Chapter Ten.

As someone who has been in (and died from) a bus crash, I’d like to think I have a pretty good comparison for how that feels. So when I say I feel like I was in a bus crash, I know what I’m talking about. Right now?

I feel like I was hit by a bus.

“Gods save me from fool boys and their idiot ideas. Hold still.”

I was sitting on the edge of my bed while Joan gently— but firmly— wrapped my chest in bandages to cover the massive bruise that even transferred over to my human form. She’d been at this for a while now, taking a careful catalogue of my various cuts, scrapes and burns while applying various ointments and wrapping me in enough bandages to look like a mummy. And that was after Leigh had given me one of his “potions of vitae” back at the warehouse before half-carrying me back to Joan’s. Leigh had been pretty alarmed by how much I didn’t heal, as the potion typically worked on the worst injuries first. The fact that it didn’t seem to touch my bruises at all meant things were bad internally.

Speaking of, my insides felt scraped raw and my nerves were burning painfully with every movement— the consequences of using more magic than my body could handle. Trying to see what the damage was, I focused my aura to look inside myself but quickly ran into the problem of not actually being human anymore. Lots of vague shapes and squiggles were present, and they were obviously doing… something.

Yep, those are definitely organs. Just keep chugging away guys!

Turning back to Joan, I found her glaring sternly at me with one hand on her hip and the other holding up a dirty bandage.

"Are ye back with us then?"

Smiling sheepishly back, I nodded. Arching an eyebrow critically she unfolded the dirty bandage to reveal the clotted, jet black blood staining it.

"This normal for you, or am I needing to fetch a proper doctor?"

Shit!

"I— uh, it's just… ah." A stream of verbalized panic spewed out of my mouth while my face went pale. Rolling her eyes, Joan put her hand calmingly on my shoulder.

"Hush now, boy. I don't care what color you bleed, alright? You're human enough to do something as bloody stupid as last night, and that counts for me. Just wondering if I needed to fetch someone, because if anyone else came to me with blood like that I'd be more likely needing a priest and the next of kin."

Her hand left my shoulder as my panic died down, but the glare quickly returned to her face.

"And speaking of last night, what were you thinking?? Do you know what could've happened to you if you were caught?" She scolded me.

"Dunno, probably died?" I answered tiredly with a dark chuckle. This was probably a mistake, I realized, because Joan's hazel eyes narrowed frostily at me.

"Are you being glib with me now, Ray?" She asked, her voice dangerously flat.

Oh no.

"No ma'am." I answered meekly, though her glare didn't let up in the slightest.

"You listen to me, young man. Don't you dare treat death and danger so lightly, because you won't be the one suffering for it if you die. I've buried enough fool boys in my life, if you make me bury another I'll never forgive you. Understand?"

She was trembling slightly by the end, and a wave of guilt washed over me.

"Yes ma'am." I said quietly.

Joan gave a sharp nod and grabbed a few more bandages, subtly wiping at her eyes with her apron in a way I pretended not to notice.

"Let's get you finished up so you're not ruining the sheets, and then I'll get you some breakfast. You are not to leave this bed until I say so, am I clear?"

I nodded hurriedly while Joan began fussing over the wrappings again.

Jeez, I was less intimidated by the marshals than this lady…

What followed were two days of pain-filled boredom as Joan mothered me relentlessly while I did my best to heal. Most of the minor bruises and cuts cleared up astonishingly fast, though the ugly purple blotch on my chest lingered painfully and limited my range of movement.

Despite how sideways everything had gone, Leigh's plan seemed to have worked— though I spent the first day twitching anxiously at every noise, dreading the sound of marching boots in the street below. Things had actually gone oddly quiet in the city after the night’s chaotic events, and we didn’t hear so much as a peep from the marshals, even if we were confined to the tavern for our safety.

I say “we” a bit loosely because I hadn’t actually caught a glimpse of Leigh since we staggered back into the common area below and Joan swept me to my room. Judging by the… simmering… glare from Joan when I brought it up to her I had to guess he was being punished somehow.

Better you than me, bud.

The day of our departure arrived to find me waiting anxiously on the side of my bed, completely unable to sleep from nervousness. The clothes Joan had given me were tightly packed into a light duffel bag on the floor beside me, and now we were just waiting to hear back from her “boys” that we had a clear route to the caravan guild.

A light knock sounded on my door and I shot to my feet, suppressing a groan at the pain from my bruised chest at the sudden motion. I quickly made my way over and opened the door to find Leigh standing on the other side. He looked… terrible. His eyes were red and bleary, his hair was unkempt, and his clothes were disheveled.

“You look like crap, dude. Are you seriously hungover right now?”

He gave me a pained glare.

“Worse, kid. I’m sober.” He shuddered. “Joan put a shun out on me for my ‘irresponsible behavior’. Not a tavern in the city will sell me so much as a drop… And then she brought out a Draethmari Red on the house. The greatest wine ever vinted, and she handed it out for free to everyone but me.” His tone was completely despondent by the end.

“What’s so great about it?” I asked curiously.

“Draethmar is the land of the Endless Masters. Everything they do is the best, because they’ve built an entire culture around the concept of mastery. That, and they created magical transference orbs so each generation directly inherits all the skill and experience of the last. Their wine is an exquisite delight for even the most refined of palates, and she gave it out to dockworkers who drank it like swill.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at Leigh’s bemoaning missing out on alcohol, and he gave me a disgruntled look.

