The Ride With You Was Worth The Fall (3/16)
Title: The Ride With You Was Worth The Fall (3/16)
Author: ortunata13
Pairing: ara/Kahlan
Rating: PG (rating will differ between chapters)
Warnings: This ain't your mama's Midlands
Word Count: 6567
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Most certainly, I do not own these characters.
Summary: In this chapter, Cara and Kahlan hit the high seas. This new environment throws Cara for a loop but Kahlan steps up to offer some comfort. More importantly, Cara and Kahlan get to be heroes. Yes, it's time for some pirate action! Oh and Cara gets to see Kahlan naked...lucky girl! Some feelings are also starting to crop up.
A/N: Aside from reading Treasure Island when I was seven (in Spanish btw), I know nothing of pirates. I haven't watched Pirates of the Caribbean or any other pirate-type films. In fact, I'm not even a very good swimmer. Therefore, I ask all you fic-reading pirates who I may have offended to please forgive me. If my crimes against the venerated pirate subculture are too great, I will walk the plank without protest.
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 part 1 | 6 part 2 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16
Chapter 3
Las Reinas Del Mar
Once on board, Jamal carries their packs to the small cabin they will share during the journey. The rest of the crew consists of two twin boys, no more than sixteen summers old, who the Captain introduces as his nephews, and two deckhands whose job it is to man the sails and the trawls. The Captain explains that they will travel across open water for two months before touching land again. The weather, he expects, will be harsh at times but not perilous. Given the small size of the crew, it is the recent rash of pirate attacks that concerns him the most, in particular because he is unaccustomed to traveling with women. When he brought the matter to Marina’s attention, she’d laughed and said she pitied any pirates who attempted to board a ship with the Mother Confessor and her Mord’Sith on board. Having never traveled far inland enough to truly understand what either of those things meant, he remained skeptical. A lifelong sailor hears many a tall tale, and those of the Midlands are no different from the rest.
Having settled in as best as they could given the tight quarters, Cara and Kahlan stand on deck side by side in a comfortable silence watching the sky darkens and the lights of Ushuaia fade into the distance. Cara wordlessly points toward the lighthouse as they sail past it. In less than two candlemarks of travel, they are surrounded by nothing but water. It is then that Abilio, or perhaps Alfonso -- it is impossible to tell them apart -- informs them that dinner will soon be served in the dining hall. Cara and Kahlan both grimace and say in unison, “Fish.”
Dinner is a pleasant affair in which the young boys speak of their sweethearts back home, and the deckhands of the many adventures they’ve shared with their Captain. Kahlan replies to questions about their journey but makes a point of being vague about its purpose. The Captain is as charming as he is attentive, and generously shares his finest bottle of wine with them. Cara nods and faintly smiles in all the right places but, much like Jamal, does not say a word the entire evening. Once the boys and the deckhands return to their respective duties, Kahlan and the Captain discuss a myriad of topics at great length. It happens that they share many common interests and, in Cara’s estimation, an incomparable passion for the sound of their own voices. She and Jamal wait patiently -- and silently -- for their tongues to tire, and when it finally happens, they are both quick to their feet.
“That was fun,” Kahlan says, still buzzing with excitement as they enter their cabin. “The Captain is such a lovely man, don’t you think?”
“Mm.” That is all Cara can manage in response. She quickly strips off her leathers and walks into the washroom. Kahlan is certain that by the end of their quest, she’ll be far more familiar with Cara’s nakedness than she is with her own.
“Shift, please.” She doesn’t have to turn around to know Cara walked back out without bothering to slip into it. “The Captain mentioned the temperature would drop tonight,” she adds as an incentive. Cara recognizes it as a ploy but decides to wear it anyway. Late into the night she’s grateful she did, for even with the heavy blankets and each other for warmth, she’s shivering. So much so, that Kahlan soon takes notice.
“What’s wrong?” Kahlan isn’t fully awake but the clacking sound of Cara’s teeth suffices as an explanation. “Here, come closer,” she says, pulling Cara into her arms. The Mord’Sith’s muscles tense for a moment, but the feel of Kahlan’s soft, warm skin melts away her tension. It isn’t long before they are both asleep again.
Cara wakes up first but remains perfectly still in the Confessor’s arms. She wonders what her Sisters would think if they were alive to see the sight of her, curled up in a tiny bed with her kind’s natural predator no less. Since Darken Rahl murdered her Sisters, she’s felt as if she is Mord’Sith and not Mord’Sith all at once. She can still feel the bond but it elicits disgust, not fealty. Serving the Lord Rahl was simple: follow orders and take your pleasure when the opportunity arises. Now she’s all alone in the world, no Lord Rahl, no Sisters of the Agiel, no one, save the Confessor, of course, but that will end with their quest. There’s no point thinking on such things since she probably won’t survive the quest anyway, but on the off chance that she does, the prospect of what will follow isn’t particularly appealing. Just then the Confessor shifts in such a way that Cara can feel her breath gently humming in her ear. It is a good sound, so she closes her eyes and allows herself the luxury of hope for better days, and the possibility of perhaps someday soon eating something other than fish.
By daybreak, they are both up on deck, watching the men prepare the ship for rougher waters. Walking past them, Jamal hands them each two pieces of bread with a fish pressed between them. “Sardines,” says Abilio, or perhaps Alfonso -- it is still impossible to tell. “They are very delicious,” he assures them. They both nod politely but even Kahlan can’t manage a smile after countless days of meal after meal consisting of nothing but fish.
When a sizable wave sprays water on them both, Cara suggests they return to their cabin to go over the documents Berdine gave her. After two years of traveling with Richard, Kahlan finds Cara’s focus on their mission refreshing. She’s had enough of random meandering and unnecessary detours to last her a lifetime. Still, she does miss the Seeker’s gentle expressions of affection, whether a smile or a light squeeze of her hand, Richard always made her feel loved. The lack of that emotional comfort -- and meal after meal of fish -- adds to the challenges of this quest.
After several candlemarks of sifting through maps and illustrations, Kahlan looks over at Cara. Noticing that something is off, she asks, “Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course I am,” Cara snaps back.
Kahlan furrows her brow, tilting her head for a long moment. “You look a bit…green,” she finally says.
“I’m fine. Excuse me.” With that, she’s on her feet and out the door -- Kahlan, of course, follows. It is all Cara can do to achieve the deck before emptying the contents of her stomach overboard. While Kahlan had noticed the increased swaying of the vessel, having been unaffected by it, she hadn’t given it any thought.
“Your friend hasn’t gotten her sea legs yet,” says one of the deckhands, turning toward Cara and taking hold of her forearm.
“I’m fine,” Cara says, emphatically tearing away from his grip, only to be spared the humiliation of crumbling to the ground by the Confessor’s quick reflexes.
“Thank you,” Kahlan tells him, “I’ll take care of her.”
Once they are back in the cabin, Kahlan lowers Cara onto the bed where she promptly covers her face with a pillow. The Confessor holds her tongue for as long as she can -- which isn’t very long at all. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” Cara doesn’t answer, of course. “You’ll suffocate if you don’t remove that pillow from your face,” Kahlan points out. Still not receiving a response, she releases a long-suffering sigh and lies alongside her, running her hand up and down Cara’s back.
After the third or fourth pass, Cara’s head snaps up, glaring at her. “What are you doing?”
“You’re sick; I’m comforting you. What else would I be doing?” Cara wants desperately to protest but with the way her stomach is flip-flopping and her head is spinning in every direction, she hasn’t the strength. Kahlan continues her ministrations until the Mord’Sith falls asleep. She then carefully tucks her in so as to spare her a chill and removes the pillow from her face, all the while wondering if all the Mord’Sith Darken Rahl killed looked as angelic as this one in their sleep. Kahlan decides to forgo her fish ration for the evening, choosing instead to drift into sleep next to Cara.
For the next few days, the rough waters continue to wreak havoc on the Mord’Sith and, truth be told, Kahlan is starting to worry. She’s uncharacteristically pale, and the dullness in her eyes is undoubtedly caused by her inability to hold down food. “Here, drink some tea.” Kahlan supports her neck as she takes in tiny sips. That, for the first time, she isn’t met with a death stare actually worries Kahlan even more. The next day, when Cara finally manages to hold down a bowl of fish broth, it takes every morsel of the Confessor’s self-control to not plant a big sloppy kiss on her face. Cara is all she has right now, and facing the uncertainty of what lies ahead without her is more than she can bear.
