Midshipwizard Halcyon Blithe

by James M. Ward

  The ship was pitching at an angle now as it tacked to port. Some of the things on the deck started shifting.

  "Well, we've had enough of me talking," the captain said, smiling. "Let's get right to bouting, shall we. Officer Merand, please referee Mr. Blithe and Mr. Haywhen on your side of the forecastle, and I will take Mr. Surehand and Mr. Spangler on my side. The rest of you act as spotters."

  Midshipwizard Alvena Merand was one of the female officers of the ship. Her quarters were with the other women crew in the middle of the lower blast-tube deck. As the first-class midshipwizard, she was in charge of the general training of all the other midshipwizards. She was a no-nonsense officer, not displaying any sense of humor.

  In a ship filled with men, the sound of a woman's voice was odd to Blithe's ears. Halcyon didn't let her face and figure move him; after all, she was the officer in charge.

  Merand's commanding voice was different from her tone when not on deck. There was no softness or femininity in her attitude now. "Mr. Swordson and Mr. Clawson, you spot to the port. Miss Driden, Mr. Getchel, you both work on my side. I will referee the match from starboard center. The rest of you stand out of the fencing lane. Mr. Blithe, on this ship the bout is to the first saberist to score three touches with their blade. We stop between every touch in these practice bouts. Swordsmen to the ready," she ordered.

  Blithe and Haywhen saluted each other, and the tips of their blades touched, marking off the proper starting distance. Halcyon would have never admitted it to anyone, but he quite enjoyed looking down at the much shorter, twelve-year-old Haywhen. He wasn't thinking of anything but the advantage he had in height and reach when Midshipwizard Merand's order caught him off guard: "Begin!"

  Tupper's lunge was past Halcyon's guard, and his saber point struck Blithe's chest before Halcyon could move a muscle.

  "Touch!" The four line judges all marked the hit at the same time.

  Under his battle helm, Halcyon turned beet red, embarrassed to have done so poorly in his very first bout.

  The words of his uncle Frank came to his mind: "You are going to lose lots of fencing matches. You're young yet, so don't worry about any of them. However, never lose one because you thought you were better than your opponent. Respect anyone who has a blade in front of you and you'll live a lot longer."

  Turning from the touch, Blithe walked several steps back to focus his mind and collect his thoughts. He knew that touch would never have happened if he hadn't been thinking about his advantages.

  "Swordsmen to the ready." The order reached through Halcyon's thoughts.

  He turned, vowing to prevent Tupper from taking another touch. Their blades met and they assumed the on-guard position. Tupper shifted his blade and held it much lower than the usual guard position. Halcyon had never faced a weapon held that low before. He adjusted his guard lower to match, but the new defensive position felt awkward and made him lean forward a bit. Before he could change his position to what it should be, Merand once again shouted, "Begin!"

  This time Tupper feinted low where Halcyon had his weapon. Tupper then quickly shifted above Blithe's blade to score yet another touch, this time to Blithe's forward-leaning helmet.

  "Touch!"

  Halcyon was deeply embarrassed. He hadn't expected Tupper to be that good or that fast. He steeled himself to use all of his advantages. This time he would extend his saber to its full length when they started. He planned on using his much greater reach to push back young Haywhen. With a few passes of the blade, he hoped to be able to see what Tupper was doing and counter it.

  "Swordsmen to the ready," came the order again.

  They both came on guard. The big friendly grin on Tupper's face caused Halcyon to grin as well, even though he badly wanted to win this match.

  "Begin!"

  Halcyon extended his arm and blade full-out, expecting Tupper to backpedal a little. The smaller opponent was having none of that. Haywhen shifted and extended his own blade, using his short stature to take his tip under the bell guard of Halcyon's weapon and into Blithe's hand.

  "Touch and bout."

  Tupper had his helm off and had held out his hand before Halcyon had even taken his blade back from its extension.

  "My family comes from a long line of duelists," Tupper said matter-of-factly. "My dad and grandfather started teaching me the blade before I could walk. Better luck next time, hey, Hal?"

  Blithe took off his own helm and shook Tupper's hand. "I think I'll need more than luck, Tupper. Well done."

