Chương 48: The Storm

The rain began shortly after dawn. At first, it was little more than a cold mist drifting across the deck. By noon, water hammered against the planks hard enough to drown out ordinary conversation. He had tried staying below, but lasted less than half an hour. The ship groaned with every heavy roll, lanterns swung from their hooks, and sailors passing through the cramped corridors spoke little. Their calm should have been reassuring. Instead, Arien found himself imagining everything happening outside the hull.

At least on deck, he could see what they were dealing with. And judging by Fenrey's face, the rain was the least of their problems. The captain stood near the bow with a strange bronze device cupped between both hands. Several narrow tubes and rings fitted inside one another, each capable of turning independently. Every few moments, Fenrey adjusted one, waited, then changed another. On Earth, Arien might have mistaken it for some elaborate mechanical puzzle.

Here, the mana pulsing through it immediately marked it as an artifact. He could sense it even through the storm. Each time Fenrey shifted one of the rings, the flow changed with it, racing through patterns too dense for Arien to follow. Arien couldn't tell whether Fenrey was using it to navigate, track the storm, or somehow do both at once. Around Fenrey, the crew kept working. Sails were adjusted, ropes checked, loose cargo secured. No one crowded around the captain or asked what he had found.

But Arien noticed how often heads turned toward him. After what felt like an hour, Fenrey finally stopped. He folded the device into itself, carried it back beneath the quarterdeck, and returned moments later without it. This time he went straight to Miley at the helm. Arien couldn't hear their conversation through the rain, but Miley's reaction told him enough. His jaw tightened as his eyes flicked toward the wall of clouds behind them. Fenrey took the helm, and Miley turned to the crew.

"Reef the mainsail! Secure everything forward! Tovin, take two men and check the cargo hold again!" The deck erupted into motion. Sailors scrambled up the shrouds while the ship rolled beneath them, moving through ropes slick with rain without seeming bothered by the mast swaying beneath them. One man swung himself from a line, caught another with one hand, and landed on the yard without breaking stride. Arien stared.

Five years on Will's obstacle course, and he would have fallen to his death three times in the last ten seconds. So that's what trained Skills look like. A shout cut through the rain. Arien turned just in time to see Sanrey wrench himself away from a conversation with Miley.

"I can do my job!"

"And you'll do the one I gave you." Sanrey's face flushed. He opened his mouth, apparently thought better of whatever he intended to say, and stormed toward the hatch. Miley watched him go. For a moment, the old sailor looked less like the endlessly patient first mate Arien knew and more like a tired grandfather. Then Miley noticed Arien and glanced toward the hatch. Arien sighed. Apparently that was an order too. He pushed himself upright and hurried after Sanrey. He didn't have to go far.

Sanrey stood at the bottom of the stairs, punching the wooden bulkhead hard enough that Arien wondered which would give first, the wood or his knuckles.

"Am I interrupting?" Arien asked from behind him.

"I could find you an axe if that would help." Sanrey spun around.

"They sent me below!" He punched the wall again.

"There's a real storm coming, and Father wants to outrun it. Everyone gets to stay on deck except me." Rain drummed against the planks overhead. Somewhere above them, someone shouted an order, followed by the heavy thud of running boots.

"Fenrey and Miley looked worried," Arien said.

"If they think it's dangerous enough to send you down here, maybe—""That's exactly the problem!" Sanrey's fist hit the wall again, though with less force this time.

"How am I supposed to gain levels if they hide me every time things get dangerous? I've been stuck with the same levels of Skills for months." Arien studied him. Sanrey had never mentioned that before, and for a moment Arien considered telling him that he understood better than Sanrey realized. Stagnation was one of the reasons he was crossing half the kingdom to reach the Academy. Instead, he said, "Your father won't be able to protect you forever.

But arguing with his orders in front of the crew probably won't convince him you're ready." Sanrey's jaw tightened.

"I know that."

"Then—""You don't understand." Sanrey stepped closer.

"The System rewards people who push themselves. If I do everything exactly the way Father and Miley did, I'll end up exactly where they are."

"And that would be terrible?" Sanrey flinched, but his anger won.