“You look much better, and you’ll be happy to learn that the waters are considerably calmer today,” Kahlan says, perched on the edge of the bed watching Cara stretch and yawn. Cara pulls the covers over her head and after a moment mumbles something that sounds suspiciously similar to an expression of gratitude. Kahlan unceremoniously pulls off Cara’s covers and says, “Enough lounging around. Let’s go eat our fish.” That last part earns her a grunt and an eye roll -- both evidence that the Mord’Sith is on the mend.
On deck, they find the crew huddled around the mast, Jamal at its very top, peering through a spyglass. The Mother Confessor is no stranger to conflict and already she senses that something is off. “Is everything all right, Captain?”
“These waters have seen their fair share of pirates of late. Jamal spied a suspicious vessel earlier.” Kahlan clearly sees through his calm demeanor and turns to the Mord’Sith standing at her side.
“There could be trouble,” Kahlan tells her, guiding her back to the cabin by the elbow. “Pirates,” she adds when they are inside, “you’ll need this.” She pulls out a package from her pack that Cara recognizes as the one she’d clutched in her hand when she walked out of the shop in Ushuaia. “Go ahead, open it. I bought it for you.” Cara tilts her head, raising an eyebrow, not knowing exactly what is expected of her. “It’s a gift,” Kahlan says.
“A gift?” She hadn’t received one since her ninth summer, when her mother made her a dress in celebration of the anniversary of her birth. “For me?”
“Yes, of course it’s for you. Who else would it be for? Go on, open it.” The Confessor smiles in anticipation, hoping she made the right choice.
“It’s an excellent weapon,” Cara says, tossing the dagger from hand to hand, gauging its weight. “Why?” she asks.
Kahlan breaks her gaze for moment. “I saw you reach for your agiel several times, only to find nothing there. I thought perhaps it would help.”
Cara furrows her brow, staring at her for a long moment, not sure what to say. “You don’t like it?” the Confessor asks.
“I do, very much.” That’s when she remembers the words for dealing with such situations. “Thank you.”
Kahlan releases a breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding and says, “You’re welcome. I chose it because the hilt is wrapped in red leather. I thought maybe…” She trails off, not wanting to add to the awkwardness of the moment. Cara nods and holsters the dagger then looks up at Kahlan, who nods back at her.
“Maybe we should go,” Cara says, pointing toward the door.
The Captain soon informs Kahlan that the approaching vessel is flying a distress flag which, by maritime custom, means they are bound by fraternal honor to provide assistance. Not fully understanding that he stands before two formidable warriors in their own right, he attempts to downplay the potential volatility of the situation. Cara and Kahlan exchange a meaningful glance and set about examining the perimeter of the vessel. Neither of them has ever engaged in combat under such circumstances but remain unfazed by the possibility of doing so. Cara has taken to clutching and alternately releasing the hilt of her new weapon and, by the glint in her eyes, Kahlan suspects she’s actually looking forward to a good fight.
There is, however, a battle that needs to be fought even before the threatening vessel reaches them. “Cara, you have to,” the Mother Confessor says emphatically, in that authoritative voice she usually saves for her foes.
“No, absolutely not.” Cara crosses her arms over her chest and plunks down on the bed.
“Fine, then you’ll have to remain in the cabin. I won’t allow you to do otherwise.”
“You won’t allow me,” Cara echoes back with no small amount of righteous indignation. That’s when it happens, the Confessor’s steely countenance gives way to a sad, almost vulnerable look that Cara has no idea how to handle. Her first impulse is to strike her but, fortunately, she reconsiders. Instead, she paces before the bed glancing over at her several times, finding no change. Clenching her fists until her knuckles turn white, she grits her teeth and says, “Fine, I’ll eat the stupid fish.” Kahlan sighs and hands her the plate.
“Thank you, Cara,” she says, in a whisper, looking at Cara through her lashes. “We certainly can’t go into battle with you not having eaten in three days.”
By late evening, the approaching ship is faintly visible even to the naked eye. Jamal identifies it as a sloop, a vessel popular with pirates in these waters, and also known for its ability to easily reach high speeds. That the vessel can hold a crew of as many as twenty to seventy men is causing no small amount of concern among the Captain and his crew. Theirs is a fishing vessel that has seen the occasional scuffle but never a bona fide battle.
Cara and Kahlan stand side by side leaning on the taffrail. The waters are eerily calm on this moonless night, and the stars light the night sky in such a way that they can see their reflections shimmering on the surface of the water. The Mord’Sith’s short hair is tousled about by the steady breeze as she looks over at the Confessor who is gazing out at the vastness of the sea. Unlike the others aboard the small vessel, Kahlan isn’t at all anxious or thrown off by this unexpected turn of events. Much like Cara, she’s merely considering every possible scenario and how to turn it in their favor. Kahlan Amnell is a beautiful woman, but also a woman of strength and courage, a woman deserving of respect.
“You should get some sleep,” Cara says, “I’ll stand watch with Jamal.” Kahlan thinks to argue for a moment but, having won the fish battle, she simply nods and allows Cara the small victory. It isn’t so bad traveling with a Mord’Sith; it isn’t so bad at all.
***
By daybreak, Cara and Jamal are both certain that the sloop has as its purpose to board their vessel -- Jamal has spent enough time at sea to recognize the difference between a crew in distress and one preparing for an assault. With a quiet glance between them, Cara rushes to the cabin to fetch the Confessor who is already up, but most certainly not ready to go on deck.
“Cara!” she says, giving the Mord’Sith and eyeful of, well, all of her. “Spirits, you could knock!” While the appropriate reaction would have been to turn away, Cara shamelessly takes in the lovely view. It is the Confessor who turns around but quickly realizes that doing so doesn’t really help matters. By now her face is crimson and she’s finding it difficult to form words -- especially with the hungry look Cara is giving her. “Go,” she finally manages to say, collapsing back onto the bed and covering her face with her hands. “Mord’Sith,” she mumbles, as her travel companion walks out the door.
“Good morning, Confessor,” Cara says with a smirk when Kahlan walks on deck. Kahlan starts to say something but thinks better of it and walks past her instead. She and the Captain discuss strategy while Jamal and Cara look on. It is decided that the two boys will be given weapons as well, but will remain below deck until signaled to do differently. Kahlan waves Cara over to discuss tactical details, for her conversation with the Captain made it clear that, in such matters, he is at a loss. He does, however, assure her that he and Jamal are both skilled swordsmen. The deckhands, Pau and Sebi, are strong enough and can hold their own in a bar fight, but have never faced a situation such as this one. By Cara’s estimation they are easily outnumbered ten to one but neither she nor the Confessor are at all uncomfortable with those odds.
It is just past midday when the other ship’s crew makes its move. Suddenly, they swing the boom causing the vessel to shift abruptly and gybe their sails for added momentum. Pau immediately takes the helm attempting to veer away from them. At the Captain’s indication, Pau turns the ship’s stern windward to alter its course. But given the other vessel’s speed, they know it is to no avail - their attackers are already within range to board their vessel.
“These pirates must get their fashion advice from the Sisters of the Dark,” Cara says to Kahlan over her shoulder. Kahlan chuckles at the remark, and with a nod signals that it is time to proceed with their plan. With her bow at the ready, Cara deftly releases arrow after arrow, not once missing her mark. The first wave, comprised of at least two dozen pirates, is down, but quickly replaced by twice as many. Although she manages to do away with several more, soon the deck is flooded with invaders. It is then that the real battle begins.
The Mother Confessor and the Mord’Sith, along with the four men, find themselves still badly outnumbered but charge on. The women instinctively fight back to back - their contrasting styles complementing each other to perfection. The Captain and his first mate are indeed skilled swordsmen capable of easily handling as many as three attackers at once, all the while making an effort to cover each other.
