Seeker of the Four Winds: A Galatia Novel (14 page)

“But the mission...surely the squad will find
us before that.”

“If there’s still a squad to find us.” Lars
shook his head. “With the curse spreading through their bodies,
they were weakening fast. If they haven’t found a slayer, Hogard
might already be dead. And the rest of them won’t be in any
position to conduct a search.”

“Curses of curses—we’re screwed.”

“Seems that way.”

“Well, at least we’re still breathing. As
long as we’re alive, there’s hope for escape.”

“I’m John,” one of the male slaves, a nice
looking guy with black hair and bright blue eyes, introduced
himself. “If either of you find a way out of here, I will gladly
follow.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, John,” Josie
replied. “What part of the ship are we in?”

John pointed at the double doors. “The galley
is straight through there. We’re in the holding tank, where they
keep the prisoners they plan to sell. As we get closer to the
bigger cities, like Faladore and Tectonia, there’s a chance the
ship will be boarded for a surprise inspection. If we’re going to
make a move, that will be the best time. If we ask for protection
under the Anti-slavery Law 516, the inspectors are bound to give
it, and hold the crew for questioning.”

“If we could be so lucky,” one of the other
girls chimed in.

“I’ve already been to the deck twice,” Lars
informed Josie, “where I was subject to a different kind of
inspection—slavers looking for new merchandise. Apparently, young
people with nice teeth are in demand.”

“You do have nice teeth, Lars,” Josie
replied.

He smiled.

“When you were passed out,” Lars continued,
reverting back to English, “the captain came down here to take a
look at your pendant. He didn’t recognize the metal or the stone,
which drove him crazy. He considered cutting off your hand, but a
one-armed girl won’t fetch much at auction. With your general good
health and appearance, he thinks you have the potential to make him
a hefty profit. That’s the only thing saving your hand at the
moment.”

The pendant and Seeker were floating,
straining in the direction they were moving and slightly to the
right. The other slaves, who had probably been watching it float
since her arrival, had already lost interest in its unusual
ability.

“Stupid Seeker,” Josie said, rubbing her
bruised and cut-up wrist. “This thing is making my life
miserable.”

Her eyes desperately fixed on the grate in
the ceiling where a patch of blue sky beckoned, while Lars cut away
a long curl of potato peel. John held up his peel next to Lars’s
and they were arguing about whose was longest.

“Stop that!” She slapped the potatoes out of
both of their hands, sending them rolling across the floor. “A
potato peeling contest in a slave ship of death—seriously?”

“There’s nothing else to do,” John
protested.

“There are seven of us rotting away down
here—surely we can do something to help each other out of this
mess.”

“I had a chance to escape,” Lars said. “But
that would have meant leaving you here alone. So I stayed.” Josie
looked at the ceiling to avoid his martyred gaze. “You have no idea
what I’ve been through. No idea.”

“Show her,” John suggested.

Lars stood, turned his back to her, where she
saw fiery red welts striping his skin.

“Are those whip marks?” she gasped.

“Yep.”

“I-I’m so sorry...hey, those barbarians took
your chain mail.” She felt her own chest. “Mine, too! Those fuck
heads!”

“You really need to quit cussing so much.
Fuck is such a foul word, especially out of the mouth of a
girl.”

“We’re on a slave ship and you’re worried
about my language?”

Josie sat down in frustration, grabbed an
unpeeled potato out of the bucket, and bit into it.

“You can’t eat that!” John warned. “Captain’s
orders.”

“The captain can take his orders and shove
them up his ass,” she sent Lars a withering look, “Excuse me, I
mean
anal cavity
. Is that better?”

Lars rolled his eyes and retrieved his potato
from the floor.

Josie took another bite. So juicy and moist,
and surprisingly sweet, she didn’t care that the other prisoners
were casting judgmental looks in her direction.

“Josie,” Lars explained. “If the captain
finds out you’re eating the rations, we all pay the price.”

“Fine.” Tossing the half-eaten potato back in
the bucket, Josie leaned against the wall, hugging herself,
muttering angrily, “I hate Future Earth.”

