by Clayton Wood
“Not yet,” Grotes replied. “Rusty is on it.” The Captain nodded curtly.
“Carry on,” he replied.
“If they Test positive?” Grotes asked. The Captain glanced back at Kyle and Ariana.
“Drain them, shoot them, and throw them overboard.”
“Yes Captain.”
“I will return,” the Captain informed, turning about sharply and walking out of the room. The door closed behind him with a click.
Kyle swallowed in a dry throat, his heart pounding in his chest.
“What's this Test?” Ariana asked, staring at the man with the rifle, who glared at her.
“We didn't give you permission to talk,” he growled.
“You'll find out soon enough,” Grotes answered, pulling up a chair and sitting down on it. He crossed his arms and leaned back, stifling another yawn. Then he turned to Ariana. “The Test,” he stated, “...is for magic.” He gave them a tight smile. “You make it, you die.”
“What?” Kyle blurted out. “Why?”
“You sound worried,” Grotes commented, raising an eyebrow.
“And if we don't make magic?” Ariana interjected. Grotes turned to her.
“That's up to the Captain.”
Kyle turned to Ariana, feeling his pulse quicken. She stared back at him, squeezing his hand – hard. The muscles of her jaw tightened, and her eyes darted to the man with the gun, the barrel still aimed right at them. Kyle knew what she was thinking...whether or not to fight back. With Kyle’s magic and her incredible strength and speed, these sailors wouldn’t stand a chance against them. But then they’d have to leave the ship, and their mission would be in peril.
The door to the room opened, and Rusty walked through. In one hand was a small, clear crystalline orb, about the size of an orange. It was instantaneously familiar...a Finder stone.
The door opened again, and the Captain walked through.
“Let us commence,” the Captain ordered, pointing at Kyle. “Test him first.” Rusty paused, then walked toward, the Finder stone in hand. Kyle squeezed Ariana's hand, leaning to whisper in her ear.
“Remember the window in the Tower?”
Ariana frowned, then nodded slightly. She squeezed his hand once, hopefully indicating that she understood what he meant. She’d drained the magically-warded window in the Tower using her shard previously; if she could do something similar to the Finder stone...
“No talking,” Grotes grumbled. Kyle glanced at the Finder stone; it glittered in the soft yellow light of the lanterns.
“Take the orb son,” Rusty instructed, stopping before him. He extended the orb out toward Kyle, who stared at it mutely.
“Why are you stalling, boy?” Grotes asked. He turned to the Captain. “Think he's weaving?”
“It doesn't matter,” the Captain replied, his piercing eyes locking on Kyle's. “Magic has no power here.”
Kyle stared at the orb, feeling his mouth go dry. He glanced at Ariana again, who was sitting as still as a statue. Streaks of blue light began to pull into her forehead...all of them coming from him. He turned back to the Captain, wondering at what he'd said.
Magic has no power here?
“Take the damn orb, boy!” Grotes commanded, standing up from his chair suddenly. The Captain reached for the pistol at his right hip, unholstering it.
“I will take your refusal as an admission of guilt,” he stated casually. He raised the pistol, aiming it at Kyle's forehead.
“No, don't!” Kyle cried.
“Take it,” Rusty urged.
Kyle stared at the orb, then at the two guns aimed at him. Blue rays were still streaking from his body to Ariana...much more faintly now, but still there. He paused, then reached for the orb, feeling sweat pour down his flanks. He swallowed in a dry throat, then reached out for a thread of magic in his mind, to weave a gravity shield.
Rusty dropped the orb into his hands.
“Open your eyes boy,” he heard Grotes order. Kyle obeyed, seeing the First Mate standing next to the Captain. He glanced down at the Finder stone.
It was clear!
“Test the girl,” the Captain ordered, training his pistol on Ariana's forehead. Ariana reached immediately for the Finder stone, taking it from Kyle's hands. She held it in front of her, her eyes never leaving the Captain. Again, the crystal remained clear; Ariana had drained all of the magic from her body and stored it in her shard.
“I'll take that,” Rusty stated, retrieving the Finder stone. The Captain lowered his pistol, placing it back in its holster. He turned to Kyle.
