Captain Alinyaln stood beside Drags the Dragonkin. The man was roughly eight feet tall, taller than Alinyaln by a fair margin despite the Captain himself being tall. Green scales with an oily hue covered his entire body save for his hands and feet, those were bare on the bottom. Talon-like nails and a shell-like protrusion on his back where his wings were kept were some of the more noteworthy differences between the Dragonkin and common men.
That, and his ability to breathe fire.
“Full sail!” Alinyaln ordered down to the mast. Ninia, who was waiting and ready, pulled on a single rope leading from the crossbeam of the sail. With minimal effort the sail unfurled completely, catching the wind channel more and pulling the boat along more forcefully. There was a creaking below as the wooden joints of the ship shifted from the newfound acceleration.
Alinyaln remembered a time when there was a need for hundreds of ropes across an entire ship for all of the different masts and riggings that were needed for a vessel of this size to run, but those days were long since past with the discovery of trapped lightning and the prevalence of moscin engines.
“Do you think I’m making the right call, Drags?” Alinyaln asked the man.
A deep “huff” was all that Drags said in response. He couldn’t speak, something that Alinyaln had always thought coincided with the ability to breathe fire.
Despite this, Alinyaln felt as though he could understand Drags, or perhaps it was Alinyaln’s mind projecting meaning onto Drag’s signs of listening. “You think Irminthin is a good choice? Or do you just like that we’re going to be closer to your home?”
Drags smiled at this, the look sinister on his reptilian face.
A chuckle rose from Alinyaln. “I’ll take that as the first option.” He spotted Kiara nearby, delegating orders to the Yishks. They had repurposed the crank and pulley system from the diving bell and had affixed a type of harness onto it. Timphinny was dangling from said harness about fifteen feet off of the deck, wearing nothing but his undergarments.
With a shouted word from Kiara, the two Yishks operating the crank got to work pushing the spindle around, and slowly the crane arm turned over the ocean. A third then turned the pulley, lowering Timphinny down below the deckline. “Is this cruel?” Alinyaln asked Drags, nodding over to Timphinny’s rope.
Drags shrugged. He left the helm of the ship now that they had all but stopped and peered over the side of the deck. A small flame left his mouth as Drags laughed. Timphinny shouted from below, likely something obscene.
“Keep the course once the engines fire up, Drags.” Alinyaln ordered. “I say we’re about two days away from Irminthin if we hustle.” Drags looked over at Alinyaln and nodded in acknowledgement, then returned to laugh at Timphinny.
Alinyaln strolled around the rest of the ship, seeing what the rest of the crew were doing. A handful of the Yishks were going about their duties maintaining the ship. One man, who had been with Alinyaln for a few months at this point, scrubbed the deck despite the look of pain on the man’s face. He was easily a few decades Alinyaln’s senior and had no business doing such work.
Crouching down, Alinyaln grabbed a brush and dipped it into the soap water bucket and began to scrub alongside the man, going against the grain as opposed to along to not wear grooves into the wood. “Isn’t there another task you could be doing, Yishk?” Alinyaln asked the man.
The Yishk shrugged. He shook his hands then resumed his work, “Deck’s needin’ a good scrubbin’, Captain.” His voice was hoarse with age but it was strong, not wavering at all.
Alinyaln smiled at this response. “Aye, but there may be something else that can be done without puttin’ needless pain on you.”
A chuckle rose from the Yishk. “Not many jobs that don’t require hands, Captain. I’ll be alright.” He said with a sigh.
Alinyaln continued to help him scrub a large section of the deck, kneeling on the hard wood for well over an hour. He had more than enough time to contemplate as they scrubbed, the Yishk not opening up enough for further conversation, as was his right. Sometimes, Alinyaln wished he could know the names of the Yishks in his service. These people, mostly men but women sometimes found themselves needing the protections the Yishks earn, willingly giving themselves to Captains in dire times of need, and in doing so their names are expunged. During the process of taking a Yishk onto a Captain’s crew, Alinyaln had the feeling that even they stop remembering their names, truly starting on the path of becoming soulless workers.
Once they finished with their section of the deck, the Yishk stood up and dropped his brush into the bucket. “Thank you for yer help, Captain.” The man said, then walked away.
Cocking his head, Alinyaln called to the man. “Yishk?”
The man turned. “Aye, Captain?”
“Do you have something you need to say?”
The Yishk considered for a moment. “Aye, Captain. I’m not too old to work, and I don’t need to be treated differen’ than a younger man.”
Alinyaln winced at this. “I apologize, sailor.” He said to the man, standing up and dropping his own brush into the bucket. “I don’t mean to treat you any differently. But I am always happy to help.”
The Yishk nodded. “I know that, Captain, thank ye again.”
And with that, the man walked off.
