Miracle at Hell – Chapter 6 –

Chapter 6. The Jahta.
Pelerines’ Island, in the archipelago of the same name, Horbitt 17142.
We recycled the grandfather’s boat to avoid having to use my Suka; we dismantled it entirely and build it again with some modified parts. The jahta’s assembling was over and it was the most glittering boat of the harbor.
“I cannot believe it, Father, we have already done it. It is a beautiful boat, it isn’t?”
“Indeed son, it is a true wonder. It will take you wherever you want.”
It was the longest time I could enjoy the company of my father, who almost couldn’t stop at the island because of his responsibilities at the Polinsular Senate, in the Archipelago Thuaidh. We have been building that boat during a horbitt, it was well equipped: a sentry box protected to drive the ship’s wheel; a kitchen that should also act as office, a small bedroom and a turret with a double barreled machine gun… Because this was a very dangerous mission, perhaps too much for a teenager, but tradition and the survival of our race demanded it, it was the commitment we had with the Goddesses Neitsi and we could not break it. All the people of the island contributed in their own way to build the jahta and in my training, but overall my father brought his experience in this operation. The jahta, as it could not be otherwise, did not contain any iron element due to the extraordinary magnetism of rocks that surrounded that infernal destination. Our family was chosen from among the people Firstten, were the mythical Junakkson, legendary adventurers, the great saviors of our race. The firstlings of our family thousand horbitts have risked their lives since, by a secret agreement between our people and the Virgin Mothers, they went to find a cure for our women. Therefore, at the age of seven horbitts the obligation of the firstborn Junakkson towards the Firstten country was to go to pick up a Virgin who with the sweet milk of her breasts would cure the bacterial disease which kills our wives, mothers and sisters after their first parturition.
For over a horbitt they had been instructing me in all the arts: the war and to build lethal weapons, to sail with the most adverse weather conditions, basic engineering and technology, the art of medicine and care for the sick, in addition to the art of seduction and sex. I was the child-adult, the one who had been conceived in the Great Trek and the one who should beget his son during the most dangerous journey of his life. That it was one of the anomalies in our cultured, rational and democratic society, the paradigm that the salvation of the race depended on supernatural means. To avoid surprises, I had intercourse with a woman chosen by the Senate Polinsular, which for political reasons had to be the wife of one of the electors of the Senate and the begotten son would become his heir. Fortunately for me, or maybe not, it was a lovely and young woman only three twentieths senior to me, that turned my first time in an unforgettable experience rather than a simple training.
My mother was one of these virgins brought from a distant land through dangerous seas and now was the Mother Healer of the Pelerines’ Island. The pelerines were the women who came from all the islands of Insular Confederation to meet my mother and drink the healer milk that flows from her little and wonderful breasts. Since thousands of horbitts ago a lethal bacteria weakens women around the planet, decimating our population. In the fight against this deadly disease each found its solution, most of them evolved into new races that ensured their survival, but the Firstten (the first race to set foot on this world to have been deposited there by a higher intelligence) found a medical solution that implied come into conflict with other peoples.
Our scientists discovered an antigen that once inoculated into a female calved by a Virgin Mother, was generating a serum that flowed along with their milk and counteracted the toxin produced by the bacteria when they came in contact with the pregnancy hormone. At first, this virgin was kidnapped and raped to get this serum; but this operation, apart from humiliating and demeaning to women, was very dangerous and implied violent incursions into the land of the S’ladan and having to deal with its brave warriors. Another great danger was that those virgins had some glands in their backs that secrete a toxin into the air that broke the will of whom were around them and their lips were able to become fatally poisonous in case of a bite or a contact that implied the absorption of some of her saliva. A few thousand horbitts ago, one of our leaders – the first Junakkson – reached a secret deal with the Virgin Mothers by which a teenager son of a Mother Healer would go to search for a Virgin Neitsi who would be waiting for him at the Cliff Castle, a place where Maa-Alune’s rocks touched the Ocean of Madness.
