Seeing Aleksi, Luka sneered. “Don’t worry, I will deal with you soon enough, boy.” Then the man was belowdecks. Luka’s eyes had been filled with a violent rage, causing Aleksi to shiver despite the Zeniths’ warmth.
“Pay him no mind,” Domadred said from the quarterdeck. “He is a pompous fool and nothing more.”
Aleksi stood on shaky feet and gave the captain a small bow. Aleksi could still feel the young woman calling out to him. She urged, almost pleaded, for him to find her in the world of dreams. Aleksi tried with all his might to both hold the feeling in his mind and concentrate on the captain’s words.
“Some time sulking alone in his cabin will cool his flames,” Domadred continued, as the crew went back to work. “Whatever he has to say can wait. We have several days of voyage ahead and I have little interest in hearing his political pandering until I truly must.”
The young woman’s silent whisper was growing stronger, and it made Aleksi’s waking mind feel foggy and unclear. As Domadred walked toward him, Aleksi had to forcibly suppress his heart so as to not become lost in her emanating waves of emotion.
“He was a fool for sailing with us to begin with,” Domadred continued, as he walked down the steps next to Aleksi. “But then again, with the riots, I suppose he had little choice.” Coming closer, the captain then eyed the youth’s sketchbook. “Not just a sword fighter, but an artist, too?”
“I”—Aleksi paused, gripping the book tight—“enjoy drawing.” The feeling of the young woman was becoming too strong and threatened to overwhelm his mind with its power. He needed to regain control of himself.
“Well, if you draw half as well as you wield your blade,” Domadred said, chuckling, “your art must be stunning! We got quite a show today. I can’t say the last time I have seen a sword wielded so well by one so young.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Aleksi said, bowing. As he came up from the bow, Aleksi forced the feeling of the young woman away and reclaimed his mind. Pushing her away was like tearing open his own heart, but he had little choice.
“Actually, Captain,” Aleksi continued, shaking his head slightly and refocusing his eyes, “I wanted to ask you if I could train up on the stern deck from now on. I know it’s above your cabin, but I don’t want to interfere with the crew’s duties or endanger the ship.”
“Why don’t you train with the crew tomorrow? I’m sure they could learn a thing or two from your form, and they have a wealth of sailing experience that might be of benefit to you as well.”
“Captain . . . ,” Aleksi said, then paused for a moment before continuing. “While I would be honored to train with them, I would truly prefer—”
“No need to explain yourself. You have my permission to use the stern deck at your leisure.” The captain gestured to the stern of the ship. “Just be careful, for when the ship comes about, the booms swing. And if you don’t jump down to the quarterdeck or hang over the railing, you, my young friend, will be swept into the sea. We’d then have to turn around and get you, and that is not a thing you would ever live down.”
“I understand, Captain. Thank you.”
“Well,” Domadred continued, turning to look at the Zenith behind them on the horizon, “it’s almost time for you and Brayden to meet with Kairn, the sailing master. So why don’t you go into the navigation room a little early and introduce yourself. I think you two will get along very well.”
Before Aleksi could answer, Domadred gave the youth a smile, then strode off, shouting critiques at a crew member high in the rigging.
Aleksi sighed. The captain had not been asking.
CHAPTER XVII
The young woman’s call was all but gone now, and as Aleksi went belowdecks to drop off his notebook, her silent whispers disappeared altogether. Replacing them was a profound feeling of loss tinged with deep regret. The sensation stung at Aleksi’s chest bitterly, and he pushed the feeling away.
What does it matter? Aleksi thought angrily, as he came back on deck. Even if she is real, I am stuck on this ship. What could she possibly want?
Walking up the stairs to the quarterdeck and past the helm, Aleksi saw that a new mate was on the wheel. Aleksi nodded at the sailor, and while the man did return the greeting, he did not make eye contact. Passing the mizzenmast, Aleksi then approached the great double doors of the navigation room.
