The pressure is too much. How did my false deity manifest itself into me? I am a slave to my own talents. The requests for unrealistic heroic acts are relentless. I have ways to conjure illusions that hoodwink the majority, but I am getting requests to end the drought and cool the summer. Requests that require control over nature. A miracle.
24 Stone
U nable to sleep after the captain’s decision to blackmail me, I crawl from my cot and head straight to the poop deck, where I am to meet Gentry for my first lesson as a fisherman, or angler as I quickly discovered.
Another morning with a cloudless sky, which means wet heat out in the open waters of the Scarlet River. The bank of the river is blanketed in a dense forest of evergreens. I’m not sure what forest lies between Greenport and the Crimson Capital, but according to the captain, we’ve managed to sail upriver about halfway to our destination. Or rather, our old destination before the coward claimed me for his own. I wonder if the crew knows he’s blackmailing me. I fear to bring light to it if they don’t. The captain is passionate for his family. And passion can drive a man to his best decisions, or his worst. I fear which path he’d take.
It’s spawning season for the sockeye, so the anglers are headed upstream to the source where Navimar happens to also be located. It’s a boat-building village. They’ll barter for repairs and restocking supplies. From there, they’ll casually meander back to the delta, filling their ice chests along the way. Back where I started. Navimar might be my best chance to flee.
Leaping into the water to swim away would be foolish. It wouldn’t get me anywhere. At least while the sun is up. The captain would have them on me with their tackle immediately. They’d net me and string me up as soon as I touched the water. Maybe tonight, though. I’ll have to wait and see what restraints the captain puts on me. I should have fled the moment he informed me. If only I was more impulsive like Goose. He would have already moved on from a situation like this. I’m sure of it.
“There you are!” Gentry yells as if he’d been looking for me for some time. I wonder if he knows.
“Of course. This is where you asked me to meet you,” I mock, which may have been a mistake. The boatswain is someone who can make my life hell—and I may be here for a while. Shiner, Cudgel, and Chunk are proof of the authority he has. The three of them are up on the bow of the ship now, fighting over the mop, or rather, who doesn’t have to mop.
“Ah, yes, of course. You can’t expect me to remember a conversation from a night filled with mead. Let’s get to it then. Have you ever done this?”
“Yes, sir. It’s been my primary source of food for several seasons. Pole fishing that is.”
“That won’t help you here. This is a line vessel we’re on, and since we don’t want to slow our progress getting upriver, we’re going to be trolling today. Now, first things first, listen to what I have to say, and don’t try to do things your own way. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay then. We’ve four trolling booms on this boat, only two of which we’ll be handling. The other two are manned by Boomer and Edgerin. Not our responsibility, they aren’t. Typically, we’re one man to a boom with several lines per boom. You and I are going to tag team the two port booms. First, we need to raise the booms and setup the outriggers for multiple lines.”
Gentry raises the first boom closer to the bow and systematically threads the outrigger with five separate lines. I watch intently so I don’t screw up. But why? Why do I care if I screw up? I’m a prisoner. Why should I learn their trade? I can refuse. Would they throw me overboard? That would be good. But would they slit my throat first? They’re not pirates, but they might. Gentry wouldn’t. Otherwise, he would’ve backhanded me for mocking him. I don’t think he knows of the captain’s decision. He’d be less assertive and more awkward. Unless I’m misjudging his character as I did with the captain.
“Did you see how I did that?” he asks. I nod. “Good. Next, we bait each hook with a minnow and attach ‘em to the downriggers like so.” He spears each minnow onto a barbed hook the size of my fist.
How big are these sockeye?
Gentry then fastens each line to a downrigger one at a time, dropping the bait into the water to a specific depth. Once all lines are set, he uses a mechanism to telescope the boom out over the water. “The one thing you don’t want to do is tangle the lines,” Gentry adds. “If you don’t take the necessary steps before you sink ‘em, you’ll leave your family starving. You got it?”
“Yes. Is that everything?”
“Yeah, now go on. Get the next boom set up.”
