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

by Alex Paul

  “I filled in for a dead man!” Arken felt awful for the poor candle man. He’d obviously suffered badly from the enormous arrow that had killed him. Arken stared at the dead sailor. The scent of the blood overwhelmed him. He felt scared and confused. He had no idea what to do in the battle. And all the time he kept glancing at the sky to check for more arrows.

  “Lancon Koman, what should we do with this dead man?” Asher asked.

  “Drag him to the railing and throw him into the sea.” Koman looked up from working the winch to raise the basket of stones for another shot. “We’ll say All Said for the Dead when there’s time.”

  “Grab his other arm, Arken.”

  But Arken’s friend Jalar began screaming again before Arken could help. Two cadets were now sawing at the arrow with their knives because they couldn’t pull the arrow out of the deck. Jalar looked to be in terrible pain. Arken suddenly recalled racing Jalar when they were six, running laps around Tok, the large lifting test stone in the center of the Academy courtyard. Arken wondered if Jalar would ever run again. Or even survive the day.

  “Catapult crew!” Koman yelled. “Unlock the catapult arm and set it flat, reattach the arming rope, and put another bomb in the catapult.” He looked at Arken. “Hurry up with dumping that body, Arken. I’ll need my lucky candle lighter on duty again soon.”

  “Sir!” Arken pulled his bow over his head and off his back, and then stuffed it under the catapult walkway. He made sure to push it all the way back, so they’d have more room. “Now I can help,” Arken said to Asher as he took the dead man’s other arm and helped Asher pull him to the railing.

  A wide trail of blood followed the body, as if it were a giant paintbrush drenched in red. The scent made Arken gag.

  “Is the sight of all this gore making you sick?” Asher asked.

  “No, it’s the smell of the blood.”

  “Smell? I can’t smell anything,” Asher said. “But these dead and dying are making me nauseated.”

  Arken couldn’t believe that Asher was unable to smell the blood. It was as strong to Arken as the smell of the sardines. “How are we going to lift his body over?” Asher asked as they reached the railing.

  “Here you go.” A passing sailor came over to help. He grabbed the man’s hips. “Both of you lift his arms,” he ordered.

  But they were too short. The sailor had the man’s hips on the rail, but Arken and Asher couldn’t lift the shoulders high enough. It reminded Arken of trying to lift the Tok stone. He leaned back to lift the shoulders and worried that he would feel a twinge of pain in his back. But it didn’t hurt, and he pushed hard on the shoulders, moving the dead man higher on the railing—but not enough to toss him into the sea.

  Arken was strong enough to lift the fuse lighter over the railing but not tall enough. Just like on the rock lift day. He hated being so short.

  “Hold him,” the sailor said.

  “Got him,” Arken assured him.

  The sailor stepped closer, lifted a knee into the man’s back, and pushed. The body rolled up and over the railing, legs and arms flinging out, before he splashed and disappeared from view.

  “That was awful,” Asher said. They could still see the sailor sinking in the clear water, until the sunlight’s glare on the surface hid him.

  “It’s war.” Arken looked around the ship. Men ran in every direction. Bodies splashed into the sea. At least Jalar had stopped screaming. But was he being treated by Lancon Zeem, or had he been tossed, dead, overboard?

  “Arrows! They attack again!” The lookout’s voice boomed over the other noises on the ship, and immediately everyone ran for cover. All the cadets ran down the stairs and into the galley, except for Arken and Asher.

  As he ran for the walkway, Arken saw how Captain Dunn stayed safe, as Dunn, Rallat, and the helmsman took shelter under the helm house roof, where normally the helmsman retreated during the downpour of night rin time.

  Arken dove under the catapult walkway, just before a volley of arrows rained down on the deck, several hitting the walkway just above his head, making Arken jerk reflexively. His head rose up and hit the bottom of the flooring, and he felt a stinging pain. He put his hand on his scalp and felt a warm sticky liquid. Blood! Then the back of his fingers brushed something sharp. The tip of the arrowhead had penetrated the thick wood walkway around the catapult!

  “Come out, Arken and Asher. It’s over,” Koman yelled. They clambered out to find Koman sighting the catapult. “Load a bomb, men! Arken, you be ready with that candle.”