When Kahlan finds herself backed into a corner, it is Cara’s shiny new dagger that meets its mark, keeping Kahlan from harm. Pau motions for Sebi to take the helm and with a loud war cry, picks up an ax and swings like a madman. While his technique isn’t pretty, heads are soon rolling. It is, however, the Mother Confessor who quickly turns the odds in their favor. While the others are engaged in combat, she manages to wrap her hand around throat after throat, instantly turning foes into the most loyal of allies. One by one, they fall to their knees begging their Mistress to command them. The mere sight of it strikes such fear in the other pirates that many jump overboard in an attempt to swim back to their ship.
“Their Captain,” Sebi points out to Cara, who quickly releases an arrow leaving the pirates leaderless.
At that very moment, the Mord’Sith notices a tiny man whose garb clearly indicates he is out of place. She follows his gaze, finding that it is fixed on the Mother Confessor. Without hesitation, she dashes across the deck and, noticing the movement of his hands, she steps between them, deflecting the spell that had been meant for Kahlan. “No!” Kahlan calls out just as Cara is about to slit his throat, “He’s of more use to us confessed than dead.” As Kahlan wraps her hand around his throat, Cara nods and rejoins the fray.
With most of the pirates dead or attempting to swim back to their ship, the battle appears to be all but won. It is then that tragedy strikes. Jamal, whose voice is seldom heard, lets his sword fall to the ground and, releasing a bloodcurdling scream as he runs across the deck, drops to his knees next to the dead body of Captain Fernão de Magalhães who was run through with a sword moments earlier. Wrought with despair, Jamal tears the turban off his head -- a beautiful mane of jet black curls falling over his shoulders almost reaching his waist -- and weeps like a small child over the Captain’s body. It takes Cara a moment to realize what has happened, and when she does, she shoves him aside and drops to her knees beside the Captain. “Move,” she orders him, just as Kahlan rushes to her side, holding Jamal back by the shoulders. The Mord’Sith kneels beside the Captain, and with the Breath of Life, returns him to the world of the living.
His eyes open as he is restored to full health. “I was dead,” he says, looking up at them. With tears still running down his cheeks, Jamal tenderly kisses him on the lips and pulls him into an embrace.
“I thought you were lost to me forever,” he says, resting his forehead on the Captain’s before kissing him a second time.
“Oh,” Kahlan says, realizing that Fernão and Jamal are lovers.
Needless to say, at the sight of the leather-clad woman bringing the Captain back from the dead, the pirate ship quickly raises a white flag indicating the surrender of their vessel to Captain Magalhães. At that moment, the two young boys who had been below deck gingerly open the door. “Have the pirates attacked?” one of them asks, earning himself a hearty laugh from all of those still standing.
“That was a surprise,” Kahlan says, as she and Cara walk over to the confessed wizard. “Jamal and the Captain, I mean.”
“Perhaps to you,” Cara says, with a snort.
“You knew,” Kahlan says. “How?”
“You wore that to dinner,” Cara says, pointing at Kahlan’s dress. “The Captain talked to you the entire night, and not once did he look at those.” With her lips pursed, she points at Kahlan’s breasts with her chin. “Clearly, the man hasn’t the slightest interest in women.” Kahlan rolls her eyes but doesn’t dispute the Mord’Sith’s logic.
Moments later Kahlan finds herself surrounded by over a dozen confessed sailors and a wizard, all gazing at her adoringly and vying for her attention. While Cara is undoubtedly amused by the situation, Kahlan has no idea what to do with them, but at this moment, her primary concern is questioning the wizard.
That’s when he informs her that his purpose there was to be her murderer. He further explains that he is a Wizard of the Fourth Order with just enough magic to carry out his crime and transport himself back to his Master. The seer who had drawn the map for Kahlan was captured and tortured until she revealed Kahlan’s whereabouts, dying shortly after. That the price for being loyal to the Mother Confessor had been the seer’s life filled her with both anguish and rage. This, however, is not the time to let her emotions get the best of her.
“How did your former master find me?” she asks.
“The seer, Mistress, she identified this ship by name. She told the Lord Rahl you would be aboard Las Reinas del Mar,” he says, swelling with pride at being of service to his mistress.
Kahlan thinks for a moment, doing her best to ask as many relevant questions as she can. “Did the seer inform him that I am not traveling alone?”
“No, Mistress, she did not. The Lord Rahl thinks you alone are in pursuit of him.”
“Surely he required more than your word as evidence of the Mother Confessor’s demise,” Cara says to the wizard, having served Darken Rahl long enough to know that nothing was ever that easy with him.
With a nod from Kahlan, he promptly replies. “No, Mistress, the Lord Rahl expects me to return with your blood-drenched Confessor’s gown and the hair off your head.”
“My hair?” Kahlan asks with no small amount of panic in her voice.
“Yes, Mistress,” he replies, nodding enthusiastically.
Having stood just a few paces away, Jamal promptly stands beside her and says, “My Lady, what you and your friend have given me, I cannot repay, but this,” he says, bringing his hair to fall over his shoulders, “is yours.” Without hesitation, and before Kahlan can stop him, he pulls out his knife and cuts it all off.
“Jamal, your beautiful hair,” Kahlan says, cupping his cheek with her hand.
He tousles what’s left of his dark locks and smiles. “It will grow back, my Lady.” Giving her shoulder a light squeeze, he walks away.
“I’ll take care of the dress,” Cara says.
Once inside the cabin, she pulls the dress out of Kahlan’s pack and it occurs to her that its loss will feel to the Mother Confessor much how the loss of her Mord’Sith leathers felt to her. Having wished on more than one occasion that she’d kept a small piece of them, she cuts off part of the white gown’s hem with her dagger and tucks it away in her pocket.
Ever the pragmatist, Cara drags the dress along the deck which, due to the battle, in more than a little bloodied, then returns to Kahlan’s side. The expression on Kahlan’s face when she sees the dress is a mixture of sadness and anger. It is yet another loss to add to the growing list of losses she’s experienced since embarking on her journey to find the one true Seeker in a thousand years.
Turning back toward the wizard - afraid of what he might respond - Kahlan hesitates for a moment, then asks, “The Seeker, is he alive?”
“Yes, Mistress, Master Richard and the Lord Rahl are both in good health,” the Wizard replies.
Kahlan furrows her brow, tempted to inquire further, but decides against it. That he referred to the Seeker as Master Richard is unsettling but not something with which she can concern herself now.
Before handing the dress over to the wizard, Cara pulls out her dagger and slides it across her own palm, deep enough to draw a fair amount of blood.
“Cara, why?” Kahlan asks, reaching out for her bloody palm.
“In case Rahl checks for magic,” she replies matter-of-factly as she tosses the gown to the wizard.
“Wait,” Kahlan calls out to him, just as he’s about the cast the spell. “Tell no one, not even Richard, that I am alive.” Having stood next to her as she questioned the Wizard, Cara suspects Kahlan is concerned that the Seeker’s loyalties may have wavered.
When he disappears into a puff of smoke, she orders the rest of her confessed to obey the Captain, and never again take up arms if not to defend the innocent. With that, she and Cara set about helping the others deal with the aftermath of the pirate attack. Jamal, however, will not allow it. “No,” he says. “You have done enough for us already. Please take your rest and join us for dinner this evening.” Cara nods in agreement, for she had realized that confessing so many men and subsequently dealing with the wizard had left the Mother Confessor exhausted.
“Let me see your hand,” Kahlan says, reaching for it as soon as they walk into the cabin. “Spirits, Cara, it’s so soft and beautiful. Now it will have a scar.”
“It’s nothing,” she replies. “I have salve and bandages in my pack.”
“I could have used my own blood you know,” Kahlan admonishes, reaching into Cara’s pack for the supplies.
“Kahlan, stop. You’re paler than usual, if such a thing is even possible, and your hands are shaking from exhaustion. Lie down, please.” Given the look in Cara’s eyes and the way that she said it -- half order, half plea -- Kahlan cannot refuse her.
Kahlan loosens the laces of her dress a bit and collapses onto the bed. In less than a quarter of a candlemark, she is fast asleep. Cara takes her bath and soon after assumes her usual place on the tiny bed next to the Confessor, making a point of pulling the covers over them both. Kahlan’s sleep, however, is fitful. She mumbles incoherently, tossing and shaking as if caught in the throes of a nightmare. Cara suspects it is probably the result of having depleted too much of her magic. She thinks to wake her but decides on another course of action -- one that she’d learned from the Confessor just days earlier. Propping herself up on an elbow, she runs her hand up and down Kahlan’s back, all the while shushing her. Much to her surprise, this comforting tactic Kahlan taught her actually works. Her breathing soon evens out and her muscles relax. Cara continues the comforting until a knock and a voice on the other side of door informs her it is dinnertime.