My mother instructed me on how to take care of the girl Neitsi once she stepped on board of my boat: the rudiments of the art of medicine, the right moment and how inoculate the healer antigen, how to keep her body clean and at the appropriate temperature so she would not fall sick during the trip due to her delicate metabolism intolerant to salt, to treat her lovingly to dispel the terror she will feel out of her home, Neitsi language spoken only by the Virgin Mothers and their daughters, the special taste of her healer milk…I should be meticulous in all operations to perform, so I had to practice making a simulation with the Senator’s wife – a spectacular beauty named Kaunis – until I learned to be a lover, a doctor and a sweet caregiver.
Because of a curious genetic anomaly I’m not a pure Firstten, as I am not an exact replica of my father as often happens in a union between a woman Neitsi and a man Firstten, but only knows Mother, nobody else. Sometimes, a honey color brightness on my eyes betrays me when a great sadness seizes my heart, mark of my crossbreeding with the Neitsi, and dark powers that theoretically only can have Virgins… there is no written precedent in our history nor in the rest of the tribes. For fear that I could be killed, because extreme rationalists fear what they cannot explain scientifically, Mother made me swear to secrecy. Kaunis suspects something, but her love for me and the fruit of our initiatory union makes her keep silence.
Father taught me to fight with the black bronze crossbow, the semi-automatic rifle and knife ceramic. As he I’m a good navigator, able to guide me in the sea following the stars and to fight against the violent storms. Father is my great master sailor, conceived in the sea like me; we only feel as ourselves when our boat sails become great by wind action and we move along currents. The jahta that we build was a replica of his, which at once it was a replica of his father’s, of which we have taken the bulk of its structure, strong but lightweight, warrior but comfortable.
Colonel of the island ordered to make a double barreled machine gun non ferromagnetic capable to shoot projectiles of such a hard polished rock that could easily pierce the armor of K’tmenü warriors, that terrible weapon was mounted in a turret located above the gatehouse of the helm wheel by the logistic unit under the command of the Island Council. The danger was real: the K’tmenü were a people very aggressive, they were authentic psychopaths followers of a despotic king who hated us to death, those hermaphrodite warriors were accustomed to hide among reefs to shoot us with their repeating crossbows. I could not carry any iron because the rocks surrounding the Cliff Castle were pure magnetite and our usual weapons were useless and dangerous: besides, compasses would go crazy and anything made of iron would fly uncontrollably inside the boat.
Once it was caulked, the jahta could already be launched. That was the day expected by everyone, the time when the child-adult Firstten son of an exotic Neitsi and a Junakkson warrior, put the official banner of the island on the mast of the boat that would bring a new Healer Mother. Just five days to sail to glory, which it would be done at night and when no one would have been looking me, furtively as establishing the Secret Code Junakkson. The purple and gray fabric with red anchor was delivered by a beautiful Kaunis pregnant of five and half twentieths, she bowed according to tradition; the kiss that should be done on the cheek turned into a passionate one in the mouth, indiscretion forgiven by the audience – no one on the island would ever reveal this fact to her husband, advantages of my position – because the bond we had was very intense and this latter ceremony meant that I will not see her nor our unborn child anymore, because she would come back with her husband to an island that I must ignore. Then, I carried out the compulsory mace’s hit over the post that unblocked the device that would make slide my boat gently towards the harbor waters.
They let me spend the night with my mother, to drop my last tears of boy on her chest: tears for Kaunis, which was much more than my beautiful coach, for the child that I will not know and that will pass as the son of a stranger, for the fear of going to meet an unknown danger, for those whom I’ll see die, for those who I’ll have to kill, for the home I leave, for the sweet breasts that will not feed me anymore. I fell asleep; when I woke up I’d be an adult Firstten.
The next day, just like the other four that I lacked, was to reflect in solitude on the details of the mission. I painted the hull with family colors, green and purple from bow to stern. I checked all the clothes: first mine and then the Neitsi maiden’s ones, because her soft clothing will not protect her from moisture and salt, to bring her safely to the island is the most important thing, when Mother’s milk stops flowing, our women’s survival will depend on it.