  "That's the spirit, Mr. Blithe." Alvena pushed him to the port side. "No time to lick our wounds; we have lots of people to run through their paces. You'll see Mr. Haywhen beat most of us today—but not me, of course." She said this last with a deadpan expression on her face as she moved back into position.

  After a moment to think about it, Blithe laughed, believing that Midshipwizard First Class Merand had actually made a joke.

  his majesty's articles of war: article iv

  All the papers, charter parties, bills of lading, passports, and other writings whatsoever that shall be taken, seized, or found aboard any ship or ships which shall be surprised or taken as prize, shall be duly preserved, and the very originals shall by the commanding officer of the ship which shall take such prize be sent entirely, and without fraud, to the court of the admiralty, or such other court of commissioners as shall be authorized to determine whether such prize be lawful capture, there to be viewed, made use of, and proceeded upon according to law, upon pain that every person offending herein shall forfeit and lose his share of the capture, and shall suffer such further punishment as the nature and degree of his offense shall be found to deserve and the court-martial shall impose.

  "Stand to for billet inspection!" Hackle said, grimacing at everything and everyone.

  In the last few days, Aber Hackle had shown an increasing irritation with all the midshipwizards, and it was Halcyon's doing. He'd been drilling all of them on the Articles of War, and in the last week no one made a mistake.

  Halcyon and Tupper spent hours on their last three sail shifts practicing reciting each of the Articles to get them letter-perfect. The pair would move around the mainsail lines, maintopsail lines, and main topgallant lines reciting the Articles one by one as they checked the rigging for wear and tear.

  Halcyon stood at attention with the rest, but his mind recalled all the times he and his father had recited the Articles of War together. For Halcyon's part, he knew all ninety-nine Articles because his father made a game of reciting them every time he returned from a tour of duty. At the oddest times when father and son were together, one or the other would call out a number, and whatever the other was doing, he had to stop and recite the proper Article of War. Halcyon loved calling out numbers when his father was eating or in the middle of mending their dry-docked sailboat. For his father's part, whenever Halcyon found himself tucked in bed and half asleep, a number called out by his father forced Halcyon to recite the proper article.

  Halcyon was pleased to note that after a while Hackle stopped asking him to recite articles and the junior lieutenant began scrutinizing Blithe's uniform and equipment instead. (There wasn't much there for Hackle to complain about either.) What Hackle did frequently berate Halcyon on was his lack of seamanship skills. There were big gaps in Blithe's knowledge of sailing tactics, and Hackle soon started questioning him in areas he'd just barely studied at the midshipwizard academy.

  It was just short of ten bells and the start of the late watch when Hackle in his inspection dumped Blithe's sea chest all over his bed. Clothes and equipment spilled out.

  Blithe turned on Hackle, anger clear on his face and in the tilt of his body. Halcyon didn't have the slightest idea why the lieutenant would do such a thing.

  Unfortunately for the midshipwizard, when he was angry everyone could tell.

  He raised his voice to Hackle. "Sir, it was my impression that a sailor's sea chest was private. You've no right to dump mine out." Only the r
eserve of his family traditions kept him from striking out at the stupid grin on Hackle's face. Unfortunately for him, his birthright made his eyes glow red when he was angry.

  A stunned Hackle observed this condition for the first time and began smiling in unpleasant glee. "Stand at attention, boy! I care nothing for your red demon eyes." Lieutenant Junior Grade Hackle smirked at Blithe as the young man obeyed. "I can see now why you make such a deficient officer. You aren't human, are you, boy? Well, that explains everything, it does. Do you know what the penalty is for striking a superior officer?"

  Blithe tried to calm down, but he wasn't used to injustice and didn't suffer fools easily. He was able to quote the penalty. "Fifty lashes, loss of rank, and thirty days in the brig, sir."

  The other seven boys stood at attention by their bunks. This was required of them every time Hackle felt like inspecting them or instructing them in the ways of officers. It didn't matter if one or two of them had just finished working eight hours at the sails. They had to stand at attention no matter how tired they were. Blithe looked to them for support. Some of them showed fear, visibly upset at the idea of him not being human.

