by Alex Paul
Jalar bent over double, both hands on his left side where Han had slid the point of the wooden sword under the armor and jabbed hard. Blood leaked through Jalar’s fingers.
“Let me look.” Lar lifted the armor. “It’s just a bleeding scratch, it doesn’t go deep. Jalar can you go on?”
Jalar winced as Lar examined the wound, but said, “Yes, sir!” They had learned long ago that if you didn’t fight until Lar told you to stop, you’d fight even longer, especially when injured. That was part of their training. Never complain, never give up, and never surrender. Your enemy would not be forgiving, so you had to learn to be tough or expect to die in battle.
“Very good, Jalar!” Lar exclaimed.
“Ready!” Saldet Tyo ordered. The boys assumed their fighting stance and held still.
“Fight!” Tyo shouted.
The last round lasted only seconds. Han penetrated Jalar’s defenses with a swift curl of the sword. Then he grabbed Jalar’s sword arm with his left arm and locked it behind Jalar’s back before running the point of his sword to Jalar’s throat and holding it there.
“Loser’s side, Jalar.” Lar pointed to the side of the square on the ship’s right.
Arken wondered what miserable loser chores Lar would later assign Jalar to motivate him to fight harder next time. On land, losers usually changed the hay in the stables.
“Next pair,” Lar said.
“Now we go to center ring and face each other,” Arken said. He jogged to the ring’s center and took his place on his ready mark. He set his feet wide, his shoulders square to the line, and his arms wide from his body, trying to show Asher to look as big and strong as possible. It never hurt to look dangerous.
The deck tilted from the swell, and Arken, having lived on his parents’ ships when he was little, took a slight step back to regain his balance. The motion of the ship caught Asher by surprise, however, and he almost fell.
“Salute... ready stance.” Saldet Tyo stood by their side as they faced off at two legs distance.
They crashed their blue-and-white, swordtooth-head shields together in salute. Then Arken lowered his faceplate, positioned his shield before him, bent his knees, placed his right foot behind him in the ready stance, and pointed his sword at Asher’s head.
Asher studied Arken’s pose and did the same.
“Fight!” Tyo dropped back.
Asher quickly raised his sword high behind his head, with his shield to the left for balance, and then swung down hard toward Arken’s head, an illegal blow.
He’s trying to kill me, Arken thought, as he reacted instinctively, raising his shield and stepping forward. Asher’s sword landed with a crash on Arken’s shield.
“Whoa!” the class shouted, astonished by the illegal swing.
“Skullhead kill!” Narval hooted, and the class laughed as Arken jumped back without taking a counter swing. Asher had left himself open for a slash to the throat, which would have ended the match. Arken didn’t want to embarrass his new friend like that, but it was obvious that Asher had no idea what he was doing.
“Halt!” Lar ordered.
They both froze.
“Asher, that’s an illegal blow in sparring. Did you know that?”
“Oh, it is? I’m so sorry.” Asher’s voice sounded apologetic. “I thought if I got a quick blow in early, it would be good.”
“Not only is it illegal, because we don’t try to swing hard for the head, you exposed the entire front of your body to do it! You can’t swing like that unless your opponent is stumbling away from you. I’m sure Arken was just being kind; otherwise, he could have struck you in the hips or throat.”
“Sir!” Arken came to attention and gave a small nod to Asher. He didn’t want to belittle Asher by agreeing with Lar too enthusiastically.
“Have you had any training at all with the sword?” Lar asked.
“No, sir,” Asher confessed. “Not until sixteen in our country.”
“Then let’s do this, you and Arken go to the ship’s bow with Tyo, and you can begin training in the use of sword and shield.”
They headed for the bow. As they walked forward, Arken looked back to see if the helmsman could see him. Arken realized he was hidden from the helmsman’s view by the roof of the officer’s quarters building until he was past the middle of the ship. So there were several places that were safe if he needed to murder Gart and Narval, as the spot his grandfather had pointed out by the crew’s quarters was also concealed. But how could he kill them if they were always together? He could only surprise one of them.
