Beyond

Day 12

When Haiv woke up, he immediately regretted it. With his eyes still closed, his whole body seemed to throb in time with the rocking of the ship. His head was by far the worst. He hardly noticed the old wounds in his back and arm, or the new cuts he acquired during the failed mutiny. But his head...that hurt.

After several quiet moments, Haiv registered that the room he was in seemed very dark through his eyelids. Maybe he was back in the bring? That would make sense. The sounds of rushing water, and the calls of sailors were there, as always, but faint. But no, there was no layer of water on the floor, and Haiv didn't think Rodigan would have had the time or motivation to organize a crew to go down and empty the water from the brig yet.

Still, he didn't open his eyes. His head liked to have them closed. Besides, Auru only knew what he would find when he finally decided to look at his surroundings. More monsters.

More failures.

Oh Spir, he thought, tears forming behind his eyelids. I'm such an idiot. We had a plan. Why'd I have to go and change it? Why couldn't I just be the leader Spir thought I was? Why did Spir have to die?

It was strange. Haiv hadn't even known Spir for two weeks, but for some reason it hurt so much worse than any death Haiv had experienced so far. Except his father's of course.

The two of them had gotten close. From that first day when Haiv caught the blond fool whistling, to planning the doomed mutiny. Spir had been something Haiv hadn't realized he'd been looking for: a friend. Sure the other pirates were an entertaining lot, but Spir had supported Haiv, encouraged him, and spent time with him. He'd even saved his life a couple times.

Haiv hadn't been able to return the favor.

And now Spir would never reach Beyond and rescue his family.

Who else had died in that mad grasp at power? What had become of Corkle, and poor, annoying Tips? If Haiv was honest with himself, he would have been sorry to hear if even Hairless Mits had found himself on the wrong end of a sword, the selfish coward.

There was a creak of doorsprings very near, followed by the clomp of heavy boots on wood. Haiv tensed, daring to peek through his lashes just a bit.

The room was illuminated briefly by the open door, and Haiv caught sight of a messy four poster bed, chest overflowing with clothes, and above him was a table from which pieces of paper were hanging precariously off the edge. The man walking towards him was Rodigan. He slammed the door shut behind him, and plunged them into darkness. The only way Haiv could see was from a little light shyly poking through the crack at the bottom of the door.

He was in the captain's cabin. He should have known it from the smell right away. How many times had he been in here to play some prank and steal something the captain would find annoying? Like socks, which was where the smell was coming from, Haiv was pretty sure.

Closing his eyes again lest Rodigan see he was awake, Haiv listened. Rodigan's boots plodded past his spot on the floor beneath the table. The mattress squeaked. There was a moment of shuffling, and then something thudded against the wood near Haiv's head.

He started, eyes flying open. The captain's boot was lying a handbreadth away from Haiv's nose, which was not fun for his nose. The boot emanated the stench of sea water mixed with at least three years of unbathed foot. Haiv tried not to gag.

"Ah, yeh are awake," Rodigan drawled.

Haiv raised his spinning head to glare at Rodigan. He tried to bring an arm under him to push himself upright, but something tugged against his wrists. He looked down. Manacles encased his wrists and ankles. Chains connected the cuffs at his wrists, the trailed down to the ones at his ankles.