by Dawn Dagger
Levanine believed this ghoul was very unmistakable… but maybe the fact that question existed in her mind at all proved him right. She knew not either way. She only knew that her head was beginning to hurt.
“ELDRED!” The Captain suddenly boomed. “LEVANINE!”
The pair of them scrambled to their feet and Levanine tiredly stumbled over the cloak around her shoulders as they darted out onto the deck. The sun’s rays were now softly kissing the wood of the ship.
“Aye, cap’n?” Eldred asked as they both saluted. Levanine’s heart was thundering in her ears. Eldred did not seem fearful, and she admired him.
“Eldred, you’re in charge of making sure these dogs stay awake.” He growled, holding out the lash quickly, causing Levanine to flinch. Eldred nodded and took it. “They get one mug of water, nothing more. They don’t get to sleep, you understand?”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“Levanine.” His burning gaze seemed to devour her in its angry blue depths. “Come.”
The Captain grabbed her arm tightly and began to march her across the deck. His hold was firm and strong, and his hot panting seemed to be quite real.
This did not put Levanine to ease.
The Captain threw open the door the door to his cabin and stepped in, pulling her after. He slammed the door firmly, then let her go. He leaned his forearms against the door for a moment, resting his forehead against the wood. He drew in a long, slow breath, then let it out through his teeth.
The sun fell in through the green window on the wall, outlining his matted curls and tracing the edges of face. The golden-green light almost made his figure look soft. He did not appear to be fading in the light.
Perhaps he wasn’t an apparition after all.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” Levanine fell to one knee, lowering her head, as she had seen humbled knights do.
“For what?” He turned away from the door.
“For…” her voice cracked. “For getting you killed.” She felt tears prick her eyes. She could not bear to look at him, and instead stared at the bloodstained floorboards. The blood was now curling off of the boards like old paint.
“I am not dead.” His fingers, still cold, brushed under her chin. She could feel the beginnings of warmth in their white tips. Her tear streaked face tilted up to meet his blue eyes. They glowed in the sunlight that had somehow broken through the cloudy muck surrounding Dreanis. “Get up and be strong.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” Levanine rose.
“Now,” he tossed his dirty curls so they were out of his face, his eyes hardening. “As Quinn is injured and you’ve nothing to do, you are going to carry messages for me.”
Levanine felt her heart stop, worried no one would listen to her. She did not voice her fears, but instead nodded.
“Tell Braxton to start breakfast, and to make it a big one. We’ll find somewhere to stop to restock food, it doesn’t matter to ration. Have Palae to see how many barrels of wine we have left, and then the supplies once Braxton is done cooking. Kasha needs to clean up this blood, and any other spot on the ship. Eldred needs to move Quinn to a more comfortable place and monitor him.”
He sighed, and rubbed at his forehead, suddenly looking very tired. His shoulders slumped and his eyes were dull. “Ah, ask Silva and Rakifi where we are, and where we should be going. Rakifi and Eldred can keep an eye on the sailors, but no more whippings for now. They need to drink some losnic and get this ship back in normal order.”
Levanine’s head was spinning with the unfamiliar names and orders, but she knew she would remember all she had been told. She had been given more obscure and complicated instructions and messages plenty of other times. She could have been a spy.
“Did you understand all that?” He gave her a tired look.
“Aye, cap’n.”
“I’ll be bathing.” He turned away from her and to the wardrobe, beginning to rummage through it. He said nothing more to her. She took this as her dismissal.
Levanine stood still for a moment, thinking through the instructions. She decided to seek out Eldred first, because she knew who he was.
She could ask Silva or Rakifi for help finding the other men, she believed. First, however, she would dress.
Levanine quickly stripped out of her old clothes, her back pointed to the door where the Captain had disappeared, and slipped into new ones that had been tossed onto the floor. She felt a little better in a blouse and trousers.
She did not feel good, however.
She laced back up her boots and wrapped her cloak back around her shoulders, not feeling safe without it tied around her throat. She stepped out onto the deck and took in the scene.
