Lesbian Pirates In the Gorgon Isles

As the monster's massive head (easily as big as either of the Queen's two small boats put together) craned toward her and she found herself staring into the bloody depths of one of its giant eyes, Belit bellowed one word as loud as she could:

"Morgan!"

The fisherwoman had been staring, as if paralyzed, from the quarterdeck, but the sound of her captain's voice snapped her into action. She was good at following orders; in three years on the Queen of the Black Coast, she'd never once failed to do whatever Belit asked. Hopefully this wasn't the time she started breaking old habits.

Right away Morgan understood what was being asked of her. She was already holding one of her best harpoons, a wicked piece of work almost as tall as she was. Most women in the crew could scarcely have lifted it properly, and nobody except Morgan could throw it worth anything.

Now her muscular arms and shoulders coiled back into the familiar thrower's posture that they'd assumed a hundred times a day since she was six years old. Although it would be impossible to hear over the bellows of the crew or the sound of the monster's hide sliding across the deck (its every scale gouging furrows into the planks), Belit imagined that the spear whistled as it flew.

She had expected Morgan might aim for one of the monster's eyes, but Morgan knew that a transparent lid as hard as the rest of its body covered a sea serpent's eye. Even the roof of its mouth was so thick and tough that hardly a blade ever forged could pierce its palate.

There was only one soft spot anywhere on the body of a beast like this, and Morgan's throw aimed straight for it. It was a hard shot, a long shot, a shot that should have been impossible—but it wasn't.

In the blink, half the length of the harpoon buried itself in the beast's throbbing pink gills, just behind the spot where its eel-like jaw joined to its skull. The effect was immediate and horrifying: blood so red that it was almost blinding exploded from the wound. The monster jerked straight up, and only luck kept the thrashing of its body from breaking the main mast.

For a moment Belit worried that it might come back down and split the Queen in two...but soon she saw, to her relief, that the wounded monster was retreating. This it did not by diving back into the ocean but—Belit realized with fresh horror what was about to happen—by leaping out of the water, hurtling its entire length over them.

Time seemed to stand still as the full bulk of the leviathan's mass blotted out the sun and rained sea foam onto the deck. The monster was high enough to clear the ship, but it was the landing that Belit braced for...

She had time to wrap the womanrope around her shoulder twice. It saved her again. When the monster landed, the waves again sent the Queen sprawling, nearly tipping her over. Once more women tumbled and scrambled, grabbing onto whatever they could (including each other) to stay aboard, one or two luckless cases failing.

The rope yanked Belit's arm and shoulder so violently that it nearly popped right out, but she gritted her teeth and held on and, mercifully, the Queen righted herself.

It was minutes more before the turmoil quieted to the point that anyone dared try to stand up. The deck was an unholy mess of blood, splintered wood, and snapped rigging. But they were lucky: They had enough ship left to sail, and enough women left to do the sailing. Spitting salt spray out of her mouth, Belit shouted:

"Crowd sail! Shake out everything! Get us as far away from here as you can. ...are you ladies deaf? Did you all die after all? Now!"

Still a bit dazed but picking up speed, every woman went to her post. Belit, unsteady but able to walk, clamored to the wheel. She wanted to turn into the strongest eastward winds. It would take them a bit off course, but they could correct later. Anything to get them out of the sea serpent's wake.


When she felt a hand on her shoulder she almost hit the woman on principle. The only thing that stopped her was seeing that it was Valeria, the Alexandra's captain. Her uniform was drenched, and by the look of it she'd been hurt in the fight, but she was alive.

"I need to get back to my ship," she said, her voice ragged.

"I'm not stopping you," Belit said, spinning the ship's wheel.

"The beast took my women. The waves took our boat."

"Then jump in and swim."

"Begging you pardon, Captain Valeria, but I don't think you even want to do that," said Achillia. (Belit was relieved to see the bosun alive.) The big woman pointed and everyone turned.

Distantly, they saw the Alexandra; the ship was still intact, but it was bobbing listlessly, pushed this way and that by the waves, too damaged, it seemed, to even steer itself.

Valeria went as if she really would jump in after it, but Achillia grabbed her and—with some difficulty—restrained her. "It's too late," the bosun said.

