Former Champion (Vanderbrook Champions Book 5)

by Edmund Hughes

  “I’m on watch,” said Zak. “Sharks, or qyss. They could attack at any time.” He grinned at her.

  “Real cute,” said Hachia. She didn’t smile back.

  Zak let out an exaggerated sigh. He turned around on the railing and dropped down to the deck, snagging up the net he’d left within arm’s reach and sorting out tangles.

  “You’re no fun,” he said. “Come on, the sky is clear, the seas are calm. And you’re looking especially beautiful, even though it’s been days since we’ve been to port.”

  Hachia folded her arms. The slightest hint of a smile pulled at the edges of her mouth.

  “Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she said.

  “And so smart,” he said, winking. “Too smart for my diversionary tricks.”

  She brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and nodded to the net in his hands.

  “You’re already halfway there,” she said. “Good finger work on those knots. I notice things like that.”

  Zak rolled his eyes, but continued moving. He walked a few feet down along the railing, giving the donphar a safe berth before tossing over the net. He always did that, treating the smaller ones with kindness befitting their intelligence, and giving the massive, ship killing ones the distance and respect they deserved.

  “For your information, I wasn’t taking a break,” said Zak. “I was just thinking.”

  “Of course you were,” said Hachia. “Let me guess. You were imagining yourself skipping to one of the moons? Floating all the way up to Krex, and claiming it as your kingdom?”

  She moved in closer behind him, leaning over the railing in a manner that was unmistakably provocative. Hachia didn’t look at him directly, instead waiting for him to look at her, open to the attention of his potentially leering eyes.

  Zak pretended to ignore her, mostly out of necessity. Hachia was a walking mess of contradictions. She was attractive, three years younger than him at nineteen, with a lean body and alluring curves. Her sandy blonde hair managed to look good even when worn ragged, loose and comely around her shoulders. Unfortunately, she knew all of this, and had mostly gone through life taking advantage of the benefits of her appearance in a brusque and direct manner.

  In comparison, Zak was tall and lanky, and though the musculature of a life lived as an oceanfoot was nothing to scoff at, his tanned skin and minimalist, somewhat ragged clothing didn’t add much to his overall appearance. Not enough for him to feel as though he was playing against Hachia with a full plate of Parxus chips.

  “No,” said Zak. “I was thinking about something a little more grounded then that.”

  “So… what, then?” asked Hachia.

  Zak scowled.

  I should be used to this by now.

  “I give up, Hachia,” said Zak. “I’m working, see? Go back to Demetro and tell him that your mission has been accomplished.”

  Hachia’s lips puckered into a pout and she let out an exaggerated sigh.

  “Why do you always have to be this way?” she asked. “Other people like to have fun too, you know. My fun just happens to consist with occasionally torturing you.”

  “Well, I give you credit for admitting it,” said Zak. He reached over and dipped his fingers into one of the ship’s rain barrels as they passed by, pulling up his hand and flicking a palm’s worth of water in her direction. Hachia let out an annoyed shriek and glared at him.

  “You are… such a pain!” snapped Hachia.

  “No,” said Zak. “I just give unto others as I would dream for them to give unto me. A regular Iathia the Pious.”

  Hachia’s slate blue eyes gave away what she was about to do before she’d moved to do it, and Zak had time to dodge back and out of the way as she reached a hand into the rain barrel and countered his splash.

  The two of them laughed and forgot their pretenses for a moment, splashing water at each other and giggling like children. Zak found it hard to disengage, both with his actions and his eyes. Hachia had done it once again, and he was annoyed at himself for going along with it. She was being a pain and stealing his attention, and he knew her well enough to know what that meant.

  “That’s clean water, you vandals!” Bartrand stomped over, puffing out his chest and curling his huge arms in exaggerated anger. “Are you expecting us to drink the salt tonight?”

  “Never again,” said Zak, furrowing his brow. “It’s not exactly my idea of fun.”

