Peter Mercier and the Hunters of Artemis

Chapter 3

"Is that it?" asked Amber, half-awake, laying on her back and fanning her face with her hand under the short roof of the small cabin. The ship creaked with every footstep as Peter, lying next to her, got to his feet painfully, blocking the sun out of his eyes with a reddened hand, and peered out of the doorway.

A tall cliff could be seen, not too far away. Clear water ran off into the ocean through a stony, narrow slit. Peter sighed. "Looks like it, but we're on the wrong side," he grumbled, crossing his arms. A wide, weaved hat flopped on top of his head. "We need to go around to the docks."

"And how long will that take?" Amber asked, sitting upright, the skin under her eyes starting to peel. She didn't seem fazed, the biting northern cold quenching the pain for now.

"It's a massive island," Peter replied, gathering the maps and walking to the cabin them away. "Probably a few minutes. Believe me, if I could go faster, I would."

"Is the sail all the way up?" she offered. "Yeah," Peter grunted without checking, opening the chest next to her and stuffing the papers in.

She huffed, standing up. "You call that a full canvas?" she chuckled, eyeing the sail. It was slack, just past half-mast. "That's a stretch, for sure."

"I'm not a sailor, Amber," he reminded, not looking back still. He moved to the rudder, adjusting it so they didn't run into the beach. "It's a miracle I remembered how to get here."

"Neither am I," she said, walking towards the sail. A few ropes were slack, and she frowned. "But I know how to pull a rope, Mr. Mercier."

She stretched before reaching for one, the wind thrashing it about in the air. Giving it a firm, swift tug, the orange sail spread its full width. Hearing the whipping of the wind grow louder, Peter finally looked as she quickly tied the rope to the wooden railing. "There," she announced proudly, hearing the ship roar as it jolted forward and pushed faster. "Happy?"

"I was happy before," Peter said, walking over and eyeing the sail curiously. Amber smirked. "So, that's a yes?" she teased.

"Fine, whatever," he replied, turning around gruffly to look at the small blue-green waves lapping against the sides of the boat. "You've sailed more than I have, I assume?"

"From market to market," she confirmed. "Running from the hunters."

"Well, I've sailed a grand total of three times," he boasted sarcastically. "Maybe you should be captain."

"Who said I wasn't?" she asked, putting a hand on her hip.

"Gustav gave me the hat," he pointed out, tipping the brim at her. She grinned. "I fixed the sail," she reminded.

"It wasn't broken," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Who loaded all the stuff onto the ship?"

"I don't have anything," she retorted, her smirk widening. She gestured to the chests in the cabin. "And Gustav helped with most of it."

"I'm captain," Peter said, putting his hands on his hips. Amber frowned. "You said I should be," she reminded. "I think you've just argued against your own point."

"I take it back for your comment about my sail," he replied, seeing part of the wooden dock jutting out from the edge of the island. "Unless you want to stage a mutiny, my hat stays on."

"I have to acknowledge that you're captain for it to be a mutiny," she pointed out, going to the side of the ship as the dock approached. "Even I know that the chances of that are slim, Mr. Mercier."

After a few minutes the shipyard appeared in its entirety, a few empty vessels- one with a seal in the shape of a black dragon trap on a red flag- already docked next to it, not a soul in sight on board nor surrounding them. "Where are they?" Amber asked, preparing to drop the metal anchor.