I also had to pay attention to medicines: the most important was the antigen, a preparation made with a weakened bacteria culture and the healer milk of my mother, I would have to inject it on her belly and let pass five or six mikas before performing the sexual act with her. Also had drugs for other diseases, to be applied under my criteria and teachings of my mother and Kaunis. The watch was very important and also my ability to repair it: it was tied to my forearm and measured the time in stons, mikas, days, twentieths and horbitts. I had to keep the kitchen spotless, because it was also dining room, bathroom, nursing and workshop as required, and in desperate cases it could become an operating room. There was a set of very soft silk sheets in the closet so as not to irritate the delicate skin of the girl as it would be very sensitive because of her severe genetic intolerance to salt of marine environment.
The evening before my departure came the postman with his old cartcycle loaded with stuff for me because the whole people had done an immense collecting of food and drink for the trip; to ensure its durability, food was properly processed for a long journey across the ocean of Madness: spicy meat was packaged at vacuum, soft fruit and vegetables for the fragile digestive system of my guest, a range of ready meals, milk, water, wine, cookies and sweets. Part of these foods had to be deposited in the pantry of the house in Shelter Island as an offering for sailors in distress. Mother sent me a package with some of her milk blisters and precise instructions on how they should be given to the Virgin written in Neitsi. On behalf of Father, who was elector and copyist of the Senate, the postman left me a copy of the “Book of our origins” which had passed from father to son for over ten generations, is the story of the pains and glories of people Firstten and an honor only awarded to a firstborn whose father is very proud of him… if I had not spilled with my mother the last tears of a child, it would have been a perfect time to mourn, it was a gesture with strong emotional significance. The last thing was an anonymous letter, I recognized the handwriting but controlled my facial expression because whoever sent me had committed a serious breach of protocol, on one side of the envelope put ‘to be read at sea and to be deposited on the Island of Sighs’.
The postman was a man of a certain age, known to all the people of the island. It was no secret that he was a great friend of the family; he climbed to the boat and hugged me.
“Junak, my son, seems like yesterday you were a lad who ran by these narrow streets.” He pointed to the village. “And now you’re our savior. You’re the warrior that will bring the welfare of our women and the survival of our race.”
“Father, please hold still to take a picture, and you Junak, of course.” The postman’s son yelled, who was next to the cartcycle, a tall boy a little older than me. I smiled with an expression of assent. After we took the photograph, the postman came down from the boat and from the cartcycle they said goodbye waving their hands.
A few mikas later, came the moment of truth: I waited until everyone had been out to dinner, I dropped the ropes and I launched the electric motor of the boat, which was slow but silent, it put the jahta on motion. The boat would do the 4 ½ mailins that had up to the exit of the bay in 5 mikas and then I would extend the sails to harness the moist winds of midnight. The seat of the helm wheel’s booth was quite comfortable to read if sea conditions were good, once I’d have hoisted the sails and I’d set course to Etela Stars. The front glass of the booth was painted with very fine stripes useful to compare my position with the navigation charts. I sat at the control site, basically a chair nailed to the wooden floor, the speed was nearly 5 solms, extraordinary for a boat of this kind.
I thought it was a perfect occasion to read the anonymous letter that I had in the pocket of my waterproof parka. I recognized the handwriting on the envelope immediately, the beautiful Kaunis had written me, an audacity that could cost much more than a mere reprimand because the law was very clear and strict regarding communication between the child-adult and senator’s lady once finished the training period. I opened the blue envelope and pulled out the letter, written in a letter as precious as her and began to read it in the light of Stora moon to save battery power:
“Hello My Love, when you read this letter you will be on the way to the Island of the Sighs, excuse me for endanger you to be condemned for the sin and the betrayal I’m committing but it’s the last time I can express how the wounds of my heart bleed for our final separation. There is an ancient legend which says that forbidden loves must be atoned by writing a love letter to the person you love and put it in a hole in a large dead tree that is in the middle of the island.