“By myself?”
“Yes. You said you got it. If you’re not confident, boy, I need to know. I don’t want you messin’ up any of our equipment. Now, do you get it or not?”
“Yes, sir. Seems easy enough.”
“Okay. Get to it then. I’ll be watching from here.”
I scurry to the other boom with a pail of minnows in hand. Before I know it, my foot snags an uplifted board in the deck and the minnows explode from the pail as I crash into the ironwood. The pail flies until it hits Captain Crowbill in the back of the head. I lay flat on my face on a deck permeated with the stink of rotten failure. And I wallow in it for a moment as I recover. My luck! Not the captain. Although… Maybe he’ll get rid of me if my clumsiness becomes more of a burden than I’m worth.
I gain my feet using the deck rail to hoist myself up. I stare awkwardly, uncertain if I should apologize or not. No. I won’t. Not after what he’s done to me.
With a peeved scowl, “Clean this shit up, and get back to work, Elder.” Then he turns and continues to wherever he was headed. He’s continuing to use my alias.
He stops and turns.
“And don’t let that happen again or Gentry will be scrubbing the decks with you. That’s a consequence you don’t want to face, lad.”
He pauses, staring me in the eye, contemplating something—maybe letting me think hard about what it’s like to have my face used as a mop. He wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. He turns and walks off.
“Way to go, numbskull!” Gentry scowls at me. “Enough dancing! Pick up the bait and get on with it. Be careful ‘cause I’m not scrubbing any decks for you. I can promise you that.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry.” I gather the minnows, leaving quite a mess for Shiner and the others to scrub—serves ‘em right. Oddly, I was able to raise the boom, line the outriggers, bait the hooks and get all the lines in the water without any hiccups. The standard, everyday walking is what proves to be my weakness.
After all the lines are set, we watch, and we wait. “The tension on the lines is tighter than a fish’s rectum, so we’ve to check ‘em occasionally,” Gentry instructs. He demonstrates on the first boom then lets me tackle the other.
He’s a trusting teacher. That or he’s waiting for me to fail. If he knew I was to be his Healer, then he wouldn’t do me wrong, would he? It wouldn’t be wise.
Beyond that, how is the captain going to force me to heal his crewmates anyhow? He can’t force me to do it. Don’t I have the upper hand here? I have what he wants. Curse this predicament. It makes my head spin.
We spend the entire day trolling with only a small break for the midday meal. Checking the lines doesn’t allow for much relaxation, and I’m beginning to understand why fishermen are so hard. It’s much more taxing on the body than scrubbing the decks, especially when a fish is on.
All the fishermen, however, leave their post to lend a hand when a fish is on. One mans the net and one cranks the pulley to tighten the line as the other two pull in the catch with their bare hands. The pulley is used for the smaller fish, but most are sockeye longer than I am tall. The pulley isn’t strong enough for them. Each a leviathan that could feed a village.
“I had no idea sockeye were as big as these,” I admit after the first few are stowed away in the ice chest. All eyes turn to me, and I grow warm.
“Hey, Elder!” Gentry calls. “T
here’re only two things you know about fishin’. The first, little fish live in water. The second, big fish live in water.” The crew mock me and laugh. At first, I’m irritated, but eventually I laugh along with them and accept it. The harassment won’t stop until I’m no longer the greenhorn. I’m sure of it. But hopefully that won’t be long.
The evening draws near, and we’ve caught a good day’s catch of sockeye. The others, unsatisfied I suppose, think it a clever idea to try for something bigger. We lower two booms and drop two lines on each. In place of the minnows, we spear sockeye on enormous hooks the length of my arm.
“There’s no way we’re reeling in anything using bait this size. Nothing’s large enough to swallow it.” It’s another comment for them to heckle me with.
“Little fish and big fish, greenhorn. Just wait and see.”
Gentry speaks like he’s done this before. Of course he has. He’s a professional angler with seasons upon seasons of experience on the water. They’re bound to get bored occasionally and experiment with ridiculous ideas.