The men were all working, looking exhausted and cross. They squinted in the cold, grey sunlight and grumbled. Served them right, she supposed.
Eldred sat on a crate, his long legs crossed, scowling back at the men and mumbling to himself in a language she had not heard. He was drinking from a mug, casting sidelong glances at Quinn, who still rested on the floor of the small room.
“Elred?” Her voice squeaked slightly as she spoke.
“Aye?” He asked, turning to look at her, the large whip still in his hand. She swallowed, feeling a lump rise thickly in her throat. She hated the sight of the thing.
“Ah, the Captain said you are to watch Quinn and move him somewhere more comfortable.”
“Who is going to oversee these renegades?” He gestured with the whip and she flinched, her hands moving instinctively over her face. Eldred narrowed his eyes, but she did not apologize.
“M-Monitor, he said. Monitor Quinn, not watch.”
“Aye,” he leapt off the barrel and began toward where Quinn lie. She skirted away from him and decided to find Silva and Rakifi, assuming Eldred would figure out what was wanted of him.
Levanine scanned the far side of the ship as she walked, trying to pinpoint either of the duo. She cried out as she bounced against something hard and fell backwards, onto her butt. She looked up to see a tall, broad shouldered man blocking the sunlight and looking down on her.
Levanine instinctively curled up to herself, her blood rushing.
“Well, ‘ello there!” The man boomed in a cheerful voice, reaching out a very large hand toward her. She did not take it, afraid she could not slip from his grasp if she did, and pushed herself to her feet. The man looked insulted, but made no mention of it.
He was much larger than Quinn, nearly three heads taller than herself, with mottled brown and golden-tan skin, and tangled, pale blue hair that touched just below his ears. His eyes were coral-pink and bright.
They scared Levanine a little. She had never seen anyone who looked like this. Who had such vibrant, unnaturally colored irises?
“What’s y’er name? I didn’ see ya in the cacophony that happened all night.” He scratched his blue beard with one hand. “Or I might of… I don’t got so good a memory. It’s a pleasure to meet ya, m’ name’s Braxton!”
Levanine was put off by his generally sunny disposition, and his lack of wounds. He must have been one of those still loyal to Captain Guy, somehow unbothered by the blood and death of the long night.
“Levanine,” she responded cautiously.
“Nice to meet ya, Levanine. I be the cook ‘ere on this ship, and I make sure e’eryone gets feed accordin’ly. Speakin’ of...” He seemed to think his unfinished sentence was enough of a question to be understood.
“Um… aye… The Captain said to make a large meal… with no regard to rations…”
Braxton laughed, a laugh of pure delight it sounded, and clapped his hands together. Why, he was like a very large toddler! “Fantastic! I’ll get right on that. One big ol’ breakfast, comin’ right up!”
He began to walk away, then turned and smiled charmingly at her. He had pointed molars that made her wary. “If ya wanna help, ya sure can! I’ll show you what to do!” He gave her a wave and disappeared down below decks.
Levanine turned away, scanning the ship again. Finally she saw Rakifi, helping a few men toss a fishing net into the grey sea. She trotted up to him, keeping well distance between her and the men, then waved at him. “Rakifi!”
His head perked up and he rose his eyebrows at her. She waved for him to come and he finished helping the men pull in the empty net, then approached her carefully. “Aye?” His voice was soft, and his eyes wandered along her new clothes.
“I need you to and Silva to tell me how far off course we are, Cap’n orders… and… uh…” She felt her face flush. “I need you to tell me who some men are… if it’s not too much trouble…” She hugged her arms tightly, pulling her cloak tighter around herself.
His smile was genuine, and he held out an arm for her to take. “Of course I’ll help you. My pleasure. Who shall we find first?”
Levanine did not take his arm, and he did not look insulted. “Palae and Kasha, first, I believe... Then I need you to tell the men what they need to be doing…”
“Of course. Palae will be this way.” He began to walk quickly, and Levanine had to trot to keep up with his long strides. They passed to the other side of the ship and Rakifi stopped at a grated trapdoor in the deck she had not seen before.