The doors were made of thick wood with two large circular windows. Still feeling the sad ache in his chest, Aleksi paused to gaze at the door’s intricate carvings before entering. Engraved into the darkly polished wood were hundreds of high waves all flowing into each other. They crashed angrily, surrounding an elegant carving of the Illusive Diamond herself. It was beautiful but also evoked an ominous sense of foreboding. The motif went well with the somber longing in Aleksi’s heart.
The ship is surrounded by nothing but waves and danger, with only the moons to guide them. Not unlike me . . .
Aleksi took a deep breath and placed his hand on the ornately carved door handle in front of him. It was time to meet Kairn.
“Don’t be timid, son,” a voice said from inside.
Looking up, Aleksi could see a figure through the hazy glass of the door. It was an officer, but Aleksi could not see the man’s face.
“Come on in,” the voice said again. “You won’t learn anything just standing there.”
Aleksi pulled the handle and the door glided open. Inside, the navigation room was much as he had expected. Medium sized and possessing no chairs and many windows, the space was lined with high slanted tables built into the wall. These bore maps and Runic ledgers laid out flat so the navigator could see them clearly. Up above the tables and in between the windows, there were shelves filled with hundreds more maps. No doubt the Diamond had a chart for every meter of Terra’s great ocean. Among the maps there were also various non-Runic navigational instruments and tools, too. Aleksi saw sextants used to measure the angle between visible objects and even very rare Zenith astrolabes. These specialized tools allowed the user to see a mechanical diagram of the Zeniths’ locations and perceived height based on the observer’s latitude, depending on the ship’s position.
“Ahh, you have a good eye there, Aleksi,” the voice said again, seeing the youth gaze at the astrolabe.
Looking up, Aleksi saw that its owner was indeed an officer. He wore a sky-blue vest and had a clean-shaven face, long bead-laden blond hair, and a neater presentation than the other sailors. The man also seemed younger than many of his fellow crewmates. His hand rested on a copper looking glass tucked into his belt and the corner of his mouth was turned up in a small smile.
“Welcome to the navigation room. My name is Kairn and I am the Diamond’s sailing master.”
Aleksi closed the door behind him and bowed. “Well met, sir. It is a pleasure to both meet you and enter your studio.”
“Studio? Both this ship and I have been called a great many things by a great many people, but no one has ever called my navigation room a studio.”
“Oh, please excuse me . . . ,” Aleksi said slowly. “I had read that sailing masters were also called sea artists, due to their role of being ship navigators and experts at reading and correcting charts. It was my understanding that it took the work of a talented artist to not only work with but, more importantly, correct the ever-changing sea charts of Terra. I am sorry if I have offended you.”
“Ahh, yes,” Kairn said, nodding. “No apology needed. That is from Olmarr’s Treatise on Sea Navigation, correct? His theories on Terra’s ever-changing coastlines and currents, and his proposed ancient united outer continent are fascinating; however, I cannot imagine Terra without the Thalassocratic Islands of the West. Either way, Olmarr was brilliant and I’ll gladly accept his label as artist, for correcting the Diamond’s charts is no small feat.”
“Indeed,” Aleksi answered. “And from what I have heard, even just taking zenars, sir, is a very difficult art, too.”
“Yes, and an art you cannot learn from a book, mind y
ou.” Kairn paused, shaking his head. “And I’m not even going to ask how you came by that text, son. I found it only after I had actually been a navigator for over five years. And after I found it, it cost me nearly a year’s wage to actually buy the damn thing.”
Aleksi looked down at his feet.
“But you were eyeing that tool over there. Do you know what it’s called and what it’s for?”
“Which, sir?” Aleksi pointed to each on its respective shelf as he continued speaking. “You have a sextant, astrolabe, compass, and a multitude of looking glasses.”
“Good answer. The one which takes zenars.”
“Oh, that’s the Zenith astrolabe,” Aleksi said matter-of-factly. “But you also have a sextant, and with some skill, I have heard even with that you can measure the height of the Zeniths and gauge their angle to approximate your position. But you must have the corresponding charts to make any sense of the readings. That’s why the astrolabe is more helpful”—Aleksi paused, but Kairn nodded encouragingly and the youth continued—“because the charts have been miniaturized and etched into the various moving metal plates of the device itself. On a clear day, you can line the Zeniths’ height and locations upon the tool, and calculate your location with a very high degree of accuracy.”
