Chapter 13

The sounds of battle were muted but still terrifying, much more so than when the Pinya was taken. Sosho sat on the edge of the lower bunk her hands nervously clenched together. Feeling alone and vulnerable she wondered if she should go down to sickbay and see if her mother needed help. Not that she knew much about fixing battle wounds, but then neither did Nesho for that matter, at least she wouldn't be alone then. No, she thought, Dent wanted her to stay here so here she'd stay. Thinking of Dent her hand involuntarily strayed to the little knife she placed under the mattress, caressing the tiny handle as if she could feel her cousin through it.

Suddenly the curtain swept back and Seaman Garth stepped into the tiny enclosure.

"Well what do we have here?" he sneered. "Down here all alone? Maybe ye be wanting some company, eh?"

"My master set me here to watch his things," she said with as much snootiness as she could muster. The big man scared her but she knew he was afraid of Dent in the way only a bully could be afraid of someone more powerful than himself. "He does not want anyone in here while he's not around, please leave."

"Oh I'm not here fer he's little trinkets," he said then quickly reaching out grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her up out of the bunk. When he'd entered the room her hand curled around the tiny knife and it was still in her hand as she was pulled to her feet.

"Well maybe just one," he laughed.

"My master will kill you if you touch me!" she hissed.

"Yer little pussy master is a deader cunt," he snarled pulling her towards him. "I saw 'im go down meself."

"NOOOO!" she screamed and brought the knife around and directly into his stomach.

The little knife was incredibly sharp and cut a two-inch deep gash in Garths belly with ease. Unfortunately Garth was incredibly fat; at two inches the blade barely scraped his abdominal muscles. Bellowing with pain he whipped his hand around smacking the girl in the side of the head propelling her into the lockers and then to the deck in a dazed heap.

"Bitch!" he screamed. Holding one hand over his wound he took a step towards her, murder in his eyes.

"Here now, what's be going on?" From behind Garth another seaman stepped into the small room and look around. "The Armsman's slave be wanting this other slave down in sickbay to be helping with the wounded. Just what would ye be doing here Garth?"

"None of yer fucking business! This bitch just cut me! I'm going to kill the little cunt!"

"Not just yet yer not. Slave, is Garth telling truth, did ye cut him?"

Still reeling from the blow Sosho slowly pulled herself to her feet. "My master... protect..." she mumbled.

"Well be that as it may, it's not fer me to decide. Both of ye up to the main deck. The fighting be done and it's the Captain who'll be hearing this." Grabbing Sosho's arm he lead her out of the compartment.

Dent regained consciousness slowly. He had difficulty breathing which puzzled him for a moment until he realized there was a great deal of weight pressing down on his chest. Moving deliberately he pushed two bodies aside and sat up instinctively reaching for his sword as he looked around. A couple of yards away one of his boarding crew was methodically stripping the armor and weapons from a Malshallian body. His movement caused the crewman to jump until he saw who had caused it.

"Ah there ye are, Armsman!" he chuckled. "We was wondering where ye ran off too. Got a bit interesting there for a while and we kind of lost track of ye." Ambling over he helped the still dazed Dent to his feet. "There now, well ye seem to be all in one piece but by the gods yer a mess! The deck here is secure and a few of the boys be rooting out the rest of these Malshallian scum from below decks. Don't seem to be many left, so can't see as it be much of a problem. Ye might want to report to the Captain back on the Grip. I be certain he be wondering where ye got off to himself." The sailor bent down, picked up Dent's sword and handed it to him hilt first. Dent took it and without much thought wiped it clean of blood and slipped it into its sheath.

His head was clearing rapidly but his legs still felt wobbly as he stood and faced the Grip over the gunwale. He could see the main deck clearly; the fighting indeed seemed to have stopped. Grip sailors were busy cleaning up the debris from battle while others were lining up prisoners and stripping them of their gear. At least they aren't killing them out of hand, he thought. Pulling himself up and onto the boarding plank he carefully made his way across and onto the Grip. There was a large crowd gathered at the base of the main mast and thinking that would be the best place to start looking for the captain he headed there. Striding by a line of prisoners on their knees with hands tied behind their backs and their guards Dent noticed the wide-eyed looks from both as they recognized him.

"Great Gods, it's alive!" came the raspy exclamation from one of the prisoners.

"No, it's a gods be-damned ghost!" said another.

Even the Grip sailors took a step back, and one made a sign to ward off evil. Wondering what the commotion was about Dent glanced down and suddenly realized the apparition he must be. Literally every inch of his body that he could see was completely covered with blood! Enough that it was still dripping off the edges of his breastplate as he walked along, he was convinced that if he turned around to look there would be a set of bloody footprints leading back to the Vengeance's deck. The two corpses that been lying on top of him must have drained every drop of their blood on him while he was out. Fuming that cleaning his gear was going to be a royal bitch, he continued on to the main mast.