"You don't understand. You're going to Wayhold to sit in rooms and read books while other people actually live." Arien raised an eyebrow.

"That's what you think land rats do?"

"I think you're a kid who talks like he knows everything." Sanrey shoved past him. His shoulder caught Arien hard enough to send him into the opposite wall, knocking the breath from his lungs. By the time Arien straightened, Sanrey was already disappearing into the dim corridor.

"Teenagers," he muttered, rubbing his aching back. He remembered being fifteen well enough: the constant comparisons, the worry about what you would become, the certainty that every adult standing in your way simply didn't understand. Sanrey had the System turning all that pressure into numbers. A low rumble rolled through the hull. Arien stopped. That hadn't sounded like thunder. The ship suddenly heeled beneath him, and he caught the wall with both hands as something heavy crashed overhead.

Miley's voice followed faintly through the deck. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Hold that line!" Whatever argument Sanrey had started could wait. Arien hurried back toward the stairs. For the next few hours, the Golden Mussel flew. The hull groaned beneath Arien, ropes sang under tension, and every time the ship plunged down the face of another wave, his stomach seemed to remain somewhere behind. The speed was exhilarating right up until he wondered how much punishment a wooden hull could take before it stopped being a ship. At first, it looked as though they might actually outrun the storm.

A strip of blue remained on the horizon ahead, painfully bright against the wall of dark clouds chasing them. Fenrey kept the bow angled to the wind, changing course by degrees while Miley relayed his orders across the deck. Sailors moved before the words had fully left the first mate's mouth, hauling lines, shifting sails, and securing anything that could break loose. Arien had barely begun admiring the precision of it when Miley spotted him. The first mate pointed at the barrels beside the hatch.

"Tie yourself there."

"I can—" A wave slammed into the hull hard enough to throw Arien sideways. Miley raised an eyebrow.

"Right." A sailor looped a rope around Arien's waist and secured him to one of the barrels before hurrying away. Apparently, Arien's contribution to surviving the storm would be not becoming additional cargo. Tied safely to the barrels, Arien could do little except watch, and despite the danger, he found the sight magnificent. Water mana filled the sea below them, rolling and folding with every wave.

Wind mana tore across it in violent streams, sometimes crossing, sometimes twisting together before breaking apart again. It reminded him of the storm in which he had found Sir Samwell. Back then, he had been cold, exhausted, and fighting simply to stay upright. This time there was nothing useful he could do. The crew would save them or they wouldn't, and Arien had no clever solution hidden away, no useful knowledge from Earth, no trick that would suddenly make the sea obey him.

Strangely, giving up that responsibility was almost a relief. By late afternoon, the strip of blue ahead had disappeared. Arien couldn't tell whether the wind had shifted, the crew was tiring, or Fenrey had simply reached the limit of what even an enchanted ship could do. Soon, nothing remained ahead but cloud and rain.

"Reef them!" Miley roared. Men raced into the rigging. Sail after sail was pulled in and bound while the remaining canvas snapped violently overhead. Fenrey surrendered the helm to Miley long enough to retrieve the bronze artifact, then returned with it tucked against his chest beneath his cloak. They barely finished reefing before the storm caught them. Rain ceased falling and began moving sideways. It struck Arien's face hard enough to sting.

Wind screamed through the rigging, drowning voices unless the speaker stood only a few paces away. Waves climbed over the railing and rushed across the deck in sheets, carrying loose scraps of rope, splinters, and anything the crew had failed to secure. Arien tightened both hands around the rope binding him to the barrels. The world beyond the ship vanished behind rain and spray. His eyes became almost useless. His Mana Sense did not.

Water and Wind were everywhere now, vast tangled masses of mana moving through one another faster than he could follow. Sometimes they seemed to merge for several heartbeats, becoming something neither Aspect was alone. He desperately wanted to study it. Lightning mana bloomed above them. Arien barely had time to register it before white light split the darkness. A bolt struck the sea beside the ship with a crack that seemed to punch straight through his skull.

