by Alex Paul
“No, I am,” Asher insisted, sounding hurt. “I’m not kidding. That’s why I said you’re safe with me. The officers haven’t told the crew, but King Lor ordered Captain Dunn and the rest to protect me while I’m on this journey.”
“No...” Arken stopped laughing. “Prove it!”
“All right.” Asher turned toward the door and let out a high-pitched whistle.
Arken heard feet running in the corridor, and then two sailors with swords drawn threw the door open. Arken rolled in his hammock as he tried to get a better view, but his feet became twisted and he fell to the floor.
“Yes, Sire, what’s wrong?” The shorter sailor asked. “Is this cadet bothering you?” He stepped toward Arken, with his sword at the ready.
“No, I just wanted to make sure you were on duty.” Asher jumped from his hammock and stepped between the soldier and Arken. “Just checking.”
“Yes, Sire.” The sailor knuckled his forehead and bowed. “We are in the next cabin over, night and day.”
“You may return to your post.”
“Sire.” They turned to leave.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Asher added. “You’re doing an excellent job.”
“Thank you, Sire.” Both sailors saluted.
Asher shut the door. Arken’s mouth was wide open, and he was still on his back, his feet tangled in the hammock. He couldn’t think of anything to say as he untangled the hammock from his feet so he could stand.
“But they make you row!” Arken objected as he straightened his hair and tunic after falling. “A future king shouldn’t row!”
“I don’t want to, but it’s the only way I’ll get stronger, or make friends. Though I’m not successful at that, except for you.”
“And you say Captain Dunn knew from the beginning?” Arken was incredulous.
“Yes, though he wasn’t doing a good job at first. So after Han’s near drowning, I had to insist the captain not punish cadets so severely, and now he knows.”
“You insisted?” Arken felt dizzy. “You just had a little chat with the captain?”
“Lar and the captain, yes.” Asher appeared steady and honest.
“If those men hadn’t just come down the hall, I’d never have believed you.”
“Well, I think you’re safe from Gart as long as you stay close to me.”
“Thank you... this explains so much.” Arken crawled back into his hammock as he tried to sort things out. “I kept wondering why Captain Dunn didn’t do any more punishments. I worried some of us would get lashings. But nothing happened, all thanks to you!” Arken looked up at Asher, who was still standing by the door. He saw Asher as he was: tousled, curly brown hair, a beat-up look from too much rowing, and sea-green, sparkling eyes full of enthusiasm. The next second, he saw a man with a crown and a royal cloak of exotic furs, with chests of gold and silver beside him and servants doing his bidding. A man leading a heavily-armed, large country!
“What am I thinking?” Arken jumped out of his hammock and bent to one knee. “Forgive me, Sire, for not showing you proper respect. I’m so confused.”
“No, no, no, you can’t go doing that.” Asher stepped forward and pulled on Arken’s shoulder to get him to his feet. “I only told you so you wouldn’t worry about getting killed. I don’t want to change our friendship; I’ve been having so much fun on this trip. Pretend you don’t know anything and treat me as you have all along.”
“That’s not going to be easy.” Arken rose to his feet.
“Well, that’s the one command I will have to insist you obey,” Asher said. “Treat me like you did before, and tell no one.”
“Hah!” Arken shook his head.
“What?”
“I felt sorry for you before, because you were the only person on board shorter than me! And here I was thinking you were smart wanting to be a healer and had given up the idea of going to sea because...”
“Yes?” Asher seemed puzzled by Arken’s pause.
Arken had to force the words out. “I didn’t think you’d survive,” he said, adding, “I’m not trying to show disrespect.”
“No, I appreciate your honesty. I admit I’m not much of a fighter.” Asher hung his head. “I do want to learn to be a healer, I hope I have time for that as king. If not, I’ll fund a place to study healing at the very least.”
“That is generous of you,” Arken said. “Asher the king! Who would have thought?”
“Not you, obviously,” Asher said sarcastically.