  Arken pulled the candle from its holder as a sailor reached for a bomb on the rack behind the catapult and stepped toward the basket. But the sailor’s foot slipped on the blood left on the deck from the dead candle man. The bomb dropped from his hand and the red ceramic jar broke. Black Mork’s fire began oozing over the deck.

  “Keep the candle back, Arken!” Koman’s eyes were wide in fear. If the candle hit the Mork’s fire, they would all go up in flames. “Step back by the railing, Arken. You, too, Asher.” He looked to the loading crew. “Men, spread sand on the liquid so it is absorbed, and then start sweeping it off the deck.”

  “Sir!”

  Arken and Asher reached the railing and whipped around to watch. “Asher, can you hold the candle with me? I’m shaking.”

  “Sure.” Asher’s two hands cupped Arken’s as they trembled.

  Sailors began shoveling sand on the thick liquid, which spread more slowly than water.

  “Get another bomb in the basket! I’ve got a shot,” Lancon Koman ordered. A sailor carefully crossed the deck, now made slippery by a mix of blood and Mork’s fire. He placed the bomb gently in the basket. “Ready for lighting, sir.”

  “Arken get over here!” Lancon Koman ordered.

  Asher let go. “You got it?” he asked.

  Arken just nodded and walked slowly, his hands still shaking. He reached the black line of spilled Mork’s fire and had to force himself to keep moving forward. The sand thrown on the spill gave him traction but the danger of dropping the candle made him full of dread. If he dropped the candle, they were all dead.

  “Arken, are you close? I’m almost ready.” Koman kept his eyes on the sights.

  “Ready, sir, ready to light.”

  “Wait, wait. All right, light it,” Koman shouted, the excitement of the hunt in his voice.

  “Lit... Clear!” Arken stepped back.

  “Firing!” The catapult arm shot up, just missing Arken’s hand as he pulled back the candle. He wanted to blow the candle out, but knew he had to keep it lit so they could keep firing. Arken walked slowly back to Asher at the railing.

  “Asher, I’m going to hold it over the water for safety, but hold my hands again so I don’t drop it into the sea.”

  “Sure.”

  Asher helped again as Arken steadied himself with his left hand on the railing. Arken was grateful the seas were so calm. Big waves would have made it worse. His stomach was in knots and his legs were still trembling.

  “Miss!” The lookout yelled from the crow’s nest.

  “Kal help me!” Koman shouted.

  “It doesn’t matter, Koman. The enemy is slowing,” Captain Dunn assured him. “Your fire has made them pull back, and now one of the two ships behind us has turned out to sea. It looks like they’re going to Yolanta’s flagship. We’re safe from their arrows for the moment.”

  “Good.” Arken shivered.

  “Are you all right?” Asher asked.

  “No! I want to throw up,” Arken said.

  “Breathe deeply,” Asher advised. “Lock your gaze on the horizon.”

  “That helps.” Arken choked back the bitter taste of bile in his mouth. “That scared me.”

  “It scared everyone.”

  “I’m glad we’re safe for now.” Lancon Koman emerged from the covered sighting chair. Three arrows were stuck in the wooden lid. “Arken, you can blow that candle out for now. Put it in the rack. We’ll get this mess cleaned up.”
>
  “Yes, sir.” Arken felt a huge wave of relief as he blew out the candle. His hands stopped trembling.

  “You’re white as a ghost!” Koman said. He reached for Arken’s chin and tipped his face up. “Look at me.”

  “Sir.” Arken felt nauseated. “The sight of battle is making me ill.” He lied; it was the smell of the blood.

  “Here, take a drink.” Koman reached in the sighting box and pulled out a ban skin water boda. He removed the antler stopper. “You’ll feel better.”

  The water surged into Arken’s stomach, and he felt an immediate change. The world seemed to come back into focus. He gulped more water greedily as he squeezed the boda above his mouth.

  “Thank you, sir.” Arken handed it back. “That helped.”

  “You were in shock from the fear and needed water.” Koman smiled. “You’ll be fine now.”

  Arken was surprised how good he felt. But he knew Koman was wrong; maybe to other people blood didn’t have a smell, but he could smell it easily, and it made him feel ill.