My body belongs to the old man to whom I was forced by my family to marry when I was a girl of six horbitts, but my heart will always be for you and although I know that you can’t reciprocate me and you can’t shed tears for me, I want my words of love don’t be forgotten and forever remain as a testimony of our tragic separation. My soul cries because I will not feel your lips on mine, nor the warmth of your hair on my naked breasts, because I cannot put your name to the son that I bear in my womb, because my hands will no longer be travelers of the sea of your skin, because your mouth belongs to another woman prettier than me that you do not know yet and who will dazzle you so much that she will leave my image hidden under a dark shadow of remoteness, because the next time you make love my belly won’t be the abode of thy appreciated seed nor will we share the secret pleasures, nor the private aromas of the union of bodies. I love you knowing I should not, I love you knowing that you can’t love me, I love you though I know you should love a goddess who is more important than you…than me…than our love, I love you and I cannot avoid it. Life without you will be my condemnation; I’ll be forced to live when what I want is to die.
It is time to say goodbye, I will pour tears that our ancestors don’t allow you to spill for our killed love, because our grief will fly through the sky and will become Northern Lights. Our love poetry has become a prosaic obituary. Goodbye My Love, I will love you forever “.
It took me an unexplainable effort to fulfill my oath of not to cry, though my wounded heart bled like if I had been nailed with a sword. I had never felt so sharply separation as at that time, I was dead to Kaunis and she had died to me, it was the inexorable certainty of having lost a half of my flesh and my soul had been orphaned of affection. I fell asleep on the seat; the course had been set and I sailed at high speed, tomorrow morning I will be on the Island of Sighs.
The next day I sighted land, which according to the charts it was supposed it was the Island of Sighs, a deserted rock with the legendary trunk atop a small hill. There was a small rickety dock where I could moor without problems, that place was so sad and frustrating like the souls of lovers who came to deposit their letters. It took me a while to get to that tree scorched by countless hellish summers, actually it was something extraordinary to find a tree but it was dead at that latitude, usually the plants on islands like this used to be tender stems that were dying in summer to be reborn in the rainy season.
Once I was in front of the trunk, I looked inside: it had lots of pieces of paper, probably of thousands of desperate lovers thus expressing their tragedy to keep secret his heart’s wounds. There was an unwritten rule that said that the things what happen in the island only interested to who got there to leave his paper, and therefore the presence of a person at that location could not be disclosed. There were no prying eyes looking at the island, the charts do not put its name, no mouth would dare say that has been seen someone close to the trunk…what happen in the Island of Sighs remains in the Island of the Sighs, which gave us security Kaunis and me that we would not be punished for this sin. I took the letter from my pocket, I recited aloud the phrase more intense for my heart ‘I love you knowing I should not, I love you knowing that you can’t love me…’, the sheet of paper went through my lips and for a moment I believed to feel her perfume and the taste of her saliva into my mouth… and the most intense loneliness that a lover can feel when deprived of his other half. I took from the ground a little lonely flower and put it in a small compartment of my watch where usually a photo is kept. To leave that wilderness landscape was like leaving the gravestone of my beloved.
Eight mikas later, once resumed the trip and with more encouragement, I started to calculate the remaining distance to go before reaching my destination. There were approximately one thousand thirty mailins, I needed about four days to get to my destination whenever the wind blew in favor and I wouldn’t find a storm… a light rain was falling, the clouds covered the red sun so that it prevented me from setting a reference and to establish a exact course but his imaginary heat (it is demonstrated that the red sun does not warm us at all) could be felt behind those cumulus to starboard, so I knew I had to tack three hundreds to the port side. The next stop would be in Shelter Island, which is the last safe place before crossing the Infernal Streams where so many sailors were lost in storms and eddies. Before lunch I threw the net to add fresh fish to my diet, I had a good freezer at the bow and if the catch of these days was good I would get some money to build a new home easier, and soon I would be responsible of raising a family.
At night, the Stars Etela confirmed the direction I had preset, so I relaxed. The speed was still impressive for that vessel, faster than the sailing races in which I had participated when I was a child. With the flow of good sensations for the sailing conditions, I took the “Book of our origins,” and started reading that sacred text. It was a collection of ancient texts preserved and expanded by Senate’s copyists throughout our history.
