Beyond

Day 1

The wharf clamored with activity in every direction. Bearded sailors heaved cargo. Enormous babi's lumbered across the wood planks, pulling carriages over their muscular furry shoulders. Lianonian slaves, their skin a fascinating color of blue, shuffled to-and-fro, chains dangling from their wrists and ankles. Men called to each other, women chattered, children shrieked, animals brayed. And the smells!

Good old sea salt and sweat mixed with the delicious scent of freshly cooked food. Peddlers wandered through the crowd selling everything from roasted raev to deep fried toma. So many different flavors to choose from. Haiv slinked past a merchant waving sizzling bundles the size of Haiv's fist in the air. Steamed rycle. Haiv's stomach growled appreciatively.

He pretended to spot an interesting insect crawling through the wood slats and squatted down to inspect it. All the while, he kept one eye on the peddler an arm's length away. The man turned to exchange with some customers, and Haiv sprang. His fist snatched one of the piping hot clusters and he darted away.

There were too many people at the docks for the merchant to give chase for long. Haiv slipped away easily. He shoved the morsel in his pocket and strolled through the crowd. He'd been gone plenty long, and Captain Rodigan would not hesitate to leave him behind if he didn't make it back in time.

The Adamantes was docked away from the industrial ships. Even though the ripped pirate flag had been taken down, the captain hadn't wanted to get close enough for anyone to notice the bedraggled state of the ship and the crew. They were here for a quick resupply, and that was it. The crowd was thinner at this dock, the people more Haiv's speed. The women wore slashed and wilted clothing with rouge on their cheeks and powder on their eyelids. Haiv made eye contact with one whore, and she winked at him. His face burned. The woman had to be at least five years older than him.

He moved on, the familiar smell of unbathed pirate and ale replacing the delicious fumes of street food. Rus clapped Haiv on the shoulder as he passed, lugging a barrel that smelled suspiciously of alcohol.

"Oi, you ain't drinking that all yerself, eh Rus?" Haiv called after him.

Rus didn't respond, but Haiv liked to think that the beefy man had laughed.

Haiv found himself a crate that was close enough to the ship that he would hear the call to board, but far enough away that he wouldn't be asked to help load. He sat, and dug out the rycle cluster. It was still warm. The skin crinkled in his hands as he peeled it away from the limp grains inside. He picked at the lightly seasoned vegetable with his fingers and observed the crewmembers loading The Adamantes for a long journey.

Barrels of ale were hauled over the side of the vessel. Crates of dried meats and fruit paraded up the ramp. Casks of gunpowder and armfulls of weapons were boarded as well. Haiv's pulse thrummed with excitement at the sight. Maybe the captain intended on attacking a lot of ships! It had been an awful long time since they'd had a good bout.

Haiv had almost finished his lunch when he noticed a tall stranger strolling through the pirates. The man was round shouldered, confident, and blond. The tips of his hair touched his jawline. He wore a loose shirt tucked into muted breeches, and hose protected his legs from being seen. He even wore actual shoes. No one else on this dock wore shoes, though Haiv didn't know why. He'd gotten enough splinters in his sixteen years.

The man approached the ramp, and Bif stopped him. The two spoke for a moment, then a nervous Bif led the newcomer up the ramp and into the ship. Haiv stopped chewing with his mouth full of rycle. Who of all the souls was that?

Doesn't matter, Haiv thought, swallowing. Cap'n's gonna gut him. Probably Bif too.

"Haivan, git over here!" a voice shouted. "Give us a hand, lad!"