  “Then knock it off,” said Bartrand. “Salt and stone, it never ends with the two of you.”

  Bartrand glared at them for a couple of seconds. He was a soft-hearted man, and Zak wasn’t surprised when the glare melted into a subdued grin.

  “See, Bartrand knows the run of things,” said Hachia. “He’s about business. Always with his eyes on the ship, and his mind on the ocean.”

  Zak shook his head.

  “My mind was on the ocean,” he said. “Just... in a different way.”

  He didn’t mention that it was on what the ocean reminded him of, of the expanse of lost potential. The ocean was the Worldmaker’s bed, according to both the native Arkaian religion and the newer interpretations of the teachings of the Legacy Temple.

  The ocean was special, deeply entwined with the cycle of life, creation and being. His mother and father, both unknown to him, were sleeping in its depths. His mentor, Jonalan, the person who’d done more for him than anyone else, was now a part of it, buried under the deceptively plain blue surface.

  “It should be on the sky as much as the sea today,” said Bartrand. His voice was low, slow, and deliberate. “Today’s a lucky day.”

  “You always say that,” said Zak.

  Bartrand gave him a look and a smile, and Zak found himself oddly convinced by the man’s confidence. He let out a small chuckle, and was halfway into letting loose with another quip when he saw something that stopped him.

  Over the side of the ship, a school of prism fish swam by, each one the size of a man’s face, with curved, rainbow-colored fins on either side that were considered to be an expensive delicacy in Malnia. He snapped and gestured with his fingers, drawing the attention of the others.

  “By the stones!” shouted Bartrand. “Get a net and get down there! I’ll holler at the Under Prince to loop the ship around.”

  Zak nodded, already moving into position near the aft of the ship. Hachia didn’t waste time, either, pulling one of the larger nets from the outer storage cabinets and double checking the fold for tangles.

  “Same as usual?” she asked, flicking strands of sandy hair out of her face to meet Zak’s eyes.

  “It looks like it could be a huge haul…” said Zak. “Better take a deep breath before going under.”

  She rolled her eyes. It was good advice, but so commonly given as to have become almost a throwaway statement, run into the ground on every fishing ship upon which Zak had served.

  “We have to time this just right,” continued Zak. “I’ll nip at the edges of the school until it’s good and bunched up, and then push it your way. Shouldn’t take long.”

  “Alright,” said Hachia. “I’ll follow your lead.”

  Zak held up a hand, waiting while their captain, Under Prince Demetro, slowly turned the ship around. The water was crystal clear, and it was no trouble for him to keep the fish in view. He could just barely see the faint blue reflection of Methrakia, the middle moon, in the water, larger than Krexellious and faster moving.

  “Almost,” murmured Zak. “Get ready!”

  He took several steps back, giving himself room. As the ship started back toward the fish, Zak charged, running forward at the railing. He hopped onto it without losing speed and hurled himself into a dive, sighting the spot on the water directly in front of the school’s path. A thrill went deep through him as he twisted and turned through the air.

  He hit the water with only the slightest of splashes. To the fish, it may as well have been a skystone impact, all of them rushing away from the source of the disturbance. Zak�
��s momentum carried him through the water on one side, sending them against the ship and toward where Hachia would be with the net.

  The world under the surface of the water was defined by a cool, blue silence. Zak loved it as much as anything, from the way his body moved, slowed and subdued by the water, to the almost limitless extent of the unknown presented by the deeper depths.

  One of the fish veered off slightly to the right, as if testing the safety of that path of escape for the entire group. Zak kicked his legs and shot up next to it, steering it back into the greater group.

  He could see Hachia ahead, having tethered one end of the net to the ship and holding the other in her hands. She had a graceful swimming style, her midsized breasts loose in the shirt she wore, not having had enough time to put on her usual swimming tunic. Speed swimming was not Hachia’s specialty, which was why Zak so often had her holding the net.