As he approached someone in the back must have seen or heard him because as he came close the crowd parted allowing him clear passage to the center. When he got there he stopped in stupefied amazement. Nesho was off to one side being held by two sailors, a gag over her mouth while Sosho was tied to the mast. Her blouse had been torn off, her bare back exposed as her flattened breasts pressed up against the wooden shaft. Vel was standing back some ten paces with Garth by his side while the Third Mate was uncoiling a whip, obviously preparing to administer a lashing to the helpless Sosho.

"What's going on here, Captain?" he forced out through gritted teeth.

"Ship's discipline, Armsman. Nothing to concern you," Vel retorted.

Pointing at the bound girl Dent said, "My property, my concern."

"And I say it isn't! This is my ship and my law!"

In an instant Dent's sword was in his hand and he was in a fighter's crouch moving toward the Captain in mincing, shifting steps the speed of his advance masked by the unusual motion.

"By the Code and the articles you signed I say it is!" Dent hissed. When he got to within five paces of the captain, Vel held up both his hands palm out.

"Hold Armsman, we need not be rash here. Before you start talking about the Code or any such thing you should hear what this matter is about."

"That's all I was asking, Vel. It's you that said it didn't concern me."

"Ah well maybe I did at that. Do you agree to disarm and listen?"

"I agree to listen," he replied sheathing his sword in one smooth motion.

"T'is a start. Very well. The short of it is your younger slave cut Seaman Garth. By the laws of this ship she has been sentenced to twenty lashes. If it had been mortal or more serious than a small cut it would have been death. I can not allow fighting on this ship and especially from a slave."

"Why did she do it?"

"It matters not."

"I think it does. Did you even ask her?"

"As I said, it matters not. I don't allow slaves to speak before the mast, regardless."

"Again, I think it does. Where and when did this happen?"

"Ah, your quarters, near the end of the battle."

"And did you happen to ask this fat piece of shit what he was doing in my quarters during the battle? His station was on the fo'csle if I remember correctly."

"Well, no. We would be getting to that after we take care of the cutting." Vel started to look a bit uncomfortable, realizing his rush to judgment may have been a little premature. Turning toward the fat seaman Vel asked, "Garth, just what were you doing in the Armsman's quarters?"

"Captain!" Garths face was white as the mainsail. "Don't listen to him! He's dead I say! I saw him die! This is some unnatural spirit!"

"Spirit, natural or unnatural, matters not. You haven't answered the question as of yet. Why were you in his quarters?" Garth just stared at Dent and remained silent.

"Struck dumb, Garth?" Vel growled. "Mayhap there is a better way to find the truth. Fisher! Fisher, come forward!" The crowd parted again and a small man stepped out into the open.

"Y-Yes Captain?" he stuttered.

"Fisher, did you man the rail with Garth today?"

"Aye, Captain."

"Did Garth leave his post?"

"Aye, Captain."

"When?"

"Jest after we seen the Armsman go down on that there ship."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"Aye. He said the Armsman was a deader and he was going to get his pussy before the rest of the crew." There was considerable muttering that continued to escalate during the conversation. Leaving post during a watch or battle was serious enough, but to do so with the intent of purloining a shipmate's property, even a dead one, well that was as low as you could go.

"Thief, thief!" was heard in the mutterings and grumbles.

Given the tight quarters on board any ship many vices were tolerated but thievery never was. A thief might as well jump overboard holding a rock; at least his end would be relatively quick and painless. All eyes swiveled toward the fat sailor.

"Captain," interjected Dent. "May I see the knife my slave used to cut this thief?"

"Aye," Vel pulled out the small knife that Dent had given Sosho before the battle.

"I thought so," he said. "That is my knife, I gave it to her and ordered her to use it to protect my property. Since she must obey me, if anyone is to blame it is me. If anyone should be lashed for stopping the thief then it should be me."

"Hmm, you may have a point Armsman," Vel rubbed his beard thinking. "Aye, it is partly your fault given your orders to the slave but I cannot allow her to receive nothing. Here is my decree: each one of you will receive ten lashes for the cutting."

Realizing this was the best compromise he was going to get, at least it cut Sosho's lashes in half.

"Alright Mr. Perth, ye may proceed."

"No," Dent again interrupted.

"What now, Armsman?"

"As owner I have the right to discipline my own slaves. It is my hand that will yield the whip. Afterwards you may have anyone you wish use it on me."

