Lesbian Pirates In the Gorgon Isles

When she'd tried and discarded three or four of the foreign women she climbed unsteadily to her feet (wiping her mouth on the back of her arm as she did), shrugging off and kicking away their additional caresses and attempts at embraces. Something else was on her mind now.

She stepped over where Rusila was busy with two women of her own. Stikla, it seemed, had passed out from too much wine, her head cradled in the lap of a Gorgon woman who sang disturbing lullabies.

Achillia was busy with one of her own, but she pushed the strange woman aside when she saw the captain approach. Belit kneeled and fumbled on the floor for a wine bowl. There was still a little in it, so she drank a sip and then handed the rest to Achi. Instead of taking it herself, Achillia drank it down while Belit held the bowl for her.

When she was done they looked into each other's eyes for a moment. Belit felt hot, and also a mix of other emotions that she hadn't given a lot of leash in a long time. She chose her words carefully.

"I...owe you a lot. Not the money, I mean. I wouldn't have made it here if it wasn't for you."

Achi shrugged. "You would have done fine, Captain. You can always take care of yourself."


"Yes. But...damn it, Achi, you know what I'm saying."

"Yeah. I know." The big woman smiled—a very thin smile, as if she didn't have enough to go around.

Then she leaned in and Belit kissed her, tasting wine and steel and the salt of many years at sea, and perhaps the kisses of a great many other women past, although no more, she reasoned, than should haunt any kisses of her own...

After that, things became all the more hazy. And it wasn't until later that she realized how horribly wrong everything really was. 

***

VI: The Sacrifice

Belit's eyes fluttered open. Only one torch lit the feast hall, and even its flickering light hurt to see. She rolled over, reaching out for her attendant priestesses and finding them not there.

Staggering, she got up and kicked an empty bowl. The chamber was a mess; the crew and the priestesses were gone. Belit was alone.

She nearly called out, but at the last second bit her tongue. Even in her stupor, her instincts said something was wrong. Picking up the one torch, she turned to where her sword ought to lie—but it was gone too.

The skin at the back of her neck prickling, Belit tiptoed toward the hall's arched entryway. Where had everyone else gone? Run off maybe? She'd believe it of Rusila and Stikla, but Achi would never wander off alone in a place like this. And Enyo...

Pausing, Belit squinted in the half-darkness of the hall. Someone was sitting in the doorway, squatting on her knees, as if in some trance. It was Enyo, she saw, and Belit allowed a sigh of relief to pass her lips.

She didn't want to interrupt the old woman in the middle of some prayer or ritual, but her anxiety made her impatient so she risked grabbing Enyo's shoulder. Then—

Belit jerked back as if she'd been burned. Enyo didn't react.

Belit touched her again. Nothing happened. Then she thrust the torch close...and gasped.

The old seer's skin gleamed gold in the guttering light. Her bare flesh was cold and hard. Her features formed a look of inscrutable gratification, as if she was somehow glad for this fate, frozen in gilded splendor, here in this heathen temple, forever...

Belit backed away—right into the priestesses, who grabbed her all at once.

Ten of them were on her right away. In the tussle she dropped the torch, and they overpowered her. Despite their slight builds, the Gorgon women were not weak and pliant; each had a dark strength in her, and Belit was still exhausted and sluggish from the drink and orgy.

They soon had her handily restrained, three of them dragging the half-naked pirate captain through the dim stone corridors of their temple. Belit twisted and spit like a stray cat, and whenever one of her captors came too close she even tried to bite them, but to no avail.

"Let me go, you bloody whores," she said. "If you don't unhand me I'll burn this entire place down. I'll cut your fucking bellies out. I'll—"

"What will you do, Captain? I am very curious, in your condition, just what it is you plan to do to anyone."

It was Larissa. She stood in a knot of priestesses in the throne room, where all of the other members of the crew sat unarmed, stripped, and restrained. The Gorgon Queen sat on her dais still, like a stone idol, fixed and unmoving.

"What will you do?" Larissa said again. "I'd really like to know."

Although her mouth was dry from her hangover, Belit managed to spit in Larissa's direction. "You ponsy slut. What is this?"

The diplomat gave her a weary look. "Money makes you stupid, doesn't it? You never thought to ask what the Gorgon Islanders demand from us in return for the treasure.

