by Elle Cardy
Jasmine gasped and opened her eyes. The room came crashing into focus. The smell of ether, sick, and old blood assaulted her senses. She gasped again and guessed she was in the infirmary. She lay in a shallow bed and two men leaned in close. One was an older man with cropped white hair. The other was younger. He might have been in his early twenties. He was the wielder. He wore his light brown hair loose and he remained cleanly shaven which gave him a boyish appearance.
She slapped the wielder’s hand away and almost knocked over a shielded lantern in her haste to escape. The two men easily took hold of her and sat her back down on the bed.
“There’s nowhere for you to go, boy,” the doc said.
“You are too weak anyway, Midge.”
She scowled at the wielder. She’d never met a wielder before and wondered why everyone was so afraid of them. He seemed harmless enough.
“Drink this,” Finn said and handed her a tankard.
She pushed it away.
“It’s only water. You’re dehydrated.”
She reluctantly took it from him and drank. The water tasted like sweet nectar and she gulped it down as if she were a sponge soaking up the sea. When she finished, her head still ached but her mind cleared. More than ever she was aware of a weakness that raced through her limbs. She fought the urge to lie down and sleep.
“I’m fine now,” Jasmine lied. “You can send me back to the others.”
“Very well,” doc said.
“Before we send him back, I’d like a moment alone with the cabin boy if you don’t mind, doc?”
Doc shrugged. “You’re the wielder.” He took a bottle of rum on his way out and closed the door behind him.
Finn turned his attention back to her, and she wondered what he wanted.
“Do the others know your secret?”
Jasmine stared at the wielder in shock. Was this their power? They could read a person’s secrets? No wonder people feared them.
“How did you know?”
He smiled. “I’m a wielder. I can feel it.”
“You can’t tell anyone.”
“So you don’t work for them, then?”
A look of horror crossed her expression. “No! It’s why I hide. They can never know. It’s safer. I’m just Cabin Boy Midge.”
A frown marred Finn’s smooth features. Sweat broke out on her forehead. He noticed but said nothing. He took her hands in his and examined her long fingers. His touch was like silk on fire. It was soft and smooth but it sent a spark through her.
“You wear no rings, no bracelet.” He reached up to her neck and touched her skin there. It was hot and clammy. “You have no pendant. Your clothes have no pockets.” He glanced down at her bare feet. “And you wear no trinkets on your feet either.”
“And why would a cabin boy need such things?”
“So where is your talisman?”
“My what?”
“Your talisman. Your prize, charm, focus. Where is it? You can trust me.”
“I don’t know you.”
“True. But I’m a wielder.”
“Are you saying all wielders are trustworthy?”
Finn laughed. “No. You make a good point.” His face darkened as if in understanding. “It wasn’t your dagger was it? That can too easily be taken away.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If I show you my talisman as a sign of trust, will you tell me the truth?”
Jasmine’s head ached more than ever. “Sure.”
Finn held out his hand. It was a creamy hand that hadn’t seen a day of labor. His hands were more girly than hers. On his third finger of his right hand he wore a ring. It was a nondescript thing of beaten metal that obviously held little to no value. Jasmine reached out to touch it but he pulled away.
“Now tell me the truth,” he said.
“What do you want to know?”
“Was the dagger your talisman?”
“No. It was just a blade my father gave me to chop vegetables.”
“So, where is your talisman then?”
“I have no talisman.”
A look of frustration returned to Finn’s face. “Did you lose it?”
Jasmine hesitated. She remembered the feeling of terrible loss when she first woke up on the Seahawk. She lost her home. She lost her freedom. She didn’t know anything about a talisman. The hesitation was enough to make Finn think she had answered him. He seemed suddenly distressed but she had no idea what he could be thinking. She’d heard of people buying charms that were meant to protect them. Maybe he thought she used one to remain hidden for so long.
“Will you tell your captain about me?” Jasmine had to know if her secret was safe.