“Forgive me, Sire. I didn’t mean to joke.” Arken fell to his knee again.
“Oh, for Tol’s sake, can’t you take any teasing? You almost got me killed by a smoker that day on the fishing platform. We’ve been through so much, surely I’m allowed to tease you.”
“I don’t know. This friend business isn’t going to be easy,” Arken said.
“I have a solution,” Asher said.
“What is it?”
“I think you’re the first true friend I’ve ever had. So, to make sure my rank doesn’t come between us, I think we should become blood brothers. If we’re brothers, we must treat each other as equals.”
“Blood brothers?” Arken asked.
“You don’t do this in Lanth?”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s simple. We both cut ourselves on the palms of our right hands—not deep, just enough to bleed,” Asher explained. “And then we shake hands and say ‘blood brothers forever.’ Our blood mixes, so then forever afterward we’re blood brothers, just like real brothers.”
“Shake hands?” Arken asked.
“It’s like your arm shake and hitting your chest, but we just join hands like this.” Asher grabbed Arken’s hand and they shook.
“If you want to do that, sure,” Arken said. “Though I don’t think you’re getting much of a deal being my brother.” Would Asher really want to mix blood with a Nander? Would it be harmful to him? But of course Arken couldn’t say anything. He just had to go along and hope for the best.
“On the contrary,” Asher said. “You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”
“Really?” Arken couldn’t believe anyone, especially a king, would think so highly of him. But it made him feel proud at the same time.
“Absolutely,” Asher assured him. “I will always be glad you’re my blood brother.”
“Asher, I’m so sorry that my classmates call you Skullhead. They should show more respect.”
“It’s all right,” Asher said. “I’ve been protected from the real world for too long in my life. It’s good for me to know that people can be so cruel. It has helped me understand the hatred and drive of the Amarrat king.”
“It doesn’t upset you?”
“It is upsetting, but I know their words have no effect on my life, so I let it go.”
“Well, I apologize for them again.”
“I am upset about one thing, though,” Asher said.
“What’s that?”
“You haven’t told me if you’re willing to be my blood brother!”
“Oh, yes, I’d like that!”
“Excellent. But we have to make sure we don’t ever tell anyone.”
“Whatever the rules are, I’m fine,” Arken said in a solemn tone.
“Maybe our wives someday.”
“If I find a wife.” Arken shrugged.
“My marriage is all arranged,” Asher said.
“Who are you going to marry?” Arken was curious. And a bit envious. After all, how could he ever marry someone and feel he was being honest with her when he didn’t dare reveal his deepest secret, that he was part-Nander? Lying was not a good foundation for a marriage.
“I’ll tell you later. Let’s become blood brothers first,” Asher said.
Arken nodded.
“Do you have a sharp knife?” Asher asked.
“Well... my father told me to never show this, but it seems time to make an exception for my future brother. My fat
her gave this to me to keep me safe.” He pulled his tunic up and grabbed the antler handle of his knife. “Asher, it’s your turn to promise not to tell anyone I carry it. It’s only useful if no one knows.”
Asher let out a low whistle of appreciation as he examined the knife.
“Careful, if you call those guards by whistling, they’ll kill me immediately if they see me holding this knife!” Arken looked at the door and listened for footsteps.
“It has to be higher pitched,” Asher assured him. “But give it to me to hold if you’re worried.”
Arken put it in Asher’s right palm. “Be very careful, it’s sharp.”
“All right. And don’t worry, I’ll never reveal your secret,” Asher said as he looked at the knife. “I can’t believe you’ve had it on you all this time. It doesn’t show through your clothes.”
“It doesn’t show because the blade and handle are so thin.”
“I’ll use it to cut my palm, and then you can do the same,” Asher said as he reached for the handle with his left hand.
“Be careful! Make sure when you grab the handle you don’t touch the blade,” Arken cautioned. “And when you make your cut, barely touch the edge to your skin. It’s so sharp you won’t feel it for a second. If you push too hard you could cut all the way through your hand!”