With evening upon us, nearly everyone is on deck. Captain Crowbill, Stave Killstone, Stripe McCord, and the helmsman are all at the helm, likely plotting the new course—upriver, where else? I stare grudgingly until the captain makes eye contact, then I shy away.
Shiner, Cudgel, and Chunk continue to scrub the decks. They’ve been lazily completing the task and are currently working the poop deck. For three men working one mop, it’s surprising all three of them are soaked in sweat. Unless, maybe, they can’t figure out how to keep the water in the bucket.
The cook is in his small kitchen prepping the next meal, and I’m assuming Lump and the other deckhand are down below helping him out. Lump seems the type unable to resist testing the food before it’s served.
Gentry signals to the helmsman. I’m not sure what it means, but he nods in return.
The lines are deep in the murky red water for only a moment when the entire ship jerks abruptly and shifts port side. I look to the helm, thinking they’re the cause, and the two men are braced against the deck rail, with the helmsman holding the wheel with arms flexed tight, struggling to keep it from spinning recklessly. The three deck scrubbers are all on their asses.
A wicked smile crosses my face at the sight. Then I see all the anglers, excluding me, are at the boom attempting to reel in a catch. “Wait!” I look to the helmsman. “That wasn’t…” I look back to the anglers. “That was a fish?” Whatever is on the end of that line is the reason Shiner and his men are on their asses and the helmsman is struggling to keep the vessel straight. Why they don’t just cut the line baffles me. Anything that can manipulate the course of the ship is far too big to be brought on board. The crew, however, don’t seem to agree.
“Elder! Get your ass over here and man the pulley!” Gentry screams at me while manning his line. “Shiner, Cudgel, this is a big one! We’re gonna need your strength. Boomer, Edgerin, you’re on standby ‘til we have it hoisted over the deck. Then you can get to binding its mouth and immobilizing it.”
“Who’s gonna net it?” I ask ignorantly. The only response I receive is a smack upside my head and a glare telling me to shut up. No laughter or heckling. Everyone is tense.
The boat veers port side as I struggle to hold the crank steady. It jerks, then goes limp. Then pulls taught again, and I lose my grip, letting it spin wildly. After it slaps my hand a few times, I regain control and hold it tight with both hands, unwilling to lose it again for fear of the consequences. The other men, with no help from me, struggle to gain any momentum on reeling this thing in. Boomer joins in on the tugging to get it closer to the boat. They make headway, and I crank the pulley in unison to keep tension on the line.
The four men are at a standstill with the monstrous fish as it splashes and rolls in the water. The captain, first mate, and second mate all look tense as they rush over to the other boom on port side. They raise it in no time and ready another line. Except this one doesn’t have a hook. They tie the end of the line into a slipknot and throw it into the water where the battle is. Are they trying to lasso a fish? I’m just the greenhorn here, so I keep my mouth shut and follow suit regardless of how ridiculous their actions are.
Captain Crowbill pulls the line taut. They’ve lassoed it! What?
The goliath fish is wearing now with two lines tugging at it in separate directions and a third restraining its thrashing. They’re making progress, and both me and the captain crank our pulleys as fast as we can to keep up with the momentum of the anglers. The fish continues to fight hard, splashing and rolling until it is slowly raised out of the water.
For the first time, I get a glimpse of what we’re reeling in. It’s no fish. Or at least it doesn’t look like a fish. Not any I’ve ever seen. It’s a third the length of the ship, and it has legs! It has a long snout with massive teeth protruding from it and a long rigid tail with its spine bulging from its back, head to tail. And no scales. Don’t all fish have scales? Tigershit! It’s a river monster!
“Pull! Pull! Pull!” Gentry yells as we get this beast raised higher and higher. I follow orders mindlessly. “Pull! Pull! Pull!” He continues yelling rhythmically until we have it hoisted over the deck. Two hooks pierce its jaw, and the other line I believed to be noosed around its neck is lassoed near the base of its tail, tightly secured between the spines running down its tail. Between the three, they are holding it parallel to the deck. “Don’t let up. Keep it taught! Keep it taught!” Gentry eyes me. “Or you’ll put us all in danger.”