"Let me go," said Valeria. "That's an order!"

"Orders?" said Belit. "You're not on your ship. In fact, it looks like you won't be ever again."

She rounded on the other captain—ex captain now.

"What was it you said a minute ago? We'd have to sail to the end the world to get away from your crew? As it happens, that's where we're going anyway. Tie her up somewhere, Achi. I'll decide what to do with her later."

For a second it looked like Valeria was going to try to break out of the big woman's grasp and dive straight for Belit's throat. Belit would even have respected her if she did.

But instead she stood up straighter—that firm military posture Belit was convinced navy women spend two hours a day practicing—and nodded to the bosun, as if the whole thing was her idea. And away they went.

Belit felt like laughing. Destiny beats death again. Minutes ago, fate had favored Valeria—but now it was back on Belit's side, where she knew it would always return eventually.

She had only another moment or two to feel smug before the cry went up: "Woman overboard!"

Blinking, Belit said, "Are you all as stupid as you are shit in a fight? Of course there are women overboard. What do you want to do about it?"

"But Captain," said Rusila, "it's Morgan."

Hells.

Peering through the spyglass Rusila passed to her, it took Belit a moment to pick out what she was looking for, amidst the crash of the waves and the violence of the sea...

But there she was: Morgan, bobbing in the waves, swimming after them for all she was worth even though even she must know it was hopeless. The monster's second wake must have knocked her over. In the chaos, no one noticed.

Lowering the spyglass, Belit shook her head. Rusila actually pulled on her sleeve. "We have to go back," she said.

"The fuck we do," said Belit.

"She saved our lives," Stikla said, standing shoulder to shoulder with her sister.

"She followed orders," said Belit. "Besides, do you want to throw our lives away now that she's bothered to save them? Look twice: Something else is still out there."

Soon the others saw it too: a shadow beneath the water's surface, huge, and though it was dim it was rising speedily: the sea serpent.

"If we turn back, it'll tear us apart. If we keep going, maybe it'll forget about us. Those things hold grudges. It might be satisfied with just Morgan now."

"But..." said Rusila.

But there was nothing else to say.

Every woman stared at the scene on the sea: The shadow of the monster beneath the waves growing distinct; Morgan's flailing strokes becoming more desperate...

Then, almost as one, they turned away.

Only Belit kept watching. Eventually, having disposed of the captive captain for now, Achillia joined her.

"Are you sure about this?" said the bosun. "I know you're right. But..."

"She knew the risks," Belit said. "If it was me out there, I wouldn't want you to go back."

"If it was you out there it wouldn't matter. This isn't your day to die."

Belit shrugged. "We were lucky. Now let's make that luck count. Don't forget what this is all about, Achi: More gold than we can even carry. More gold than we could spend in a lifetime."

By then, Belit had already turned away from where Morgan still struggled in the waves. She faced south instead. South, toward their heading, their destination, and her destiny.

***

IV: Strange Waters

Belit didn't keep many rules onboard. Go making a lot of rules and then you have to stick to them all the time. Better to make things up on the fly and keep the women guessing.

She did, however, have a lot of habits, one being that it never paid to keep more than one prisoner onboard at a time. Prisoners needed feeding and looking after and did no work, and then you had to set other women to watching them all the time, so that was even less work done.

Belit had built the bilge cell small to help maintain her one-prisoner-at-a-time practice. If the cell was already full and one of the women got into trouble, more creative punishments would have to be employed. It kept everyone sharp.

For a day or two, Valeria tested Belit's policy. Aurora now had to be kept in the single cell, on account of she kept trying to do stupid things like stab Belit in her sleep (she never even get as far as the cabin door) or jump overboard and swim for anything that looked like shore (Achillia took to tying a rope to the girl's waist all the time).

Valeria, then, had to be kept tied up wherever there was room for her. Normally Belit would have just thrown her overboard, or even had her hanged, in repayment for the many pirates the Empress' navy hung over the years. But the Queen lost five hands to the sea serpent, and Belit felt confident that Valeria was a good sailor and a good fighter, and Belit could use an extra capable hand onboard now—assuming she could convince Valeria to play along.

