28 May, 2008
Before you read the following chapter that hopefully
entices you to want to read further, I wanted to update you on the progress of the sequel, Sightless. I also wanted you to know a little bit about how I write. First, I have very little control over Catrìona
Robertson. She leads me through the story - to sometimes very strange places. There's a lot of time spent asking whether
she really wants to go there or not. Most of the time she wins out and I'm always surprised that somehow it leads to a
better story. My writing "pauses" aren't due to her not having anything to say, but rather to my control issues.
Sightless
will be published late this summer. If you would like to know just when Sightless
will be published, send me an email via the link above and I'll put you on the list for advanced copies.
Now, onto the story...
An Eyes of
Garnet Novel: Sightless © Mary Duncan 2007
The space was dark and moist, smelling of sweat and ale. Cat knew she was in the
hold of a ship. Whose ship it was, and where it was going, were two questions that first came to her mind. When she tried
to sit up, she realized her hands were bound and she was attached to a pole. Wriggling herself to get into a sitting position,
Cat drew her legs together to see if her dirk was still there. It was, but she had no idea of how to remove it from its sheath
with her hands tied in back of her. Her head ached terribly as she tried to remember the last thing that happened. It wasn’t
the blow to her head, but that’s what it must have been.
Closing her eyes to stave off a wave of nausea, she rested her head against the pole for support. Cat needed to locate her
captors and the only way to do that was through her mind. It would have to wait until her head stopped pounding first.
After a while her head cleared. She was ready. Releasing herself from her
body, she was now free to roam. She went up on deck in search of the name of the ship and was almost positive it was going
to be the Rose Ellen, but it wasn’t. Charles must be very well connected to hire someone else to do his dirty work and
take her … where?
The ship cut through the
waves as effortlessly as air. The wind was icy and the shadows of the sails danced along the deck. She searched the faces
for someone she recognized. It was becoming clear that they knew her, but she didn’t know them. She walked back below
decks to locate the captain’s quarters, hoping for an indication of her captor and destination.
The door to his small cabin was open. He sat facing the window, watching
the foamy sea play along the back of the hull. His hair was the color of honey and fell freely around his shoulders. His frame
was small and wiry, thin through the hips and lean legged. He must have sensed her there, because he turned around. She knew
he couldn’t see her, but she now knew who he was. He was in line at the office where she received the news about her
father. There was no evidence that he was looking for her then, but he must have worked for Charles, since she was now a captive
aboard this ship. The quest for who was complete, but where she would be relocated was still a mystery.
As he walked past her and closed the door, Cat stepped further into his
quarters to read his ledger. At the top of the page, it read, Marianne, 23 December,
1746. After a few insignificant recordings of what went on during the first watch, Cat found her answer. They were bound for
Virginia. She had no idea where Virginia was, but knew it wasn’t where she wanted to go. This posed another question.
How could she get off this ship?
Suddenly, she was back in her body down in the dark hold. Cat rested for a few minutes,
then decided it was now or never to release her bindings. In her mind, she saw the rope that tied her hands together. She
had done this a few times before—moving objects with her mind—but never on herself. It was a strange procedure,
feeling the ropes move on her hands from behind her, but she soon had them loose enough to slip out of. Now that she was free,
what was she going to do? Were there places to hide? Not for long, she imagined.
Cat got up and stretched, letting circulation return into her limbs. She rubbed her arms vigorously to eliminate
the prickly feeling of being asleep. Her cloak wasn’t offering much in the way of warmth; she had been cold for too
long. She wished for some light to get her bearings inside the small confines, but the only glimmer came from under the door.
She felt her way around the place, stubbing her toe on a crate. Ah, a place to sit. Anything was better than the dampness
of the deck floor.
Edging her way to the door, she
placed her ear to the wood and heard muffled voices in the cabin next to hers. They were whispering and she couldn’t
make out what they were saying, but the hair started to rise on her neck. Not a good sign. Pulling up her skirts, she unsheathed
her dirk and stood behind the door. Slowly, the latch was lifted and with a slight creak, it opened. The light hadn’t
hit where she should have been sitting yet, but she saw two shadows in the flood of brightness that illuminated the floor.
A head poked in and she grabbed his hair and yanked him into the cabin.
The second man hesitated for a moment, but in pure instinct entered the cabin to see what had happened to his mate. When they
were both inside, Cat kicked the door shut. She had her dirk under the first man’s neck. He was either very short or
just a boy, because his head only came up to her chest.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” he cried. His voice cracked as teenagers’ do.
His friend, though Cat could not see him, was already trying to get the door opened.
He was nearly whimpering in fright fiddling with the latch.
“Stop,” Cat hissed, “Or I’ll slit his throat.”
The boy stopped fighting with the door, but his whimpering increased. He was actually crying.
“Do ye hae a lantern wi’ ye?” Cat asked.
“Aye,” said the boy against her chest.
Cat released him and told him to light it, keeping the point of her dirk
between his shoulder blades. When the lantern was lit, she saw clearly that they were indeed just boys, maybe in their early
teens.
“And what might the two o’ ye
been plannin’ to do wi’ me when ye got a chance?” Cat mocked, staring at the wetness on the front of the
boy’s pants who was trying to escape.
“N-n-nothin’,
miss. Really!” he whined.
“And what about
ye?” Cat asked the lad at the end of her dirk, giving him a little poke.
He exuded a little more bravery and cockily said, “We were goin’ ta scare ya an’ torment
ya some.”
Stifling a laugh, Cat said, “Oh
really? And then what? What if I screamed and someone came in to see what ye were doin’ to me?”
He just shrugged, not having thought his plan out all the way through.
“Well, I’ll be glad for the comp’ny, lads. Go hae a seat
at the pole. Ye’ll hae to be tied up, but I’m hopin’ ye wilna hae to be gagged as well,” she said,
indicating they had a choice in the matter.
The lads
shook their heads vigorously to the gag. Cat tied their hands behind them and sat on the crate, placing the dirk beside her
in plain sight.
“So tell me of Virginia.”
