SeaJourney (Arken Freeth and the Adventure of the Neanderthals Book 1)

by Alex Paul

  Why did I come? I should have quit like mother suggested, and I would be safe at home. Give these devils a month, and they will kill me! Then he remembered the secret knife and his grandfather’s words. He touched the handle beneath his tunic. He could kill them both now in a heartbeat. Two quick slashes to the blood vessels in their legs and no one could save them from meeting Kal.

  No! He pulled his hand away. No point in being hung as a murderer. His low back ached, but he fought off the waves of pain with his anger. He no longer doubted whether he would survive as a warrior, because he no longer wondered if he could kill. Gart and Narval were not going to take his little sister Em for a wife, or his life with his family away from him. Instead, if he had to, he would watch them fall into the ocean, a look of surprise on their faces, blood streaming from their mute throats.

  Thank you, Gart, for taking away my fear of killing. I swear by Kal I will see my family again, Arken pledged.

  CHAPTER 10

  THE SEA

  They wrapped Metral’s body in old sailcloth weighted with ballast stones and dropped it into the sea today. He survived his wounds on the island and delivered me safely to the ship, only to die after days of suffering. Death leaves survivors with much they wish they had said to the dying. You return to your life with a heavy heart and a mind disturbed by an irretrievable departure.

  —Diary of Princess Sharmane of Tolaria

  “Cadets, gather round,” Lar ordered from the command deck. The boys gathered on the main deck below him. Arken kept an eye on Gart and Narval.

  “Welcome to the Sea Nymph, your home for the next moonth,” Lar began, his dark brown eyes darting from boy to boy. “This is Captain Dunn.” The captain stepped next to Lar and waved a hand as big as a ban’s hoof. The captain’s grin revealed yellowed teeth surrounded by a heavy black beard; it reminded Arken of a snarling, trained bur he had once seen at a fair.

  Beetle berry promotes an ugly mood, and chewing it has stained his teeth, Arken thought. Is he really Gart’s uncle? This trip only gets worse!

  “Some parents voiced concern that we’re on SeaJourney while at war,” the captain rumbled. “Not to worry, we’ll be safe. Amarrat is a landlocked nation with no ships. As long as Tolaria doesn’t lose ships to the Amarrats, we own the Circle Sea.”

  Captain Dunn was not as wide as Nortak or as tall, though he moved easily on his feet like Stroebel’s Nander. Arken didn’t think any man aboard could match the captain in a barehanded brawl. Perhaps with a weapon, someone skilled could defeat him, but it was clear that this captain could rule his ship with brute terror if needed.

  “Well, that’s all for now. Settle into your cabins, and we’ll dine together tonight.” He nodded to Lar. “Carry on.”

  As he turned to resume his duties, the captain looked back at the cadets and said, “Direct your attention to King Lanth’s sculpture under construction on the breakwater ahead. It will be the world’s tallest statue.”

  The captain returned to the helmsman’s side. The helmsman stood with the long tiller bar tucked under an arm, ready to turn the ship’s rudder after clearing the harbor breakwater.

  “Cadets, meet the other officers,” Lar said, as a lean, powerfully built young man stepped forward to stand by him.

  “This is first Lancon Koman.” Koman had curly brown hair and gray eyes that Arken thought looked like his own. Koman wore the officer’s dark blue tunic, which looked like a tunic on Koman rather than the tent that circled the captain’s girth.

  Koman saluted, and the cadets returned it. Lar continued with second Lancon Talbu, an older, heavyset man. Talbu waved as he walked toward the bow because the captain had just ordered him to supervise a crew assembling the forward catapult. Next came third Lancon Zeem, the ship’s healer. He poked his head over the double doors to his surgery below the command deck when he heard his name. He had long, black-gray hair held back by a gastag strip. He was lean and older but still looked strong. He waved with a smile.

  “And this is Head Mistress Calna, instructor of the three Queen’s Trackers who have joined us on this year’s SeaJourney.” Lar smiled as he gestured at a short woman who’d been waiting by the helm.