  The fish didn’t realize what was about to happen until it was almost too late. Unfortunately, Zak had underestimated the size of the school, and overestimated the size of their net. Hachia closed around the fish in a slow circle, but even kicking at her hardest, fish were beginning to bleed out from the openings.

  Zak pumped his arms and legs, cutting through the water over to where the other end of the net attached to the ship. They usually left it like that. Too many hauls had been lost by an accidental break in the net or clumsy handling. Prism fish were far too valuable to risk catching freehand.

  But they were also extremely mobile, and that was all Zak had on his mind as he watched them rushing out of the net by the dozen, moving faster than Hachia could contain them. He undid the knot, taking the far end of the net in his hand, and swam toward her.

  It pulled their trap closed almost immediately, faster than most of the prism fish could react. The saro vines woven into the edges of the net automatically looped into each other, sealing it up into a bundle held tightly enough to keep the fish from escaping.

  Zak looped back down, swimming backward and bumping into Hachia as he gave the job a final look over. She rubbed one of his shoulders affectionately and flashed a tiny, secretive smile. Zak couldn’t resist. He grabbed her and pulled her against him, stealing an underwater kiss. She responded by pressing her body against his eagerly as both of their lungs began to burn.

  They parted after a second or two and Zak nodded toward the surface. Hachia waited, watching him and turning the moment into another contest, another back and forth of egos.

  Zak didn’t take the bait, feeling as though the kiss and the prism fish were victory enough. He kicked his legs and took off toward the surface first, getting his head out of the water a half second before his lungs began to actively revolt. Bartrand was at the edge of the ship, along with Demetro, and both of them watched him expectantly.

  “Probably about two hundred, maybe more,” said Zak. He grinned up at both of his crewmates, meeting Demetro’s gaze for long enough to read the suspicion in the eyes staring back at him.

  I still can’t tell if he knows about the two of us, even after months of me and Hachia sneaking around.

  “We’re near one of the unclaimed Lower Islands,” said Bartrand. “Makes sense for the two of you to swim out and see if there are any around the shallows.”

  Zak nodded. Hachia surfaced next to him and he shot her a look, feeling as though a bit of her competitiveness had spread into him.

  “Race you to the island,” he said, kicking off the ship’s hull before she could answer.

  “You ass!” Hachia splashed water in his direction, and followed after him.

  CHAPTER 2

  ZAK

  They swam into the shallows and walked the last stretch onto the sun heated island. It was a tiny thing, maybe two hundred feet across, just large enough for some trees and overgrown bushes to have sprouted up in its center.

  Hachia looked expectantly at Zak as they slowly did a lap around the island’s circumference, searching for more prism fish. She made it obvious in her expression what she wanted, and seeing her like that, lips pouty, looking for every excuse she could find to slowly bend over to pick up shells, or pull downward at her tight, wet shirt, made it hard for him not to ogle her.

  That’s how it all started to begin with. Me stealing a look at the wrong time… or exactly the right time.

  “Come on,” he said. He took her hand into his and silently led her into the trees, waiting until they were on the other side of the tiny forest, and Demetro and Bartrand’s views were sure to be blocked.

  She was against him in an instant, before he could say what he wanted, before he could say anything. Hachia kissed him with enough passion for two women put together. Zak felt himself hardening as he shifted, dropping down onto the sand with her.

  They’d known each other for three years, and spent the better part of the first two flirting and testing each other, letting the tension build until it had finally spilled over during an argument about whose shift it was, the two fucking it out instead of fighting.

  Zak ran his hand under the bottom hem of Hachia’s shirt, pulling it off her and tossing it away. Her breasts were nicely sized, with large, cute nipples. He leaned forward and kissed each one, feeling Hachia slowly pawing at his crotch, working the tie of his trousers loose.

  Relationships among deck families were uncommon and typically frowned upon. The Arkaian Ocean was no place for children, or love, for that matter. The storms took a yearly toll in blood, and losing a deck brother or sister was already price enough to pay, let alone a lover, or someone even closer.

