Fern watched Elm exit from under the tarp relieved that he hadn’t revealed himself to Ensign Jones. His face was still scowling as he briefly looked at her and an involuntary sob emitted itself in a guttural sound as she tried to suppress her emotions. She told herself that her feelings were wrong, they were out of place. As a defender she should feel nothing but she did feel and she hurt intolerably, inconsolably inside. She knew Elm could sooth her but he wouldn't and she would now have to suffer through another evening with the Captain, and hope that he wouldn't make advances toward her later tonight.
Leaving the scene of her distress she went through the doorway and along the corridor to the Captain's Quarters. She hoped he wouldn't be there but forced a smile for in case he was. To her relief when she entered the large room it was empty. The chair had been pushed back from the desk and papers still lay cluttered across the expanse of it, so he probably hadn’t left long ago. Quickly she went to the bathroom and locked herself inside.
Looking into the mirror she saw her eyes were red and puffy, a definite give away that she'd been crying. Looking under the sink in the cabinet she found a face cloth and wet it with cold water. Placing the cloth over her eyes she felt eased by the cooling sensation on her face as she continued to think of what was going to happen. Elm would tell Pine she was here and they would get her away from the Captain, but she was unsure how they could accomplish this without an all out battle with the Lakellers. She had read about Helen of Troy, the face that launched a thousand ships. She didn't want to be the face that destroyed a ship.
Taking the cloth from her face she rinsed it through with cold water once more, then turning around she flipped down the toilet seat lid and took to her throne of despair as she laid the cold damp cloth over her face. Elm's face was before her closed eyes and she tried to dispel the image with thoughts of the Elanclose camp, of the clan moving about, taking care of their daily duties. The picture didn't alleviate her distress, only heightened it, knowing that they continued with their lives oblivious to the pain she was enduring because of the hapless situation she was in.
She heard a door open and close, listened to footsteps cross the room; a chair scraped the floor as it was pulled in toward the desk. She heard the shuffle of papers and boots being kicked off. Quietly she sat, waiting. What for, her inflamed eyes to lessen? She noted that she didn't care about her appearance but she did care that the Captain was clever enough to figure out something was going on. She had the feeling that if anyone else was to covet her, his life would be worthless, and he would be dispensed with immediately.
She heard the chair scrape backward, heard a couple of thuds and footsteps. She felt her heart give a start as the beat quickened like a rhythmic drum speeding up to the climax of a performance. How could he know she was in here? If he knew she was in the bathroom, had he known what had occurred outside on the deck? Fern was filled with paranoid fear. Her mind was out of control as she filled her head with frightening questions that all resulted in death. She was in such turmoil that she hardly noticed the opening of a door; only the closing and she knew it was the one leading to the corridor.
Leaning forward she placed her head in her hands and thought of Oak and the meditations he’d taught her. Raising her head resolutely she focused upon the door. Keeping her back straight but not rigid she softened her eyes to take in the whole room. The images became vague as she started to breathe. A deep breath in through the nose and out through the mouth, again she breathed deeply, and then once more, letting the last of the air flow out taking her paranoia with it.
A plan of action formed in her mind. She would play the inquisitive captive, asking the Captain what she was to wear for the evening. She would wander over to his desk as she asked the question leaning over it to be level with his eyes. Whilst his attention was diverted to the boxes of clothes, she would quickly scan the papers on his desk in the hope of finding out where they were and maybe even where they were going. If caught she would have to play with the papers on his desk, telling him she was bored since she was used to physical activity during the day from running through the forest. Hopefully he would not suggest a physical interaction that involved him. She shuddered at the thought and looked at the connecting door to his bedroom. She would have to be careful with her behaviour and words.
She felt the weight of distress lifted from having a plan and once more her spirits rose. Members from her clan were on board, they would keep her safe. Getting up from her seat, no longer the Spartan Queen abducted by the Prince of Troy she placed the facecloth upon the edge of the sink. Quickly checking her eyes and happy that they no longer looked like puffballs she strode back into the large room.