“Gosh! It’s that sharp?” Asher held the blade up to look at it.
“It’s obsidian, the sharpest blade possible.” Arken watched with concern as Asher turned the stone to reveal its edge. “You don’t sharpen this with a file; you chip the edge with a stone, and it cracks it sharp by taking flakes of stone off.”
“Really?” Asher asked. “It’s so light! There’s nothing to it.”
“My father told me it’s so sharp that if I pushed it into a man’s knee, it would just slice through everything.”
“That’s a terrible thought.” Asher looked at the knife with newfound respect.
“I know.” Arken remembered feeling sick to his stomach after his father had said that. “But we’re not in the military to give out sweet cakes and flowers to our enemies.” Balloom had said the same thing to Arken when he had confessed to Balloom during bow practice that the idea of using the knife bothered him.
“That’s true,” Asher said.
“And I felt differently about the knife when it was my only weapon if Gart decided to kill me,” Arken added. “I started thinking of it as my best friend.”
“I don’t blame you for feeling that way,” Asher said. “Well, let’s become blood brothers.”
“All right,” Arken said.
Asher lowered the blade toward his right palm.
“Remember to cut lightly!” Arken cautioned as Asher cut a two-inch slice down an angle across his palm.
“That’s perfect.” Arken watched as a few drops of blood dripped from Asher’s hand.
“It didn’t hurt as badly as I thought,” Asher said as he handed the knife to Arken, who made a similar cut. “Now we shake right hands and salute. Blood brothers for life,” Asher said in a solemn tone as they gripped bleeding hands together.
Arken repeated after him. “Now we salute like we’re smashing shields into our chest, but we do that with our left hands.” The boys pounded their chests.
“And now we’re brothers!” Asher sounded proud and happy.
“Brothers!” Arken felt slightly dazed. “I have a sister, and now a brother as well.” And not just any brother. A brother who would help him with Gart.
That soothsayer didn’t know what he was talking about, Arken thought. Death and violence? He was safe with Asher!
“Let’s not bleed to death, though.” Asher held a hemp washcloth against his palm. “I know one item I’m going to have in my apothecary,” Asher added, after he looked and found the wound had sealed up.
‘What’s that?”
“Obsidian instruments for surgery!” Asher raised his eyebrows and shook his head in disbelief. “That blade is the sharpest I’ve ever seen. Let me look at it again.”
Arken handed him the blade, and Asher held it up toward the light from the grate.
“Amazing! I can’t tell where the edge of it is, it’s that sharp.” He handed it back to Arken as the dinner bell began to ring. “Shall we go to dinner, brother?” Asher offered.
“By all means, after you.”
“It stopped bleeding so quickly,” Asher said as they walked down the hallway.
“Because it’s so sharp,” Arken answered. “It makes a fine cut.”
“I was worried we’d be dripping blood and have to explain.” Asher snapped his fingers. “But, as usual, I win!”
“You’re always winning!” Arken laughed as they climbed the ladder to the main deck. “Speaking of which, I’ll make sure Gart’s not close by.” He popped his head up and scanned the deck.
Asher stood below him. “Best to avoid trouble.”
“Yes,” Arken agreed.
They took their place in the serving line. “It smells like someone caught some nice fish today.” Asher licked his lips as he took a wooden plate.
“Sail on the horizon!” Lancon Koman shouted from the galley doorway.
The boys ahead in line dropped their plates back on the table and raced from the galley.
“Where is everyone going?” Asher asked.
“The lookout says he’s seen a ship, but it’s not Lantish!” Koman yelled as he sprinted up the stairs.
CHAPTER 17
ATTACK ON THE GOLDEN WILLOW
We are under attack! Last night we heard the falls of the River Zash, and our hearts filled with joy, a joy only to be surpassed by sighting a Lantish fleet on the southern horizon just before nightfall. Our captain thought it best to anchor in safety and wait to reach the Lantish ships at dawn. But our night’s joyful dreams turned to nightmares this morning when Tookan ships sailed from the river mouth on the ebb tide and attacked us.