The navy captain wanted no part of Belit's offer to join the crew, of course. Belit could well imagine how she felt: ship lost, crew lost, mission failed. What was there for an upstanding woman to do but gallantly kill herself in the name of Her Majesty?

Except Aurora was still aboard. Valeria couldn't in good conscience throw her life away while there was still a chance to rescue the girl, however slender. It was her duty. Belit knew this, and pressed it to her advantage.

After a few days, they came to an arrangement: Valeria was still a prisoner, but had free run of the ship and answered to Achillia. She was, as predicted, an able sailor, and didn't even seem to mind the abuse the other women heaped on her. Belit kept Valeria's sword as a reminder of their deal, and in a short while, life aboard the Queen of the Black Coast seemed almost normal with the navy woman around.

They kept on Larissa's southward heading, and the seas turned strange. The fish they caught were of sorts no one had ever seen before, and the birds that alighted on the mast equally bizarre. The waters were warm, but prone to mists and heavy fogs at dusk and early morning that delayed progress.

They had long since left behind any recognizable landmark, and here and there when they glimpsed land it was always an island or exposed reef, home to strange shapes, standing stones and leaning towers that may or may not have been inhabited.

Some of the women swore they heard voices in the fog, talking and singing in a language nobody recognized, and now and then there were lights in the sky. Strangest of all, they saw no other ships. Not so much as a rowboat crossed the prow. The crew saw each other and no one else, seemingly the only women to dare these strange southern seas—except perhaps for the mermaids a few of the more simple-minded hands insisted they saw following the ship one night.

In another unexpected but welcome turn, Larissa began visiting Belit's cabin again. Naturally, after the incident with the buckets, the Empresses' woman had given the captain only chilly regard. But right around the time they crossed some unknown meridian into these new seas, she reappeared in Belit's bed.

In theory, this was a good thing. She was a choice enough dish, as far as Belit was concerned, and suddenly of a very accommodating nature, and it wasn't likely this voyage would turn up better prospects. In practice, it probably just meant she was up to something...but Belit would hardly have respected her if she wasn't.

"You're sure this is the right way?" Belit asked her once, when they were alone.

"I'm certain of it," Larissa answered. "I've been this way many times. Only a few women have ever made the trip, and even fewer have come back. But this is the way."

If there was any doubt, Enyo confirmed the heading every time she cast the bones. They'd had supplies enough aboard to fix the worst of the damage from the sea serpent, and provisions were in good order. Every day, Belit's confidence increased.

For the second time that day, Belit reclined on the bed in her cabin with legs parted while Larissa applied her tongue to gratifying her captain's needs. "Lower," Belit said, her voice throaty, and the tender lapping of Larissa's red tongue dutifully slid a millimeter or two down to massage a particular ache deep between Belit's thighs.

She almost added "Good," but it wasn't her nature to be encouraging. Not with words, at least. Instead she grabbed a handful of Larissa's hair and shoved her face in harder, grinding her hips in a small circle against the other woman's mouth until she was all but purring.

As a rule she rarely drank aboard the ship, but she'd taken to wine during these little "diplomatic sessions" (as she called them). Larissa said it was the seas. "These waters put everyone a bit off. They make you do strange things."

"Is that why you're here?" Belit said. Conversation was difficult, as Belit once again had Larissa pinned to the bed, tormenting her too-sensitive nipples with pinches and twists of her wrist. The other woman thrashed and smothered her cries with a pillow. 

"No-o-o," she said, when she was able. "I'm here for my own reasons. That ought to be good enough for you."

I'll bet you are, Belit thought, eyeing the ambassador critically. She was beginning to worry that she might have underestimated the woman somehow...

There was a knock at the cabin door. It was so loud that it could only Achillia. "Come in," Belit said, not bothering to dress or get out of bed. None of this was anything the bosun hadn't seen before.

"Captain," Achillia said. She didn't look a Larissa at all. "A word in private?"

Larissa looked annoyed at being shown out, but since Belit only found the woman's resentment more gratifying it was worth being interrupted. Once she an Achillia were alone, Belit began dressing again, but slowly and lazily.

"Look, Captain, we have a problem," Achillia said after a moment. "Can I tell you how it really is?"

