Imperialist: The Voyage

Chapter Sixteen; The Discovery

The next few hours were a pain and drink infused haze for Moutassim. As a Muslim, he had somehow managed to avoid alcohol and encounters with sea-monsters all his life. To have both unceremoniously dumped on him at the same time was a bit too much to bear.

Now, as he lay on a grainy surface digging into his skin, memories came back to him in patches.

Memories of someone dragging his limp body across wood and then an abrupt mouthful of briny, cold saltwater. Water that suffocated him, even as he struggled to keep his mouth closed. In desperation, he had grabbed the closest thing- an arm- and then there was a blinding light behind his eyes, a flash of pain and darkness.

Recovering his senses long enough to see his brother's blurry face above his own, framed by the violet streaks of light spreading through the sky as dawn broke.

His head had dropped limply to the side, where he could see Sahelia lying motionless a few feet from him. And around her, men were on all fours retching up water. He had struggled to get up then, only for darkness to envelope him again.

Memories of coming to again, to find Tigrita binding his wrist with a piece of cloth, a look of sadness etched on her face. He had lain there idly admiring her cascading blond curls, dropped over one shoulder and the way she pursed her pink lips in concentration as she worked. Then he had faded out again.

When Moutassim finally recovered his senses, he woke to bright sunshine hitting him in his face. He raised his right arm and looked down. His left arm was heavily wrapped in cloth and throbbing with a dull ache. When he examined his raised arm it was to find the same thing.

"Wait!" Tigrita fell on her knees next to him. "Whatever you do, don't put weight on your left wrist. It's broken."

He nodded and took in his surroundings. They were on a beach. A beautiful one too, at that, with pristine white sand and blue foamy water lapping gently at the edges. It would have been perfect, except there were several, very out of place pieces of wood on the edge of the beach. In the distance, three of his ships were anchored and looking worse for the wear.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Tigrita sat and crossed her ankles. She was no longer in robes, but rather wore tight fitted short pantaloons and- one of Moutassim's tunics. Except the top was not strung together, so he could see the creamy swell of the top of her breasts, complete with freckles.

Beautiful indeed.

"Where's Sahelia?" Moutassim swung around. He could see several members of his crew ambling about the beach, some stopping to pick up seashells and hurl them at the sea, as though punishing it for birthing the monstrosities that attacked them this morning. A little further away, he saw his brother digging into a coconut with his dagger. His sister-in-law was nowhere to be seen.

Tigrita remained silent. When he looked at her, he saw that her face had darkened.

"Where is Sahelia?" He repeated, enunciating each word as clearly as he could. His heart hammered in his chest.

"Wait here," Tigrita said as she rose and then she was gone.

As Moutassim angled his body so that he backed the sun and the beautiful beach, he was assailed with regret. What was he thinking, going on this voyage? At the time, it seemed like a good idea. He had just secured a military triumph. The momentum and goodwill it brought were supposed to lay the groundwork for more glory.

But if those three ships were all that remained of his fleet, he wondered how far he would get.

"Tassim!" Sahelia ran out from some trees, dropped to her knees and hugged him. He held her tight, relief flooding him that Elia had at leasweret come out of the attack alive.

Not unscathed though, he thought as he pulled back and surveyed her. Some kind of green balm had been applied to a cut above her right eye, which had turned black and blue.

"It's me, in the flesh. And happy to see you," he said, smiling from ear to ear. He wanted to tell Sahelia that he forgave her for deserting Bremon. That the dangers they had just faced had exposed how fleeting life was and how foolish it was to hold on to grudges. But as her bright eyes searched his face, he got the feeling that she understood.

Sahelia jumped to her feet, her teenage excitement shining through as she tugged at his hand.

"Come, come! I must show you something," she said. Tigrita cleared her throat.

"He's not going anywhere. The emperor must rest," Tigrita said firmly.

Sahelia shot her a look of pure venom and Moutassim was instantly reminded of Kelita. While Sahelia's temper wasn't as legendary or as expressive as her sister's, it simmered dangerously close to the surface nevertheless. He shook his head at Tigrita. She took the hint and stepped out of the way.

Sahelia held his hand firmly and led him deep into the trees. The further away he went from the beach, the more his curiosity built.

"I don't trust her."

Moutassim looked at Sahelia, but his mind was far away.

"Who?"

"Tigrita, of course. Your Mathusian whore."

The emperor grimaced, as he gingerly stepped over a rotten tree trunk.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice how cosy you two are? Oh please," Sahelia rolled her eyes.

"She is not my whore," Moutassim said indignantly. "To her credit, she has rebuffed all my efforts."

"That's even worse," Sahelia said, brushing aside some vines hanging across their path. "This is what women do. Dangle the bait just out of the reach of hungry men. When you finally grab the bait, you're married with a baby on the way and wondering, what the hell happened."

"How do you know what women do?" Moutassim stopped and stared at her with narrowed eyes. Sahelia stopped as well. "You're how old again? Eighteen? Plus you're a virgin."

Sahelia looked down and blushed, but then she raised her head high and looked Moutassim in the eye.

"I have the women in my unit I hang out with," she said defiantly. "We talk about all kinds of things and I learn."

"Oh," Moutassim said, eyeing her as they continued walking. "Are you gonna tell Kelita?"

Sahelia snorted.

"My sister and I are not exactly on speaking terms, now are we? Besides, in principle I agree with you taking a second wife. What?" Sahelia shrugged, as Moutassim stared at her. "I'm being realistic here. Kelita has had ten years to give you an heir. Neither of you is getting any younger. And you're Muslim, so it's not like a second wife is so strange. Your devotion to my sister is cute and all, but you have a duty to preserve your dynasty by marrying again and producing a son."

Moutassim laughed.

"Must you always tell it like it is?" He asked, smiling. "You're sounding like Morabi."

"There's a but, however," she stopped in the middle of a clearing and scanned the ground around them. "You can't just pluck anyone from the streets and marry them, no matter how beautiful they are. It has to be someone highborn. A noblewoman. And when you do make the arrangements, keep Kelita in the dark. We don't want your potential bride going missing. Ah, here it is."

Sahelia knelt and cleared away a heap of dried coconut leaves to expose the white sand underneath. When she was finished she leaned back and looked up at him. Moutassim stepped around for a better look.

It was a fist, the imprint embedded in the sand. But this was like no other fist Moutassim had ever seen. He raised his own fist and examined it. Moutassim was a tall man, with larger than average hands. But the imprint was almost three times the size of his fist.

"Come," Moutassim said uneasily, taking Sahelia's hand and raising her up. He looked around as he did so, but all he was greeted by was serene sunshine filtering through gently swaying coconut trees. "The sooner we can resupply, the sooner we can get off this island."