  Her sandals pounded the deck as she walked to the railing. She bowed, her expression stern. Her hair wrapped in two long braids around her head to join at the back of her skull with a gastag skin tie, which made the top of her head resemble a shallow bowl. She was a heavy woman, with a short, thick neck, trunk, and arms. Her stubby legs poked from beneath the bottom of a knee-length, white tunic identical to the cadets’ but with green piping for the Tracker’s colors.

  Arken studied Mistress Calna because there was something odd about her. When she turned to the side to speak to Lar, Arken realized her face sloped in from the top of her forehead to her nose, and then out again from her nose to her chin. She looked as if she had fallen forward without catching herself and pushed everything in, because the tip of her nose barely extended beyond her pointed chin.

  “A dunkey kicked her face when she was small,” a boy whispered behind Arken. His friend began to giggle but had the good sense to stifle it.

  “I’ll introduce my Tracker cadets at nightmeal,” Mistress Calna pronounced, her voice a pinched nasal passage of wind. “A ship’s deck is not a proper place for introducing young women.”

  The three girls waiting behind her, all Arken’s age, looked disappointed. One of them had freckles, and he thought she was beautiful, especially because their eyes met and she smiled at him.

  He couldn’t believe a girl had smiled at him.

  His stomach seemed to flip around. It seemed as if the girl’s smiles had made him feel this way, but he had never experienced this before, so he wondered if Arlet had cooked bad ban sausage for breakfast. That could be terrible on a rolling ship.

  “Oh, yes, introductions at nightmeal.” Lar seemed surprised. “I’ll wait until then to introduce the ship’s saldets. So,” Lar said, rubbing his hands together, “once we clear the harbor, your first duty will be to move into your cabins. Stow your gear quickly, and then report to deck for exercise before nightmeal.”

  He said he had posted their cabin assignments on the wall below him, and sailors would direct them to their rooms. The cadets surged forward, but Lar put his hand up. “Wait. Plenty of time to look for your lodgings when I’m done giving orders.”

  “Tomorrow morning we will begin full armor sparring using wooden swords. I posted your sparring partners by your room assignments.”

  Arken glanced at Han, who nodded at him and winked. They were evenly matched and were always assigned as sparring partners.

  “Harbor mouth and king’s statue approaching,” the helmsman warned.

  “To the railings,” Lar ordered. They rushed to the railings to see the rock jetty walls getting closer. Arken hung back, making sure of Gart and Narval’s whereabouts. He made his way to a vantage point that was safely away from Gart and Narval and noticed that his stomach had settled down. So it must be that girl and not bad sausage, thought Arken.

  Waves coming through the harbor mouth rocked the ship, and the onshore wind blew against them, which made the waves even larger as the wind pushed against the outgoing tide. Though the waves barely cleared two feet in height, the ship began to rock because Lantish vessels rarely had to endure waves more than three or four feet high on the Circle Sea.

  Arken’s father had once explained that since there were never heavy winds on the Circle Sea, the surface was usually oily, flat, and calm. Flat-bottomed ships carried the most cargo and were the best hulls for these conditions, so most Lantish vessels were built this way, but it left them prone to rolling on a swell, which the Sea Nymph was now doing.

  “We’re passing the king’s stone feet, one at each jetty tip,” Lar yelled out at the cadets who had scattered along the railing. “See the wood scaffolding behind the feet? The statue will be hollow and made of bronze sheeting with a wooden frame inside that attaches to the feet. The king wi
ll face the sea with his sword raised to salute approaching ships.”

  Lar glanced back to make sure they were looking. “Construction will finish in five moonths, just in time for Prince Dahl’s wedding to Sharmane, the Princess of Tolaria.”

  “My father says it will be the grandest wedding in history,” Gart shouted with pride. “All royals will attend the ceremony!”

  “He’s right,” Lar agreed. “Their wedding will forever unite Lanth with Tolaria.”

  “How tall will the statue be, sir?” Han asked.

  “Tall enough to allow the largest ships in the world to sail under the statue’s legs without dropping their masts.” Lar opened his eyelids wide to emphasize the enormity of the statue.

  “When ships pass underneath and their passengers look up,” Han said, “will the king have tots covering his privates under his tunic? Or will they even give him privates?”