  "Wrong again, Mr. Blithe. In times of war, a time our country finds itself in right now, the penalty is death by hanging. Now, as I see you have no contraband in your pitiful things, get them cleaned up. Your eyes glowing red when you get angry is a bad habit you have. That glow gives you away, Blithe. It's a big advantage for all who deal with you. By the way, do you know what happens it you use your demon magic on a fellow officer, an officer like myself who has no magical ability?"

  Halcyon's glowing red eyes returned to normal and his face grew pale as he realized he'd been contemplating using magic on Hackle. "Death by drowning, sir." The last uttered in a whisper as its import hit home to Halcyon.

  Tupper spoke up in an effort to relieve the tension of the wardroom. "Mr. Blithe has the duty tonight, Officer Hackle. We need to get up there before the next bell."

  Hackle spun and snapped his fingers in the face of Tupper. "Indeed you do, Midshipwizard. That's five demerits for speaking out of turn. Under my command, you will all learn discipline. You both will, of course, go when I order it, but you are correct."

  He turned back to glare at Blithe. "We will speak of this again, Mr. Blithe. That will be six demerits for the messy sea chest and four more marks for your poor display as a gentleman and officer. Those ten demerits go in the captain's book, my lad. As you know, for every ten marks in a week you get an additional four hours of ship duty. You will begin serving that four-hour duty after you finish your work shift this evening. Carry on."

  He left the wardroom, and the other midshipwizards hit their bunks, not wanting to lose any more sleep that night. Tupper and Blithe got ready for their duty. They moved through the pitch-black middle gun deck and heard the sounds of hundreds of snoring marines in their swaying hammocks. After just a few days, Halcyon could move anywhere belowdecks, even in the dark. He'd made the ship his own and could feel his way through the passages.

  Tupper moved right along with Hal and asked him a question as they maneuvered toward the stairs to the main deck. "Hal, do your eyes always glow red when you get angry?"

  Ashamed, Hal quietly answered back, "It's my demonic heritage and I'm not proud of it. Somewhere in our history, a Blithe mated with a demoness and the family's curse of bad blood has continued for centuries. I try to keep my anger in check. The glow doesn't mean anything; it's just something I have to live with."

  "It's freaking amazing, if you ask me. Oh, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, but it's a sight to see. I'll tell you that for sure. You're going to scare to death the first foe you face sword-to-sword. Those eyes of yours are deathly odd, I'd say."

  "There are other families with the same condition, even royal families," Halcyon reasoned.

  "Not enough of them to make everyone comfortable with your condition. I'd be damned careful and try not to get angry if you can help it," Tupper observed.

  Coming up on deck, they went to the quarterdeck and the wheel to relieve First Class Alvena Merand. He and Tupper saluted her. "We're logging in before the eleventh bell, ma'am."

  The cool-as-ice Merand looked down her nose at them. "Both of you get your names in the wheel log. Tupper, you take to the mizzen topgallant and relieve Anne Driden. Mr. Blithe, I'm giving you the deck, and stationing you at the wheel with Able Seaman Hunter here. He's forgotten more about the sea and its ways than you or I will ever learn. Listen to what he has to say about the wind and weather tonight. Come to your station an hour earlier tomorrow night and I will quiz you on what you have and haven't learned. You are the duty officer tonight because nothing is going to happen on your shift. If anything does happen out of the ordinary, you send a sailor to fetch me out of bed and don't do anything stupid. Carry on."

  "Yes, ma'am." They both saluted her away and signed on as officers of the night watch. Tupper waved to Halcyon as he climbed the rigging into the mizzen.

  "Able Seaman Hunter, what's our course and speed?" Halcyon did his best to sound official, even if he wasn't feeling that way in front of the experienced sailor at the wheel.

  Hunter stood a head shorter than Blithe, about five foot, eight inches or so. He had dark hair in a long sailor's braid, and his face was wide with a big nose and eyes sunk far into his skull. They were large eyes, and Blithe noticed that the seaman didn't smile much. Hunter had a solid chin and a thickly muscled neck. The hands he put on the ship's wheel were large and knotted with muscle. The man didn't move quickly, but every movement seemed sure and steady.