"They don't value gold. But the queen has a taste for exotic foreign women; they make wonderful additions to her gallery of statues..."

Belit tried to lunge for Larissa, but it was useless. The priestesses pushed her to her knees next to the rest of the crew instead.

Even Achillia was here, though it took six women to hold her. She looked at Belit; there was sweat on her face. Belit's breathing came sharp and fast, and her lungs hurt as they labored. "I'm not supposed to die like this..." she said. 

"Oh, you won't die," said Larissa. "The queen's statues live on for many, many years. You'll have a long time yet to think about your crimes...but you will finally have that gold you wanted so badly, won't you?

"More gold than you'll spend in a lifetime."

The other woman seemed to find this funny. Nobody else agreed, based on the reactions of the crew. But that was fine; Larissa laughed enough for all of them.

Then the priestesses grabbed Rusila and Stikla, dragging them to the dais. The flames in the bronze bowl climbed higher. Both women thrashed. "Captain!" Rusila called as they dragged her away. "Captain, help us! Please! Don't let them—"

That was as far as she got; The Gorgon Queen turned, and when she went to lift her veil Belit looked away. Even just hearing it happen was bad enough: The sound of Rusila's screams, and then it all cutting short, and that horrible cracking sound...

The priestesses let out breathy gasps and sighs. When it was safe to look again, Rusila was gone, and instead there was a gleaming statue all of gold—with an expression of twisted horror that would last forever.

Stikla didn't cry, didn't become angry, didn't try to escape. It seemed she couldn't; the only thing she managed was to say her sister's name once—"Rusila?"—and then, without ever having time to understand what had really happened, they dragged her before the queen too, and in less than a second it was all over.

The eerie sighs of the Gorgon women filled the chamber, like a bellows breathing life into the horrible furnace in the center. Then they came for the three women who remained.

Valeria seemed to believe she was next, and she set her jaw and stuck out her chin in a defiant mien as she prepared for what was coming...but the priestesses put hands on Belit instead. Too exhausted to fight, she let the women drag her like a thing already dead. Her captors stared in blank-eyed obeisance at their queen, who drew hissing breaths in the shadows. 

Belit's heart pounded. Her foot glanced against something as they pulled her along, and by the flickering orange light of the bronze bowl she saw that she had kicked the hilt of Valeria's sword. All of their weapons sat in a pile near the Gorgon Queen's throne, pilfered in the night while they lay drunk and sleeping like fools.

If Belit were free for only a second, she could reach her sword and at least die fighting...but it was no use. The queen stood, and for the first time Belit saw how tall she was. Her silhouette through the veil suggested a horrifying thinness, almost skeletal. On top of her shoulders sat a horrid mass that seemed always to be in motion.

Belit flinched, but forced herself not to turn away. I'll at least look her in the eye when it happens, she thought. They say it's taboo to look at her, so I'll do it. It was the only small act of resistance she had left to her.

A rainbow shimmered across the veil's surface as it began to rise. Belit squared her jaw. The gathered priestesses breathed in as one. The flames burned white hot. And then—

One of the women holding Achillia down had let her go to help with Belit. And the others, perhaps, had relaxed a bit, distracted by the scene at the dais. It wasn't much of an opening. But it was enough.

Strong as a horse, the big woman stood, literally throwing the island women off of her, dashing their small but powerful bodies against the walls and floor and then roaring as she took a few staggering steps forward. She didn't get far before her captors were up again, but it didn't matter. She didn't need to go far.

The chamber filled with the vile scent of sizzling flesh as she threw her arms around the bowl of fire, as if embracing it. Achi's muscles swelled as she bent to lift, and everyone heard metal scraping on stone.

At first no one thought she could really do it; the bronze bowl was so huge and heavy that it had sat in the center of the temple for 1,000 years, purely by dint of the fact that no one in the world had the power to move it. And on top of that the metal was hot enough to sear flesh almost down to the bone in seconds.

Moving it was impossible. Lifting it was unthinkable. The goddesses themselves couldn't have budged such a thing. But Achillia did it, hugging its burning surface to her body and then, incredibly, hoisting the whole thing up. With a strength that could have overturned the world, she threw it as hard as she could.

The fiery bowl sailed through the air, casting embers in every direction and sending priestesses scattering in its wake. Belit barely had time to register that her captors had let her go so that they could run for cover before she saw that the enormous flaming missile was about to hit. Without thinking, she flung herself to the floor, covered her head, and prepared for the worst.