‘The origins of our race are documented from the horbitt zero, the time point when a civilization much more advanced than ours and coming from a distant star called Kirkia Balts deposited us in this world. With their colossal machines, those beings captured our ancestors on another world, they endowed them of a language of scholars and educated them to make to stop being cavemen savages and become them creators of a fair and advanced civilization in their new home. Those superior beings transformed the planet into a habitable world for us and they populated it with plants and animals from the same world from which come those humans, they even crumbled a moon so that the shadow of the rings formed by the resulting rock fragments would give shelter to a strip of land… sheltered from hellish summer.
As they finished the job they went forever, hoping that people would form self-sufficient communities to transform that barren planet in their home.
But after a few hundred horbitts one of the pathogenic germs from the mother planet had mutated into one isolate really virulent for female metabolism, lethal bacteria weakened women and caused them death after the first or second birth. For a long time, the human population was declining as it wasn’t possible to fill all deaths with new births.
But nature is wise and after a few horbitts humans evolved and our species was mutating into new races, leaving us the Firstten as the only remnant of the primitive race. First of all, a race of human beings appeared who had a height well below the Firstten, called S’ladan, whose females were immune to bacterial disease. Aside from their short stature, the S’ladan are characterized by a line of black hair that seems visually divide their nose longitudinally into two.
As a result of crosses between Firstten and S’ladan, over time the Neitsi women appeared, capable of supporting four childbirths before dying and who had the unsettling ability to procreate girls by the lesbian join of two women…’
I stopped for a moment this enjoyable read, written in a simple and brief manner, almost like a tale. It was bedtime; I’d take advantage of the seating comfort for taking a nap. I grabbed a sweater and improvised a cushion, as soon as I leaned against the wall of the stall I fell into a deep sleep. It was a new morning, the yellow sun’s beams woke me up, and the journey was pretty good. The red sun, still visible, indicated to me that the course was the correct and the flight of birds from the nearby islands confirmed it. I went to fetch something for breakfast and returned to the stall. A little more of reading between waves was waiting for me:
‘The third new race that emerged was the K’tmenü ones; they were taller than the S’ladan and the Neitsi, they were endowed with the attributes of men and women. Their hermaphroditism in some way protected them of the bacterial disease; we think they have an extra chromosome that tricks to the bacteria. They were very aggressive and violent, and soon became the most numerous inhabitants of the known world…The Firsttens, thanks to their superior intelligence, got a serum extracted from the Neitsi’s blood that generated some defenses in all women who ensured them a long and healthy life, they called it the antigen and was administered to all women Firstten and the future mothers Neitsi.
After a few hundreds of horbitts an apocalyptic scale’s cyclone destroyed our country and we had to go to another territory… which was no longer under the shadow of the rings. We walked hundreds or perhaps thousands of mailins looking for a place where we could be protected until we found some caves, that we expanded and an underground city grew sheltered from the hellish and icy seasons. The K’tmenü, who wanted a space all to themselves, went towards a group of mountains two days walk from the underground city and pierced the rock to build their homes in a place they called Läkande.
Over time the Goddesses Neitsi saw as were growing their psychic powers and the potency of the poison of their sensual mouths orange, so they came to fully control the souls of the S’ladan for them to do their will. Our eyes had become blue to counteract their mental powers; apparently, this color could block the electromagnetic radiation that they emit in order to spy the people’s minds.
In this context and with Virgin Mothers Neitsi eager for power was a matter of time that they claimed the control of the city and this way they led the called S’ladan Revolt, which was actually a rebellion orchestrated by the Virgin Mothers in order to expel the Firstten race from the underground city of Maa-Alune. The Firsttens had to flee by sea aimlessly and were forced to scatter by the islands that were distributed by the Ocean of Madness and migrate from island to island depending on the seasons and become nomadic sailors.
A legend says that there is a fifth race. According to this legend there are some women Neitsi giant and black colored called ‘Ebony Goddesses’ who tired of the Virgin Mother’s malice went to the southern desert and they formed a tribe together with some warriors S’ladan with which they slept and gave birth new goddesses, but Neitsi categorically deny it, and also have not been found so far evidence of their alleged existence…’
I stopped reading at halfway through the day seeing that a cloud had hidden for a moment the red sun; a wind aft reached me, that was indicating we were arriving to a seasonal point where the Northern Sea ice had begun to melt and streams would become faster and more violent. That would further increase the speed of the boat, but it would become more unstable. I had to lower the sails, because against an angry sea you must show submission.