  Laughter erupted from the cadets. Even Lar chuckled. Then Arken heard a cough and noticed Head Mistress Calna’s face was red with anger. Her Trackers appeared embarrassed, eyes down.

  “Why do you ask, Han?” Lar had noticed Calna’s reaction and turned serious.

  “My father’s a sculptor, sir. He wondered just yesterday what they planned.”

  Calna spun around and walked quickly to the captain. She whispered in his ear and gestured. Soon the captain’s face had turned to a dark shade of trouble.

  He drew Lar aside at the railing. Their instructor nodded several times, his eyes wide. He objected, saying no, but the captain kept arguing. Lar was shaking slightly when he turned to the class.

  “Han, report to me after finding your cabin.” Lar seemed very upset, and it looked like he had to force the words from his chest, like a man pumping air with a forge bellows to add heat.

  “Yes, sir!” Han answered, looking confused.

  “Cadets, one last look at home.” Lancon Koman pointed toward Lanth. “The fort’s rock wall along the breakwater will hide the city when we turn north.”

  Arken could still see his family, tiny figures now, waving red scarves his mother had given them, so they could see one another at a distance.

  He went to pull his red hemp scarf from the stomach pocket of his tunic to wave back, but it wasn’t there! He realized he’d stuffed it into his duffel, intending to retrieve it later. The duffels lay in a huge pile on the deck. He would never find it in time!

  Arken spied a sailor wearing a red scarf who was tending a line on the starboard railing. “Sir, could I borrow your headband?”

  “A moment.” His arm muscles rippled as he tossed a weight over the side of the ship, waited until the line stopped running, and shouted out the depth.

  “Here you go, young master.” He pulled the red bandana from his head, and then turned back to reeling in his line.

  Dried salt made the bandanna crusty, and it smelled of sweat. Arken struggled with the bandanna’s knot for a second, and then opened it in time to wave. His family waved back even faster. He felt overwhelmed with love and sadness. He already missed them.

  “Good-bye!” he yelled, even though he knew they could never hear him. “Good-bye!”

  The ship slipped through the harbor mouth, propelled by the ebbing tide. The extra speed made for a quick turn as the tiller man shouted the warning, “Turning to Port!” He pushed the long wooden tiller over to starboard. The rudder attached to the port, or left, side of the boat, angled the ship left, toward the north. As the ship turned, Arken’s family disappeared behind the rock wall.

  Arken found the sailor. “Here’s your scarf.”

  “Keep it for good luck.” The sailor tossed his weighted line into the sea.

  “Thank you, sir.” Arken faked enthusiasm. The scarf smelled terrible, and he was not sure he wanted to keep it, or that it would actually bring him good luck.

  The sailor noticed Arken’s squeamish look. “I can wash it for you first,” he said. “Fourteen legs!” he shouted to the helmsman.

  “Stow the weighted line,” Lancon Koman shouted. “Deep water.”

  “Sir!” the sailor responded. He placed the stone in his hand and wrapped the line around it. “May I ask your name, cadet?” he asked while stowing the rope in a box.

  “Arken. Arken Freeth.”

  “I’m Yon.” His smile showed white teeth against the dark tan of his face. The muscles of his arm rippled as he took the scarf from Arken and washed it under the spigot of a water barrel.

  “Here you go.” Yon handed the scarf back to Arken. “Nice and clean.”

  “Thank you! And good to meet you, sir!” Arken stood at attention. He so wanted to be big and powerful someday like this sailor.

  “Please don’t call me sir.” The sailor glanced around to make sure no one had heard. “I must address you as master since you are an officer in training.”

  “My apologies,” Arken replied.

  “It’s fine. You didn’t know. This is where you get fresh water whenever you’re thirsty, by the way.” The sailor pulled the spigot, allowing water to sparkle onto the deck.

  “You shouldn’t waste it!”

  “No shortage of fresh water; there’s plenty more each night at rinfall.” Yon pointed at the funnel shaped cone of canvas that fed water each night into the barrel. “If you need nothing else, I’ll return to my duties.”

  “Oh, nothing, thanks,” Arken answered.

  The sailor bowed slightly and placed his curled fist to his forehead—they called it knuckling your forehead. It was a way of showing respect for an officer. He walked away with a rolling gait, used to a ship’s movement.

