Silver Winds

Chapter 13

The next morning, at eight o’clock, forty-six young trainees were gathering in a large, but old building at the outskirts of town. It was called the Kinerell, and it was where recruits met every morning for their training, with the exception of special assignments.

Astra leaned against one of the ancient wooden support beams, her face hidden by the cowl of her cloak as she watched the various trainees walk in, studying their stride with care. She marked each that appeared to have a limp in her mind, and physically by tripping into them and splashing a small amount of water on their left shoulders. She had marked seven boys by the time a tall, skinny man entered the barn. She gave him her full attention immediately, without pause, and he strode with his chest up to the front of the barn, where there were a few boxes stacked on top of each other. The man clambered up onto the boxes before booming, “welcome to Mistport’s School for Seamen! If you didn’t get your papers finished, leave now. If you did, congratulations. You made it to hell.”

His solid grey eyes were serious, so Astra took him as such. She swallowed hard, and Volos moved closer to her.

“You will sweat here. You will bleed. You may die, if you’re weak enough. But that’s not the point. You’re here to learn from us so that you will become the next generation of Illiquans, who are the natural-born seamen of Kilione. Now, who’s ready to do that?”

A hoard of cries rose around Astra, and though she felt a strong urge to follow, she did not feel like straining her voice for something so plebian. Volos, however, bellowed out with the rest, a hearty sound that bounced around in Astra’s brain even for a few moments after he stopped. She flinched and pushed herself against the pole, though she was mindful of her ribs. She no longer felt pain from them except when she did something strenuous, thanks to Rune and his midnight crownbeard. The small boy was half hidden behind Drago, who stood next to the other side of the support Astra was leaning on. She noticed he wasn’t screaming either, and she huffed in amusement. Smart boy, she thought.

A broad smile had appeared on the man addressing them’s face, and he brought his hand down for silence. “That’s what I like to hear. I am Jarl Pengill, your supervisor. Jarl Fergusen was supposed to do it, but he was involved in an unfortunate . . . accident yesterday.”

Astra’s nose wrinkled up. That had been no accident. The Jarl had said so himself. He was cut by someone whose name started with an ‘o’ and whose leg was cut. Astra glanced around to look for anyone who seemed to be favoring one leg or the other. With a sigh, she realized that still all seven of her marks were favoring their leg. There was no progress to be made yet, until she could find out their names. Surely not all seven of them had names that started with ‘o’.

“But, the point is, I’m here to take over. You will all know me quite well by the end of the training. Now, get into the Munrskipans you’ve come up with. I’ll deal with any stragglers,” Pengill promised, a dangerous glint in his eye.

Chaos broke out in the building, and Astra took a step away from the support pillar so she was more easily seen. She pulled the cowl on her cloak back and watched as first the Sterns, all but Berg, made it to her, then Jun, who had only agreed to this the night before. Filling in his paperwork that late at night had caused Jarl Pengill to be cross with him, but Astra had been too preoccupied to notice. Next came Nikolaus and Kay. Then another young man strode up to them.

His skin was dark, his hair a strange combination of black and gold. He had a perfect complexion, and his cheekbones were so sharp Astra swore she could cut her hand slapping him. He was dressed in a tight linen shirt that had a drawstring near the neckline and pants that were loose near the top, but right when they reached his ankles, curved in and created anklets. His shoes were simple moccasins. A small bright braid hung from the rest of his shorter hair.