  “So, Captain Dunn, I wager your ship can run shallower than that Tookan ship behind us. What does the Sea Numph draw?” Arken heard Captain Rallat ask.

  “Two legs two feet, if we lighten.” Dunn turned back to the helm.

  “Then your strategy for surviving this day is simple!”

  “Don’t be coy! If you have an idea that might help us, then tell me.” Captain Dunn’s voice rose in anger.

  “It should be obvious to a mighty Lantish sea captain,” Captain Rallat taunted him. “After all, you Lantish are always crowing about the superiority of your King’s Sea Service over our navy!”

  “Blast you, man, I will draw swords with you yet!” Dunn squared off against Rallat and let his hand hover over the sword he’d returned to the scabbard. “We’ve not been allies long enough for me to have regrets running you through. I remember your name now, and your role in the Chamert slaughter!”

  Rallat’s sword rang as he drew it. Chamert had been the merciless slaughter of captured Lantish officers. If Rallat had something to do with that, his days were numbered on the Sea Nymph. All the Sea Service knew Dunn had lost a son at Chamert.

  “Captain Dunn, I apologize for Rallat’s behavior,” Asher said as he stepped between the two men. “Captain Rallat, drop your sword and kneel.”

  “Sire!” Rallat obeyed and stared down at the deck as he took a knee.

  “My apologies, My Lord,” Rallat added as his sword dropped with a metallic ring to the deck.

  “Captain Rallat, these people are no longer at war with us. I command you to remember that fact. We are allies, and if you have some strategy that could win the day, then rise and share it now.”

  “Sire.” Rallat stood and looked nervously at Asher. One word from Asher, and his Tolarian sailors would turn on him and separate his head from his neck, despite the fact that he was their captain.

  “And you must bury your desire for revenge or kill this alliance in its infancy, Captain Dunn,” Asher continued as he looked up at Dunn. “You must put country and patience before personal anger.”

  “My apologies.” Captain Dunn sheathed his sword, dropped to his knee, and bowed his head.

  “You both may rise,” Asher ordered.

  “My idea is a simple one.” Captain Rallat retrieved his sword from the deck and sheathed it as he stood. “If we lighten this ship, it can run closer to shore than our enemies. They are faster than us, but that does them no good if they can’t get near enough to us to throw ropes with hooks and drag our ship alongside theirs. That leaves them only one method of attack—and that’s with their larger longbow arrows. But it seems our catapults can keep them out of bow range, so their arrows aren’t useful to them. That means as long as we can run shallower than their small ships, we can sail without them stopping us.”

  “What about their large ship with the catapult and Mork’s fire? Won’t they bring that to bear when they see we are escaping them?” Asher asked.

  “No, Sire, I don’t believe they will,” Rallat replied. “For one, they will be afraid of setting us afire and sinking us so quickly they lose the treasure. And they have to be afraid of the accurate fire of our catapults. If they get close enough to launch their catapult at us, we can return fire. We might even have a longer range catapult than they do. In any event, I’m positive they won’t risk losing their flagship.”

  “Captain Dunn? Your thoughts?” Asher turned to get his reaction.

  Arken couldn’t believe that this tiny boy had so easily taken command of a ship full of adults! They had been roommates and friends for two weeks, and Asher had shared none of this with him for most of the journey! For his whole life, Arken had been excluded from the ranks of the royalty of Lanth because his father was a commoner. Yet now Arken was blood brother to a future king!

  “The strategy makes sense.” Captain Dunn nodded in agreement. “We’re in a race with that single ship behind us to the far point of the river.” He nodded to the point with the breaking waves at the north end of the river entrance. “We’ll be in deeper water there. That’s where we’ll have to row fast and keep them at bay with the catapult. Otherwise they’ll be able to draw alongside and grapple us.”

  “Can we do anything to row faster when we reach the deep water?” Asher asked.

  “Make sure our best rowers are fresh and well fed,” Dunn suggested.

  “I don’t object to that. I’m starving!” Asher said.

  They all laughed, and then Rallat turned serious. “One other thought.”

  “Yes?” Dunn turned to him.