Water erupted higher than the railing and came crashing across the deck. Someone screamed. After that, Arien lost track of time. There was only noise: sailors shouting through the wind, timber groaning beneath impossible strain, waves hammering the hull again and again, and lightning turning night into day for a heartbeat at a time. Without the rope around his waist, Arien would have disappeared overboard within minutes. Twice, water covered him completely.

Once, his feet left the deck and he slammed back down hard enough to send pain through his hip. Then someone fell. A sailor high in the rigging was fighting with a tangled line when the ship rolled beneath him. His hand slipped. For an instant, he hung from one arm. Then he was gone. He struck the deck shoulder-first and slid toward the railing. Two sailors lunged for him. One caught only his sleeve. The next wave swept him into the sea. Arien saw a face between the waves once. An arm. Then nothing. No one stopped.

The next wave was already coming. The storm went on. Men who had crossed the deck at a run that morning now staggered between ropes, shoulders hunched, movements slower every time they rose from a fall. One sailor vomited over the side and returned immediately to his line. Another worked with blood running from somewhere beneath his hair. Through all of it, Fenrey remained at the helm. The bronze artifact rested in one hand while the other gripped the wheel. Sometimes he shouted an order.

Sometimes he merely looked toward Miley, who seemed to understand what he wanted without a word. Rain streamed down Fenrey's face. The muscles in his forearms stood rigid beneath the skin, and a vein pulsed at his temple, but his hands never left the helm. Arien kept looking back at him. As long as Fenrey still looked as though he knew what he was doing, Arien could pretend they weren't about to die. The next wave struck hard, but not quite as hard as the one before it.

Arien wondered if he had imagined the difference. A little later, the wind forced one sailor to his knees, but he rose without having to crawl for a rope. Then several minutes passed without lightning. Arien looked toward Fenrey. Neither the captian nor Miley relaxed, but the rest of the crew had noticed the change too. Men who had been moving on exhaustion alone began shouting to one another again. Someone laughed when a wave knocked him against the railing.

Another answered with something Arien couldn't hear over the wind. Every minute they remained afloat now felt like a victory. The rain weakened enough for the horizon to exist again. Somewhere between two torn banks of cloud, the moon appeared. A sharp crack sounded high above the deck. Arien looked up. A reefing line snapped. Before anyone could reach it, a second tore free. The bundled canvas spilled open and caught the wind with a thunderous whump.

The Golden Mussel heeled so violently that Arien's rope dug into his waist. Sailors crashed against the deck. Somewhere near the stern, someone screamed an order he couldn't make out. Fenrey fought the helm with both hands. It wasn't enough. The rogue sail dragged the ship sideways, turning it broadside to the waves they had spent hours trying to keep at an angle. A wall of black water rose beyond the railing.

"Cut it loose!" Miley roared. Someone moved before the words had finished leaving Miley's mouth. A small figure burst from the hatch and raced across the deck toward the shrouds. Up he went, faster than Arien had ever seen anyone climb, while sailors below shouted after him. Arien's stomach dropped.

"Sanrey?" The boy was already halfway up the mast.

"SANREY!" Miley bellowed. He didn't stop. The mast swung beneath him, but Sanrey climbed as though the storm had forgotten to touch him. He reached the whipping canvas, wrapped one arm around a line, and drew his knife. Once. Twice. On the third cut, the line parted. The wind seized the sail. Canvas snapped like a whip before tearing away into the darkness. The ship shuddered beneath Arien, slowly answering Fenrey's hands again. Its bow crept back toward the waves. Then a cheer tore across the deck.

Men shouted Sanrey's name. Someone punched the air. Arien found himself yelling with them, laughing despite the rain running into his mouth. High above, Sanrey clung to the rigging with one hand and raised the knife with the other. Even from below, Arien could see his grin. He had done it. The cheering lasted three breaths. Lightning mana flooded Arien's senses. Not somewhere across the sea. Above them. His whole body went cold.

"SAN—" White. The thunder came with it. World exploded. Something struck Arien across the face. He tasted blood. Screams broke through the ringing in his ears as fragments of the mast rained across the deck. He blinked against the burning afterimage and forced his eyes upward. The upper section of the mast was gone. Jagged wood smoked where Sanrey had been standing only moments before. And on the deck, bodies lay motionless among splintered wood and torn rope.