"Aye, true, it is your right. Very well have at it, but be warned if I don't think you're hitting her hard enough I'll have Perth start again and finish it." Nodding curtly Dent strode over to the bound Sosho and bent down to whisper in her ear.

"Be brave, my little cousin, this is going to hurt but you will live through it. Please don't hate me too much. Believe me when I say I will feel every bite of this whip as it hits you, if not on my back then in my heart. I am going to take the gag out of your mouth and I want you to scream as loud as you can when I hit you. Know above all else that I do love you."

He could hear her as she cried through the gag in her mouth and he could see the tears streaming down her cheek from tightly shut eyes. He loosened the rag gagging her and suddenly everyone present could hear her loud sobbing.

"Why did you do that?" Vel asked.

"You sentenced her, you listen to her. You want pain? I'm just giving it to you." Vel just shrugged his shoulders.

Walking back he held out his hand and Perth gave him the whip handle first.

"Do you know how to use it?" the slight man asked.

"I do." While the whip was almost never used for discipline at his old school, a whip is a weapon and the students were required to become familiar with all known weapons.

"I don't know," Perth returned. "That back of hers is too smooth to have ever known the whip."

"Of course she hasn't been whipped," Dent retorted. "We aren't barbarians where I come from."

"Hey there, now! Ain't no call for that." Perth gave him a nasty smirk. "Just you remember who's going to be giving ye yer lashes after yer done here."

"Oh I'll remember all right. Just you remember it's rather unlikely you will be able to kill me with just ten lashes and you can be assured I'll remember every one of them and the one who gave them to me.

"Now back away," he snarled.

The outside world seemed to recede and blur as Dent concentrated on the whip and his cousin's back. His gut felt like it had been jabbed by a hot poker. He was familiar with fear but never before had it impacted him to this extent. Even during his last two real battles fear had been present but never as palpable or as gnawing as it was now. Intellectually he knew he was doing the right thing. He could at least try to control the whip; he wouldn't be trying to impart lasting damage.

He was certain that with very few exceptions every sailor on this ship would do their best to give as much pain as was humanly possible to anyone given over into their hands. Why? As the captain said, it matters not. Maybe they were cruel by nature, maybe it's just the culture they found themselves in, and of course a lot would have to do with greed and envy. But it matters not because the fact is they would and Dent had to protect Sosho as much as he possibly could, even if it meant he had to be the one giving her the pain.

The whip in his hand was a ten-foot length of braided cord, the last three feet being a thin strip of rawhide leather. It was a particularly vicious little device, designed more to open and flay skin than to cause pain. Oh it certainly would cause pain but only as a secondary result of the damage and disfigurement that was its primary purpose.

The balance here was delicate. He needed her to cry out in pain but he didn't want any lasting damage. Ungagged Sosho's natural fright and emotional state would probably result in earsplitting screams even if he only lightly tapped her with a scarf. He knew he needed to hit her hard enough to raise a welt, but not enough to cut the skin leaving a scar. It would have been best if he had a few practice swings but he knew it would be torture for her to hear the crack of the whip and have to wait for it to fall.

Without waiting he flicked the whip sending his arm forward and down. The tip hissed through the air and cracked against her bare back. The scream she released was true perfection. If you didn't know she was being whipped you would have sworn she was being impaled on a burning stake. A long red welt was clearly visible across the smooth white of her skin. Ten times he sent that vicious little rawhide tip toward his cousin's back and ten times bloodcurdling shrieks answered the meaty crack as it landed. Every hit, every scream bit into his soul like a knife. Only the knowledge that someone else would probably do irreparable damage allowed him to continue at all.

After the last strike Dent dropped the whip to the deck and rushed over to the sobbing Sosho. Not waiting to untie the knots he reached for a knife but realized he didn't have one; he must have dropped Sosho's knife somewhere. Instead he took out his sword, quickly slashed her bindings and she fell bonelessly back into his arms. With a flip of his head he motioned Nesho over, the two sailors holding her let go and she ran to help support her daughter.

"Are you all right?" she whispered to him after clawing the gag out of her mouth. Then she slipped Sosho's arm over her shoulder.

"I'm fine," he said still holding up the sobbing girl until Nesho could get a firm grip. "You had better get her down to our berth and get something on her back though."

"But Dent, you're covered, the blood..."

"Don't worry, it's not mine. Now get her down below. Neither one of you needs to see what's coming next."

"Are they really going to give you ten lashes, too?" She glanced over at the Third Mate who had picked up the whip and was casually flicking it at a barrel sitting by the railing.

"Yes, but don't worry. I'm sure it'll hurt but it can't be any worse than some of the melees they put us through back at the academy. Just get her down below and I'll be down as soon as I can." Nesho nodded and helped the stumbling girl out of the crowd toward the bow and their berth.