Mood soured by the mistake he had made, Alinyaln proceeded to make his way to the other Yishks doing menial tasks; treating the wood on the deck, tarring planks, one was even doing laundry, scrubbing clothes against a metal washboard. Each of these Alinyaln greeted and asked if they needed any assistance or anything for their tasks. Each of them declined.
In a way, Alinyaln was doing a service for these Yishks aboard the Mercy of Dradinoor. But that didn’t make the Captain feel any better about their servitude. But there was no way to release a Yishk from service without transferring them to a different master, unless, of course, Alinyaln died, but typically the First Mate or even the Quartermaster would take over their bonds until a more permanent solution could be found.
Alinyaln strode to the bow of the ship, the very front section where, looking out, the world seemed to go on forever. He rested his arms and leaned forward as he watched some of the smaller, inconsequential islands passed them by. Most weren’t worth stopping at, little more than sandy beaches and a handful of trees. Alinyaln knew full well that some of those islands were death traps if stranded upon one.
Alinyaln squinted out where things became too small to see. Usually the Ice Wall surrounding Wrinthim could be seen anywhere in the world, the only true limit being the air quality. As they were heading closer toward the center of the world Alinyaln wasn’t able to see the ice structure, but he could make out two mountains in separate directions. The one to the right was the mountain range upon Arsin, the Continent without islands. The other more spire-like mountain was located at the Center, the infamous Dead Hills where nothing survives for more than a few minutes, located directly beneath the ever burning sun. He could almost see the heat bearing down onto the Dead Hills, roasting it as if it were dinner for the Triplets.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Here, upon the bow of the ship, the rocking of the Mercy of Dradinoor seemed more pronounced as it broke through the cresting waves. This wasn’t moscin, only the power of wind propelling them forward.
Closing his eyes, Alinyaln took in a deep breath and meditated here speeding along the ocean. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed him until; “Captain?” A voice broke into his emptiness.
Alinyaln started awake, spinning to find Ninia standing there, unsure of herself. She was still so young, but Alinyaln could almost see the woman that she will grow into. Syrin would like her. “Yes, lass?” He asked her, trying not to sound annoyed at being pulled out of his reverie.
Ninia saluted, fist to her chest. “Sorry, Captain, I wanted to ask what you needed me to do. I can’t help but see that everyone else has a duty to attend to right now.”
“And why didn’t you ask First Mate Kiara?”
A cringe came to her face as an eye twitch. “She scares me, Captain, I worry about her assigning me to clean the bilge.”
With a laugh, Alinyaln clapped Ninia on the shoulder. “There’s worse jobs than cleaning the bilge, Ninia. I don’t know what they are, but they do exist.” He looked out past the bow again. “Have you ever started a moscin engine?”
“No Captain, I haven’t.” Ninia replied, her expression becoming excited.
Nodding, Alinyaln thought back on their location. It should be fairly empty sea from here to Irminthin. “Go belowdecks to the engine room and wait for Kiara there. I will talk to Drags about an expedition of our course.”
*
Ninia paced in the belly of the ship, nervous. She knew that starting a mocsin engine was simplealmost the same as the quiat the Captain used, but what if she ruined something and the engine wouldn’t start? Worse, what if something went wrong and the crystal overheated and caught the ship on fire?
Kiara the first mate stepped into the engine room, hands behind her back. “The Captain says that you want to learn to fire a moscin engine?” Her face seemed displeased by her assigned task.
“Yes, Ma’am.” Ninia said in a meek tone.
Kiara stared at her, then snorted. “Very well. Come over here.”
Ninia did so, approaching the metal hatch embedded onto the side of the hull. Roughly two feet across, it had a thick metal hinge that allowed it to swing upward. On the side sat a heavy handle made of the same metal, leather wrapping the end. “You’ve used the Captain’s quiat, correct?”
“Aye, Ma’am.” Ninia said. The fewer the words she spoke to Kiara, the faster their interaction might go.
“It’s the same idea, just larger.” Kiara explained. “There’s no shutter for the eye, but that’s beside the point. Make sure the hatch is closed, then pull down on the handle as hard as you can.”
“Can I see what the inside looks like, first?” Ninia asked. She didn’t feel nervous about asking, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Rolling her eyes, Kiara gestured for Ninia to go ahead.
With a smile, Ninia turned the crank on the hatch and pulled back on it, but it was firmly in place. The cursed thing was heavy! Far too heavy for her to lift on her own. “You’ve got to be kidding.” Kiara grumbled, then lifted alongside Ninia, though the First Mate took most of the weight herself.
The hatch stayed in place with a wooden rod, stopping it from lowering down. Ninia was able to get a good look inside. The walls of the interior were spotless metal, not gleaming as the metal wasn’t polished, but clean nonetheless. Lengths of metal protruded from one side and the other, reaching a point in the middle where a glittering translucent green crystal hovered between them. Moscin, the fuel source for the engines.