Finn seemed torn between duty to his captain and a desire to keep her trust. “For now, I’ll tell no one. But if you try to interfere, I’ll have no option.”
Jasmine laughed. “What could I do?” She didn’t expect him to answer.
“I don’t know,” he said. “You’ve already been severely weakened. But you might be foolish enough to try something regardless of your... handicap.”
An irrational anger welled up inside Jasmine. “My what?” It was the first time in her life she felt the need to defend her femininity rather than hide it or apologize for it. Just because she was female didn’t mean she was somehow incapable of doing the same things men could do. She couldn’t believe the first time someone learned the truth about her they slammed her with prejudice.
Strength returned as if a wave of steel washed through her veins. She felt a sudden urge to punch the arrogant man.
Finn seemed confused but before he could say anything, the Seahawk’s bells tolled. Doc burst into the infirmary.
“The Prize has been sighted. You’re needed on deck.”
Without another word, Finn swept out of the room and disappeared. Doc took a quick look at Jasmine and said, “You look recovered. I’ll take you back to the others.”
Jasmine followed, eager to see what she could of the ship. She heard commands being shouted above decks. She desperately wanted to see what was happening. When Doc brought her past a hatchway that obviously led topside, she chose that moment to run from the old man. She didn’t know what to expect. She had no plan. She just needed to see what was happening. She needed to see the Prize.
“Come back, boy!”
Jasmine dashed up the ladder, two rungs at a time, and burst through the hatchway. Fresh sea air filled her lungs. The smell of the sea invigorated her and filled her with more strength. Sailors from the Seahawk were too busy carrying out the captain’s commands to pay a cabin boy any attention. She didn’t wait for Doc to catch her or sound the alarm. She swung onto the lines and climbed the rigging. This was her domain. She belonged up here, where the wind caressed her and the sun warmed her back and the view spoke to her.
Jasmine found a place in the rigging where no one on deck would easily spot her. She stretched out on the mid yardarm and scanned the seas. There, to the north was the Prize. She was a fine ship, riding black against the slate sea. The sight of the ship warmed her heart and she silently thanked Captain Kahld for his determination. She cut through the waters with amazing speed.
A cold wind blew in Jasmine’s face. It was not a natural wind. It sent a chill through her that made her want to hide. The wind filled the Seahawk’s sails and pushed the ship through the waters. Kahld’s advance slowed. To her horror, Jasmine realized the Seahawk would out sail the Prize. This couldn’t happen.
The sun vanished behind darkening clouds. Jasmine saw a spark of hope flicker in a gathering squall. Not even a ship powered by an unholy wind could battle the power of a squall. They’d be forced to furl the sails and slow down. The Prize could catch them after all.
The storm winds picked up strength and fought with the unnatural wind powering the sails. Jasmine felt the forces buffet her against the yardarm where she lay hidden. She wanted to che
er. But before the squall could gather any real force it dissipated as if someone had blown into the smoke of an extinguished candle.
Jasmine cursed the winds. Something made her look down to the deck. Finn stood on the quarterdeck with, she presumed, the captain and his first mate. He pointed up to her. She couldn’t hear the captain’s command from up there with the unnatural wind whistling in her ears, but she didn’t need to. Four sailors began to climb the rigging. They were coming to get her and she didn’t think things would end well for her if they caught her.
Jasmine cursed again and stood up on the yardarm. She considered climbing higher but she’d end up being just as trapped. She considered swinging over to the second mast but she didn’t know if she could pull off a move like that. The men reached the sail below her. One of them was Roberts. He carried his dagger in his mouth as he climbed. The determined look on his face told her she might need to spend more time in the infirmary soon.
A string of curses escaped her lips before she decided what to do. Desperation overruled caution. The men reached her yardarm and made their slow way toward her.
Roberts growled at her. “As I said before, you’re more trouble than you’re worth, boy.”
