Eternal Slave Ch. 04 - The Escape

Being almost choked to death by a mute Asian guy after having sex with a woman who hates you, only to wake up to being almost drowned by a huge, raging wave of salt water requires a bit of the following:

a) Crisis management

b) Situation assessment

c) Tactical analysis

First I wanted to raise my hands to, you know, protect my face. Maybe wipe it clean as I coughed up half a gallon of brine. I tried, but that wasn't going to happen.

I ought to be getting used to having my hands tied up by now, but I still struggled with the concept as well as with the vines. They were same damned devil vines I had come to love, but now they tied my arms behind my back, to a vibrating pole of some sort.

I could think of two different objects that fit that description, but luckily I was not bound to am ogre's huge cock. Instead, I was sitting on the deck of a small boat, tied to the mast. I was again wearing the clothes Midnight Glow had given me. This would have been nice in most instances, except that right now they were soaked through. The boat was rocking so bad we had to be far out at sea, which was not a nice location change from the firm, safe, solid earth I was used to.

When my eyes managed to blink open I saw that, not only was I at sea, but that I was at sea in the kind of tiny boat crazy fishermen and merchants used hundreds of years ago when they wanted to make sure they would eventually turn their families into a bunch of starving widows and orphans. It was open, it was about fifteen feet long, and it had another mast up front. That one was almost horizontal with a second sail tied to it. The sails were big, light gray flapping things tied up with enough rope to keep a Japanese bondage enthusiast in supply for weeks.

Maybe a competent crew would have improved the situation for me, but while I had no idea about the level of seamanship of either Sprite or 13, I was judging them unfavorably when I saw them there in front of me. This was not only because I had gotten a bad first, second, and third impression of them. The evil witch was sitting on a seat thingy, relaxing and looking ahead at some kind of island away in the distance. Her poor slave was kneeling in the water at the bottom of the boat, among coils of ropes and oars and several huge bags and crates of what I could only assume was Sprite's entire collection of vile witchery and arcane laboratory. He was wearing clothes of the same cut as mine, and it looked like he was scrubbing the planks of the boat with a brush with stiff bristles. I was all for maintaining once's property, but right now he ought to be pulling at some ropes or other to make the boat stop rocking so much.

When I straightened my back, I saw that there was no other land in sight except the one we were heading towards. Everywhere else else was just green-blue waves rolling in that majestic slow way like they do out on the open ocean. The great sea was playing with the boat like it was just a small piece of wood. There were a few fishing boats fishing around, but they were far away. The island was vaguely green and brown, but apart from that I could tell nothing about it.

I had a headache, I was hungry and thirsty, and I needed to go, but I had a feeling it was no use asking Sprite. As long as she ignored me, bad things wouldn't happen to me quite so frequently.

She turned around then, of course she did, and unignored me by smiling just like certain female spiders do instants before they gobble up their mates.

***

"Good morning, 31," she said. "Welcome aboard my little ship."

"Where are we?" I asked. "Good morning, Ma'am," I added because there might be nautical alternatives to serving me tea if I did not play nice. I felt like I was being trained, and right now that thought did not sit well with me.

"We're about two hours away from Lamplight," she said.

"What about-"

She shook her head. "I'm never going back to that dump. Thus, neither are you. No, since you're about to ask, you'll never see that slut Glow again either."

I stiffened, felt my belly grow cold. "What about-"

She sighed and ground her teeth. 13 didn't seem to be aware that we were talking, he just went on scrubbing.

"-this Sea Hag and all that, Ma'am? The captured men?"

"I don't give a fuck if a whole herd of useless, gullible men get what's coming to them. They're worthless and weak to respond to her magic. Their cocks control them. Well, I don't have one of those, and I'm going to do what she's done all over again. Only I'm going to do it right."

"Do what, Ma'am?"

"Never mind. I'm not speaking for your ears, slave, I'm talking to myself. Your opinion doesn't mean anything to anyone anymore."

"Why are we going to Lamplight, Ma'am?" I asked. She might be brushing me off, but I had a feeling that deep down inside she was bubbling over with malevolent glee. She believed she'd just pulled something off by capturing me. Perhaps she needed to share it? She was villain, after all.