“Kahlan,” she says, lightly squeezing her shoulder. “It’s time for our fish.”
“Fish?” Kahlan asks, snuggling up closer to Cara. “Do we have to?” After an extended silence, she finally concedes, “Fine, fish it is.”
Much to their surprise, while they took their rest, the crew had been quite industrious. The smaller vessel had already been attached to the larger one, the decks of both vessels are free of any signs of the violent confrontations, and more importantly, the galley of the pirate ship had apparently been far better stocked than Fernão’s. Kahlan and Cara look at each other wide-eyed realizing that the sumptuous aroma coming from the other vessel is certainly not fish. “Ladies, let me help you,” the Captain says, extending out his hand to the Mother Confessor so that she can board the other vessel; Cara follows close behind.
Dinner is a jubilant affair in which the former pirates and the crew of the fishing vessel exchange tall tales of the many perils they’ve faced at sea and swear by various deities that their sweetheart back home is by far the most beautiful of them all. Kahlan’s laughter reverberates across the deck where the Captain has arranged multiple tables alongside each other, comfortably accommodating the crew and their two lovely passengers. One of the young boys displays his musical talent by plucking at the strings of a lute, while his brother sings a melancholy love song that seems incongruent with the festivities, but at the same time moving and filled with enough emotion to have all of the men softly humming along.
Kahlan looks over at Cara only to finds her seat empty. Out of the corner of her eye she spots her standing with Jamal by the helm. The two of them have strikingly similar dispositions, and Cara having brought the Captain back to Jamal, seems to have led to an uncharacteristic closeness between them. Kahlan notices that Jamal hands the Mord’Sith a tightly wrapped bundle, then firmly shakes her hand. Soon after, they both walk back to the table, Cara taking her place next to Kahlan, and Jamal at the Captain’s side.
As the festivities wind down, the two women find themselves once again standing side by side, leaning on the taffrail. They can still hear the faint chatter and the sounds of laughter coming from the other side of the ship, but it is the hypnotic sound of waves gently crashing into the anchored vessel that holds them in place. The stars are concealed behind clouds and only a silvery sliver of moonlight faintly reveals itself. A gentle breeze sweeps by for a moment, carrying the smell of the sea mingled with the scent of Kahlan’s hair. Cara takes in a deep inhalation in the hopes of holding on to both for a while. Much to Kahlan’s surprise, it is Cara who breaks their silence. “I’ve never used it that way before,” she says, “the Breath of Life, I mean.” Kahlan turns to her with great interest but remains silent. “Its purpose is to revive the Lord Rahl or a fallen sister if they were to die in battle, and to serve as a training aid.”
“A training aid how?” Kahlan asks.
“When you are breaking someone, it’s a common practice to kill them and revive them multiple times.” She looks out at the water to avoid Kahlan’s gaze. “The pain of dying, it’s indescribable.” She pauses for a long moment trying to find a way to explain how this last time it was different. “I’ve never used it for something…good.” There is a raw honesty about the way she says it that makes Kahlan’s heart clench. It’s almost as if Cara never realized she was capable of doing something worthwhile, something selfless, and kind.
“Let’s call it a night,” Kahlan says, resting her arm across Cara’s shoulders. The Mord’Sith stiffens for a half a breath but doesn’t tear herself away.
Later that night when they are both drifting off to sleep, Kahlan asks, “Have you died before?”
“I have. Several times.” She says it as if doing so were commonplace.
Kahlan turns around so that they are facing each other and, holding back the impulse to cup Cara’s cheek, says, “Please don’t do it again.” She turns back around without saying another word.
***
Their next six weeks at sea are, for the most part, a leisurely affair. The time serves Kahlan well as building up her magical reserves took more time than she’d expected. Cara disguises her attentiveness with eye rolls and off-color remarks, but that she bring Kahlan tea and warm bread every morning, make her concern for her travel companion obvious. Kahlan rather enjoys Cara’s attempts at masking her little acts of kindness.
She’s also noticed that the Mord’Sith loves to learn. Cara sits for hours with Pau and Sebi learning to tie various nautical knots. She’s also consulted Jamal on how to navigate by the stars, and is trying to learn how to man the trowels. Most impressive are her exceptional ability to work with her hands and how quickly she absorbs knew information. Having spent the past few weeks observing the Mord’Sith, Kahlan has concluded that notion that Mord’Sith are merely weapons, is certainly not true of Cara.
When the Captain informs them that due to the increased agility of the larger vessel they’ve acquired they will make landfall sooner than they had originally planned, Cara and Kahlan prepare for another change, as well as one more round of farewells. For Cara, who has spent most of her life in a controlled environment surrounded primarily by her sisters, the unease it causes her is palpable. Kahlan decides to allow the Mord’Sith the space she needs to deal with her emotions. She’s learned to gauge Cara’s state of mind by simply watching how many times, in the span of a candlemark, she alternately squeezes and releases the hilt of her dagger. On this morning, she quickly loses count.
Kahlan is well-traveled and, having spent over two years on the road with the Seeker, constant change has come to be expected. It is the knowledge that with every passing day she is further away from Aydindril, from her people, that eats away at her peace of mind. There is also a different quality to the bonds she’s formed with the people with whom she’s crossed paths on this journey.
During the Keeper’s war she’d interacted with a myriad of people -- most of whom were great big balls of need, tugging at her sleeves as if she could save the world while simultaneously managing their lives. It was the Seeker’s inability to refuse even the most mundane of requests that had set that expectation, and she somehow found herself caught up in it. At the time, she had interpreted it as kindheartedness but now, through the clarity provided by distance and time, she realizes that much of it was a need for adulation. Richard loved playing the hero, and Kahlan would have been his damsel in distress of choice.
On this quest, however, Marina and the crew of Las Reinas del Mar had, time after time, given freely of themselves. They were not random faces clamoring for attention; they were friends whom perhaps she would never see again. And there is, of course, Cara, who is becoming an integral part of her life. Cara, who claims to be incapable of feelings but is nothing if not a raw tidal wave of emotions. Already Kahlan wonders what will become of her if they succeed in their mission.
It is in such musings that she loses herself, standing at the helm of the ship next to the Captain. “Your friend,” he says, breaking their long silence, “she is much like my Jamal. People like them are difficult to know, but impossible to not love.”
“Is that how it was with you and Jamal?” she asks, watching as his entire face softens at merely hearing his name.
“Yes. We were much younger then, thrown together by chance. I wanted to strangle him half the time but before I knew it, he made my heart his home, and fortunately never left.” Kahlan can’t help but smile at the way his entire demeanor changes. He seems younger somehow and in her mind’s eye she can see them, the sailor and his strikingly handsome young suitor. “There are things that people like them will never say, but they show you, day after day, until you can’t imagine how you ever managed to even breathe without them.” He gives her shoulder a squeeze, and she is certain that she will never forget this gregarious Captain with the kind eyes and his enigmatic first mate.
Just past midday, a knock on the cabin door signals that their time on Las Reinas del Mar is over. Sebi, already aboard the dinghy that will take them ashore, waits for Kahlan and Cara.
“Well, my beautiful friends, I will not say goodbye for I know we will meet again,” the Captain says, pulling Kahlan into a warm embrace and then patting the Mord’Sith firmly on the back. Jamal, sporting a newly shaved head, standing beside his Captain, bows his head at each of them. The rest of the crew members and the confessed former pirates wave cheerfully as they go about their duties.
Cara, who had not uttered a word for two days, hands Sebi their packs, then turns toward Kahlan and says, “These are good people.” While she nods and does her best to smile, Kahlan’s heart sinks, having recognized by the way Cara said it, that never before had she allowed for the possibility of good people. They both watch as the ship becomes smaller and the voices of those aboard fades into silence.
“Every day, we will pray for you both,” Sebi says, as he hands Cara their packs and helps Kahlan off the dinghy. Standing on the shoreline, they look out onto the vastness of the sea that, as it meets the horizon, becomes one with the sky.