They reached the space on the forward deck near the bow, right ahead of the front catapult, and Arken and Tyo began the slow work of teaching Asher to fight with a short sword. Tyo had developed a cold or some other malady, because he kept clearing his nose over the railing, which made Arken feel nauseated.
“All right, Asher. The main thing about swordfighting is to learn all the thrusts and cuts and how to block them until you know them by heart. Then you practice them until you react without thinking. If you have to think and fight, you’re as good as dead.”
“How much practice does it take to develop an automatic fighting skill?” Asher asked.
“About five years.” Arken tried to hide the defeat in his voice. Asher had no hope of practicing enough to ever become a good fighter before the age of nineteen!
Asher laughed. “So there’s not much hope for me in the near future.”
“Probably not. But you have to start somewhere, so let’s work on thrusts. Take the ready position.”
After more than an hour, Arken had to admit that he admired Asher, for he was game to learn. Even when his fatigue became obvious, he didn’t stop to rest until Lar came forward after the class’s last sparring match.
“Now, let’s have you spar. Asher, you’ve learned something, I take it?” Lar’s white teeth flashed in a smile against the dark background of his tanned face, black beard, and hair.
“Sir, I’ve learned vast amounts.” Sweat poured off Asher as they followed Lar back to the sparring square. White stains covered Asher’s tunic where the salt from his sweat had dried.
The rest of the class had been dismissed to take a turn at rowing. The cadets below them ran the oars out, and the crew began raising the mainsail until it was a tight bundle and stopped capturing air. Then the drum began marking the oar strokes.
“Let us know if we’re in the way,” Lar said to a sailor who was working one of the ropes to the sail.
“You’re fine there, sir,” the sailor replied as he tied off the rope after raising the sail.
As they sparred under Lar’s close observation, Arken knew it was obvious to Lar that he could win if he wished. Arken could move his feet more quickly and anticipate Asher’s movement and sword thrusts with an economy of effort that Asher had yet to master.
Asher did show that he had learned the basics of short sword thrusting, but he was soon breathing so hard Lar ordered a halt.
“You’ll be the equal of our cadets in four years if you keep with it,” Lar said. “You’ve made a good beginning.”
“Four years! Well, that’s better than Arken’s estimate of five years,” Asher exclaimed, as he stood with sword and shield in hand. His shoulders drooped from the weight of his weapons. It looked as if Asher were trying to hold a heavy cask of water in each arm, instead of a light training sword and shield.
“I’m saying four years because I assume you will spend more time than usual practicing,” Lar explained. “Because our cadets start training at the age of six, they learn more slowly because they practice less each day. But the skills they develop are the best in the world—not only in swordfighting but also in swords and bows. All those weapons are as familiar to our cadets as walking and eating are to you.”
Asher nodded to indicate his respect. “I am impressed.”
“You can remove your armor and join the others rowing to build your fitness. However...” Lar crossed his left arm over his
chest, supporting his right arm, which in turn held his black bearded chin. “I’m wondering.”
“Sir?”
“Arken, you brought your bow, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir, it’s in our cabin.”
“Do you think instead of rowing you could use your bow on the fishing platform and catch some fresh fish for me to offer at the captain’s table tonight?” Lar said. “I think he would appreciate fresh fish, and it might help me regain his friendship.”
“Absolutely.” Arken felt a surge of excitement. “Can Asher help me? It is much easier with two people.”
“If he wishes,” Lar said.
Arken and Asher placed their practice swords and shields in the rack by the armory and removed their armor.
“Thank you for asking if I could fish with you,” Asher said as he pulled off his helmet. His normally curly brown hair was a wet mat on his skull. “Oh, those were getting so heavy.” He rubbed his lean shoulders, which were wide but without much muscle. “I hope I can fish! Does fishing involve your arms much?”