Since the Captain was not there she didn't have to attempt subterfuge. She strode over to the desk and gave it a quick glance over. The papers in front of his chair were arranged in a line. She could see they were maps but couldn't see what they were of, so she moved to the Captain's chair and perused them more carefully. One map was marked at the north peninsula, the area they had sailed from. A route was drawn through the lake to its southernmost point where it joined something else. She bent over to take a closer look to see what the connection was and read Aqueous Passage.
There was little known about the Aqueous Passage other than it was the longest and largest canal in the world. It spanned the Mississippi River which was a feat in itself. It had been built for large ships coming through the lakes to travel directly west, crossing many states.
Slipping away from the desk she made herself comfortable on the couch, her legs crossed, elbows leaning upon them, her head in her hands as she thought about the route the Captain was planning on taking. She wondered whether the passage was safe. Surely it would have been damaged at the time of the Devastation? If the Captain thought to travel on it he was placing them all at risk. Why would he continue so far? Surely, his plan had only been to take the Woodlander defenders to the southernmost point of the lake and drop them off on land there. Why would he want to go further?
She was pondering the question when the Captain walked in. His face became a smile as he looked at her position upon the couch.
“There you are Fern! I was beginning to wonder where you had hidden yourself.”
Fern smiled back looking up from her cupped hands but not moving.
“I had lunch upon the deck and stood at the rail for a while looking across the water. I noticed that there is land in the distance will we be landing tonight?”
The Captain tilted his head slightly as he studied her thoughtfully for a moment. He seemed disinclined to want to make any comment but eventually he gave a sigh and replied.
“We will stay out upon the lake for tonight. Tomorrow we will go toward land.”
His evasive remark brought a sparkle to her eyes. He didn't say they would land but go toward land.
“What happens when we reach land Captain?” She gave what she hoped was a childlike smile to cover her inquisitive question as nothing more than innocent.
His eyes raked over her momentarily.
“We'll be leaving the lake and travelling through a water system.”
He turned away and walked toward his desk. As he grabbed hold of the chair he looked at her once more.
“Fern, what do you plan to wear to dinner tonight?”
He'd carefully shifted the conversation but she'd gained the knowledge she wanted. He was planning to use the Aqueous Passage.
“What would you like me to wear?” she gaily asked.
His tawny eyes became amused.
You choose my dear, something elegant perhaps?”
Fern looked at him as if he'd lost his mind–elegant? What did she know about elegant?
“What kind of elegant?”
She raised her eyebrows with the query and the Captain laughed. He strode toward the book case and looked along the upper shelves. His fingers ran across books until they settled upon what looked like well worn magazines. He pulled one off the shelf; it was ripped at one corner so he carefully turned the pages.
“This is a magazine from 2012; it is called Vogue and was read by girls at that time. I enjoy to look at it because the girls were so beautiful, they were dressed in such ways that very few girls try today, except Simone. I gave her some of these magazines as a gift.”
He was turning the pages, lingering on certain ones as if he had favourites.
“It was kind of you to give Simone such gifts. Did Lieutenant Rostin mind?”
She knew she was being nosey with the question but the Captain was still wistfully browsing through the magazine and didn't seem to notice.
“She wasn't with him at that time.”
He stopped flicking the pages and closed the magazine. Walking toward her, he gave her a look of distrust and a frown that spoke for itself. She'd asked too much and was to stop.
“Here Fern take a look through. These girls are dressed elegantly. See what you can do.”
He turned away to go to his desk but stopped, changing his mind he went back to the door to the corridor.
“You have two hours Fern, to get ready.” And without turning he left the room.
Fern let out a huge breath. She'd pushed his buttons there and she knew it. He'd disclosed information he'd rather she didn't know and he was cross about it. Namely, that Simone had been his lover. It made sense to her now, the hatred Simone had directed toward her last night, her glances of ridicule at her behaviour and dress. How her face held sarcastic amusement at Fern's blatant stares of admiration of her diamond earrings; earrings that the Captain probably gave her. It all fit together now. She frowned as she continued to think about the Captain. Where did the other girls fit in? Were they before, after or was Simone in between and why didn't Simone disappear?