Author: ortunata13
Pairing: ara/Kahlan
Rating: PG (rating will differ between chapters)
Warnings: This ain't your mama's Midlands
Word Count: 6567
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Most certainly, I do not own these characters.
Summary: In this chapter, Cara and Kahlan hit the high seas. This new environment throws Cara for a loop but Kahlan steps up to offer some comfort. More importantly, Cara and Kahlan get to be heroes. Yes, it's time for some pirate action! Oh and Cara gets to see Kahlan naked...lucky girl! Some feelings are also starting to crop up.
A/N: Aside from reading Treasure Island when I was seven (in Spanish btw), I know nothing of pirates. I haven't watched Pirates of the Caribbean or any other pirate-type films. In fact, I'm not even a very good swimmer. Therefore, I ask all you fic-reading pirates who I may have offended to please forgive me. If my crimes against the venerated pirate subculture are too great, I will walk the plank without protest.
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 part 1 | 6 part 2 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16
Chapter 3
Las Reinas Del Mar
Once on board, Jamal carries their packs to the small cabin they will share during the journey. The rest of the crew consists of two twin boys, no more than sixteen summers old, who the Captain introduces as his nephews, and two deckhands whose job it is to man the sails and the trawls. The Captain explains that they will travel across open water for two months before touching land again. The weather, he expects, will be harsh at times but not perilous. Given the small size of the crew, it is the recent rash of pirate attacks that concerns him the most, in particular because he is unaccustomed to traveling with women. When he brought the matter to Marina’s attention, she’d laughed and said she pitied any pirates who attempted to board a ship with the Mother Confessor and her Mord’Sith on board. Having never traveled far inland enough to truly understand what either of those things meant, he remained skeptical. A lifelong sailor hears many a tall tale, and those of the Midlands are no different from the rest.
Having settled in as best as they could given the tight quarters, Cara and Kahlan stand on deck side by side in a comfortable silence watching the sky darkens and the lights of Ushuaia fade into the distance. Cara wordlessly points toward the lighthouse as they sail past it. In less than two candlemarks of travel, they are surrounded by nothing but water. It is then that Abilio, or perhaps Alfonso -- it is impossible to tell them apart -- informs them that dinner will soon be served in the dining hall. Cara and Kahlan both grimace and say in unison, “Fish.”
Dinner is a pleasant affair in which the young boys speak of their sweethearts back home, and the deckhands of the many adventures they’ve shared with their Captain. Kahlan replies to questions about their journey but makes a point of being vague about its purpose. The Captain is as charming as he is attentive, and generously shares his finest bottle of wine with them. Cara nods and faintly smiles in all the right places but, much like Jamal, does not say a word the entire evening. Once the boys and the deckhands return to their respective duties, Kahlan and the Captain discuss a myriad of topics at great length. It happens that they share many common interests and, in Cara’s estimation, an incomparable passion for the sound of their own voices. She and Jamal wait patiently -- and silently -- for their tongues to tire, and when it finally happens, they are both quick to their feet.
“That was fun,” Kahlan says, still buzzing with excitement as they enter their cabin. “The Captain is such a lovely man, don’t you think?”
“Mm.” That is all Cara can manage in response. She quickly strips off her leathers and walks into the washroom. Kahlan is certain that by the end of their quest, she’ll be far more familiar with Cara’s nakedness than she is with her own.
“Shift, please.” She doesn’t have to turn around to know Cara walked back out without bothering to slip into it. “The Captain mentioned the temperature would drop tonight,” she adds as an incentive. Cara recognizes it as a ploy but decides to wear it anyway. Late into the night she’s grateful she did, for even with the heavy blankets and each other for warmth, she’s shivering. So much so, that Kahlan soon takes notice.
“What’s wrong?” Kahlan isn’t fully awake but the clacking sound of Cara’s teeth suffices as an explanation. “Here, come closer,” she says, pulling Cara into her arms. The Mord’Sith’s muscles tense for a moment, but the feel of Kahlan’s soft, warm skin melts away her tension. It isn’t long before they are both asleep again.
Cara wakes up first but remains perfectly still in the Confessor’s arms. She wonders what her Sisters would think if they were alive to see the sight of her, curled up in a tiny bed with her kind’s natural predator no less. Since Darken Rahl murdered her Sisters, she’s felt as if she is Mord’Sith and not Mord’Sith all at once. She can still feel the bond but it elicits disgust, not fealty. Serving the Lord Rahl was simple: follow orders and take your pleasure when the opportunity arises. Now she’s all alone in the world, no Lord Rahl, no Sisters of the Agiel, no one, save the Confessor, of course, but that will end with their quest. There’s no point thinking on such things since she probably won’t survive the quest anyway, but on the off chance that she does, the prospect of what will follow isn’t particularly appealing. Just then the Confessor shifts in such a way that Cara can feel her breath gently humming in her ear. It is a good sound, so she closes her eyes and allows herself the luxury of hope for better days, and the possibility of perhaps someday soon eating something other than fish.
By daybreak, they are both up on deck, watching the men prepare the ship for rougher waters. Walking past them, Jamal hands them each two pieces of bread with a fish pressed between them. “Sardines,” says Abilio, or perhaps Alfonso -- it is still impossible to tell. “They are very delicious,” he assures them. They both nod politely but even Kahlan can’t manage a smile after countless days of meal after meal consisting of nothing but fish.
When a sizable wave sprays water on them both, Cara suggests they return to their cabin to go over the documents Berdine gave her. After two years of traveling with Richard, Kahlan finds Cara’s focus on their mission refreshing. She’s had enough of random meandering and unnecessary detours to last her a lifetime. Still, she does miss the Seeker’s gentle expressions of affection, whether a smile or a light squeeze of her hand, Richard always made her feel loved. The lack of that emotional comfort -- and meal after meal of fish -- adds to the challenges of this quest.
After several candlemarks of sifting through maps and illustrations, Kahlan looks over at Cara. Noticing that something is off, she asks, “Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course I am,” Cara snaps back.
Kahlan furrows her brow, tilting her head for a long moment. “You look a bit…green,” she finally says.
“I’m fine. Excuse me.” With that, she’s on her feet and out the door -- Kahlan, of course, follows. It is all Cara can do to achieve the deck before emptying the contents of her stomach overboard. While Kahlan had noticed the increased swaying of the vessel, having been unaffected by it, she hadn’t given it any thought.
“Your friend hasn’t gotten her sea legs yet,” says one of the deckhands, turning toward Cara and taking hold of her forearm.
“I’m fine,” Cara says, emphatically tearing away from his grip, only to be spared the humiliation of crumbling to the ground by the Confessor’s quick reflexes.
“Thank you,” Kahlan tells him, “I’ll take care of her.”
Once they are back in the cabin, Kahlan lowers Cara onto the bed where she promptly covers her face with a pillow. The Confessor holds her tongue for as long as she can -- which isn’t very long at all. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” Cara doesn’t answer, of course. “You’ll suffocate if you don’t remove that pillow from your face,” Kahlan points out. Still not receiving a response, she releases a long-suffering sigh and lies alongside her, running her hand up and down Cara’s back.
After the third or fourth pass, Cara’s head snaps up, glaring at her. “What are you doing?”
“You’re sick; I’m comforting you. What else would I be doing?” Cara wants desperately to protest but with the way her stomach is flip-flopping and her head is spinning in every direction, she hasn’t the strength. Kahlan continues her ministrations until the Mord’Sith falls asleep. She then carefully tucks her in so as to spare her a chill and removes the pillow from her face, all the while wondering if all the Mord’Sith Darken Rahl killed looked as angelic as this one in their sleep. Kahlan decides to forgo her fish ration for the evening, choosing instead to drift into sleep next to Cara.
For the next few days, the rough waters continue to wreak havoc on the Mord’Sith and, truth be told, Kahlan is starting to worry. She’s uncharacteristically pale, and the dullness in her eyes is undoubtedly caused by her inability to hold down food. “Here, drink some tea.” Kahlan supports her neck as she takes in tiny sips. That, for the first time, she isn’t met with a death stare actually worries Kahlan even more. The next day, when Cara finally manages to hold down a bowl of fish broth, it takes every morsel of the Confessor’s self-control to not plant a big sloppy kiss on her face. Cara is all she has right now, and facing the uncertainty of what lies ahead without her is more than she can bear.