“You’ll have fun.” Arken ignored the question as he spun slowly around to face the armorer, allowing him to tug on a breastplate strap to loosen it. Of course, fishing involves the arms, thought Arken. He wondered how Asher could be so stupid about the important things in life!
“Ow,” Asher exclaimed as the armorer lifted his breastplate.
“You’re bleeding at the top of your hip bones, master,” the second sailor exclaimed.
“Ouch!” Arken leaned over and looked where two red stains were visible on Asher’s tunic. “You are bleeding.”
“Blast,” Asher exclaimed. “Even my custom armor is too long. It’s not easy being too small for the equipment you need to use!”
“I know,” Arken said.
“You should probably see Lancon Zeem, the ship’s healer, for that wound,” the sailor said.
“All right.” Asher’s tone made him sound weary. “But after we’re done fishing.”
“I’m glad you’re so excited to fish,” Arken said as the armorer pulled off the last of his shin guards, and he stepped from the fitting mark.
“I’m not that excited about fishing; I just knew I could never row after sparring. I will never serve on a ship again if I have to row.” Asher rubbed his shoulders, and then tugged on his nose and winced. “Ow, I keep forgetting I hit my nose! And now my back and arms are so sore from rowing and sparring. Then on top of that, I’m bleeding from the wounds caused by my breastplate! I can’t believe how sore and tired I am.”
“Well, everyone rows on our ships,” Arken reminded him as they walked to the cabin to fetch the bow.
“Except the officers, don’t forget,” Asher pointed out. “I could only survive on board as a healer... the ship’s healer. I’m fascinated by herbal remedies.”
“Maybe you’ll discover a poisonous fish and use the poison to make a cure,” Arken said before sliding down the ladder to their cabin deck.
“How could a poisonous fish cure people?” Asher was careful to climb down the ladder and not slide.
“I don’t know! At least they wouldn’t die of the disease they had when they came to see you,” Arken joked.
“Killing the patient with poison is not a cure,” Asher protested.
“You’re going to fish?” Lancon Koman asked when they climbed the stairs to the command deck. He scratched at his curly brown hair. “I think I have fleas,” Koman explained. “I slept in a new bunk on the last ship I served on before returning to Lanth for SeaJourney, and I’ve been scratching ever since.”
“Maybe Lancon Zeem can help you,” Asher advised.
“Good idea,” Koman said. “Though I think the captain is going to have us spend a day soon getting rid of all the ship’s fleas.”
“How do you do that?” Arken was curious.
“In the morning, before we raise anchor, all the bedding is dipped into the ocean by tying it to ballast rocks and attaching a rope. The seawater kills the fleas. Then we all have to soak in the sea and soap our hair. And finally, the ship is scrubbed down using seawater and lye.”
“That’s a lot of work!” Asher remarked.
Koman laughed. “Better than scratching yourself to death. So you’re going to use a bow to fish?”
“Yes, sir. It’s fun,” Arken answered in an eager voice.
“I’ll show you where to fish off the boat.” Koman headed for the stern. “Follow me.” He led them aft and pointed down. “See the platform at the water line?” Koman asked. Arken pressed his stomach against the wood railing and peered down.
“I only see the relieving netting that we use for our restroom,” Arken said.
“Look further.”
“Well, I see the netting is to port of the rudder tiller and is held by poles that make it angle out over the water.”
“No, on the starboard side,” Koman said. “Bend forward more and look down under the curved hull.”
Arken leaned as far out as he dared and looked at the starboard side of the ship. To his surprise, there was, indeed, a platform hanging off the starboard side of the ship.
Arken hadn’t noticed the platform when he watched Han receive his punishment, because the platform hung just above water level and was tucked under the curved hull.
“That’s our fishing platform. We catch a large part of our daily food with poles and bait, or nets.” A rope ladder ran from the railing down to the fishing platform.
“I didn’t know that rope ladder was there.” Asher peered over the railing. “You can’t see it when you relieve yourself, the rudder hides it.”
“Just make sure you don’t use the rope ladder to go down and fish when the wind is blowing the wrong way.” Lancon Koman’s gray eyes flashed in merriment.