“You’re probably right,” she said, then leaped. Her hands reached for a line — and caught it. The jolt almost wrenched her arms out of their sockets. She sucked in a breath as the momentum carried her to another line. With the confidence that could only come from one born on the sea, she grabbed for the second line. It slipped through her fingers. With a yelp, she fell.
She seemed to fall in slow motion while the world tilted and she fell and she fell. She closed her eyes against the inevitable. The ship would embrace her end and she could at last be one with the sea.
“Throw him in with the others. We’ll deal with him later.”
A rough hand wrenched her arm. Jasmine’s eyes’ flew open. The touch had stopped her fall. She looked around in a daze. What had happened? She was lying on the deck, being pulled to her feet. She spotted Finn. He looked disappointed in her. She realized he had slowed her fall. He’d saved her. wielders could do more with their power than she realized. She glanced over her shoulder at him again and saw the first mate hold him up as if he were about to collapse.
The burly sailor rough handled her all the way to the hold. He then threw her down the hatch. He didn’t bother to put her in irons. He spat on her then locked the hatchway.
“Midge!”
She should’ve responded to Cook’s voice. Instead, she crawled over to a dark corner and rested her head against the hull. A sense of hopelessness filled her. The wielder was too strong. The Prize would never be able to catch up to them. This was their new life.
Chapter 5
“Forget the Wielder’s Prize. It’s not coming to rescue you. It’s no longer your home. It’s gone.” First Mate Rogahm’s announcement echoed against the inky waves.
Jasmine shivered in the cold air of dawn. She stood on deck with her shipmates, their feet shackled and their hands bound. They were lined up as if they waited for execution. A vast dark ocean surrounded them. Jasmine couldn’t see land or ship anywhere. They were as alone as if they’d been stranded on a deserted island with a pack of hungry natives. The captain, his officers, and Finn, and the entire crew gathered on deck to witness the proceedings. Jasmine didn’t try to guess what those proceedings might be.
“Forget the Wielder’s Prize,” Rogahm repeated, “because you are now crewmen of the Seahawk.” Just as he said those words the sun broke through the horizon and set the ocean on fire.
“If you obey Captain Inness you will be rewarded.” The first mate was a short man and he paced the deck like a bulldog in front of the captives. Jasmine wondered if all first mates were just like Durne. “You will be fed the rations of all able seamen. You will be assigned a comfortable berth. You will be given a roster of duty. And,” he paused for emphasis, “you will be paid for your work.”
Rogahm waited for his words to sink in. Jasmine could see him calculating the reactions of his prisoners. She glanced down the line and realized all of them seemed surprised and impressed — all but Cook. Her father stared in front of him as if he were a soldier waiting for battle. Rogahm seemed to take a mental note of that lack of reaction.
“If, however, you disobey the captain,” Rogahm continued, “if you disobey me, or any of the other officers, or even our wielder, then you will be punished.” His pacing stopped in front of Cook as a warning. Still Cook made no response. He stared through the first mate as neither a challenge nor a surrender. It was a show of strength that Jasmine didn’t think he had. Jasmine wondered where he found such an unlikely reserve.
The captain stepped forward then. He was a tall windswept man in his forties. He seemed too young to be a captain. Jasmine supposed he was either very lucky or very smart. He also seemed to have a fondness for lace and silks. The blue jacket he wore would’ve cost him a fortune.
“Do you agree to these terms?” Captain Inness asked the captives.
There was hesitation among Jasmine’s shipmates. They had expected to be pushed into slavery but instead they were offered nothing less than life on the Prize had offered.
“Aye, Captain,” Hensley said. Immediately Roberts unbound his hands and removed his shackles.
“And what of the rest of you?” the captain asked again.
They all agreed, even Cook, so Jasmine agreed as well. When Roberts removed her restraints he chuckled to himself. She wondered what the joke was until the captain spoke again.
“One of my crew members has been disobedient. First Mate Rogahm, please take care of this matter as agreed by all crew members.”