“Why are you on my ship?” he asked. Kyle blinked, glancing at Ariana, then back at the Captain. His mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse. Why hadn't they created a cover story before reaching the ship? He felt Ariana pat his hand.
“We're trying to escape...” Ariana began, but the Captain cut her off with a gesture.
“I asked him,” he interjected. “Speak boy.”
“Uh...” Kyle mumbled. He stared blankly at the Captain.
“What's wrong with him?” Grotes asked Ariana. “Is he slow?” Ariana paused, then nodded.
“He is,” she confirmed. Kyle blinked, then turned to her incredulously. He was slow? She just patted him on top of the head, staring at him piteously. “He got hit in the head when he was younger,” she explained.
“That explains a lot,” Grotes muttered, turning to the Captain. “He must not have understood the Test, thought he was going to be shot.”
“Indeed,” the Captain murmured. He stared at Kyle for a long moment, then turned back to Ariana. “Continue.”
“We were trying to escape Stridon,” Ariana explained. “To get away before the city was attacked again.”
“Understandable,” the Captain replied. “But illegal. And my country will refuse you entry without the proper immigration paperwork. You will be returned to Stridon.”
“You can't!” Ariana exclaimed. The Captain raised one eyebrow.
“I can and will,” he countered. “I will complete my return to Verhan, and you will remain in this ship until the next shipment to Stridon. You will be returned to your parents at that time.”
“I don't have any,” Ariana shot back. Grotes rolled his eyes.
“Great, an orphan,” he muttered.
“Then you will be returned to your authorities for processing,” the Captain decided.
“You don't understand,” Ariana complained. “My parents were murdered,” she added. “By Weavers.” She spat the last word out, as if it were a curse word. The Captain stared at Ariana for a long moment.
“Go on.”
“I come from Mortown,” she continued. “A group of Weavers attacked my village in the middle of the night, killing almost everyone.” She lowered her gaze. “They burned my home to the ground, then took me underground as a prisoner.”
“I heard of these raids,” Grotes admitted. “It was the talk of the bars two months ago, on my last trip here. Some sort of cult, they said.”
“Death Weavers,” Ariana agreed. “They held me for over a year before I escaped.” She turned to Kyle. “He was the only other survivor from my town...I brought him with me when I escaped.” She smiled, squeezing his hand. “I've been taking care of him ever since.”
Kyle tried his very hardest not to glare at her.
“Continue,” the Captain prompted.
“We made it to Stridon,” she said. “But the...authorities, they treated us like criminals. Held us, kept questioning us about the Death Weavers, as if we were hiding some secret about them.” She paused, taking a deep, shaky breath in, then letting it out. “When the...attack came, we managed to escape, but I knew it was just a matter of time before they found us again.”
“Thus your plan,” the Captain deduced. Ariana nodded.
“I knew we had no future in the Empire,” she muttered. “They don't care about people like us,” she added, turning to Kyle and running a hand over his scalp. “People who don't make m
agic.”
“That,” the Captain stated crisply, rubbing his chin with one hand, “is more true than you can ever know, child.” He regarded Ariana and Kyle for a long moment, then sighed. “Regarding your illegal departure from Stridon, and your illegal entry onto the Defiance, that I will forgive.” He turned to Grotes. “Rent them a room,” he ordered. “They will pay in full through daily manual labor.” He turned back to Ariana. “No days off, no special treatment. You will excel in both obedience and effort, or I will withdraw my offer.”
“Yes sir,” Ariana replied.
“Yes Captain,” the Captain corrected. “As regards your desire to emigrate, I will discuss the matter with Verhan authorities when we arrive at port.”
“Captain,” Grotes interjected, pointing to a tabletop nearby. Kyle saw two very familiar backpacks sitting there. “We found contraband in their bags.” He reached into one bag, pulling out one of Kyle's gravity boots. “They've got crystals in them.”
“Test them.”
Rusty brought the Finder stone to the boots, then the Aegis, and Ariana's Tempest cloak. To Kyle's relief, the stone remained clear with each. Ariana’s shard had drained them as well.
“Return them to our guests,” the Captain ordered.