“You look much better, and you’ll be happy to learn that the waters are considerably calmer today,” Kahlan says, perched on the edge of the bed watching Cara stretch and yawn. Cara pulls the covers over her head and after a moment mumbles something that sounds suspiciously similar to an expression of gratitude. Kahlan unceremoniously pulls off Cara’s covers and says, “Enough lounging around. Let’s go eat our fish.” That last part earns her a grunt and an eye roll -- both evidence that the Mord’Sith is on the mend.
On deck, they find the crew huddled around the mast, Jamal at its very top, peering through a spyglass. The Mother Confessor is no stranger to conflict and already she senses that something is off. “Is everything all right, Captain?”
“These waters have seen their fair share of pirates of late. Jamal spied a suspicious vessel earlier.” Kahlan clearly sees through his calm demeanor and turns to the Mord’Sith standing at her side.
“There could be trouble,” Kahlan tells her, guiding her back to the cabin by the elbow. “Pirates,” she adds when they are inside, “you’ll need this.” She pulls out a package from her pack that Cara recognizes as the one she’d clutched in her hand when she walked out of the shop in Ushuaia. “Go ahead, open it. I bought it for you.” Cara tilts her head, raising an eyebrow, not knowing exactly what is expected of her. “It’s a gift,” Kahlan says.
“A gift?” She hadn’t received one since her ninth summer, when her mother made her a dress in celebration of the anniversary of her birth. “For me?”
“Yes, of course it’s for you. Who else would it be for? Go on, open it.” The Confessor smiles in anticipation, hoping she made the right choice.
“It’s an excellent weapon,” Cara says, tossing the dagger from hand to hand, gauging its weight. “Why?” she asks.
Kahlan breaks her gaze for moment. “I saw you reach for your agiel several times, only to find nothing there. I thought perhaps it would help.”
Cara furrows her brow, staring at her for a long moment, not sure what to say. “You don’t like it?” the Confessor asks.
“I do, very much.” That’s when she remembers the words for dealing with such situations. “Thank you.”
Kahlan releases a breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding and says, “You’re welcome. I chose it because the hilt is wrapped in red leather. I thought maybe…” She trails off, not wanting to add to the awkwardness of the moment. Cara nods and holsters the dagger then looks up at Kahlan, who nods back at her.
“Maybe we should go,” Cara says, pointing toward the door.
The Captain soon informs Kahlan that the approaching vessel is flying a distress flag which, by maritime custom, means they are bound by fraternal honor to provide assistance. Not fully understanding that he stands before two formidable warriors in their own right, he attempts to downplay the potential volatility of the situation. Cara and Kahlan exchange a meaningful glance and set about examining the perimeter of the vessel. Neither of them has ever engaged in combat under such circumstances but remain unfazed by the possibility of doing so. Cara has taken to clutching and alternately releasing the hilt of her new weapon and, by the glint in her eyes, Kahlan suspects she’s actually looking forward to a good fight.
There is, however, a battle that needs to be fought even before the threatening vessel reaches them. “Cara, you have to,” the Mother Confessor says emphatically, in that authoritative voice she usually saves for her foes.
“No, absolutely not.” Cara crosses her arms over her chest and plunks down on the bed.
“Fine, then you’ll have to remain in the cabin. I won’t allow you to do otherwise.”
“You won’t allow me,” Cara echoes back with no small amount of righteous indignation. That’s when it happens, the Confessor’s steely countenance gives way to a sad, almost vulnerable look that Cara has no idea how to handle. Her first impulse is to strike her but, fortunately, she reconsiders. Instead, she paces before the bed glancing over at her several times, finding no change. Clenching her fists until her knuckles turn white, she grits her teeth and says, “Fine, I’ll eat the stupid fish.” Kahlan sighs and hands her the plate.
“Thank you, Cara,” she says, in a whisper, looking at Cara through her lashes. “We certainly can’t go into battle with you not having eaten in three days.”
By late evening, the approaching ship is faintly visible even to the naked eye. Jamal identifies it as a sloop, a vessel popular with pirates in these waters, and also known for its ability to easily reach high speeds. That the vessel can hold a crew of as many as twenty to seventy men is causing no small amount of concern among the Captain and his crew. Theirs is a fishing vessel that has seen the occasional scuffle but never a bona fide battle.
Cara and Kahlan stand side by side leaning on the taffrail. The waters are eerily calm on this moonless night, and the stars light the night sky in such a way that they can see their reflections shimmering on the surface of the water. The Mord’Sith’s short hair is tousled about by the steady breeze as she looks over at the Confessor who is gazing out at the vastness of the sea. Unlike the others aboard the small vessel, Kahlan isn’t at all anxious or thrown off by this unexpected turn of events. Much like Cara, she’s merely considering every possible scenario and how to turn it in their favor. Kahlan Amnell is a beautiful woman, but also a woman of strength and courage, a woman deserving of respect.
“You should get some sleep,” Cara says, “I’ll stand watch with Jamal.” Kahlan thinks to argue for a moment but, having won the fish battle, she simply nods and allows Cara the small victory. It isn’t so bad traveling with a Mord’Sith; it isn’t so bad at all.
***
By daybreak, Cara and Jamal are both certain that the sloop has as its purpose to board their vessel -- Jamal has spent enough time at sea to recognize the difference between a crew in distress and one preparing for an assault. With a quiet glance between them, Cara rushes to the cabin to fetch the Confessor who is already up, but most certainly not ready to go on deck.
“Cara!” she says, giving the Mord’Sith and eyeful of, well, all of her. “Spirits, you could knock!” While the appropriate reaction would have been to turn away, Cara shamelessly takes in the lovely view. It is the Confessor who turns around but quickly realizes that doing so doesn’t really help matters. By now her face is crimson and she’s finding it difficult to form words -- especially with the hungry look Cara is giving her. “Go,” she finally manages to say, collapsing back onto the bed and covering her face with her hands. “Mord’Sith,” she mumbles, as her travel companion walks out the door.
“Good morning, Confessor,” Cara says with a smirk when Kahlan walks on deck. Kahlan starts to say something but thinks better of it and walks past her instead. She and the Captain discuss strategy while Jamal and Cara look on. It is decided that the two boys will be given weapons as well, but will remain below deck until signaled to do differently. Kahlan waves Cara over to discuss tactical details, for her conversation with the Captain made it clear that, in such matters, he is at a loss. He does, however, assure her that he and Jamal are both skilled swordsmen. The deckhands, Pau and Sebi, are strong enough and can hold their own in a bar fight, but have never faced a situation such as this one. By Cara’s estimation they are easily outnumbered ten to one but neither she nor the Confessor are at all uncomfortable with those odds.
It is just past midday when the other ship’s crew makes its move. Suddenly, they swing the boom causing the vessel to shift abruptly and gybe their sails for added momentum. Pau immediately takes the helm attempting to veer away from them. At the Captain’s indication, Pau turns the ship’s stern windward to alter its course. But given the other vessel’s speed, they know it is to no avail - their attackers are already within range to board their vessel.
“These pirates must get their fashion advice from the Sisters of the Dark,” Cara says to Kahlan over her shoulder. Kahlan chuckles at the remark, and with a nod signals that it is time to proceed with their plan. With her bow at the ready, Cara deftly releases arrow after arrow, not once missing her mark. The first wave, comprised of at least two dozen pirates, is down, but quickly replaced by twice as many. Although she manages to do away with several more, soon the deck is flooded with invaders. It is then that the real battle begins.
The Mother Confessor and the Mord’Sith, along with the four men, find themselves still badly outnumbered but charge on. The women instinctively fight back to back - their contrasting styles complementing each other to perfection. The Captain and his first mate are indeed skilled swordsmen capable of easily handling as many as three attackers at once, all the while making an effort to cover each other.