—Diary of Princess Sharmane of Tolaria
Ord woke at dawn to shouts and rattling wood. He untied the rope holding him high up in the tree as he looked around in a panic, thinking that Jen and his friends had found him. But then he remembered the No-fur floating houses he had seen in the river the night before. He left his survival equipment hanging in the tree and crawled along the treeway toward the river until he could see the floating houses.
No, ships, Ord thought, correcting himself. Must use the Lantish word. The ships he had watched last night.
The No-furs looked funny to him in the daylight. The No-furs had very little hair on their bodies. Father had told him that, despite being taller than Nanders, No-furs were much weaker than Nanders. It soon became obvious Father was right, because it took four No-furs to haul in a rope attached to a stone—an anchor, father had told him—that Ord knew he could lift alone.
To Ord’s surprise, some No-furs were running and shouting as others pushed long wooden poles through the ship’s sides into the river. The wooden poles splashed into the water at the same moment, and the ships slid away from shore. He realized the wooden poles were what made it so easy for No-furs to travel so easily across the big water.
Were these No-fur slavers? If so, why were they leaving without taking Nanders? Many on the ship were putting on metal clothing. Father had told him about this: armor, a type of clothing that could stop a spear.
If they were leaving, there was no point in warning his Nander tribe in the Water Cave. They wouldn’t believe him if he couldn’t prove the No-furs had been here. Instead, they’d think he was just trying to scare them, pulling a prank on the tribe and, in the end, giving them more reason to hate him. Ord decided he should gather his belongings and follow the ships to see what the No-furs would do next. If they didn’t leave, then he’d tell the tribe.
Ord scrambled through the branches, hunger gnawing at his stomach. He would eat the last of his food later, and if the No-furs left, continue with his plan to run away to the tribe to the north. The No-fur shouts from the ships moving do
wnriver soon had him darting along the treeways in pursuit. Despite his hunger he did not fatigue as he followed, for he was a Nander, lord of Tonlot’s forest realm.
***
The alarm bell woke Arken and Asher from a deep sleep.
“It can’t be time to rise,” Asher moaned. “There’s no daylight!” He rubbed his eyes as he sat up in his hammock to see the sky better through the grating. “Well, maybe a little. But this must be an alarm bell. We’ve never started the day this way before.”
“Are we sinking?” Arken worried aloud. “Listen.” They were quiet. “I don’t hear any water rushing into the ship. We’re not sinking.” Suddenly, they could hear the sound of wood rattling against the hull. “They’re running out the oars,” Arken said. “We never raise anchor until after full light. They must have sighted the ship they saw last night, and they’re rowing toward it!”
Darkness had fallen the previous night, and the captain had decided to anchor up the fleet and stay a safe distance from the ship they had seen because they didn’t want to stumble into a fleet of enemy ships in the dark. It was much safer to wait for good light, identify the ship, and then decide if it was safe to approach it.
“Is it an enemy ship?”
“I don’t know how it could be.” Arken felt confused. “No enemies have ever come this far west, except for your Tolarian fleet.”
They always slept in their white cadet’s tunics, so dressing simply consisted of tying their sandal straps and buckling on the short knife belt. They clambered up the ladder to the deck.
“This way,” Arken said when he saw everyone heading for the starboard railing.
“Fire... fire to the north,” the gray-haired, old lookout shouted from high above.
“I don’t see anything,” Asher exclaimed. “Is he sure?”
As he asked, the rowing drum started; with each splash of the oars, the ship surged forward.
“Don armor!” Captain Dunn roared. “There’s a sea battle ahead. I have no idea who it’s between, but we’ll soon come to the aid of anyone who’s on our side. Cadets armor up as well,” he added. “We will need your help defending the ship.”
