Beyond

Day 3

Haiv swam. His legs propelled him effortlessly through the salty water, and though he was completely submerged, his lungs didn't burn. The beautiful woman swimming next to him beckoned to him as she slowed her daunting pace. Haiv slowed beside her, floating so deep in the ocean that he couldn't see the surface.

The woman's hair billowed around her in the water and she beckoned to him again. He swam closer. Her skin was luminescent blue, brighter than a Lionian's, and so smooth. Her eyes sparkled with playful taunts. He reached out a hand to touch her bare shoulder and she tilted her head towards his....

Haiv's stomach flipped and then pain shocked the breath from his lungs. Groaning, and blinking sleep from his eyes, Haiv found himself lying on his back staring up through the dark at his swinging hammock. He felt his face go warm. That had been some dream.... Souls, if the crew found out he'd fallen out of his bunk because of a dream about a girl, he'd never hear the end of it.

But then a pair of sharp boots clicked on the wood near his head, and Haiv realized someone had flipped him out of his berth.

"You are to report to the chartroom immediately, Master Haivan." Putrid Porter preened. "Captain's orders."

Then the chartman picked his way back toward the ladder.

Haiv didn't move for several moments. He was to go to the chartroom. The captain was paying special attention to him. Not a good sign. What had he done? He was pretty sure Rodigan didn't know about the missing rhinestone from the knife on his belt, but maybe the old babi wasn't as blind as Haiv thought. Or maybe the captain finally figured out it was Haiv who had swirled Rodigan's only spare trousers in the tar bucket.

Pulse thrumming, Haiv's mind ran through the list of possible tortures that would soon be inflicted upon him: he could be strapped to the figurehead for a week, he could be dragged behind the ship by his ankle, or maybe Rodigan would get more pleasure in just running him through with the knife now missing a rhinestone. Nerves quickly chased away the remnants of sleep, so Haiv pushed himself to his feet and followed Porter onto the deck.

The night was just giving way to morning and the sky was that gray blue it gets when the sun's rays first tickle the horizon. Hairless Mits was on watch, and he winked at Haiv as he passed. Haiv smiled, but it felt forced. His heart slammed against his chest as he inched closer to his doom. The small cabin was right across from the captain's cabin. Haiv had only been inside either room a few times, and that when he'd still been toddling at his father's heels.

He hesitantly rapped his knuckles on the door of the chartroom. Though he tried to steel himself, he still flinched when Porter swung the door open sharply. Haiv straightened himself. He may be only fourteen, but he'd been on The Adamantes longer than almost anyone except the captain himself. The captain was a right bastard, and Haiv didn't have to grovel before him.

Haiv forced himself over the threshold, and he'd barely cleared the entryway before Putrid Porter snapped the door shut behind him. The room was lit with only one flickering candle on a wooden table. There were in fact charts strewn across the surface, with various measuring and marking instruments.

"There," came Rodigan's hoarse whisper from the darkness. His silhouette shifted as he rose to his feet. Haiv could barely see the captain's crescent scar shining on his cheek in the faint light; the rest of the barbaric man was hidden in shadow.

"You see?" Rodigan continued. "The boy is here. Show us, or he dies."

Before Haiv could so much as open his mouth the blow came. Porter struck him hard between the shoulder blades. Haiv fell to his knees with a grunt and heard the click of a pistol being cocked.