Violent surf was unleashed; I had to hold the helm wheel with all my strength to avoid being left to drift and crash into a stumbling block. That rough seas would last at least until dawn, the thaw was so quick and the sudden change in salinity was causing strong currents and apocalyptic storms that had led many experienced sailors to the ocean floor. The heavy rain did not let me see through the glass of the booth, I had to close the side window where it entered the water with great force, the jahta was moving from side to side despite my attempts to straighten it. I was dizzy, I was totally wet and cold, but I could not let go the ship’s wheel if I did not want the boat was left to the drift. It was almost impossible to keep the jahta on track; I could only try to keep the boat stable to prevent capsizing. The prow clashed violently against the waves over and over again, the boat went up and down to the rhythm of huge waves like mountains. I was ready for that and I knew whether I died the situation of women of our race would be severely compromised; a long time since my mother has not become pregnant, that meant that any day her breasts will dry up and the women wouldn’t have a cure for the disease.
I was using up to the limit of my strength the concentration techniques that Mother had taught me throughout my life, but I was alone in that berserk ocean that seemed to want to swallow me. The most hellish storm I had seen in my life was there before me, thunders, lightning… and mikas ran, long and wild, nature was unbridled and I was piloting a frail boat trying not to sink.
After prolonged and very difficult mikas, was exhausted and then my eyes guessed the first light of dawn behind those dark clouds which wanted to break halve the jahta and convert me into feed for fish, and finally the rain ended and the stream relaxed. I looked at the red sun in order to orient myself; I had veered off course about two hundreds. I took the charts from the drawer to recalculate the route, there were still seven hundred fifty mailins to Shelter Island… and that storm I had suffered was indicating that I had a maximum of four days to get to Cliff Castle before the waters began to retreat because of the brutal summer heat and a maximum of six days more to avoid dying of heat before finishing our trip of coming back to the Pelerines Island. I had to unfurl immediately the sails and navigate without rest, and needed a wind that would make me reach five solms, was a matter of life or death.
I put larger sails to have more impulse; I would sail day and night to the maximum of my ability. If required I would launch the electric engine to increase the cruising speed, although with this cloudiness the solar panels had not fully charged the battery. The indicator marked that speed was three solms, it was insufficient, I was desperate, wind had not enough strength; I placed a third sail between the two masts, the one which never must be put, the jahta seemed to accelerate…
I do not know how I did it, surely fate didn’t want to play much against me as I thought, I was fighting to stay awake and suddenly I saw the Shelter Island, the island was within my reach only two days after the end of the storm. I had few mikas to make the offering, repair the damage made by the storm in the jahta and sail again. I tied the boat at the dock, and took the great package that the inhabitants of our island had given me to make this offering.
There was only a house to which we called Shelter, which has been used for thousands of horbitts as a place of rest and pantry of those who go or return from dangerous waters. The offering was actually a quantity of food and accessories equivalent to those needed by the crew of the boat that were stopping to make their donation, in my case I left food and clothing for two, for me and the passenger who I had to pick up.
Thanks to offerings, in that shelter you could always find food and drinks for boaters who needed them, as well as clothing and tools to repair their boats. There were also beds where you could rest from a stormy trip, like that which was on that wall next to the window inside one of bedrooms, where I had my first time with Kaunis, now so far away from me. On the top floor there was a meeting room where people maintain the most secret conspiracies between pirates and smugglers. The house was built over a hot springs and there were available small bubbling pools in different compartments of the basement. You could take the necessary, but the theft was punished with long prison terms because it was considered a crime against humanity.