Engraved into the far side of the engine cavity was an ornate symbol of ridges and curves, not unlike a drawing of a cumulus cloud, the puffy ridges changed into something more abstract in a harsher medium. “How does it float there?” Ninia asked, curious about the answer. “Is it Could Crafting?”
“Yes, the symbol keeps the moscin elevated and in place.” Kiara said sharply. “Can we get a move on?”
“Hold on,” Ninia said quietly. “The water, why isn’t the water coming into the engine?” She asked, looking down and seeing the deep green light from the sun coming beneath the waves.
“The Sigil as well, girl. I have work to do, let’s go.” Kiara said, the impatience in her voice sparking annoyance within Ninia.
“Didn’t the Captain ask you to show me this, First Mate Kiara?” Ninia asked as coldly as she could muster.
“He did.” Kiara admitted.
“So then, isn’t this part of the work that you need to do? Thus, as important, if not more important than whatever else you need to do, since the Captain specifically asked for you to help me?”
The glare that Kiara returned only hinted at the fury burning within. “You listen here you cat-eyed—”
“Perhaps, you know, this could mean that down the road you have more time to attend your other duties as there will be another person who can fire the engines now.” Ninia pointed out. “Or are you too busy trying to seem important to the Captain that you only care about appearing to do something?”
“I will not stand for being spoken to like this!”
Ninia didn’t respond, only meeting the blue haired woman’s glare as best as she could. Part of Ninia felt guilty about driving Kiara to this point, but the dismissal of Ninia’s curiosity wasn’t proper from a teacher.
Kiara pushed Ninia out of the way and pulled the wood out of the way of the hatch, the heavy metal slamming shut into place. Kiara pulled down on the crank hard and there was a sparking sound, then a woosh of the moscin as the ship began to accelerate, rotating in one direction as only one engine had been started.
Ninia walked over to the other engine and repeated what Kiara did, the amount of force needed for ignition far greater than Ninia had anticipated, as she needed to put her entire weight on the handle in order for it to move downward. The twin engine to the one Kiara had started roared to life and the rotating sensation stopped, the entire ship now accelerating forward.
“Go to your hammock and stay there.” Kiara said frostily. “The Captain will hear of your insubordinate attitude, young lady.”
Ninia crossed her arms but nodded. Kiara promptly turned and walked away to the upper deck, likely to see that the ropes were polished or some nonsense.
The leather on her arm sheath felt particularly tight at the moment. She pulled out the long knife, curved edge glinting in the dark confines of the engine room. Then her eyes fell on Kiara, the First Mate’s back turned as she was storming off. Ninia gripped the knife by the point and acted as if to throw the weapon. “One toss and your problems would be solved.” She muttered to herself. “Right between the shoulder blades should do nicely.”
She threw the knife and it stuck true to her aim, rocking back in forth as it wedged itself into the wooden doorframe of the engine room. One day she’d kill Kiara, or so she’d sometimes hoped. But today was not that day.
*
When Alinyaln finally came to visit her, Ninia had been curled up on her sleeping hammock for over an hour, drifting in and out of sleep. The scraping of a personal chest woke her from her stupor. She sat up and rubbed at her bleary eyes. “Captain?”
“I heard about your… Altercation, with Kiara.” Captain Alinyaln said to her, sitting upon the disturbed chest. He spoke quietly, as if uninterested in the conversation at hand.
“I’m sorry, Captain, I don’t know what came over me.” Ninia said softly. And it was true, to an extent.
Alinyaln sighed. “That’s not why I’m here, lass.”
Ninia rocked her head. “Then why are you here, Captain?”
He reached into the pocket of his maroon jacket and pulled out a piece of wood, light brown in color with an edge for stopping a door, and a jagged rend from where her knife had dug into the wood. “This is why I’m here.”
Paling, Ninia shook her head. “I don’t know—”
“Be quiet.” Alinyaln said sharply. It was only now that Ninia realized that Alinyaln’s more quiet disposition wasn’t boredom or depression, it was out of anger. “I know you and Kiara don’t get along, but this type of childish behavior,” He threw the wood off to the side dismissively. “Is unacceptable upon my ship. Not only does that damage my ship, as now that will need to be replaced, but it could have done irreversible harm to a member of my crew who I am sworn to care for with my life.” He rubbed his face with his hands, growling in frustration as he did so.
“Look,” he said, more calmly. “I understand being frustrated by a superior. Tarnation, lass, I hated my Captain Yamadeon on more than one occasion for some perceived slight or another. But you can’t act on that in a destructive way. Find something else.”
And with that, before Ninia had a chance to respond, Alinyaln stood up and walked off, his posture that of a caged animal.
Then he paused for a moment. “You have mess duty for the next two weeks.” He said as if just now remembering. “Be lucky I didn’t tell Kiara, else she would’ve wanted something more severe.”