As if we aren’t already. The river monster is snapping its jaw and attempting to roll over, causing the two lines to twist together.
“Edgerin! Now!”
Edgerin, ready for his role, throws up another line, looping it around the beast’s jaw. He pulls tight, clenching its mouth shut. He quickly ties the line to a separate boom, immobilizing the beast’s head, but the tail still flails chaotically. Edgerin then grabs two more ropes he had prepped and moves in low as he approaches the thrashing tail. He loops both around it, knotting it just the same, and ties each to a separate boom on opposite sides of the deck. The immense strength ripping through that tail nearly makes the lines null.
Now, with three lines secured at its head and three around its tail all pulled taught in separate directions, the river monster is strung up like a man condemned to the rack. It continues to wiggle but not nearly as wildly as it was. It’s only a matter of time before it snaps, though.
“What is it?” I yell. Surprisingly, I only get a few dumbass glares.
Thinking we’re in the clear with the river monster wrangled, I let go of the pulley I’ve been holding steady out of sheer adrenaline and anxiety.
“No!” Several voices yell. The head of the monster drops to the deck. It remains in place with all the other lines binding it, but it doesn’t last long. The beast rolls and quivers frantically and breaks free of its bindings, toppling over a couple men in the process.
I no longer see Chunk on deck. Cudgel and Boomer seem to have the same idea and are dragging Edgerin, one of the downed men, below deck without hesitation. The helmsman and Gentry not too far behind. Only five remain to handle this monster.
I make a sudden movement to bolt below deck too, but a firm hand plants itself on my shoulder, holding me in place. Captain Crowbill merely shakes his head without a word.
The heroes of the crew, and me, remain on deck to battle the monster. Shiner, not too quick on his toes, keeps his distance while attempting to get the beast’s attention. Stave, Stripe, and Captain Crowbill all pull kukri blades from their belts and plant their feet in fighting stances, waiting for an opportune moment to pounce. They’re crazy if they think one of those blades will puncture it’s thick, bulging hide.
I remain frozen in place like a moron.
The monster ignores Shiner’s effort to get its attention. Instead, it fixates on me and moves to strike.
Not knowing what to do, I run toward the poop deck, assumin
g the steps will hinder it. I’m wrong. The monster has me cornered on the stern of the ship. The four other men move in behind it. My only options are to dive into the river where I’ll be just as quick to die, or fight. But with what?
To my surprise, Captain Crowbill leaps through the air and lands on the river monster’s back. He gets a firm hold, but the river monster doesn’t allow for much of an attack. The captain manages to pierce the beast’s thick hide a few times before it rolls.
“Captain!” The men cry out.
The captain refuses to let go, slashing as he rolls with the beast. Three belligerent rolls and the captain’s strength is snuffed out of him. He lets go, lying limp on the deck. I gawk in bewilderment. It takes me a moment to realize the other three men have already moved to attack.
Shiner snaps the end of his mop and jabs at the beast, but it only aggravates the monster more. It’s not sharp enough to penetrate the hide.
Stripe moves in to leap on its back, but the monster anticipates his actions. Its jaw wraps around his leg, and he shrieks with pain. The monster, fighting for its own life, whips him back and forth several times before his limp body tears away from the leg still clenched within the beast’s jaw. His body slams against the rail on the far side of the deck. He doesn’t move.
Two down. Only three to go.
Shiner rushes over to Stripe’s body and steals his blade.
The beast shifts toward me, whipping its spiny tail and uplifting Stave as he was about to pounce. The first mate hits the deck headfirst and lies motionless.
We’re going to die.
Shiner gets back in on the action with his newly acquired blade strapped to the end of his mop. A long-range weapon perfect for such a beast. But the blade is too small to do any serious harm. Shiner prods the beast’s abdomen several times before it turns its attention from me to attack him with full force.
Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Page 28