An ancient tradition said that people had to spend the night in the Shelter in order to be in good shape to face the tough stretch of voyage that was missing to be done, but time ran against me; I had to cross with a precarious jahta the last one hundred mailins across a stormy sea and a stream that could send me directly to the North Pole if I was drifting, passing through the Purgatory’s Gorge where the summer sun kills without mercy to anyone who is exposed. I could also come up with the mythical Infernal Streams that all sailors feared because it could take to the Southern Ocean, such a hot sea which is like to sail over a hot broth that expels deadly vapors to whom breathe them. And arriving to destination, there are often watching the skilful crossbowmen K’tmenü, on reefs or mounds of magnetite, waiting to liquidate any Firstten who would approach the beach. I repaired the damage from the last storm both in the booth as well as the deck and I sailed immediately.
I had another stormy night, lightnings, thunder, violent streams… this time I don’t lowered the sails; the fact of sailing in those conditions was a frantic struggle that tested my courage and my decimated forces. I kept the boat’s course by instinct, for a moment I thought my father was whispering what I had to do, like when I was a kid. My exhausted brain was mixing reality and fantasy, past and present. The wild waves became fierce monsters to my eyes, ready to devour the jahta and to its scared helmsman. For a moment, I closed my eyes… I was in the big beach of the Little Pilgrim, digging holes in the sand with my mother. I returned to be two horbitts, my sweet mother taught me to do little drawings in the sand with one hand while the other held my brother Lakszi… the door woke me up by snapping open and a downpour was going into the room that made me crash into the wall of the booth and made me fall. I saw how blood was coming out of my left hand, the glass door had been broken and I had cut with one of its chunks. I had no time to get down to the kitchen to fix me, with my headscarf I improvised a bandage and I continued at the wheel, I no longer felt pain… or maybe I couldn’t afford it in such a complicated situation.
In the end I gave up and in the middle of that infernal rain came down on deck to lower the sails, and the sea in an act of deference had relaxed a little but not enough to say that this was over. I returned to the ship helm’s wheel, I heard the sound of broken glass under my boots, a pain in my hand began to come, but priority was govern gallantly my boat to ride out the storm…
Incredibly or rather fortunately, the next day awoke sunny and I sailed slowly through the pitfalls to avoid colliding. I looked through my binoculars trying to see the enemy before it to see me. I also had to find a safe rock to hide away until the evening, when I would go to conquer our savior. Those rocks came out from the deep sea like hedgehog spikes ready to impale anyone who tried to approach, I was sailing among their ghostly shadows and the whistling wind that passed between them. I loaded the machine gun, I did not want to use it but if a K’tmenü enemy discovers me I could not show any mercy. From childhood they are raised in the hatred to Firstten race, they call us terrorists and murderers, they paint us with bloodstained hands in his drawings, they fear our war machines because they are unable to manufacture or perhaps they don’t understand them. I threw the anchor under a rock that looked like a gantry that left me totally hidden from the eyes of anyone who was barricaded in a reef, because the unlucky K’tmenü who dared to sail on one of their unstable boats or a bulky trireme had no chance against me and my double-barreled machine-gun. There was no threat in sight, I blocked the machine gun and went to heal the wound of the hand. That cut was not too deep, so I disinfected it and I covered it with a bandage to keep it clean.
At night I put in operation the electric motor and headed slowly to Cliff Castle, my destination, I needed three mikas to reach it because it was a route full of obstacles and was difficult to move only with the partial Stora’s moonlight, an insignificant waning. The Cliff Castle was a vertical wall waterfront which was pierced by countless caves formed by the action of erosion caused by water. These were caves that the S’ladans closed with bars to prevent the intruders entered and would provoke havoc on Maa-Alune. Close to the agreed cave, I saw some stairs carved into the rock to facilitate access to girl into the jahta. Sea level was perfect for operation, the virgin just must make a small jump and would be in my arms, and I went out on deck with a bag of clothes in hand and I started talking quietly to not be listened by inopportune ears.
“Princess, I come to pick you up. Your future husband comes with the promise that you will be the happiest woman in the world.”
Appeared a figure dressed in white, like a spirit of the night.
“We cannot waste time, my Goddess, grab this bag and hasten to change your clothes; you will find appropriate clothing and shoes for the trip.” I threw a bag; she took it and went into the cave.
She spent some time…
“Will you help me get down please?” It was the first time I heard the lovely voice of that delicate creature, coming down a bit scared by the stairs….


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