Jasmine tried to be as insignificant as possible. She tried to shrink in on herself and hide but a weakness washed over her. She guessed this was what it felt to be defeated. She stared down at the deck and tried not to think of the ache in her head. She had hoped they’d let her moment of foolishness pass, but it seemed they were going to make an example of her.
“Seaman Midge, step forward,” Rogahm bellowed into the cold morning air.
When she didn’t move, Roberts pushed her forward. She began to shiver again. Rogahm walked around her like a hound sniffing prey.
“You might be young, boy, but you now live on a ship that won’t be soft on you.”
Jasmine almost laughed at that.
“Your antics in the rigging yesterday will cost you.” He raised his voice so that the entire ship could hear him. “For disobeying his superiors, Seaman Midge is hereby punished to twenty lashes.”
All but her shipmates from the Prize cheered. She felt lightheaded and her mouth went dry. For all the things she’d done and all the punishments she’d received, she’d never been flogged. It couldn’t happen. To flog a man, they always stripped him to his waist. Her secret would be revealed for all to see in the most humiliating way possible. She searched the crowd for Finn. He had the power to intervene. He could save her. But when she found him, his expression seemed closed. She couldn’t read his thoughts. Surely he knew what this meant. Did he think she had somehow betrayed him and this was his payback?
Two men grabbed hold of her. She struggled against them.
“Wait!” Cook bellowed in his loudest voice. “I’m responsible for the boy.”
“And why is that?” Rogahm asked.
“He’s me son. He’s too young to know better. I’ll take responsibility.”
“That so?” Rogahm glanced at his captain for confirmation. Captain Inness nodded once. Rogahm smiled at Cook then. “Very well. Thirty lashes to Seaman Brusan.”
“Thirty? You’d sentenced me to twenty,” Jasmine said in shock. The most Kahld ever gave out was ten.
“Would you like me to make it forty then?”
Powerlessness soaked through her. “No, sir.”
“Very good.”
The men released her and took Cook instead. He didn’t fight
them. They took him to the mainmast and stripped his shirt off. Jasmine had never seen her father without an apron, let alone a shirt. She gasped when she saw him. His back was laced with scars from previous floggings. He seemed to have more than she could count. His muscles rippled beneath them. She’d never seen a man with so many scars.
“A trouble-maker, I see.” Rogahm didn’t seem impressed.
They tied her father’s hands to the mainmast. Lars stepped forward. In the dim light of dawn, his scar was a trench of shadow across his face. He carried a whip with many cords. Making a show of carefully untangling the leather cords, he inspected the knots at each end. Doc positioned himself next to Cook and gave the signal to proceed.
Jasmine didn’t want to watch. She’d never watched the floggings on the Prize. She’d either hidden or stared out to sea. She had never liked the sound of the whip or the cries from the men. On the Seahawk there was nowhere to hide so she turned away and stared into the burning ball of the sun as it rose into a cloudy sky.
The crack of the whip split through the cold air like shattered ice. Its echo made the air sound hollow and the waves sound hushed.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five cracks.
Jasmine didn’t flinch and she didn’t squint at the brightness of the sun. She held her hands in tight fists, her short nails biting into her palms.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten cracks.
Firm hands took hold of Jasmine’s shoulders and turned her away from the sun. Roberts forced her to watch the flogging. Lars swung the whip back. There was a fire in his eyes that had nothing to do with the sun. Blood ran down Cook’s back like rivers of scolding lava. Jasmine tried not to think this was her fault. She tried to view the scene without passion.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
Fourteen.
Fifteen cracks.
Doc held his hand up. Lars lowered the whip and waited while Doc inspected his patient. Blood dripped from the whip and splashed into a red puddle on the ship’s deck. Doc said something to Cook. Jasmine couldn’t hear what he had asked but Cook shook his head. Doc stepped back and indicated Lars should proceed.