(Josephine Rose Albright)

Spending a week in the belly of the slave
ship wasn’t Josie’s idea of a good time. The dim light was
depressing. The stale air grew muggier every day. Her skin hadn’t
touched water since hitting the Kalida. Boredom was so bad that she
actually welcomed the odd jobs they were able to perform while
chained to the wall. Peeling potatoes, tearing lettuce, sewing
strips of cloth together—at least it was better than staring at the
same old faces, the same old walls, while wondering how long it
would take for their muscles to atrophy.

Later that evening, while the other slaves
slept, Lars and Josie discussed their options. If they were going
to save Galatia, and themselves, they couldn’t afford to wait any
longer. They had no choice but to risk a confrontation with the
thugs on deck.

“We’ll do it at night,” she said. “If we’re
lucky, we’ll slip away unnoticed.”

“A fight is inevitable,” Lars warned. “Some
of the sailors stay up until dawn playing cards and getting drunk.
Guards are always posted. And there’s always someone in the crow’s
nest.”

“How do you know that?”

“I have my ways.” He gave a cocky grin. “Just
know that our odds of escaping are slim. Most likely, we’ll be
caught, and tossed back down here on our heads.”

“We’ve been in tough situations before and
got out of them.”

“The charisma is our ace in the hole, Josie.
It’s the reason I know what’s up deck. How good are you at Mind
Wanders?”

“Not good at all,” she said. “That’s a skill
that doesn’t develop until later in life, if at all.”

“So you’ve been told, but it isn’t true. My
father had been teaching me the nuances of Mind Wanders long before
the earthquake. I’ve been practicing opening and closing the Excito
Fortitudo for years, but up until now it was more just for fun. Now
that it might be the difference between life and death, I’ve taken
it to a new level. I’ve explored this entire vessel from top to
bottom using the Mind Wander. By the time this mission is over, I
plan to be the best Mind Wanderer in all of Galatia.”

“My, my, aren’t we feeling cocky this
morning,” Josie teased, but the truth was she found this side of
Lars irresistible and charming.

“I could break out of these chains right now
if I wanted to, but even with charisma, a Galatian’s strength is no
match for a Gargo. And there’s half a dozen of them up there.”

“If we work together, we can take ‘em.”

“Josie, Josie, Josie.” He shook his head,
using that irritating fatherly tone again. “I worry about the way
you rush headfirst into things without thinking them through.”

“What do you mean—I think things through very
thoroughly. How do you think I convinced Red to let us come on the
mission?”

“You tied the Seeker to your wrist so
thoroughly no one could remove it.”

“Exactly. That took foresight.”

“And later on you cried over the possibility
you might have to wear it forever—something you hadn’t considered.
That’s what I call not thinking things through.”

“Sometimes we have to make our own
opportunities, Lars.”

“And sometimes we need to wait for
opportunity to present itself, Josie.”

She waved him off. “Tell me more about
controlling the charisma.”

“Don’t change the subject because you feel
like you’re losing the argument.”

“Don’t confuse
losing the argument
with
losing interest
. Back to what you said about opening
portals.”

“All right,” Lars sighed. “Portals it is
then. My portal exists right about here.” He pounded his breastbone
with his knuckles. With a rattling of chains, he reached over like
he was going to touch her chest, but his finger paused in second
thought just over her heart. “And yours is about there. When we
open them, a power outside of ourselves comes flowing in.”

“When I was little, my father told me that
charisma is a gift of the Holy Spirit. My mom doesn’t believe in
that kind of stuff though. She says the power is a new sense
brought about through a leap in evolution.” She gave a mournful
sigh. “Since you told me about the discovery of the Excito
Fortitudo, I have to admit that my mom’s theory seems more
plausible.”

“You sound disappointed. Were you hoping the
religious explanation was the right one?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I guess I just like
the Christian notion of a personal savior, someone who cares, and
isn’t just a cosmic vending machine where you drop in a good deed
like a coin and out rolls a prize.”

“My grandma says that the sun shines on
believers and non-believers alike. Regardless of our beliefs, we
all enjoy His gifts.”