Leaping off the couch she noted she had a job to perform and she needed every minute available to her in order to perfect or even get close to perfecting it. Walking over to the boxes, she pulled off both lids and looked at the contents inside. She still had the magazine in her hand and looked at the clothes inside. They were similar, some possibly from around that time. Checking out the models in the pictures she saw that they had plumed themselves to the point of looking almost silly. Not only that but they were practically strutting in the pictures. She decided she disliked the Captain's taste.
Bending over she started to pull out dresses. Some contained ruffles and she immediately pushed those back into a corner out of the way. There was no way she was going to walk around looking like an upside down tree canopy. To her absolute delight she pulled out a pair of black pants. They had been carefully folded and when she let them hang she saw that they were creased down the middle of the front and back and went from tapered to flare at the bottom. Excitedly she pulled them on over her own pants. Her pleasure was dampened by the fact that they were too big and slipped down over her slender hips. Disappointed she folded them once more and placed them back in the box.
Her face was somewhat sullen now as she pulled out folded articles of clothing. So far her favourite dress had been the black Lycra one she'd worn the night before but she knew the Captain wouldn't be happy if she wore it again. He wanted a surprise, she was his entertainment and she had to oblige to keep him happy. Dresses became a pile beside her as she went through various colours, some that made her cringe in distaste and shapes that made her laugh out loud. Pulling out a dress in the colours of a variation of gold and yellow she placed it against her. It was very long falling to the floor, too long for her in flat shoes but she'd noticed some high heeled shoes in the boxes that would make her tall enough for it. It floated to the ground just like Willow's dresses and her hopes rose that it would fit since it seemed perfect for the evening ahead. She would play the kidnapped Spartan Queen Helen and wear this beautiful dress that glimmered in the light and felt soft, silky and sensual to the touch.
Going to the bathroom she dampened her hair as she had the previous evening and swept it up, following instructions of demonstration pictures in the magazine on how to make a French twist. With difficulty but being patient and persistent she finally managed to clip it up, and turning her head sideways looked in the mirror satisfied with the effect.
She heard the door open and the Captain stride toward his room and his bedroom door close. She hoped he didn't need the bathroom to prepare himself for dinner. She heard his closet open and the sound of hangers rattling as clothes were pulled from them. Ignoring the noises from next door she took off all her clothes and then realized she needed the special underwear. Quickly pulling her clothes back on she silently snuck back into the room and grabbed the push up bra and panties she had conveniently placed in one corner. Looking through the shoes she matched her own with a high heel sandal and retreated back to the bathroom.
Once more she struggled with the bra and gave a few discontented words as she fiddled with straps and tiny clasps. She heard the Captain leave his room just as she was pulling the dress over her head and noted he'd left his quarters completely. That meant Ensign Jones would be coming to fetch her to dinner. This thought cheered her up as she wondered what his expression would be when in saw her in her new attire. She hoped he would be affected by the sight of her once more and she would give him a friendly smile as she followed him into the corridor.
With the zipper at the side pulled up, she viewed herself in the mirror. Her own jaw dropped at the image before her. She could truly be the face that launched a thousand ships, her red hair lay in crinkled waves against her head where it was pulled back into the French braid and her pale skin was porcelain white. The dress made her hair look a deeper red than normal and the fine material clung to her body in sweeping curves as the material formed itself around her hips, the deep V in the neckline showing her cleavage. As much as Fern wanted to be a defender she did enjoy the way she looked in these clothes. It was a transitory thing, not harmful she thought, she would be back to being a Woodlander of the forest soon enough.
**********
Denver was ready. With a quick look at one another Oak and Denver arose from the table simultaneously and languidly strolled over to the group of jovial boys who were enjoying their third and fourth beer.
