"Are ye ready to go?" Our horse was loaded down with food and trinkets, gifts from the people. All we wanted to do was leave, but they had kept calling us back for some ceremony to present us with something else. On the plus side, they'd left us alone through the night and supplied us with several herbs that would aid in the healing of Tristan's shoulder.
"Yes," I sighed gratefully, taking the reins from him and pulling the horse forward.
Mother Agnetha appeared in the doorway of her hut, her foot bandaged and held off the ground. It was the first I'd seen of her since our opium trip and I balked, hoping that she would let us go in peace.
"Wait!" she called, hobbling toward us.
"Great," I moaned under my breath. My head was pounding, Tristan was sore, and I really just wanted to get to the ship.
"You," she said, pointing at me. "Come here."
Rolling my eyes at Tristan, who had the good grace to only smile and not laugh, I crossed the small distance between us with ease. "Is something wrong?" I asked politely.
"Your path is one filled with danger and regret, but your home is not far away. You must look inside yourself to find the things that you search for now." Leering strangely, she tugged me into her embrace, holding me against her tightly. "The pit brings his death," she hissed in my ear. "Fire, pain. You are number eight. You hold the key."
Jerking away from her, I stumbled, falling to the ground.
"Eight," she repeated, her eyes displaying a distant look. "Eight is a magic number." Shaking her head, she returned to normal, watching me sit on the ground as though I were crazy.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, scared. "Who's death? Tristan?" Turning to glance at him, his worried expression did nothing to qualm my fears.
"The message is gone," she replied simply. "It has been delivered. Safe travels to you both." Nodding, she turned and limped away, disappearing into her hut.
"Wait!" I called out, frantic. "That can't be all there is!"
"Samantha." Tristan's voice was gentle, but urging at the same time. "Come. We have to walk a long way and we're both tired."
Jittered by the cryptic fortune, I got to my feet, grabbing onto the reins of the horse like they were the only thing keeping me from floating away.
"It will be all right, lass," he continued quietly, patting the horse on the behind to get him moving. "We'll think on it later. Let us be done with this place." There was an uncomfortable tone to his voice, suggesting he thought the area to be evil.
Following the trail out into the long grass, we departed in silence, leaving the village and its mysteries behind. There was no conversation about what had been done to us, or the prophecy given me. Tristan seemed to be focused on his shoulder, the sling around his arm tied tightly to keep it from moving too much. By the time we'd entered the jungle, we were both covered in sweat and I wished we could have ridden back, but the horse was carrying too much.
"What about the crew member she cursed?" I finally inquired, feeling like I needed to at least say something.
"She's revoked her statement, as another thanks to us. Apparently, she doesn't often deal with the gods actually coming down and inhabiting her body, if at all. She mostly listens to the wind and relays what it is telling her." He grunted, his shoulder bumping against the horse, and let out a long sigh.
"Will ye still go home, then, Sam?" He acted like he was asking if I wanted water or wine with my meal, but I knew he was hiding whatever emotions he felt under the question.
"What do you mean?"
"The vision—the vase brings death to those unworthy. It seems a dangerous gamble."
"It let me through before, didn't it?" His questions surprised me and my own musings began to form.
"Yes," he replied uncomfortably. "But it also said ye were granted knowledge. Ye wanted to know what the treasure was, aye? So it sent ye here to find out. What will ye want to know if ye open it again? What if it doesn't think yer worthy enough to find out?"
The beginnings of a response stuck in my throat and I swallowed, not sure what to say. What would I want to know? How to get home was the most likely answer. But what if I somehow angered the vase by wanting to go back to where it'd taken me from?
"And not just that," he continued hesitantly. "But I don't think I could go with ye if ye did go."
"Why not?" The confession pulled me from my own thoughts in alarm.
"I've killed men," he stated. "Robbed them. Told my fair share of lies. If I were to open that vase, who's to say that it wouldn't suck the soul right out of me?"
"You are a good man," I argued. "Everything you've done has been for a greater cause than just your own welfare."
"But ye don't get to judge, do ye?" He smiled sadly, turning his attention to the road, mumbling to the horse every now and then.
My thoughts tumbled about as we walked, the dilemma growing inside me as I tried to decide what it was I really wanted. Going home felt like the only reasonable solution to my dilemma. How was I supposed to stay in this time forever? What would I do? Things were so unusual, women were viewed so differently. Sure, I was a member of the crew, but I was still a woman. They wanted me in the kitchen, they'd said so themselves. And what about Tristan?
Glancing over, I watched him, his eyes on the ground, lost in his own inner struggles. What would it be like, if I went and he stayed here? We were going to be married in a matter of days. Could I abandon what would be the only family I had left?
And what was all this about eight being a magic number? Who was the pit going to kill? What fire, what pain? Everything the priestess told me felt like it was colliding together into a giant, mysterious ball of nothing.
Sighing, I rubbed my neck, still feeling a little hungover from my drug session the day before. We'd learned so much and somehow continued to know nothing.
"Will ye still marry me, Samantha? Knowing that I can't go with ye?" He stopped in the road, halting the horse, and moved in front of me, staring me down with a carefully guarded, blank expression.
"How can you even ask me that?" I asked, feeling my heart sink as I looked back.
"Ye only agreed to do it after I said I'd follow ye," he stated calmly. "Now that there might be a chance of our parting, I want to know where ye stand."