When Kahlan finds herself backed into a corner, it is Cara’s shiny new dagger that meets its mark, keeping Kahlan from harm. Pau motions for Sebi to take the helm and with a loud war cry, picks up an ax and swings like a madman. While his technique isn’t pretty, heads are soon rolling. It is, however, the Mother Confessor who quickly turns the odds in their favor. While the others are engaged in combat, she manages to wrap her hand around throat after throat, instantly turning foes into the most loyal of allies. One by one, they fall to their knees begging their Mistress to command them. The mere sight of it strikes such fear in the other pirates that many jump overboard in an attempt to swim back to their ship.
“Their Captain,” Sebi points out to Cara, who quickly releases an arrow leaving the pirates leaderless.
At that very moment, the Mord’Sith notices a tiny man whose garb clearly indicates he is out of place. She follows his gaze, finding that it is fixed on the Mother Confessor. Without hesitation, she dashes across the deck and, noticing the movement of his hands, she steps between them, deflecting the spell that had been meant for Kahlan. “No!” Kahlan calls out just as Cara is about to slit his throat, “He’s of more use to us confessed than dead.” As Kahlan wraps her hand around his throat, Cara nods and rejoins the fray.
With most of the pirates dead or attempting to swim back to their ship, the battle appears to be all but won. It is then that tragedy strikes. Jamal, whose voice is seldom heard, lets his sword fall to the ground and, releasing a bloodcurdling scream as he runs across the deck, drops to his knees next to the dead body of Captain Fernão de Magalhães who was run through with a sword moments earlier. Wrought with despair, Jamal tears the turban off his head -- a beautiful mane of jet black curls falling over his shoulders almost reaching his waist -- and weeps like a small child over the Captain’s body. It takes Cara a moment to realize what has happened, and when she does, she shoves him aside and drops to her knees beside the Captain. “Move,” she orders him, just as Kahlan rushes to her side, holding Jamal back by the shoulders. The Mord’Sith kneels beside the Captain, and with the Breath of Life, returns him to the world of the living.
His eyes open as he is restored to full health. “I was dead,” he says, looking up at them. With tears still running down his cheeks, Jamal tenderly kisses him on the lips and pulls him into an embrace.
“I thought you were lost to me forever,” he says, resting his forehead on the Captain’s before kissing him a second time.
“Oh,” Kahlan says, realizing that Fernão and Jamal are lovers.
Needless to say, at the sight of the leather-clad woman bringing the Captain back from the dead, the pirate ship quickly raises a white flag indicating the surrender of their vessel to Captain Magalhães. At that moment, the two young boys who had been below deck gingerly open the door. “Have the pirates attacked?” one of them asks, earning himself a hearty laugh from all of those still standing.
“That was a surprise,” Kahlan says, as she and Cara walk over to the confessed wizard. “Jamal and the Captain, I mean.”
“Perhaps to you,” Cara says, with a snort.
“You knew,” Kahlan says. “How?”
“You wore that to dinner,” Cara says, pointing at Kahlan’s dress. “The Captain talked to you the entire night, and not once did he look at those.” With her lips pursed, she points at Kahlan’s breasts with her chin. “Clearly, the man hasn’t the slightest interest in women.” Kahlan rolls her eyes but doesn’t dispute the Mord’Sith’s logic.
Moments later Kahlan finds herself surrounded by over a dozen confessed sailors and a wizard, all gazing at her adoringly and vying for her attention. While Cara is undoubtedly amused by the situation, Kahlan has no idea what to do with them, but at this moment, her primary concern is questioning the wizard.
That’s when he informs her that his purpose there was to be her murderer. He further explains that he is a Wizard of the Fourth Order with just enough magic to carry out his crime and transport himself back to his Master. The seer who had drawn the map for Kahlan was captured and tortured until she revealed Kahlan’s whereabouts, dying shortly after. That the price for being loyal to the Mother Confessor had been the seer’s life filled her with both anguish and rage. This, however, is not the time to let her emotions get the best of her.
“How did your former master find me?” she asks.
“The seer, Mistress, she identified this ship by name. She told the Lord Rahl you would be aboard Las Reinas del Mar,” he says, swelling with pride at being of service to his mistress.
Kahlan thinks for a moment, doing her best to ask as many relevant questions as she can. “Did the seer inform him that I am not traveling alone?”
“No, Mistress, she did not. The Lord Rahl thinks you alone are in pursuit of him.”
“Surely he required more than your word as evidence of the Mother Confessor’s demise,” Cara says to the wizard, having served Darken Rahl long enough to know that nothing was ever that easy with him.
With a nod from Kahlan, he promptly replies. “No, Mistress, the Lord Rahl expects me to return with your blood-drenched Confessor’s gown and the hair off your head.”
“My hair?” Kahlan asks with no small amount of panic in her voice.
“Yes, Mistress,” he replies, nodding enthusiastically.
Having stood just a few paces away, Jamal promptly stands beside her and says, “My Lady, what you and your friend have given me, I cannot repay, but this,” he says, bringing his hair to fall over his shoulders, “is yours.” Without hesitation, and before Kahlan can stop him, he pulls out his knife and cuts it all off.
“Jamal, your beautiful hair,” Kahlan says, cupping his cheek with her hand.
He tousles what’s left of his dark locks and smiles. “It will grow back, my Lady.” Giving her shoulder a light squeeze, he walks away.
“I’ll take care of the dress,” Cara says.
Once inside the cabin, she pulls the dress out of Kahlan’s pack and it occurs to her that its loss will feel to the Mother Confessor much how the loss of her Mord’Sith leathers felt to her. Having wished on more than one occasion that she’d kept a small piece of them, she cuts off part of the white gown’s hem with her dagger and tucks it away in her pocket.
Ever the pragmatist, Cara drags the dress along the deck which, due to the battle, in more than a little bloodied, then returns to Kahlan’s side. The expression on Kahlan’s face when she sees the dress is a mixture of sadness and anger. It is yet another loss to add to the growing list of losses she’s experienced since embarking on her journey to find the one true Seeker in a thousand years.
Turning back toward the wizard - afraid of what he might respond - Kahlan hesitates for a moment, then asks, “The Seeker, is he alive?”
“Yes, Mistress, Master Richard and the Lord Rahl are both in good health,” the Wizard replies.
Kahlan furrows her brow, tempted to inquire further, but decides against it. That he referred to the Seeker as Master Richard is unsettling but not something with which she can concern herself now.
Before handing the dress over to the wizard, Cara pulls out her dagger and slides it across her own palm, deep enough to draw a fair amount of blood.
“Cara, why?” Kahlan asks, reaching out for her bloody palm.
“In case Rahl checks for magic,” she replies matter-of-factly as she tosses the gown to the wizard.
“Wait,” Kahlan calls out to him, just as he’s about the cast the spell. “Tell no one, not even Richard, that I am alive.” Having stood next to her as she questioned the Wizard, Cara suspects Kahlan is concerned that the Seeker’s loyalties may have wavered.
When he disappears into a puff of smoke, she orders the rest of her confessed to obey the Captain, and never again take up arms if not to defend the innocent. With that, she and Cara set about helping the others deal with the aftermath of the pirate attack. Jamal, however, will not allow it. “No,” he says. “You have done enough for us already. Please take your rest and join us for dinner this evening.” Cara nods in agreement, for she had realized that confessing so many men and subsequently dealing with the wizard had left the Mother Confessor exhausted.
“Let me see your hand,” Kahlan says, reaching for it as soon as they walk into the cabin. “Spirits, Cara, it’s so soft and beautiful. Now it will have a scar.”
“It’s nothing,” she replies. “I have salve and bandages in my pack.”
“I could have used my own blood you know,” Kahlan admonishes, reaching into Cara’s pack for the supplies.
“Kahlan, stop. You’re paler than usual, if such a thing is even possible, and your hands are shaking from exhaustion. Lie down, please.” Given the look in Cara’s eyes and the way that she said it -- half order, half plea -- Kahlan cannot refuse her.
Kahlan loosens the laces of her dress a bit and collapses onto the bed. In less than a quarter of a candlemark, she is fast asleep. Cara takes her bath and soon after assumes her usual place on the tiny bed next to the Confessor, making a point of pulling the covers over them both. Kahlan’s sleep, however, is fitful. She mumbles incoherently, tossing and shaking as if caught in the throes of a nightmare. Cara suspects it is probably the result of having depleted too much of her magic. She thinks to wake her but decides on another course of action -- one that she’d learned from the Confessor just days earlier. Propping herself up on an elbow, she runs her hand up and down Kahlan’s back, all the while shushing her. Much to her surprise, this comforting tactic Kahlan taught her actually works. Her breathing soon evens out and her muscles relax. Cara continues the comforting until a knock and a voice on the other side of door informs her it is dinnertime.