Rakifi looked down into the underbelly, where a short, shrewd man was peering at a very thick book through circular spectacles. The wire frames of the spectacles and his squinting black eyes glowed in the light of his lantern.
“Palae,” Rakifi snapped his fingers, making the man look up at them. He scowled angrily. “Orders from the Captain.” Rakifi stepped away from the grate and gestured to Levanine.
She felt herself flush at the sudden bade to speak, and cleared her throat. “Um, the Cap’n said to see how much wine we have left, and then the supplies once Braxton is done with breakfast.”
“You mean to check how much these renegades cost him.” The man grumbled venomously. “He should not have taken that duel, you know. He should have just stabbed the pig through and been on his way… foolish…” He shook his head, mumbling to himself. Levanine was unsure if she were to remind him again what he was supposed to do. He blew gunpowder grains off of the fat book he held, then tucked it under his arm.
Rakifi gently tapped her elbow and turned away, signalling he would do what the Captain said. “Kasha is always hard to find, because he doesn’t want to do his job.” He explained, rolling his eyes. He cupped his hands around his lips and bellowed, “KASHA!” make her jump in surprise at his volume.
A skinny, black-skinned boy suddenly appeared out of nowhere, running up to them.
“Aye, aye?” He asked breathlessly. The stark contrast between the whites of his teeth and eyes to his skin struck Levanine with awe. She had never seen such a dark skinned boy. Did he come from Utonopia? Or did he come from the Dark Lands? Is that why they were called the Dark Lands?
He had asked her a question. “Ah,” she blinked, pulling herself out of her thoughts. “Ah, the Cap’n needs you to clean the blood in his cabin… and any other blood on the ship…”
The boy, who only looked about ten, rolled his eyes, his shoulders shrugging back. “Do I ‘ave ta?”
Rakifi smacked the side of the boy’s head, causing him to caw. “Yes, Kasha!” He cried, exasperated. “Get going right now, you scrub!”
The boy grumbled under his breath, darting off before Rakifi could smack him again. Levanine could not understand how the boy was foolish enough to ask if he had to do something. She could understand less how he cared not for Rakifi’s raps to the side of his head.
Maybe his head was full of straw.
Rakifi huffed irritably to himself, moving his fingers in an odd pattern, as if some sort of invisible coin was rolling across his knuckles. After a few moments of twitching and staring unfocused into space, he sighed and pocketed his hand. He turned to her. “Silva, right. We have to map our location. But what are the men doing?”
“Um, drinking losnic and doing their jobs, he said.”
Rakifi nodded, then turned on his heel. He climbed the ramp toward the helm, where Silva sat, one hand clutched so tightly to the wheel his hand was white. Levanine followed Rakifi, and watched him as he glanced over the milling men.
He cupped his hands around his lips, then shouted, “Attention!”
The men all turned to glance at him, but did not salute. They waited silently. Rakifi stepped sideways and gestured to Levanine, indicating she would be speaking. Her skin began to sweat and she suddenly felt as if she might be sick. Why would Rakifi leave it up to her to speak? She had no authority!
For a moment she hated him. Her knees felt weak and suddenly thought she might pass out. The men began to murmur, their eyes wandering across her skin like groping hands. The world flashed black, and she fell sideways.
Rakifi let out a cry and darted to catch her before she could hit the deck. He held her half suspended, turning to yell at the men, who had begun to laugh. “Shut up, you brutes! The Captain says to drink losnic and to get to your jobs, or he’ll whip you all bloody. Again! There’s a job posting, and he wants it done by breakfast, or you don’t get any!”
The words flowed into her ears as if they were fighting through water. The world suddenly cleared starkly, and Levanine gasped as her lungs opened, allowing her to breathe. Rakifi gently laid her down and another figured rushed toward them.
“Rakifi, what did you do?” The flute-like voice of Silva cried.
“Oh, hush up.” Levanine struggled to sit up, dizzy. Rakifi was kneeling in front of her, his gaze swimming with worry. “Y’alright?”