"Where I stand?" Anger pricked at me and I tried to shove it away, knowing that it was just a reaction to his words and not his meaning. "I love you, Tristan. Do you not know that?"
"Aye, I do," he replied softly. "But I know ye also love yer time and yer home. There are things there that ye can never have here, things I can never give ye, no matter how much I wish to."
"My home has been with you for the past year," I said, eyes watering suddenly. "I've shared everything with you. Why would you even think I wouldn't want to marry you? Because of one thing that may or may not work out?"
"I simply require to know if ye've changed yer mind." He was remaining calm somehow, watching me expressionless as I attempted to keep everything under control. It was all too much for me to handle at once.
"Have you changed yours?" I asked timidly. What if he was so disappointed about having to stay that he wanted nothing to do with me anymore? What if he'd only truly meant to marry me after I'd told him when and where I was from?
"I love ye with all my heart, and always will." His tone was even, but I caught the glimpse of saddened, heart breaking emotion that flashed in his eyes, hastily covered by indifference.
What did I want? Struggling against my overwhelming emotions, I thought about my life up to this point, examining everything that had ever happened to me. My mother's smile played before my face while Dad's laughter echoed in my ears, their deaths still stinging deeply. Going back was the right thing, even if I had to do it alone. How could it be wrong to return to the time that creation had put me in? Logically, I shouldn't exist here. But here I was, with only one way back and one question to answer. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself, knowing just what I desired.
"I won't go without you," I said, my voice catching. "If that means we put the vase away and never talk of it again, then that's what will happen. If you don't even want to try, for fear that one or both of us will be harmed, then smash it to bits right now and leave it here for all time."
He was on me in an instant, fingers tangled in my hair, lips pressing against mine in a happy desperation I'd never felt from him before. Stumbling off the road, tripping over foliage and roots, I held him tightly to me, kissing with just as much strength and passion he was showing me. Finally, my back rested against one of the great trees and he slowed, running his tongue over my bottom lip, his breath washing over my face with comforting warmth.
Everywhere he touched hummed in ecstasy, my eyes drooping lazily closed as he nipped down my neck, his hand brushing down my side and sliding under my shirt. It felt as if the world had stopped with us, the heat intensifying the burn we were creating all on our own.
"I love you," I whispered, my own palms sliding under his shirt and tracing over his skin.
"Damn that opium and my stitches tearing," he groaned as I lighted across his cut.
"Does it hurt?" Carefully, I gingerly prodded, watching his face as he grimaced.
"Aye, it does. Almost as bad as the hurt from not having ye right this moment." He pressed against me and I could feel how badly he wanted me.
Groaning, I pulled his mouth back to mine, exploring and tasting to my heart's content. It was like fireworks were exploding all around me, my skin tingling from their popping, basking in the light of newfound paradise.
"I can work around your shoulder," I mumbled, feeling for his belt buckle. "Do you have a—" Stopping short, I laughed once, pushing him away slightly. "Of course you don't."
"Have a what?" he asked, eyes burning with hunger and lust.
"A condom."
"I don't mean to sound impatient," he replied, grinning wolfishly, "but, perhaps now is not the best time to be telling me about the future, savvy?"
"A condom helps prevent pregnancy." Trying to figure out the days in my head, I thought back to my last cycle. How long had it been? Normally, I was really good about keeping track because it took so much more effort to take care of in this time. There were no disposable sanitary items and I'd been trying to hide the fact I was a woman. Each month had required careful calculation and planning. But, with my injury during the pirate battle, and then Tristan's own fight, I'd lost count.
"Oh." His face had acquired this blank look, like he suddenly didn't know what to do.
"Haven't you ever used birth control before?" I asked, curious. "Surely you didn't sleep with all those women and never wonder how they kept from getting pregnant?"
"They were taking herbs that prevented it," he replied, somewhat defensive. "I wouldn't leave a lass alone if she carried my child."
"I didn't think you would," I said gently. "Do you know where I could get some of these herbs?"
Surprised, he pulled further away, looking at me in interest. "Do ye not want a child, then?"
"Not right now," I laughed. "A pirate ship doesn't exactly seem the place to have one, either. I don't want to stay somewhere without you while you're off gallivanting around the globe. Besides that, I'm still so young."
"Yer far past the time to start bearing children in this time, lassie," he chuckled.
"Well, do you want kids?"
This was an odd conversation to be having in the middle of a rainforest, our clothes askew and hanging half off us.
He stared at me for a moment, searching my face, his smile growing. "Aye, that I do. And I want ye to have them. Yer right, though. Now is not the time." Sighing, he straightened my shirt, leaning in as he brushed his lips against mine. "I'll ask the Madame about the herbs."
"Thank you." I wanted to tell him it didn't matter, that we could try being careful right now, but common sense told me not to be stupid. Just one time without anything could give us a baby—a wonderful, half him, half me baby—and our current arrangement wouldn't support that.
He tugged his pants up from the small distance they'd fallen, tightening his belt, and groaned, looking at me in longing. "Our handfasting could not come sooner."
"Why is that?" I laughed, allowing him to take my hand and lead me to the road, where our horse had set to munching on one of the bushes.
"Ye'll finally be mine, body and soul, Sam. It'sall I could ever have asked for in this world."