"You had better," Belit said, sliding into a shirt.

"The women are unhappy."

"The women are always unhappy," Belit said, drinking the last of the wine in one go. "If all I wanted was them happy we'd never leave port, their glasses would never be empty, and they'd never have fewer than three fingers in the twat of whichever dock whore last looked in their direction."

Th bosun grunted, but she also said, "This is different. Worse."

Belit looked the big woman up and down. Achillia had been a lot of things in her life: a soldier, a slave, a gladiatrix, a horse thief. What she'd never been was the type to worry. Now, she looked worried. Dressing herself fully, Belit indicated with her eyes that Achillia should continue.

"There's still talk that we shouldn't have left Morgan behind," she said. "Bad talk. And it's been too long since most of the women saw any money; remember, the girl's ransom was meant to tide them over."

"There'll be money enough when this is done," Belit said. "More—"

"More gold than we could spend in a lifetime, yes. But some of the women don't believe we're on the right heading. These waters spook them, and I can't say I blame them. Some of them say there's no Gorgon Islands at all. That you're taking us to our deaths, running after a dream."

"Rusila and Stikla?"

Achillia nodded.

"Empty-headed sluts. Is it mutiny then?"

"Not so bad as that. The sisters don't have mettle to take the ship, and they know it. Nobody really does, except maybe that navy woman, and all of us would spit her before taking orders from her. There's still plenty as are loyal to you anyway. But it could get that bad if something doesn't change soon. That's why I'm coming to you."

Belit buckled on two swords—hers and Valeria's—and nodded. "You're a good woman, Achi."

"You don't pay me to be good."

"Tell me straight again: Do YOU believe we're going the right way? That the Gorgon Islands are real?"

The bosun pondered this for a minute. "I think that you're sure," she said at last. "That's always been good enough before, and it still is. You've been good to me, Captain. Whatever happens, I'm with you."

They both believed it.

But as it soon turned out, they were both wrong.

***

V: The Forbidden Temple

Four days later Belit heard the call from on deck:

 "Land! Land!"

The first thing she found outside her cabin door was Larissa, with an expression of almost feral eagerness that Belit had never yet seen on the woman's face.

"This is it," she said.

Standing on the prow, Belit looked through the spyglass, hoping to penetrate the mists. She made out a sandy shore and what seemed to be dense jungle beyond it, but almost everything was obscured. "Are you sure?" she said. "We've passed a dozen islands just like this one."

"We passed them because they weren't the right ones," Larissa said. "This one is."

Once they were within rowing distance the Queen dropped anchor, and Belit set about the delicate task of parceling out who would go ashore. Achillia had warned her who amongst the women were getting restless, and she didn't want to leave enough faithless ones aboard that they might get smart ideas of casting off without her. 

But neither did she want to row out to the island with a passel of disloyal wenches along—if she turned her back on them long enough to put a knife there, they'd put a knife there. She had to divide the potential mutineers so that neither party had enough to press an advantage.

Larissa, of course, had to come, as she was the only one who spoke the Gorgon language. Achillia came, as Belit was hardly about to wade into unexplored territory without the big woman at her back.

The sisters Rusila and Stikla were among those she ordered ashore too (both visibly unhappy about it). As an afterthought, she brought along Valeria. It was never a terrible idea to have someone expendable in tow.

Her only worry was about Aurora. The rest of the women were getting tired of the girl—tired of her plaintive cries from down below, tired of the long and boring duty of watching her, and tired of having an extra mouth to feed. Left alone onboard for too long, someone might arrange an "accident" for the rich girl.

This wouldn't be so bad in Belit's opinion, except that she still needed Aurora's presence to keep Valeria in line, and also because in spite of everything she still hoped to ransom the girl off somehow, or at the very least put her to some profitable use along the line—maybe one of the fancier bordellos in a rich port city would buy her down the line.

Well, there was no such thing as life without some risk. Before they left, Belit took a trip down to the bilge—with it special smell of saltwater and rats—to tell the girl to be on her best behavior.

"Imagine that every person you see is waiting for the best time to cut your throat," she said, standing with her arms crossed and being careful to stay further than arm's length from the bars. "Because she is."