“That appears to be true,” she agreed, eyes
reflecting thoughtfully inward, “but what’s the point of trying to
be good, if the bad get the same rewards? I like to think that God
is up there taking notes and taking names. And I’m totally cool
with the biblical end of the world, where the dead rise from their
graves, and Jesus sits in a cloud dividing the goats from the
sheep, sending the good to heaven, and the bad to hell. Because
without heaven and hell, our lives would be incredibly unfair.”

“I’m not sure what you’re saying, Josie. Do
you believe in God or not?”

“I believe in justice.”

“Let me rephrase that—were you upset when you
learned there was a physical explanation for the charisma?”

“If the physical existence of the entire
universe doesn’t negate the possibility of God for me—why would the
existence of the Excito Fortitudo?”

“I was hoping you would see it that way.”
Lars leaned forward with an excited look on his face as if he had
just discovered they belonged to the same religion sect, instantly
deepening the relationship. “As our eyes open us to light, the ears
open us to sound, the nerves open us to touch—this new organ opens
us to
the energy flowing from the ocean of life.”

“I’ve seen that ocean,” Josie said, feeling
dreamy. “I’ve skimmed its mystical surface, so I have to believe
there’s a place and a power that defies scientific explanation. I
wish I knew how to make it work the way you do.”

“Make it work?” he laughed. “That like saying
the ship that sets down in the sea makes the waves and controls the
currents. No, I don’t make it do anything. Once I set down in its
waters, all I do is adjust my own sails and ride the waves.”

“But you control the portal, so in a way, you
control the flow—right?”

“Well, yes.”

“Can anybody control it?”

“Some of the older folks are good at it, but
my dad says nobody completely controls it. The ocean of life is
still a great mystery waiting to be explored. I can teach you
more,” Lars offered. “How to tap its strength at will...if you want
me to.”

“Of course I want you to,” Josie said.

He reached across the aisle with his hands
upturned. She slipped hers into his. “Now, close your eyes and
listen to my voice.” She complied. “Trust me to be your teacher and
your guide. Visualize us climbing the ladder to freedom. We walk
across the wooden deck, floating toward the water, under the
moonlight. We’re walking over the river now and to a bank. Up, up,
the hill rises through the long grasses. At the crest of the hill
our feet leave the ground and we float up, up into the air, toward
the misty clouds, toward the sun and the moon. Their rays turn from
white, to gold, to blue, to violet. You see the colors coming,
flowing in waves like the ocean rolling over the land. From where
do they come? How is it that the roll on without end? They come
from the center of creation. The power flows from a place beyond
space and time. Can you see the waves, Josie?”

“I can see them, Lars,” she gasped as viscous
waves of light rolled toward her under a tangerine sky. “I really
can.”

“The waves are coming closer—your hands go
out in reception.”

“Come,” Lars’s voice blended with a sound
like a didgeridoo, low and like the wind through a hollow cavern.
“Josie, let the secret desires of your soul stretch forth—let the
waves wash over you, let them fill you up. Yes, open the doorway
wider.”

The waves were thicker than water, yet more
ethereal, they billowed like a huge flag striped with the colors of
the rainbow. As they carried her away, her body...no, her
soul...was filled with incredible delight. This was more than
evolution at work here. She felt as if she was crossing the divide
between the heaven and earth.

“Now, open your eyes.” Afraid of losing the
vision, she refused. “Open your eyes and see the inside of the
ship. The power will still be within you, but your sight will
return to the physical plane.”

When she flipped open her lids, for a moment
the ocean remained in front of her, but it quickly faded to dark
brown—the wooden walls of the ship. How disappointing, but she felt
the power buzzing beneath her skin. The doorway within was still
open. The waves were still coming, but the intensity had
subdued.

“While the strength flows within you,” Lars
said, “you can tap it at will. Give the chain a yank and prepare to
be amazed.”

They were talking in English, so the other
slaves had no idea what they were saying, and weren’t paying much
attention. Gliding her fingers along the chain holding her to the
wall, she gave a little tug. Not expecting much—after all, she had
tried to pull it free a million times already—this time the metal
plate came out of the wall, bolts and all.