  Hachia stared at Zak’s hard cock as he moved to finish undressing her. She always insisted on wearing the tightest pants she could, and he smiled at the cute wiggles she was forced to do in order to get herself out of them.

  He slid in between her newly naked thighs, both of them stripped bare, and let his erection press into her tight, wet hole. Zak felt the same familiar thrill as he began to move. They could be discovered by Demetro and Bartrand as easily as one of them deciding to come and check out the island. It was always like that, him and Hachia sneaking around to find time to get each other off, and sometimes he wondered if that, more than any real attraction, was what brought them together.

  “We have to… be quick,” Hachia whispered, cupping her hand against his cheek. Zak pushed deeper into her, hearing a tiny squeal in return and feeling delighted by the girlishness of it.

  He pumped into her hard, luxuriating in the passion of the moment. If Hachia wanted a different life, she could find one for herself, leveraging her looks, fertility, and heritage to get off the Sand Angel. But here she was, with him, at least for the moment.

  Zak felt primal emotions surge through his chest as he pushed forward, enjoying the sensation of her soft body and modest breasts. Hachia was always a tease right up until the action began. Her body melded into his, submissive, eager, and quivering in response to his movements.

  It was a struggle to stay quiet, with the pleasure as raw and vivid as it was. The noises they did make sounded lewd and illicit, even against the naturally romantic background of the noise of the ocean and waves. They were eager and young, full of passion, hormones, and lustful needs.

  Zak let himself enjoy the sensation of her tightness and warmth. He slowed his movements until Hachia began to arch her hips up toward him, desperate for what he had to offer. He pushed into her, kissing her neck and only barely resisting the urge to whisper dirty things into her ear.

  “Oh… Zak!” Hachia tensed up, her legs wrapping around him. Zak thrust deep into her, only remembering at the last second to pull back and find his release somewhere that would keep their lives simple and uncomplicated into the future.

  She cuddled against him for a minute or two, resting her head against his chest and saying nothing. Zak ran his hand through her sandy blonde hair and emptied his mind of thoughts and worry.

  “Zakarias…” whispered Hachia.

  He frowned. She only ever used his full name when s
he was being serious.

  “Yeah?”

  She hesitated for a long moment before continuing.

  “Demetro is still smitten with me,” she said.

  Zak did his best to shrug with her still pressed tight against his side.

  “So what?” he asked. “Are you saying we should be open about… this?”

  Hachia found his hand with hers and gave it a squeeze.

  “I have to think of my family,” she whispered. “And of their future.”

  …And Demetro is one of the Under Princes. Not exactly high on the social hierarchy compared to the Malnians, but above almost any Arkaian. Above me…

  He didn’t say anything, and it was clear enough that Hachia took that to be a response in itself.

  “This was just fun, Zak,” she said, softly.

  “I know.” He took a deep breath, forcing out words even as he feared betrayal from the emotion in his tone. “Of course. I knew that.”

  Hachia stood up, walking naked across the sand to collect her clothes. Zak looked away from her, sensing somehow that it could quite possibly be the last time he’d ever see her naked. He dressed alongside her, neither of them saying anything else, and then swam back to the ship alongside her. They were greeted by a grinning Bartrand, leaning over the railing.

  “You two were gone for a while,” bellowed the big man. “Strange. Any sign of more?”

  Zak ignored the insinuation. He gripped the rope ladder hanging over the side of the ship in one hand and started up it.

  “No, that’s it,” he said, with a sigh. “But still, this is a better haul than any we’ve had in weeks. My extra five percent alone will be enough to feed me for a month.”

  “Hachia gets the finder’s fee,” said Demetro. The youngest of the seven Under Princes of the Arkaian Isles slowly walked onto deck, eying Zak and Hachia with more confusion than suspicion. His clothes were only marginally less ragged than anyone else’s on the ship, but there was something in the way he walked and the look on his face that suggested authority.