“Yes sir.”
“That will be all,” The Captain stated. He turned about sharply then, and walked out of the room, the door closing behind him.
Kyle let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
“Rusty,” Grotes grumbled, gesturing for Ariana and Kyle to stand up. “Show these two to their rooms.”
“Yes sir,” Rusty replied. He grabbed their backpacks, then gestured for Ariana and Kyle to follow him. They left the First Mate's quarters, traveling through a maze of hallways and down several flights of stairs before arriving in a long hallway with doors on either side. Rusty stopped before one of the doors, opening it and ushering them through. Kyle found himself in a cramped room – smaller than his bathroom at the Tower – with a bunk bed on the far wall.
“Key is hanging on the hook,” Rusty informed. He smiled then, dropping their backpacks on the floor. “Glad to have you aboard.”
“Thanks,” Ariana replied. Rusty's smile broadened, and he nodded, then walked out of the room, the door shutting behind him. As soon as it closed, Ariana grabbed the key from the hook, locking the door.
“I'm slow?” Kyle hissed, glaring at Ariana. She shrugged innocently.
“You were taking too long,” she countered. “I just went with Grotes.”
“You pat my head like I was a moron!” he complained. Ariana's lips twitched, then broadened into a smile, and she put a cool hand on top of his head, ruffling his hair.
“You're so cute,” she cooed. Kyle stepped out of her reach.
“Now I have to act dumb all the time,” he groused. Ariana smirked.
“Act?”
“Oooh, you're asking for it,” Kyle warned, pointing a finger at her. Ariana laughed, batting it away, then sliding in and hugging him.
“I'm just kidding,” she murmured, giving him a gentle squeeze. She pulled away, staring at him with her adorable eyes. “I'm just glad we're okay now.” Kyle hesitated, then smiled back.
“Yeah, me too,” he agreed. “So I guess we're part of the crew now.”
“Yeah.”
“We'll do whatever they say until we get close to port, then head off on our own,” he said. “You should keep us drained, just in case they decide to test us again.”
“Agreed.”
“We should ask when we're supposed to arrive, then jump ship the night before,” he added. He reached down to one of the backpacks, pulling out the rolled-up map and unrolling it. He searched the map carefully. “Verhan is here,” he observed, pointing to a dot on the eastern coast of the continent opposite the Empire. Ariana's eyebrows went up.
“How can you read that?” she asked.
“Master Lee gave me a book,” he replied, remembering the toddler’s book he'd been given. No need for her to know that little detail. “I've been practicing.”
“So if Verhan is there, then we'll be...” Ariana paused, measuring with her fingers. “Maybe three hundred miles away from Sabin.”
“Not bad,” Kyle replied, stifling another yawn.
“You should get some more sleep,” Ariana counseled. “Which bunk do you want?”
“I'll take bottom.” He rolled onto the bed, rather dismayed at its firmness. It was hardly the plush, comfortable mattress he'd gotten accustomed to in Kalibar's suite. “Hey,” he called out. “That flat gravity field you made, the one I slept on.”
“Yeah?”
“Can you teach me how to do that?” he asked.
“Now?”
“If that's okay,” Kyle replied. He'd been thinking about it ever since Ariana had woven it. The potential applications were enormous...far more useful than a sphere.
“Sure,” Ariana agreed. She motioned for him to scoot over, and she laid down beside him. She traced the pattern in the air above them.
“It's like the gravity sphere, mostly,” she admitted.
“Do it again,” he requested. She complied, tracing the pattern in the air. He committed the pattern to memory, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a fresh crystalline cube. He inscribed the pattern carefully into the cube.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Recording it,” he answered. “This way I won't forget.”
He streamed a measly thread of magic to the cube, and sure enough, a small blue square appeared above it. He felt a slight breeze against his hand.
“Got it,” he stated. “Thanks,” he added. He yawned a third time, then stuffed the cube back into his pocket. Ariana smiled.
“Time for bed, sleepy-head.” she whispered, leaning in and kissing his cheek. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
He closed his eyes then, and soon fell fast asleep.