  His voice was deep and gravelly with a west-side-of-Arcania burr to it. "To answer the question I can see you're thinkin', I've been in this man's navy twenty-two years. There isn't much I ain't seen on any ocean or in any port. Midshipwizard First Class Merand's going to be a good officer, you didn't ask but I thought I would give my opinion on her. She and I get along just fine and she has me lesson the midshipwizards, like yourself, on weather and the wind. It's the only thin' I likes to talk on. Our speed is ten knots on a due-northwest course, sir.

  "The Sanguine's just moved through a big batch o' seaweed and he's fed well for most of an hour. The crew won't have to feed him tonight. So if you've a mind, Midshipwizard Blithe, what would you have me talk about, the wind or the weather?"

  Blithe didn't want to appear stupid, so he had to ask, "I didn't know they were different things. Isn't the wind part of the weather?"

  "One might think so, but sailin' the high seas one must know what the wind is doin' and goin' to do," Hunter observed. "Often what the weather is doin' or goin' to do is different from the wind's touch on the ship. The moon is up, so look out at the water. What do you scan of the waves you see over the bow?"

  Blithe was a bit uncomfortable being questioned, but he looked out and answered as best he could. "I see long waves with a few whitecaps. I feel what I would call a moderate breeze at our backs. It's filling the sails well."

  "That's a force-four wind you're describin'. Every time you see long waves with a few white tops, the wind is a force-four. There are twelve different types of wind and all of them mark the sea in their own way. Why don't you take out your little notebook and jot down what I tell you." Seaman Hunter looked at Blithe through the pins of the wheel as another sailor on the quarterdeck rang out the time at eleven bells.

  "How did you know I had a notebook?" Blithe had purposely not taken out his notebook, not wanting to look like a young schoolboy in front of the sailor.

  "Midshipmen and notebooks go hand in hand," Hunter replied. "I've never seen a midshipman, wizard or not, who didn't have a notebook for everythin' they learned. It's a good thin' when you're young like you are, but you'll not need it in a few years when experience has taught you what you write down today. Work off of the chart box behind the wheel. Midshipmen have been writin' there for more years than you are old. Are you ready?"

  "Ready and willing," Blithe answered back.


  "Force-zero wind would have the dragonship becalmed and the sea appears smooth as glass. Not a happy time for sailors; we usually have to row ourselves out of that. There was a time not a hundred miles off the coast of Elese that I had to row for five days before the wind picked up. I still bear the scars on my hands from that one." Seaman Hunter grimaced at the thought of that long-ago time.

  "Force-one wind makes the sea show small ripples in the water. Force-two winds make short waves in the sea with no crests. Force-three wind creates wavelets with a crest or two. I'm not goin' too fast for you, am I?"

  In the darkness, even with the moonlight, Halcyon couldn't see Hunter's face, but he could tell there was a grin from his tone of voice as Blithe tried to keep up. "No, Seaman Hunter, I've got it all. Who named these conditions?"

  "Long ago, an Admiral Sir Francis Beaufort noted all of these and we've been usin' his system ever since. Force-four wind makes longer waves in the sea with some whitecaps crestin' those waves. It's odd how long we've had the current wind in our sails; mind you, I'm not complainin'.

  "Force-five has moderate waves with lots of whitecaps," Hunter said. "That's the best wind for sailin' and it never lasts long enough if you ask any sailor. Force-six winds present a strong breeze with large waves, lots of whitecaps, and some spray hittin' your face. We often look to thin the sails some on the spars in that wind. It's also miserable to try movin' into a wind like that, but the Sanguine, bein' a dragonship, can maneuver better than wooden ships, if you get my meanin'. I'm kind of surprised you don't know some of this, you bein' a Blithe and all, beggin' your pardon for my sayin' so, Midshipwizard."

  Blithe turned a little red at the words. "No pardon is necessary, Mr. Hunter. When I didn't become a wizard at twelve and thirteen, my family thought I should consider the army for a career. Blithes in the past who haven't had magical power have all gone into the army. That's what they were training me for when at sixteen, my hair turned white and I gained wizard abilities. I would have joined the army on my seventeenth birthday, but my family was proud to be able to send another midshipwizard son into the navy. It's been a mad scramble in the past eight months to give me the little I know about sailing. I managed to pass the academy training, but just barely. Now I strive to make myself a better sailor and officer. I know some things about the sea and sailing, but it's all from small craft on lakes and in the bay by our family castle. We are on force-seven winds."