The Cavalry is Dead

Chapter 6: We Sail Towards the Cave of Doom

"That's a crimson sparrow," Xander said.

The other boy was scanning the sky, a red bandana fluttering on his forehead. Asa guided the ship to the left; he could feel callouses surfacing on his palms, the skin rubbed raw from days of clutching a wheel. The Glass Sea was a smooth white mirror, and the ship sliced through it like a letter opener through wax.

Xander stabbed another finger. "A bird-of-storms. Does anyone else see it?"

Asa ignored him.

"I see it," Jax volunteered because he was — in Asa's opinion — an idiot. Xander leapt on to a crate and shielded his eyes.

"Fascinating," Xander murmured. "Bird-of-storms typically don't gravitate to large bodies of water. Although the females can occasionally lift loads much heavier than their bodyweight, so I wonder if..."

Xander continued to prattle on, tossing around words like latitude and circadian cycles. Jax glanced wistfully at the cabin door. The other boy spent most of his time below deck, scribbling late into the night. Asa had no idea what could possibly be so important. Grocery lists? A pineapple smoothie recipe? A plan to defeat the ravenous monsters by pelting them with tap shoes?

"That's a smoke jay!" Xander cried. "Look! A smoke jay."

Jax leaned closer. "Is he always like this?"

"Unfortunately," Asa muttered.

He turned the ship. The smell of honey and salt hung heavy in the air, along with the unmistakeable stench of wood polish. The only sound was the hush-hush of the waves and Xander imitating a bird call. And...

Asa frowned.

And something else.

He released the wheel, stalking across the quarterdeck. Yes, there it was again: something scratching wood.

"What?" Jax asked.

Asa held up a hand. "Do you hear that? The scratching?"

Jax gave him a look that clearly indicated Asa had ingested too much seawater. Asa cupped his mouth.

"Xander?" he called.

The other boy looked up. "Yes?"

"Shut-up for a minute," Asa said.

He closed his eyes. The sound was growing fainter, but it was there; Asa leapt down the stairs, hurtling towards a cluster of barrels. Xander gave a cry of protest as Asa shoved them over one-by-one, unearthing salted fish and sea biscuits and dried beans. He shoved the largest one — a sturdy oak barrel — and something tumbled out of it.

No, Asa realized, not something; someone.

A young woman glared up at him. She was dressed in men's clothes — a billowing white shirt and belted trousers — and her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Brown dirt ringed her green eyes. A rodent scuttled out of the barrel, scurrying across the deck and disappearing into the depths of the cabin.

"Stupid rat," she muttered, climbing to her feet. "If it hadn't been for that—"

"Romes?" Jax demanded.

He was staring at the girl as if he'd discovered a fish happily suntanning in the middle of a desert. Asa raised an eyebrow.

"You know her?" he demanded.

Jax ignored him. "What are you doing here?"

Romes brushed dirt off her sleeve. "I wanted to come with."

"Why?"

Jax looked incredulous. Not, Asa thought wryly, that he blamed him; what sort of person voluntarily travelled into the jaws of death like it was a three-week beach holiday with unlimited mai tais?