"I'm going to be a queen, slave. I'm going to be one of the richest, most powerful women in the Myriad. I'm going to build myself a palace with a huge garden, a mighty tower, a tall wall, and a deep, deep dungeon. And it's all thanks to you."

"How, Ma'am?"

She leered at me. "You'll learn soon enough, slave."

As I tried to figure out what to ask next, the beam above my head turned a little and the sail flapped in a new direction.

"What was..." I began. Who'd done that?

"Didn't your dear friend Midnight Glow prattle on about her gift slave, Hurricane?" Sprite said. "The one she dotes on as if he were worth something? He's got power over the winds. Sometimes I borrow him from her, just to brew a few, small potions and oils for myself. Of course, he doesn't like visiting me in my hut, but the idiot is too 'kind' and 'considerate' to his 'Lady' to mention it. Takes it like a man. Goes home, drained and unsettled, wishing it will be a long time until I summon him again. But he knows I always would." She cackled. "I'm going to miss that, his look of fear. But I will find a new man just like him. Many men. I'm going to need a big dungeon. Lots and lots of cells filled with slaves. Slaves who'll no longer hate me and try to flee. Slaves who'll worship me, come crawling to me, do their duty, and expect absolutely nothing in return. I'll be everything that bitch Sea Hag wishes she can be."

I didn't answer that, just nodded. The phrase "You're insane!", while popular when answering super-villains, didn't seem like a response that was going to bring good things down on myself anytime soon. Even if I added, "Ma'am."

"13!" she said and turned around. "Keep watch until we reach the harbor. I want an hour's sleep."

The Asian turned and nodded, then carried on doing whatever he was doing.

Sprite sat down on a seat behind me, close to the rear of the ship (whatever that was called), resting her back against a bag full of soft things. After just a few minutes, she started to snore gently.

I noticed it, and 13 noticed it. None of us moved.

***

As the island in the distance grew, the boat did its own steering, making sure the sails caught the wind just right so that it could go at top speed. I had not idea how it did that. We still didn't stir.

The island turned into a huge coastline of sandy beaches, deep forests, steep headlands, and towering mountains. This was not a tropical paradise like Slave Fountain Island, this was a hard, rocky land that meant serious business. Straight ahead there was a small peninsula with a towering lighthouse, slender and lovely, the titular Lamplight perhaps. Beyond the peninsula I assumed there lay a calm, secluded harbor.

On the far side there was a large city. Tall, whitewashed stone buildings were mixed with lower houses, made from bamboo, cradling the harbor and creeping up the mountain side. On a small hill lay a castle of some sort with a wall surrounding it. There were trees everywhere and bright flowers lining the streets. If I had been on Earth, I would have wanted to visit this place. Preferably by way of some airport hidden away at the end of a motorway, preferable in the company of chattering, picture-taking tourists, rather than this pair of misfits.

When it was obvious Sprite was not going to wake up, 13 finally made a move. He rose, brought his brush along, and crawled over to me.

"Hey, buddy," I tried, throwing in my most friendly smile for good measure.

13 didn't have a friendly smile. He did not seem to remember how to move his cheeks properly. When he knelt down beside me, his face was furious. Except when he looked at Sprite. Then it was anxious. I got that. Totally.

"Listen," I said. "About last night, I was so not myself and-"

He stopped me with a motion of his hand. Asked a silent question that only an idiot would fail to understand.

"What's that?" the idiot asked.

He tried again.

"Yes..." I said. "I can... swim? Swim, yes I can."

He nodded, and brought out his brush. The bristles were dirty from scrubbing the boat. There were a lot of them, and they were very stiff. I feared for a moment that he was going to torture me by rubbing them against some very sensitive parts of my anatomy. Such as my throat, my armpits, my soles, or other parts to remain unnamed.

Instead he moved behind me, checked that Sprite was still sleeping, and started to apply the brush to the vines that bound me. Tear at them. Rip them apart. With a vengeance. I was sure he'd waited years to be able to do this to them.

My hands were free. At last! I had a chance of escape.