There was a sound like a giant gong. The bowl hit the thin figure of the Gorgon Queen straight on, and by all rights it should have smashed her flat, annihilated her in an instant—

But she didn't so much as budget. The bowl landed in a smoldering heap at the foot of the platform instead, and the crash echoed in the room, as if they were all trapped inside a gigantic bell.

Achillia collapsed. The island women piled onto her, but there was no need; she'd put everything she had into the throw. One look was all it took to see that she barely had strength enough left to keep herself breathing.

That business finished, the Gorgon Queen turned to where Belit crouched on the floor, still waiting for the end...

Only now, Belit wasn't there.

Springing on her heels, she raised Valeria's sword and threw everything her worn-out muscles could summon into one stroke, aimed straight for the Gorgon Queen's head. At first she feared it would be a useless attack; the queen had just knocked the giant bronze bowl aside like it was nothing, after all.

But the bowl had hit like the clubbing blow of a giantess, all spread out. Now, all the force of Belit's strike was concentrated on the thin edge of a blade so sharp you could scarcely touch it without losing a finger. The steel sang in the air as it cut down and then through...

For a second the Gorgon Queen remained standing. Belit even thought she was coming toward her...but no, she was falling. The queen's body fell one way. Her head, carrying the sacred veil with it, fell another.

The thud of the corpse on the floor was brief, dull, anticlimactic. The blood covering the blade was an unwholesome color; Belit wiped it away immediately.

The screams of the priestesses sounded like the baying of a dozen hyenas. Their normally bland, passive faces registered shock, fear—and above all rage. They came at her as one, rushing the dais in blind fury, nails outstretched.

Belit waited until they'd surrounded her—then raised the Gorgon Queen's head and whipped the veil away. She didn't dare look at it herself; she had no idea whether this plan would even work, and she more than half expected the raging harpies to simply bat the head away, fall on her, and tear her apart.

Instead she heard it: that awful cracking noise, and the vacuum as a dozen voices went quiet forever as air stopped passing into a dozen sets of lungs.

Belit almost opened her eyes, then thought better of it and wrapped the head in its veil again. She swore she felt it begin to writhe in her hands, so she threw it into the fire, and only then did she allow herself to look.

In the flames, the head sizzled and hissed. The queen's pathetically thin body lay nearby, oozing vile blood on the steps. The priestesses stood frozen in place, never to move again. Below, Achillia struggled to stand, and Valeria held her up.

"Where's Larissa?" Belit said, buckling on Valeria's sword.

"There," said Valeria. And she pointed to one of the new statues.


Before anyone could react, they heard it: Shouts and screams from elsewhere in the great temple, more cries of grief and rage, mixed with words in a language hardly anyone in the world understood.

The sounds were chaos and confusion now. But eventually, Belit knew, they'd turn to the sounds of pursuit, and of many women descending on this chamber with only two things in mind: blood, and revenge.

"Can you run?" Belit asked Achillia.

"I can sure as fuck try," Achi said. Her face was a bleary mask of sweat, but she didn't slow down.

Blinding white light filled the mouth of the entry hall. They were three hobbled women, running at half speed, some of their head start sacrificed by the necessity of stopping to steal sandals, without which they'd never be able to run in the jungle.

When they burst out of the building, the escape from the ever-cloying scent of the Gorgon women's incense and perfume was almost as much a relief as the promise of freedom. Achillia had to be carried, and it took both of them to do it. Her back and both ankles had been all but crushed by the weight of the altar bowl, and the burns she suffered were horrifying.

"The boat," Belit said when they reached the bluffs overlooking the beach where they'd first arrived. She looped an arm under Achillia's shoulder again. "We're almost there, Achi. A little more."

"Forget it," Achillia said. "I'm done." She had slumped against a rock for a second to rest, laboring to keep sucking in air. But somehow now she stood. She even hefted part of a log with two hands.

"You two go. I'll slow you down, and I'm not going to make it anyway. Let me hold them as long as I can."

"Horseshit," said Belit. "You're coming with us. I'm ordering you."

The corner of Achillia's mouth twitched. "What're you going to do if I don't obey? Kill me?"

Belit wanted to grab the bosun and shake sense into her. "I'm not leaving you behind. I can't. I..."