Denver laughing slapped one of the boys on the back.
“Don't be finishing off all the beer there Jackson!” he suggested, to which the boy grinned back.
“No way! I haven't drunk anywhere near as much as Detroit has, he could drink his way through a brewery if we still had them!”
Laughter thrummed through the small group as Denver and Oak's eyes lit up at the thought of Detroit being inebriated and at his most vulnerable.
Denver moved away from Jackson noting that he was a good trustworthy boy and much cleverer than he made himself out to be. His mind removed Jackson's thoughts and now settled upon Detroit. He was gloating at how he was able to out drink any of the boys in the group, priding himself on being the bigger, better boy. Denver smiled at his naiveté. He looked across to Oak who had also done a quick reconnoitre of Detroit's mind and he nodded back that he too was ready for the experiment.
Denver grabbed hold of Detroit's arm.
“I think Detroit is the one I should be in fear of finishing off all the beer and leaving us with none!”
Detroit grinned stupidly back and Denver realized he was wandering down the road toward needing a nap; they would have to be quick.
“Come with me Detroit! I won't have you finishing the last of the Aviatilian’s ales before I can enjoy some myself.”
He pulled Detroit away from the group; Detroit still happily smirking unaware of the careful trap Denver and Oak were about to set.
Denver finally managed to help Detroit traverse the path toward the window seats and tables; Oak was already sat on one of the benches waiting. Detroit's face dropped as he sat opposite to Oak, and as he watched Denver sit beside him confusion replaced his inane expression. Denver leaned forward from his seat across from Detroit and with a hand covering the side of his mouth that was closest to Oak who sat at his side, he whispered.
“Sorry Detroit, we have to keep an eye on this one all the time. There is nothing trustworthy about him other than his intent to escape.”
Detroit nodded knowingly back and gave Oak a sneering glance. Denver hid his amusement at both Detroit's and Oak's expressions. This was turning out to be fun.
Oak leaned slightly toward Detroit who stared back at him in surprise as he warned him in a lowered voice.
“Make no mistake Detroit, I will escape. I know where we’re going and how. My plan is already set and neither you nor Denver will be able to stop me.”
Denver watched Detroit's jaw drop and stifled a guffaw as instead he raised his eyebrows in fake surprise.
“It takes a brave boy to so blatantly tell his captors he is planning to escape,” he responded watching Detroit fervently nod his head in agreement as he stared with large eyes at Oak.
Detroit was in a stupor from the alcohol and his glum gullible expression was amusing to both of them as they clearly read his thoughts. Denver stifled his smile and continued with the act.
“Why are you telling us this?” He leaned in to Oak aggressively demanding an explanation.
“Because…” Oak leaned forward now to both Denver and Detroit as if colluding with them, “there will be nothing that you can do to stop me.” He quickly leaned backed against his seat as if satisfied that his last remark was correct and he was indeed invincible.
Denver looked at Detroit who sat perturbed and noted that his mind was on Rancor. Reading his thoughts he gathered that Rancor had told Detroit that Oak had to make the journey all the way to Kisin. That he was very important to the final outcome of Kisin's plans.
Denver, who’d been staring at Detroit, now swung his upper body around to look at Oak, whom he knew had read the same knowledge.
“Where do you plan on making this escape?” he questioned.
He could sense the panic in Detroit; his thoughts were wandering to how irate this would make Rancor after he told him and how he would lash out at him in his anger. Denver smiled inwardly as he noted that Detroit had had enough of Rancor's foul moods.
Oak gave a huge belly laugh as he responded. “Do you think I'm a fool? Do you think I would give away that information?”
Detroit's face was painted in such alarm that it was all Denver could do to keep his own face serious, so he kept his eyes on Oak.
“But you've told us you plan to escape. Why would you do that if you weren’t a fool?”
Oak leaned into Detroit ignoring Denver. Grinding his teeth together as he spoke, he insidiously continued with a crooked smile.