I got up, looked from 13 to Sprite, and said, "What do we do now? Knock her out, tie her up, and hand her over to the-"

I can't be absolutely certain that 13 did not mean for us to follow my plan. No, what I'm saying is that I don't think he pushed me off the boat and into the raging sea just because he stumbled when that wave hit us. To be honest, I think he did it on purpose.

I was not about to find out, however, as I was too busy diving deep under the surface to ask him.

***

Argument for survival: I was a decent swimmer.

Argument against survival: I was wearing clothes.

Argument for survival: My body was stronger and more fit than the slab of meat that the flabby desk jockey from two days ago had owned.

Argument against survival: I was still far away from shore.

Argument against survival: The shore was rocky and steep.

Argument against survival: The waves crashed onto the rocks like fully loaded trucks against concrete pillars.

Argument for survival: I was pissed off.

There was no fucking way I was going to drown. I was sick and tired of having circumstance and people running my life, of being pushed and shoved around and treated like shit.

Sprite was an evil bitch. She had no right to lie about my powers to capture me, to torture me, to drug me, to bring me along on this crazy trip. And 13? I had no idea what he had done or why he had done it, but as soon as he had pushed me into the water, to do or die, I was responsible for my own fate again.

I was a free man.

Yes, I missed Glow and wanted to be her slave, but I was still a free man. There was no conflict. Why should there be?

The little boat disappeared towards the lighthouse and the entrance to the harbor, and I decided to make for the outside of the peninsula. If Sprite woke up and turned the boat around to come searching for me, I wanted to get out of sight as soon as possible. Even if I didn't make it, even if I drowned, I didn't want her to see me giving up, didn't even want the chance to beg to be rescued.

At first I stressed trying to deliver some really powerful breast strokes, but I soon realized that I would never make it that way. I had to conquer my fear of the boat returning, had to convince myself that nice and easy would do it, that I had to put a lid on my fury and just work methodically.

I imagined meeting Glow again. Stepping out of the water, dead tired, soaked, gulping water, only to find her waiting, sitting on a rock, brushing her hair, dangling her feet, smiling at me. Knowing that I did all this just for her sake. Just to meet her again. Just to look at her, touch her, sit at her feet, and worship her.

Was I insane? Probably, then so were thousands of other men who had gone before me. Men who'd braved great dangers and insurmountable tasks just to be allowed to kiss the hem of their Lady's dress.

The lighthouse drew closer.

None of the fishing boats out today seemed to take any notice of me. The little boat with 13 and Sprite disappeared behind the lighthouse.

The lighthouse drew even closer.

There was not much I could see of the world around me as the slow, yet mighty, waves pulled me along, then dragged me back out, then drenched me whenever they felt I was getting too cocky, but the tower was my guide. It was white and smooth, and the fire up in the glass ball on top glowed like a faint rainbow even in daytime. Magic, had to be.

The sun shone.

The lighthouse drew closer.

Seagulls screamed.

The lighthouse drew closer.

A boat came out of the sheltered harbor.

A small boat. Two sails. Picking up speed even when going straight against the wind.

It could have been any kind of small fishing boat, but I decided to greet its appearance with some really powerful breast strokes. Nice and easy wouldn't do it anymore.

The lighthouse drew closer.

The boat drew closer.

After a while I could see them. 13 was tied to the mast and he was naked now, his body bleeding from several lash strokes. Sprite was in the front of the boat, a vicious-looking whip in her hand, staring out at the sea, her eyes flashing hate and glee as they found me at last.

The race was on, and it was one I was not going to lose. I was not going to fall into her hands again, not going to be scalded with boiling water, not going to be whipped, not going to be tied up and fucked by a woman who hated me. I was swimming for myself and my freedom. I was swimming for Glow, for her warm her embrace and her kisses, smiles, and laughter.

My arms and back hurt, but I kept at it, burning my strength on my mediocre swimming skills, my eyes fixed on the lighthouse now, only occasionally seeking out the witch. I was not going to lose.

***

I had planned not to lose, at least, but then again there is only so much human muscles and sinew can do in competition with the power of the wind. Sprite's boat had set a course to intercept me a few hundred feet from the rocky shore, and there was nothing I could do to get there ahead of them.