“Kahlan,” she says, lightly squeezing her shoulder. “It’s time for our fish.”
“Fish?” Kahlan asks, snuggling up closer to Cara. “Do we have to?” After an extended silence, she finally concedes, “Fine, fish it is.”
Much to their surprise, while they took their rest, the crew had been quite industrious. The smaller vessel had already been attached to the larger one, the decks of both vessels are free of any signs of the violent confrontations, and more importantly, the galley of the pirate ship had apparently been far better stocked than Fernão’s. Kahlan and Cara look at each other wide-eyed realizing that the sumptuous aroma coming from the other vessel is certainly not fish. “Ladies, let me help you,” the Captain says, extending out his hand to the Mother Confessor so that she can board the other vessel; Cara follows close behind.
Dinner is a jubilant affair in which the former pirates and the crew of the fishing vessel exchange tall tales of the many perils they’ve faced at sea and swear by various deities that their sweetheart back home is by far the most beautiful of them all. Kahlan’s laughter reverberates across the deck where the Captain has arranged multiple tables alongside each other, comfortably accommodating the crew and their two lovely passengers. One of the young boys displays his musical talent by plucking at the strings of a lute, while his brother sings a melancholy love song that seems incongruent with the festivities, but at the same time moving and filled with enough emotion to have all of the men softly humming along.
Kahlan looks over at Cara only to finds her seat empty. Out of the corner of her eye she spots her standing with Jamal by the helm. The two of them have strikingly similar dispositions, and Cara having brought the Captain back to Jamal, seems to have led to an uncharacteristic closeness between them. Kahlan notices that Jamal hands the Mord’Sith a tightly wrapped bundle, then firmly shakes her hand. Soon after, they both walk back to the table, Cara taking her place next to Kahlan, and Jamal at the Captain’s side.
As the festivities wind down, the two women find themselves once again standing side by side, leaning on the taffrail. They can still hear the faint chatter and the sounds of laughter coming from the other side of the ship, but it is the hypnotic sound of waves gently crashing into the anchored vessel that holds them in place. The stars are concealed behind clouds and only a silvery sliver of moonlight faintly reveals itself. A gentle breeze sweeps by for a moment, carrying the smell of the sea mingled with the scent of Kahlan’s hair. Cara takes in a deep inhalation in the hopes of holding on to both for a while. Much to Kahlan’s surprise, it is Cara who breaks their silence. “I’ve never used it that way before,” she says, “the Breath of Life, I mean.” Kahlan turns to her with great interest but remains silent. “Its purpose is to revive the Lord Rahl or a fallen sister if they were to die in battle, and to serve as a training aid.”
“A training aid how?” Kahlan asks.
“When you are breaking someone, it’s a common practice to kill them and revive them multiple times.” She looks out at the water to avoid Kahlan’s gaze. “The pain of dying, it’s indescribable.” She pauses for a long moment trying to find a way to explain how this last time it was different. “I’ve never used it for something…good.” There is a raw honesty about the way she says it that makes Kahlan’s heart clench. It’s almost as if Cara never realized she was capable of doing something worthwhile, something selfless, and kind.
“Let’s call it a night,” Kahlan says, resting her arm across Cara’s shoulders. The Mord’Sith stiffens for a half a breath but doesn’t tear herself away.
Later that night when they are both drifting off to sleep, Kahlan asks, “Have you died before?”
“I have. Several times.” She says it as if doing so were commonplace.
Kahlan turns around so that they are facing each other and, holding back the impulse to cup Cara’s cheek, says, “Please don’t do it again.” She turns back around without saying another word.
***
Their next six weeks at sea are, for the most part, a leisurely affair. The time serves Kahlan well as building up her magical reserves took more time than she’d expected. Cara disguises her attentiveness with eye rolls and off-color remarks, but that she bring Kahlan tea and warm bread every morning, make her concern for her travel companion obvious. Kahlan rather enjoys Cara’s attempts at masking her little acts of kindness.
She’s also noticed that the Mord’Sith loves to learn. Cara sits for hours with Pau and Sebi learning to tie various nautical knots. She’s also consulted Jamal on how to navigate by the stars, and is trying to learn how to man the trowels. Most impressive are her exceptional ability to work with her hands and how quickly she absorbs knew information. Having spent the past few weeks observing the Mord’Sith, Kahlan has concluded that notion that Mord’Sith are merely weapons, is certainly not true of Cara.
When the Captain informs them that due to the increased agility of the larger vessel they’ve acquired they will make landfall sooner than they had originally planned, Cara and Kahlan prepare for another change, as well as one more round of farewells. For Cara, who has spent most of her life in a controlled environment surrounded primarily by her sisters, the unease it causes her is palpable. Kahlan decides to allow the Mord’Sith the space she needs to deal with her emotions. She’s learned to gauge Cara’s state of mind by simply watching how many times, in the span of a candlemark, she alternately squeezes and releases the hilt of her dagger. On this morning, she quickly loses count.
Kahlan is well-traveled and, having spent over two years on the road with the Seeker, constant change has come to be expected. It is the knowledge that with every passing day she is further away from Aydindril, from her people, that eats away at her peace of mind. There is also a different quality to the bonds she’s formed with the people with whom she’s crossed paths on this journey.
During the Keeper’s war she’d interacted with a myriad of people -- most of whom were great big balls of need, tugging at her sleeves as if she could save the world while simultaneously managing their lives. It was the Seeker’s inability to refuse even the most mundane of requests that had set that expectation, and she somehow found herself caught up in it. At the time, she had interpreted it as kindheartedness but now, through the clarity provided by distance and time, she realizes that much of it was a need for adulation. Richard loved playing the hero, and Kahlan would have been his damsel in distress of choice.
On this quest, however, Marina and the crew of Las Reinas del Mar had, time after time, given freely of themselves. They were not random faces clamoring for attention; they were friends whom perhaps she would never see again. And there is, of course, Cara, who is becoming an integral part of her life. Cara, who claims to be incapable of feelings but is nothing if not a raw tidal wave of emotions. Already Kahlan wonders what will become of her if they succeed in their mission.
It is in such musings that she loses herself, standing at the helm of the ship next to the Captain. “Your friend,” he says, breaking their long silence, “she is much like my Jamal. People like them are difficult to know, but impossible to not love.”
“Is that how it was with you and Jamal?” she asks, watching as his entire face softens at merely hearing his name.
“Yes. We were much younger then, thrown together by chance. I wanted to strangle him half the time but before I knew it, he made my heart his home, and fortunately never left.” Kahlan can’t help but smile at the way his entire demeanor changes. He seems younger somehow and in her mind’s eye she can see them, the sailor and his strikingly handsome young suitor. “There are things that people like them will never say, but they show you, day after day, until you can’t imagine how you ever managed to even breathe without them.” He gives her shoulder a squeeze, and she is certain that she will never forget this gregarious Captain with the kind eyes and his enigmatic first mate.
Just past midday, a knock on the cabin door signals that their time on Las Reinas del Mar is over. Sebi, already aboard the dinghy that will take them ashore, waits for Kahlan and Cara.
“Well, my beautiful friends, I will not say goodbye for I know we will meet again,” the Captain says, pulling Kahlan into a warm embrace and then patting the Mord’Sith firmly on the back. Jamal, sporting a newly shaved head, standing beside his Captain, bows his head at each of them. The rest of the crew members and the confessed former pirates wave cheerfully as they go about their duties.
Cara, who had not uttered a word for two days, hands Sebi their packs, then turns toward Kahlan and says, “These are good people.” While she nods and does her best to smile, Kahlan’s heart sinks, having recognized by the way Cara said it, that never before had she allowed for the possibility of good people. They both watch as the ship becomes smaller and the voices of those aboard fades into silence.
“Every day, we will pray for you both,” Sebi says, as he hands Cara their packs and helps Kahlan off the dinghy. Standing on the shoreline, they look out onto the vastness of the sea that, as it meets the horizon, becomes one with the sky.