“Yeah,” she breathed.
He grabbed her hand firmly and pulled her to her feet, turning to speak to Silva, ignoring his question. “Silva, we need to find a map and find out exactly where we are, understand?”
“Aye, I have one here.” Silva gestured to a marked parchment that was pinned to the upright board that sat beside the helm. It was a map that included a compass, a large continent, many small islands, and then the figure of Dreanis. Levanine could not read the scrawling handwriting, but she knew the shape of the island well enough to feel uneasy.
Silva pulled out a charcoal pencil and pointed to the island. “We started here.”
“Yes, I am aware.” Rakifi grumbled, making Silva blush with embarrassment.
“Uh, then we headed west, up this way, at a 20 degree turn up towards Avondella… The wind last night was going southwest, so--”
“Silva, we just need to know where we are now. I don’t care how we got here, the Captain can bother with that later,” he snapped, making Silva shrink.
He poked meekly at the map, leaving a smudge of grey. “Aye, we are here.” The location was surrounded by many small islands, and seemed to be the wrong direction to Levanine. It was angled down too sharply.
Rakifi sighed, then nodded. “Levanine, go show the Captain this map.” He picked out the pins, cupping them in his hand, rolled the parchment, then handed it to her.
“Aye,” she mumbled, taking the map. She quickly crossed the deck and down the ramp, toward the Captain’s cabin.
The sun had risen higher in the blue-grey sky, and despite the weather not being quite clear, Levanine still began to feel hot. None of the other men, working their jobs, seemed to feel the same way.
Levanine knocked on the door of the cabin. There was no answer. She slowly cracked open the great oak door, then stepped inside gingerly. The cabin was mostly dark, save the green light filtering in. She looked around.
The Captain was curled atop his bed, wearing a white, silk shirt and tan breeches that matched her own. His chest rose and fell softly, and his face was peaceful as he slept. Levanine could not help but smile a little. He looked almost like one of the young boys she had cared for before, falling asleep on the nearest, near vertical surface they could find after a hard day of play.
Her smile faded as her eyes wandered along the dried blood trail, and
her torn clothes, still tossed carelessly onto the ground.
Levanine suddenly felt so dirty. She wanted to claw at her flesh until it shredded off of her body in ribbons, and gave her the relief of being gone.
A noise gurgled in her throat and she walked hurriedly over to the basin of water that balanced on the chest beside the desk. She dipped her hands in the cool water, clutched the cloth lying inside, then began to scrub its rough face against her face and neck and arms, splashing and dripping water as ghost hands snatched at her. She scrubbed at her skin until it glowed red, but she still did not feel clean. The image of hands gripping her would not leave her head.
She choked on a cry of dismay as the need to pull off her own flesh began to overwhelm her. Her hands shook as she dipped the rag back in the water. Water dripped onto the floor. Water soaked the collar of her shirt and her sleeves as she did not bother to wring out the rag. The rag grated against her skin. She tried to wash the image clean from her mind but scrubbing off her flesh. The figures on her bosom nearly vanished against the angry red of her irritated skin.
Yet she did not feel clean.
She darted her hands back into the bowl, knocking it over suddenly. She reached to catch it, but she missed, splashing water across the floor of the cabin and causing a clatter.
Levanine stared at the silver streams that flowed through the grains in the wood, gasping.
The water slipped into the blood, distorting its surface.
Blinking, Levanine realized what she had done and gasped, grabbing up the basin and glancing around for a towel.
“Are you alright?” The Captain’s croaking voice made her jump and she wheeled around to face him. He sat on the edge of the bed, yawning and attempting to pull his curls from his face.
Levanine hugged herself, feeling her face flush as she still struggled for a deep breath. “Ah--”
The Captain stood and she shrunk, taking a small step back. He gave her a gentle look, examining her raw skin, then said quietly, “you can use the bath at your leisure…” She did not respond. His gaze hardened. “Well, the tasks I gave you, are they finished?”