“Well done!” Kairn exclaimed, wrapping his knuckle on one of the tables. “Back in the Guardian Age, sailors had many miraculous Runic tools at their disposal, but the Masters now confiscate the best of those ancient treasures and lock them away in their Academy fortresses. This leaves us lowly sailors relying on of the old ways of sea navigation. For those who can afford it, the astrolabe works well when you can see the Zeniths, but sadly, most ships outside the Western fleet don’t even have a sextant.” Kairn grimaced. “They are poor fools, if you ask me. For navigating Terra’s deep currents with only a cross-staff and no charts to guide your way is nothing short of suicide—and that’s during the daytime.”
“I’ve been told that only fools would point their bow at the Zenith and sail straight, hoping for the best despite the risk with no charts,” Aleksi replied. “My teachers said that with the shifting of the stars and no light of the Zenith to guide one’s direction at night, ships that cannot navigate the glowing currents are easily cast off course. Best case is that they are merely lost in the maze of frothing waters and set back several days’ sail; worst case . . .”
Aleksi’s voice trailed off but Kairn finished for him. “Yes, son, they are cast to the wickedest of the currents unknowingly, then thrashed and destroyed by the unnatural waters which gyrate in Terra’s deep oceans. Legends say that the currents did not used to be so perilous in ages past, but whatever the truth may be, the deep waters of Terra are anything but safe. Only those who can read the currents’ frothy flow by day and navigate the water’s glow by night have any hope of traversing the sea and living to tell the tale.”
Kairn paused, eyeing Aleksi keenly. “Well, you seem to know much about nautical navigation theory already, so tomorrow meet us here at second bell to join Brayden in his lessons.”
“I thought we were to have lessons today, sir?” Aleksi asked, confused. Just then, the door opened and Brayden walked into the navigation room.
“Ahh, right on time, my young friend,” Kairn said, looking at the boy. “I was just about to tell Aleksi what the two of you will be doing for the next hour.”
Brayden shot Aleksi a dark look but remained silent.
“Aleksi seems to know much about the sea, but not the sea itself. So, instead of looking at dusty old maps today, Brayden, you are to show Aleksi a real map of the ocean—the view from the crow’s nest. And while you are up there, you can also show him the lines and help him learn the Diamond’s rigging.”
“Alright,” Brayden said, scowling, “let’s go.” The boy then left the navigation room and did not look back to see if Aleksi followed him.
Brayden wasted no time. The boy stalked toward the shrouds of the mainmast and Aleksi had to jog to keep up.
As they came to the mast, the pair passed Kefta, and the young man called out to them. “I see the children are going above to play. You are so kind, Aleksi; I’m sure Brayden must be happy to finally have someone his own age to frolic with.”
“These,” Brayden said to Aleksi, as he jumped up onto the long rope ladder, “are the shrouds. They are also called ratlines.” Brayden did not look down as he spoke and was seemingly ignoring Kefta’s words. “Follow me. I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”
“Be careful up there, boys,” Kefta continued. “We wouldn’t want anyone else to fall from the rigging!” Brayden glared down at Kefta and deftly climbed upward into the canopy of cloth.
Shaking his head, Aleksi grabbed ahold of the netting and also began to climb. At first, it felt clumsy—not from difficulty but due to the long sword at his hip.
“Hurry up, Aleksi!” Kefta shouted from below. “Or that child will leave you behind!”
Looking up, Aleksi saw that Brayden had gone nearly three-quarters of the way to the crosstrees. Aleksi growled under his breath and shot Kefta a dirty look. Repositioning his sword out of his way, Aleksi climbed speedily.
Despite Kefta’s jeers, Aleksi marveled at the large sails around him. As he climbed, Aleksi could now clearly see these large sails close up. Never before had he seen such enormous sheets of fabric. They were full with wind and he could actually feel their reverberation as the strong breeze gave them life and movement. From afar they were stately, but up close the sails were not only regal but quite imposing, too.