  “The girls in their fancy armor.” Rallat nodded toward the galley stairs, where Mistress Calna stood with her Queen’s Trackers. “You should order them to change into boy’s armor. And don’t forget the one in the bird’s nest. Might save them in the event the Tookans do catch us today.”

  “You’re right,” Captain Dunn said. “I’ll see to it.”

  “Father was right about you, Captain Rallat,” Asher praised. “You’re a brilliant tactician.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.” Rallat bowed to Asher.

  “Arken.” Captain Dunn caught Arken’s eye. “Be a runner for me.”

  “Sir!” Arken saluted.

  “Go tell Second Lancon Talbu to leave the forward catapult and begin lightening the ship. Tell him to use all the cadets who are in the galley to help as well.”

  Talbu was soon standing at the top of the galley stairs, shouting, “Hurry, set to. Cadets as well as sailors. We must lighten the ship.”

  “Why are we dumping perfectly good food overboard?” Asher asked as he helped Arken pitch a sack of grain over the stern railing a few minutes later. Asher had insisted that he be allowed to share duties equally with the other cadets so they wouldn’t resent him for getting special treatment. Since none of the cadets had been up on the deck when the captain’s had been scolded by Asher, they still didn’t know Asher was a future king.

  “By lightening the ship, we can row faster,” Arken explained.

  “But should we throw away food and water we’ll need?” Asher lamented as he watched the crew emptying all but a few of the freshwater casks. “And why do we have to haul it up to the command deck and throw it off? Why not just dump it over the side?”

  “As for water, we get fresh water every night from the rinfall. They’ll just spread canvases to catch it. And in a pinch we can catch fish for food.”

  ‘Nothing but fish?” Asher sounded sad.

  “They’ll save more than enough food, I’m sure.” Arken laughed. “And as far as dumping it here, if they threw it off the sides, it would hit the oars.”

  “Oh yeah.” Asher looked over the side. “I forgot. But it’s no wonder I forgot anything dealing with rowing: I hate it!”

  Arken would have laughed, but the sack of grain they tossed over was so heavy all he could manage was a grunt. “Don’t forget, Asher, escaping is more important than eating well.”

  “But
we never had breakfast!” Asher moaned. “And besides, if the Tookans capture the ship, won’t they just ransom all of us back to Lanth?”

  Lancon Koman overheard this while helping a sailor roll a barrel toward the railing.

  “The Tookans would love to ransom us for money.” Koman laughed. “But our King Lor refuses to pay ransom.” Koman’s arm muscles rippled in the morning sun as he and the sailor helping him threw the cask over the rail.

  “Why? My father allows ransom!” Asher protested.

  “If we get home, you can have a chat with our king!” Arken said. “King Lor hasn’t explained his reasons to me, since I’m not on speaking terms with him.”

  “Well, when we return, you will be, Arken. As my most trusted advisor, I would insist that you be included in any meeting.”

  “Really?” Arken was stunned. He’d been joking! The thought of the king meeting him seemed as remotely possible as him sailing to the moon. “My whole life, the royals have wanted nothing to do with me,” Arken said as he looked at Koman. “I mean no offense to you, sir. It’s the boys in the Academy.”

  “None taken.” Koman nodded. “You’ve done well to survive, honestly.”

  “But now, if... when we get back”—He turned to Asher—“Honestly, Asher, I don’t know if even you can change things for me when it comes to the royals in Lanth.”

  “Well, we’ll see.” Asher placed his hands on Arken’s shoulders. “I’m confident they’ll recognize you if you become an official of the Tolarian court.”

  “Let’s escape the Tookans first,” Koman said. “Breakfast is being prepared for everyone now, Sire. We’ll have cornbread biscuits and ban jerky soon.”

  “Good!” Asher rubbed his belly.

  “Lookout, can you see what the river current is doing ahead?” Captain Dunn shouted after Arken and Asher had filled their bellies and returned to the stern catapult. The Sea Nymph was staying ahead of the smaller Tookan ships more easily after dumping supplies overboard.

  “River current still going out to sea, sir, but barely.”

  “Excellent, we won’t be sucked into the river,” Captain Dunn said to Rallat.