bromm sighed in disappointment and set off down the beach. Apliss willing, his belongings were somewhere along it instead of underneath the waves.

The sun was almost halfway to its zenith when he started slowly picking his way down the beach. The wreckage was not as promising as he had hoped. He found spars, planks, and occasional bits of sailcloth, but no weapons. Fortuitously, he did find a barrel of hardtack to sate his oncoming hunger. Looking inland, he spied a grove of fruit trees.

They were heavy with a strange yellow fruit that he could not recognize either from his own memories or from the tales of old salts in countless taverns he had drunk in across the sea. Where am I? he began to wonder.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a sob coming from the grove. A human sound. Crouching low, he slowly crept through the brush, a fallen branch at the ready in lieu of his lost weapons. He peered through the leaves of a large fern, hoping to determine the source of the noise. Have I found my crew? He wondered. Or have I found native inhabitants of the isle?

In the middle of the grove, sitting against the base of a tree and surrounded by the spent cores of the yellow fruit, was the familiar, naked, white figure of Asara. She had pulled her knees up under her chin and buried her face in between them, her soft, supple body shuddering with quiet weeping.

Bromm was delighted to find another survivor, but first looked around the grove. Why was she crying? When he was convinced that they were alone, he crept forward with his branch in hand.

"Asara!" he whispered to her. Her head snapped up and he could see her eyes were red and puffy. The yellow-white juices of the fruits she had been eating dripped down her chin and onto her bare chest.

"Master?" she gasped, her sweet voice a welcome sound to his hard-worn ears. "You're alive!" she leapt up from her seat and bounded to him, wrapping him in a great hug when she reached him. "We thought you lost during the storm! Oh, Apliss be praised! If you're alive then it means I'm not alone after all!"

Bromm returned her embrace with genuine pleasure. If the girl could survive the storm, surely some of his seasoned sailors would have made it as well. Maybe even his ships survived. If not, a life on a remote isle with his beautiful concubine was surely not such a bad fate.