Beyond

Day 6

Haiv was tired of slipping.

The second day of the storm was worse than the first. After a night of little sleep because of sopping clothes, and the unpredictable rise and fall of the wave tossed vessel, Haiv was on bucket duty. Rainwater had seeped below decks and was threatening to spoil their supplies, so Haiv and several others were ordered to haul bucket after bucket of water from below, up the companionway, through the hatch, to the wale, and then dump the water over the side. Preferably without slopping the water back into the hold.

That was the problem. With rain clogging his vision, the slick deck, and strong winds, Haiv, even with his seasoned sea legs, could hardly keep his footing. It all felt so pointless. Every third bucket ended up spilling over.

"Soulless Rodigan. Soulless storm," Haiv muttered furiously to himself as he hoisted another bucket up the companionway. If the captain hadn't ordered several men back and forth from the hold so many times yesterday, there wouldn't be so much soulless water down there, and Haiv wouldn't have to be breaking his back to keep their food good and the ship from sinking.

He spat water from his mouth as he emerged on deck. Lightning flashed, striking the mainmast and setting it on fire. Haiv froze, mouth wide with horror. The blaze spread from the mast to the sails and lines, happily licking up the water with its heat. The flames danced down the mast to the deck and came straight for him, faster than Haiv could react.

Then thunder boomed and the vision ended. Haiv gasped, blinking, and realized that there was no fire. The lightning hadn't struck the mast. And he was blocking the entryway to the hold.

"Soulless lightning," Haiv grumbled as he teetered toward the port wale. "Soulless hallucinations." He lifted his bucket and dumped the contents over the side. Gold and jewels cascaded from his bucket down to the ocean below. Haiv watched, transfixed by the glinting treasure. Soon the bucket was empty, and Haiv turned, exhausted back toward the hold, barely registering that in reality he had not just dumped priceless riches into the sea.

His visions were always worse when he was tired or stressed. The current situation definitely counted as both stressful and tiring. All he wanted to do was lie down right there and pass out.

"But the captain wants me to haul water," Haiv whined under his breath. With a sigh, he trudged back below decks, letting the wind buffet him this way and that. He probably looked drunk, but then so did everybody else. He made it halfway down the companionway when the ship suddenly pitched violently to starboard. Haiv catapulted off the stairs to land with a small splash in a handbreadth of water.

He wasn't the only thing that fell either. With a crash, several crates whose bindings had been weakened by hours of constant moisture fell to the floor of the hold. Jerky and rycle flour spewed everywhere. Haiv watched with wide eyes as the pooled water instantly ruined weeks-worth of food.

Despite the rain, Haiv's mouth ran instantly dry.

Haiv groaned and pulled himself to his feet. This was all Rodigan's fault. First, there had been no attempt to flee the storm. Second, the captain had insisted that the topsails remain unfurled. Third, the unnecessary traffic through the hold that let in all this Mawt-spawned water. Now they would be short on food, and it was all Rodigan's fault.

Haiv marched back up the companionway. His eyes swept the deck for Spir. Simple pranks and tricks wouldn't be enough to punish Rodigan for how he treated his crew. Those games had never really worked anyway, even if it did bring Haiv some small pleasure to watch the captain ranting about a missing left boot. No, it would take a much bigger scheme to put Rodigan in his place.

Spir was dutifully checking lines when Haiv found him. He yanked a knot tight as Haiv walked up to him and without preamble said, "When is that meeting happening tonight?"