She couldn't let out the rest of the words, so she swallowed them. Achi's face said that she knew them anyway. She nodded.

"You idiot," Belit whispered, when she could speak again. "You can't fight them with that anyway."

"I know," Achi said, hefting the log. It's not for them."

And then she swung it right at Belit's head.

The captain stayed conscious for almost three seconds after the blow landed. Enough time to be aware of Valeria throwing her over her shoulder and starting the stumbling, desperate descent downhill. Long enough to hear voices behind them, shouting, screaming, Achi saying something, but she couldn't hear what it was...

And then, mercifully, sleep.

***

When Belit woke, it was to the sounds of the jungle. She opened her mouth to call Achillia's name, but almost instantly Valeria's hand closed over it.

"Quiet," she said, her voice a barely audible hiss. "They're still looking for us."

When she saw that Belit understood her, she moved back and let Belit sit up. They were concealed, it seemed, behind a mess of branches and clinging vines that formed a sort of curtain around one tree. It was dark out and extremely cold, but Valeria said they couldn't possibly risk starting a fire.

"What the hell happened?" Belit said, hunkering by the trunk of the tree and shivering.

"You were out all day. Thought you might die."

"Feels like I did. My fucking head." She paused. "Achi. Is she—?"

Valeria shook her head. "I didn't see what happened. When she told us to run, I ran."

"You left her behind," Belit said, anger giving her a sudden jolt of strength again.

"It was what she wanted," Valeria said. "And this would hardly be the first time you've left your crew to save yourself."

A thousand spiteful rejoinders leapt to Belit's tongue. But when she opened her mouth she found she didn't have the heart for any of them.

They sat a while longer, shivering in silence. Only then did Belit think to ask, "Where the hell are we? Why didn't you take us back to the longboat? The ship—"

"The ship is gone."

Her mouth suddenly dry, Belit couldn't respond for a moment. "Gone? Gone where?"

"How should I know? When we got to the beach she was nowhere in sight. But if you wanted me to guess what happened?" She shrugged. "Aurora had a plan to convince the crew to sail back to her mothers and turn her in for the reward themselves.

"She'll say they rescued her from the real kidnappers. It's a good idea, truth be known. I wasn't sure whether she'd try it while I was ashore, but, well, here we are..."

When Belit spoke again, her voice was so small it was almost inaudible. "Aurora? She...she..." And then her body shook—actually shook—with the force of her pent-up rage. "That fork-tongued little whore. That double-crossing rich bitch. If I ever set an eye on her again—"

"It will be very impressive, all things considered," Valeria said. "You can't tell me you're really surprised? It's a good con, I'll give her that: low risk, high reward, and she took the chance when she saw it. You were a good teacher, it seems."

Belit sagged a little. Her anger was too much work. Leaning back against the tree, she said, "What happens now?"

"In all likelihood, we die," said Valeria. "But maybe not. Larissa said the Gorgon women are afraid of the jungle; maybe they won't follow us here. Maybe we can hold out. Survive until—"

"Until what?"

"Another ship arrives. When the empresses' ambassador went missing, what do you think the first thing she'd do is? Send another ambassador here right away, to make sure her secrets stay safe."

In the dark, Belit blinked; she hadn't thought about that, but it made sense.

"If we can hold out until they arrive, and if we can somehow signal them, and if they agree to take us aboard..."

"That's a lot of 'ifs,'" Belit said.

"You have a stronger plan."

"Not a fucking one." She sighed. "So okay. We wait it out. Hope a navy ship comes. Maybe they won't kill us as soon as they see us. Maybe they'll just, I don't know, cut our tongues out."

"Maybe," said Valeria, and for a hysterical second it almost sounded like she was joking. Then: "Of course, you know what that will mean. Your ship is gone. Your crew is gone. You'll be coming back with me, to stand trial for your crimes."

"How is that better than dying here?"

"I'd vouch for you. Ask for clemency. It might be enough to get you prison instead of the noose."

"Why the fuck would you do that?"

"I have reasons. Or I can just let you hang; the choice is up to you."

"High risk, low reward."

"But the best reward you're liable to get."

Belit's face darkened. Valeria didn't even have to say anything more. This isn't the end, she reminded herself. I still have my destiny. I'll get back everything they've taken from me. Somehow...