“I tell you because I want to disturb you both. I want to make this journey as uncomfortable for you as I can. You have taken me from my clan and I'm going to punish you for it, but first I will let you stew in the juices of ignorance and fear. You will fret at how I will get away, it’ll cause you sleepless nights knowing that I will escape and I will get my revenge.”
Oak rubbed the bruises on his throat as he glared in loathing at Detroit. Detroit knew exactly what he meant and his face paled as his owl like eyes stared back. Denver had to turn his head away at the exasperated expression upon Detroit's face. He couldn't look Oak in the eye either or he would crack up with laughter. He could sense Oak's serious face, even his mind was serious, his self control was remarkable and Denver admired him all the more for it.
Detroit was staring at Oak in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing as his mind tried and failed to find words. He quickly swivelled his head to Denver who gave his best expression of surprise in return and watched Detroit's head swing back to look at Oak.
“You…you will not!” Detroit tried to splutter out as spittle landed upon the table before him. Denver could sense his befuddled brain breaking into outright distress at wondering what was to be done.
“Oak!” Denver said breaking the tense air between him and Detroit. “I think it is time you went back to your cabin. You have caused enough turmoil for one day. Let me tell you this Woodlander, you will not get the better of Detroit nor I. We’ll find out your plans, we'll discover on which part of this journey you are to make your escape!” He glared at Oak his jaw tight and jutting forward in defiance. “We aren't the fools you take us for Woodlander, I have my contacts; I'll go over our route and figure out where you plan to leave us!”
Oak threw his head back in a peal of laughter and Detroit slammed his fist upon the table gaining the attention of the others across the room. His drunken head bobbled up and down whilst his slackened muscles did their best at holding it. Denver waved a hand through the air for the other boys to carry on with their business and ignore the disruption.
“You'd best leave now Woodlander whilst you can, for I won't be pulling Detroit off from a fight this time!”
Detroit nodded his head enthusiastically and gave a start as Denver ordered.
“Wait here Detroit, let the Woodlander leave us. You and I need to talk!”
Denver moved from the bench seat to let Oak out. Oak stopped beside Detroit.
“You didn't have the advantage over me in the fight and you won't have the advantage over me any time soon!” Oak rasped out to Detroit.
Denver waved to the other boys.
“Jackson!” He ordered, “Take the Woodlander to his room and stay with him.”
Oak was already striding away as if he had a job that needed to be done in a hurry, making Jackson quickly leap to his feet in order to follow him.
Detroit was mumbling in annoyance, his words incoherent. Denver sat across from him watching the face before him contort and ramble.
“Detroit, take no notice of the jungle boy; he only says these things to wind us up.” Detroit slowly shook his head.
“N…no, he has a plan.”
Detroit said no more as he ended his muffled words but Denver read his thoughts clear enough. Oak was placing Detroit in danger, not just from Rancor but from Kisin's anger. Rancor had told him Kisin’s anger was intolerable, not only did he kill but he made sure you suffered greatly in the process. The glazed eyes lifted and settled upon Denver.
“We…we must find out…what path we’re on.”
Denver arose from the table and moved to stand beside Detroit where he placed a hand upon his shoulder.
“Detroit I think you take the Woodlander’s words too seriously, I personally am not concerned by them.”
He turned on his heel and left Detroit staring at his large hands as they lay upon the table. His thoughts were troubled; he didn't agree with Denver. He was going to find out what their route was and he was going to prevent any escape plan Oak may have. He was going to do it all without Rancor's knowledge, he didn’t need Rancor’s wrath raining down on him right now. It would be very tricky but he would get the information. Denver was wrong to think that the Woodlander’s words were of no concern. All this passed through Denver's head as he moved away.
Smiling Denver left the lounge. The stage had been set and now the true fool was to continue with the performance. Detroit had been easy to play but he was worried that Detroit was not clever enough to outwit Rancor. Still whatever knowledge he could gain before Rancor figured out what was going on would be enough to help them gain a better stronghold on the situation.