There was no point in trying to turn back or head left or right. This was like a cat chasing a struggling beetle. I might squirm a little, try a feint or two, but she was bigger and faster and could get me anytime, no matter what I tried.

As we closed in on an imaginary meeting point on the water just up ahead, Sprite turned around to lash 13 across his chest, a furious blow that told me exactly what was waiting for me. Behind the point the sea looked rougher, more churned up. Probably lots of reefs and hidden, sharp rocks up ahead. Certain death in other words. Well, perhaps certain death was better than slavery to Sprite.

When we met up, the boat lowered its sails magically and placed itself between me and the reefs. The witch stood facing me with an expression so calm and composed there was no room for anything related to mercy on it. Her whip-arm twitched.

I made a sudden move, at least I made what I believed was a sudden move, and headed for the rear of the ship, hoping I would be able to pass by on that side. As it turned out, my sudden move took so long that the boat was able to circle around and head me off just a few inches in front of me. I was so close that her whip could reach me, and she didn't wait to be asked twice.

The pain across my back was worse than that felt by an acupuncture patient when he rolled off the table and stabbed himself on a thousand needles. That I could live with, somehow, but what made me flail and fight was the feeling of how the whip, and I was sure it was a devil-vine whip, tried to wrap itself around my right arm, all the way up by the shoulder. I knew what would happen if it managed to tie a knot around me. Sprite would fasten the whip to the side of the boat, and I would be dragged after them all the way into the harbor like a harpooned seal, fighting to keep my head above water.

I ducked under the surface, tore at the whip, and at last I was able to pull free. Since I hadn't planned the dive, I had to come up for air a few seconds later, and found that the boat was lying still, waiting for me. As I gasped and spluttered Sprite got into position and lashed out at me again. Caught me by the throat. It felt like wearing a spiked dog collar with the wrong side in when your owner is impatient and signals that it's time to move along. As a side benefit I was able to confirm the myth that salt did in fact irritate bleeding wounds.

In mind I cursed the fishing boats for not coming to my rescue. Couldn't those tiny dots see that a man was being killed out here?

I went straight back under again. Put both hands between the vine and my windpipe, and began tearing them off. They did not want to be torn off. We fought and fought, but each time I was able to gain an inch or two, they came right back and tightened up. It was only when I fought my fear of drowning by breathing out and letting gravity pull me down that the vines slid away. Or rather, I did, down into the deep.

When I finally broke free my first thought was to burst up and have that air I so desperately needed. It was only with a gargantuan effort that I managed to think, to plan ahead. I could not let the same thing happen again. I would not be able to tear free a third time. When heading up this time, it was with my arms spread up above my head to protect my neck. The instant I broke the surface I registered the boat right next to me, registered Sprite poised, whip pulled back, registered 13, slumped in his pain, registered the waves breaking on the shore up ahead. At once I started a new dive, bending my body, taking with me all the air I was able to pull in during the split second my head was above water.

The whip hit the back of my thighs, scratching my skin all the way down to my ankles, trying to collect and wrap my legs into a mermaids tail.

That was not going to happen. I kicked my feet the way you do when swimming under water, and the vines didn't stand a chance. I was free, and I was safe for a few, precious seconds.

There was only one thing I could do, and that was to make sure I squeezed each and every one of those precious seconds out of my aching lungs. I was headed away from the boat, I knew, I was headed towards the shore, I was sure, and Sprite could not see just where, I hoped. Fervently. Every stroke I managed without giving in to my lungs and brain yelling at me to head straight up was one stroke closer to freedom.

At some point I started to count down from ten, and when I had made that last, tenth stroke, I shot up, begging the Lady Desire that the boat wouldn't be there when I broke the surface.

The boat with Sprite and her whip wasn't there. I had no idea where they had gotten to just then, as I was busy coughing and spluttering and trying to get as much air as possible into my lungs as quickly as I could.

Straight in front of me the waves broke on something I could not see but which created huge explosions of white foam. It had to be a reef. In a moment I could be slammed against it, knocked unconscious, and drowned right here and now in this alien sea, so far from my own world. I didn't care. Behind me was Sprite and all the pain and misery she wanted to inflict on me. In front of me was a chance at freedom (and enslavement to Glow). I took that chance.