Chapter 16
The morning sun greeted the moist wooden planks of the Defiance's massive deck, rising above dark, rolling clouds near the horizon to shine its rays on the ship. A flock of seagulls flew overhead, circling high above the rippling sails, calling out to the sailors hard at work below. Men swept the drying deck, checked and re-checked the cannons, and cleaned every surface of the ship's exterior. It was a sight to see, this frenzied activity, and Kyle would have enjoyed it much more if he hadn't been so dang sick.
He groaned, closing his eyes and leaning against the window he was cleaning, swallowing down yet another wave of nausea as the ship rolled to one side. He waited for it to pass, then used the cloth in his right hand to scrub vigorously at the white, salty residue that had been baked onto one of the dozens of windows on the cabin, the two-story structure at the back of the ship that housed the bridge. A few sailors had erected a makeshift scaffold on the second story, so that Kyle could clean the wall of huge windows that looked into the ship’s bridge. The ship dipped suddenly, and Kyle grit his teeth against another wave of nausea.
“Shee-it, someone ain't got their sea legs yet,” a man behind Kyle observed, clapping a hand on his back. It was Slim, one of the sailors Kyle and Ariana had been introduced to that morning. Slim was only a little taller than Kyle, but freakishly thin. He must have been in his early forties, with long, curly black hair that looked like it hadn't been washed this year. Neither, apparently, had his mouth.
“I'll be fine,” Kyle mumbled, scrubbing the last of the grit from the window. He dragged himself over to the next window, lugging a bucket of soapy water with him. The ship swayed again, nearly causing him to stumble off of the scaffolding. Slim caught him just in time, yanking him back from the edge.
“Now now,” Slim groused, “...no need to kill yourself. Things ain't that bad.” He reached into his pocket, then handed Kyle something brown and stringy. It looked suspiciously like a root.
“What is it?”
“Gutroot,” Slim answered. “So you don't puke on me.”
He grinned, revealing two missing front teeth. “Go on, chew it...or I'll let you take a dive next time.”
“Gee thanks,” Kyle grumbled, breaking off a piece and putting it in his mouth. It tasted awfully bitter. Slim picked up his own bucket, dropping it beside Kyle and scrubbing the window next to him. The man made quick work of his window, cleaning the entire thing in the amount of time it took Kyle to clean a mere quarter.
“Better hurry Guts,” Slim advised. “Captain's going to be on the bridge soon.” Slim gave another grin. “Gets all pissy when things ain't clean.” Kyle frowned.
“Guts?”
“That's your name boy,” Slim explained. “Unless you like what everyone else calls you.” Kyle frowned.
“What's that?” he asked.
“Retard.”
“Well great,” Kyle muttered. He briefly entertained strangling Ariana for telling everyone he was slow. Not that that would particularly affect her.
“Some of the boys think that's too long,” Slim admitted. “They call you 'Tard', but I think it sounds too much like 'Turd' and that name's already taken. Wouldn't want folks to get confused.”
“I'll take Guts,” Kyle grumbled, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. Slim gave another dentally-challenged grin.
“Figured you would.”
Kyle rolled his eyes, scrubbing harder and faster. He chewed the gutroot vigorously, desperately hoping that it would work. Slim went on to the next window, making quick work of it. The man hadn't stopped since he'd woken Kyle up this morning. None of the crew had. The Captain ran a tight ship.
Within a few minutes, Kyle realized that he wasn't feeling so nauseous anymore. In fact, he barely registered the movement of the ship at all now. This allowed him to fully concentrate on his work, and he set about his task with renewed vigor.
“Come on Guts,” Slim shouted gleefully as they neared the end of the long row of windows. “My momma can work faster than you!”
“Then get her out here,” Kyle shot back, feeling rather fed up with the man's constant taunting. Slim grinned.
“I would,” he replied. “But she's dead!” He cackled, moving on to the next window, scrubbing even faster. “Faster Guts!” he cried. “Captain's coming any minute now!” Kyle scrubbed like a madman, his shoulders burning with the effort, sweat pouring down his arms and forehead. He ignored the pain, breathing through it. Within minutes, they were done, and Slim dropped his bucket, tossing his cloth into it and slapping Kyle on the back.