“Wrong way?” Asher asked.
“If it’s blowing from the relieving netting toward the platform.” Koman pointed to the netting stretched over the water.
“Oh, I see,” Asher exclaimed. “Because it will land on you.”
“Exactly,” Lancon Koman said. “But it’s blowing away from you today, so don’t worry. Do both of you know how to fish?”
“I do, but you might want to explain to him.” Arken squatted on the deck and tied a line to the point of his arrow.
“All right, Asher, pay attention.” Koman looked resigned to wasting more time as he grabbed a small fish from a bucket. “Arken is going to fish with his bow, so you’ll be fishing with a pole and live bait. We have a bucket of the baitfish here and there’s more down there.”
Asher looked intently at Koman, but Arken knew that his new friend probably didn’t understand.
“You run a hook through here.” Lancon Koman grabbed a baitfish from the bucket and expertly thrust a bronze hook through the top of a fish’s nose. It was about six inches long and, to Arken’s surprise, it didn’t seem too injured or bothered by the hook.
“And you drop the line in the water. The fish swims away until the line is gone, there’s only about eight feet of line, but you don’t need more, because you’ll get a bite every time. When a fish takes the hook, jerk back with the pole to set the hook. Then set the pole in the holding rack and pull the line in hand over hand. Hit the fish on the head with that stick to kill it before you put it in the bucket. Yell up to us when the bucket gets full, and we’ll haul it up for the cook and lower it back down.”
“I’m going to use my bow, remember?” Arken asked.
“Yes,” Koman said. “I want to see that.”
“Well, I guarantee that whatever I shoot won’t fit in the bucket.”
“Really?” Lancon Koman scratched his head. “Why?”
“We used to do this on my father’s ship,” Arken explained. “You use the pole and the small bait to catch a bigger fish. Then you make that larger fish into your baitfish by attaching a line to it, usually through the fin on the back, and you let it swim close to the boat. It thrashes round and attracts an even larger fish. That’s the one y
ou shoot with the arrow.”
“Hmm... that makes sense. I’ll watch from above,” he added. “And could I try later?”
“Yes, sir, happy to show you.” Arken saluted.
“It sounds fun.” Koman turned to leave, and then he stopped. “Oh, also rope yourselves to the platform so you don’t fall in.”
“Fall in?” Asher glanced down at the platform.
“It’s not as dangerous as it looks,” Lancon Koman assured him. “The platform just appears tiny from here. There’s room for both of you.”
Arken noticed Asher staring at the platform after Lancon Koman returned to the helm. The platform sat three feet above the ship’s white foam trail. The hull shaded the platform, making it a dark place of rushing, noisy water.
“Don’t worry, Asher. If it were too dangerous, I don’t think they would allow it,” Arken said in a confident tone. He wasn’t sure though. The platform did look dangerous, and the rope ladder that ran down to the platform had slack in it, so it wouldn’t be an easy passage up or down; the platform lay four legs below the command deck level.
Water hissed as it frothed around the rudder.
“Is a wave going to wash us off the platform?” Asher asked.
“No, it’s safe. When a wave comes, the ship rises, leaving the platform dry.” Arken felt nervous as well, but didn’t want to let on. If other people fished off the platform, it had to be safe, so there was no point in being scared. “Besides, Asher, we wave to the lookout before we climb down, so they know we’re down there. You rope yourself in, remember?”
“I’m not sure...”
“Stay here and watch if you want. I’m going down.” Arken turned and waved to the bird’s nest. “Look, Talya’s up there with one of the sailors,” he exclaimed. “She must be training.” She waved back to Arken energetically and gave him a smile.
Arken pulled the bowstring over his chest so the bow would ride securely on his back and leave his hands free for the climb down. He had left the quiver and all but one of the arrows in their cabin. The single arrow had been set up by his grandfather for fishing, with a barbed hook and a thin, strong line that he had lashed to the bow.