  “Unfurl the sail!” Lancon Koman ordered. Sailors ran up the rope ladders stretched from the ship’s rail to the top of the mast, below the lookout’s nest. They stepped out on a thin rope slung below the cross bracing and in unison unlashed the ropes, which dropped the great brown and blue sail. The stiff horizontal brown strips of ban leather kept the sail spread out properly while the blue material was thick hemp.

  The wind caught the sail, jolting the ship forward. Arken braced himself against the shock, which knocked several cadets over. He was thankful years of experience on his father’s ships had taught him to keep his balance.

  Sailors tightened ropes attached to the sail’s port side while releasing those on the starboard edge. The wooden spar swiveled, and the ship heeled over to port as the onshore breeze from starboard caught the sail.

  Tildok’s serpent head turned its eyes north in search of enemies and fortune, and Arken felt a stir of excitement.

  Waves crashed into the breakwater as they sailed north. Cool spray from waves hitting the ship’s side coated Arken’s face, surprising him on such a warm day.

  “Proceed with finding your cabin assignments!” Lar ordered.

  The biggest cadets crowded around the room assignment posting. Arken resigned himself to seeing the list last. He wondered who would share his cabin. Probably someone who hated commoners who were lucky enough to defeat Gart in sparring.

  “Why do you think Lar wants to see me?” Han came over to him. The normally pale skin of his face looked almost white, and Arken realized he was very scared.

  “It’s nothing. He probably just wants you to apologize to the girls.”

  “I hope that’s all. The captain seemed mad.” Han turned away to find his room, and then stopped. “You know, Arken, I don’t mind privately if you are a commoner. But when I’m around others, I don’t dare act friendly toward you. Unless, of course, like now, when I need your advice!” Han gave him a lame smile. “You understand.”

  “Yes, I understand.” Arken tried to hide the hurt he felt as Han went below. Arken always made sure he wasn’t mean; in fact, he always helped cadets with their studies or archery, yet his reward was no friends. Someday he’d have friends. He sighed and turned his attention to their three escort ships that followed them out of the harbor mouth.

  Arken noticed the escort ships weren’t raising their sails. Instead, the captains li
ned up their ships and began a rowing race to exercise their oarsmen.

  Boom, boom, boom, the pace drums sounded as the oars swept the sea. The oars, twenty-five on a side, dipped and stroked in perfect rhythm. One man sitting on a bench in the rowing room pulled on each oar.

  The escort ships were designed for coastal patrols close to Lanth and had narrow hulls about eighty feet long, just a little longer than the Sea Nymph. The narrower hulls made them fast and easy to row. Despite this, even with fresh crews and a willing spirit, they were no match for the wind driving the Sea Nymph’s sail, and they soon fell behind.

  The Sea Nymph had a speed advantage under sail because it had been designed to be a smaller cargo ship, made to run in shallow water or run up onto a sandy river bank. It was just a little shorter than their escort ships but had a wider hull, which allowed it to have a larger sail. The Sea Nymph looked chubby to Arken compared to the sleek escorts they were racing.

  As Arken watched their escort ships race, he wished that their escorts were the fighting vessels used in the Tolarian war because those ships were much larger, over one hundred feet long, and would afford more protection during their SeaJourney. Everyone had said not to worry about the Amarrats because they didn’t have any ships, but in the back of Arken’s mind, he couldn’t stop worrying about the fact that they were now at war.

  But his worrying didn’t matter; all the larger ships in the Lantish fleet were in the harbor, being refitted and repaired for transporting troops and supplies when they were needed for a naval invasion during the upcoming war with the Amarrats.

  The warships in the harbor had the newer design of two sails as well as two levels of rowers on each side. Their hulls also had longer keels and heavier ballast, so they could withstand the force generated by two sails.

  Arken hoped that after SeaJourney he would be assigned as a Saldet on one of the newer ships.

  “Hey, we’re the last two without a cabin!” Arken turned around to see a boy speaking to him. He was the only other cadet left on deck, since all the others had found their cabins. To Arken’s surprise, he didn’t recognize this boy.