Aleksi remembered reading that the higher one went up above a tall ship, the farther one was from its center of mass—so what felt like only a little rocking on the deck below would be profoundly more forceful high above. He soon realized, however, that knowing this and actually experiencing it were two different things entirely.
As he was admiring the sails, the ship surged over a particularly large wave. Hitting the crest, the Diamond leaned back sharply and then lurched downward as the prow dove into the wave’s swell with a loud splash. Spray showered the deck below, and the shrouds swung from the movement of the masts. Aleksi had to cling desperately to the ratlines so as to not be thrown. Steadying itself, the ship rocked back again and Aleksi’s boot slipped on the line. Losing his footing, the youth frantically reached out and had to catch himself with his hands. Unable to get a good grip with his boots, he was forced to scramble and climb up several rungs using only his arms. Finally, his heel bit into the rope and he got a better hold of the ratlines.
After the ship settled, he hooked his elbows around the ladder and looked around in amazement. His heart was pounding violently and his hands ached. There was a fresh sheen of sweat on his brow, and his breath came in ragged gulps. The other crew members in the rigging, however, seemed to have not been affected. They were busily performing their duties as if nothing had happened. Brayden, though, was looking down at Aleksi—and for a second, Aleksi thought he saw the boy’s eyes shine with concern. But then whatever look had been there was gone and Brayden began climbing upward once again.
Aleksi swallowed hard. His hands burned, but he kept climbing. Because of the large sail coverage, he was unable to look out at the ocean, but his view below was unobstructed. As he ascended, he suddenly had the urge to glance down. Looking past his feet, he saw sailors working on the deck and hauling lines far below. They looked very small. Vertigo suddenly swept over Aleksi and the youth forced himself to look up. He knew he had no choice but to climb higher.
Trying to focus his mind on the large sails around him, he forced his body to move upward. As he continued, a gust of wind blew across him. The salty air pushed back his shoulder-length hair and his heart continued to furiously pound in his chest. Aleksi looked up and saw that Brayden had made it to the crosstrees and was gazing down at him expectantly. Aleksi hardened himself and moved on. There was a strange beauty to being in this cloth canopy and knowing you could fall at any moment. It added sharpness a
nd necessitated a keen focus—much like training with a live blade.
As Aleksi came to the mast’s large crosstree, Brayden nodded. Extending behind them was the massive boom that served to hold the top of the mast’s enormous fore-and-aft rigged sail aloft. It was as thick as a medium-sized tree trunk and was held at an upright angle by massive hinges connected to blocks, tackle, and rigging. Despite all his studying, Aleksi quickly realized that no amount of reading could have prepared him to make sense of the ship’s intricate systems of tackle, pulleys, and blocks.
Deftly holding on to the shroud with one hand, Brayden pointed to several hawser lines which ran up to the boom from the deck below. “I’ll show you only a few now. I don’t want to confuse you.”
Aleksi nodded. Normally the boy’s words would have irritated him, but there were so many lines just on this part of the mast alone that Aleksi knew he never would be able to remember them all even if Brayden did tell him.
“That is a halyard,” Brayden said loudly, speaking over the wind. “It is used to raise the mainsail and control luff tension. Here”—the boy pointed to another line—“is the topping lift, which holds the boom aloft. This is the guy, which controls boom angle. And finally, there”—Brayden then pointed to a line which was attached to the bottom edge of the sail very far away—“is the cunningham. It also tightens luff.” Brayden paused and eyed Aleksi keenly. “I hope you have a good memory because there are a lot more of them, too.”
Before Aleksi could answer, the boy began climbing again. Brayden now scaled a much smaller set of ratlines, only a little wider than the width of his body. Aleksi followed, and as they ascended farther up the mast, his heart pounded even harder. Taking a deep breath, Aleksi tried to connect to the rhythm of the ship and let his body feel and absorb its movement. If he fell from this height, he would not be given a second chance.
Rune of the Apprentice (The Rune Chronicles) Page 25