“Alright, you don’t have to rub it in. Joan says the way is clear, we need to get going or we’ll be late. The caravan won’t wait for us.”

My budding good mood was strangled in its infancy by a sudden resurgence of anxiety and my laughter choked off to a nervous titter. Grabbing my duffel bag, I slung it over my shoulder and followed Leigh down the stairs.

Joan was waiting in the common room, along with a few men that I didn’t recognize, and she quickly pressed a few cloth-wrapped bundles into our hands.

“Caravan rations are awful, so I packed you both a lunch. My boys here will make sure you get to the guildhall safe and sound.” Stepping in close, she gave me a tight hug. “You take care of yourself, Ray. If you find yourself in town again, know you’re welcome here. Now go on, or I’m gonna have to put up with Leigh’s wheedling until the next caravan.”

With a chuckle, she pushed us towards the door and waved as we took off at a jog. I couldn’t help a smile that broke through my nervousness, and I waved back over my shoulder as we hurried down the nearly deserted pre-dawn streets.

Workers were just starting to make their way around and a few empty trams shuttled by us while we moved to the guildhall. I kept anticipating an ambush with every corner we rounded, but it never materialized. Before I knew it, we’d arrived at the fancy building without so much as a glimpse of the marshals or their iron-man-esq leader. This didn’t help my anxiety at all, much to the exasperation of our ‘escorts’ who gave me irritated looks after I twitched for the umpteenth time at somebody just walking to work beside us.

“Relax, Ray. If Joan says things are clear, then they’re clear. We’ll be out of the city in no time.” Leigh said reassuringly.

All I could answer with was a strained smile and a nod as we re-entered the building, leaving our escort behind while we scurried down the hallways back towards bay twelve, where we’d met Captain Teadran before with his landship.

Bracing myself in front of the door, I took a steadying breath.

You got this. It’s just a few weeks of travel, you’ve done way harder things here.

I slid the door to the side and revealed… an empty bay.

Shit! Did they leave already?

A slow clap echoed in the empty space, and the hulking form of Teadran’s XO, Mister Grafton, pushed off from where he’d been leaning on one of the walls.

“Not off to a good start, boy. I had five marks on you being too scared to show. First day and you’re already costing me money.” He sneered.

My nervousness evaporated as my brain gleefully clutched the lifeline of simmering resentment I’d just been thrown by the abrasive man’s presence.

“Sorry to disappoint.” I said with a condescending smile.

He let out a sound that was a mix of a grunt and a snort.

“Just means I’ll have to work harder now. You’re on time— barely— so that means by the Captain’s word you’re on the crew until we reach Thunderfell, which then means you report to me.” Grafton grimaced distastefully, like he’d taken a bite of something sour. “I’ll be clear, I don’t like you. You stink like a prissy highborn and my gut says you’re trouble walking. I don’t give a shit about your little sob-story life, if whatever trouble you’re running from follows you onto my ship, I’ll toss you from the deck myself. This ain’t a shelter for you, this is the wilds. Do as you’re told, when you’re told, and in a few weeks you can go back to whatever highborn bullshit your kind think is so important. Understand?”

“You always such an asshole?” I snapped out as my temper flared up.

He snorted derisively.

“You want special treatment? Pay for passage like everyone else. Don’t come begging for work and expect favors like you’re the gods’ gift to men. Now, do you understand?” Grafton loomed over me as he finished speaking, and I had to physically fight down the urge to transform and return the favor from my full height.

“Yes. Sir.” I grit out through clenched teeth.

The gorilla grunted again in acknowledgement.

“Follow me. The Duchess is outside.”

Without another word he made an abrupt about-face and started marching towards the back of the large bay. I stared after him, fuming quietly to myself.

What a douche.

Leigh gave me a quick pat on the shoulder and shrugged while I took a deep breath to calm down. Giving up after a frustrating moment, I stomped after Grafton’s retreating form before he could leave us behind.

We exited the building to an immense parade ground full of long trenches cut at regular intervals, each one wide enough to fit the steel behemoths that were the landships and just low enough to make cargo handling easier. The landships themselves looked even more impressive in the early light, each one looking like an intimidating cross between an old steam train, a battleship, and a centipede with armored legs. Last time I’d seen the Duchess Corrine, it’d been partially disassembled in the bay. Now it stood in full glory, and I couldn’t help but be impressed. It was taller than it was wide, the twin smokestacks on each of the three articulating sections easily over thirty meters in height. Open deck space was eschewed in favor of multiple levels of pillbox-like bunkers and gun turrets, though metal catwalks stretched precariously throughout like a tangled steel spiderweb. Somewhat worryingly, a close observation of the legs and the underside of the hull showed they were riddled with an assortment of claw-marks, dents, pocs, and battle scars. Half a dozen landships looked ready to depart with us and were all in similar condition, each one bristling with weapon emplacements covering every angle.

This doesn’t look like a merchant caravan, this looks like a freaking assault fleet.

A piercing steam whistle echoed out in the parade ground, and Grafton perked up.

“That’ll be the ready-call. Best get moving or we’ll all be left behind.” He said casually and took off at a jog towards the nearby loading ramp. After a brief series of nautical-jargon shouts between him and someone standing watch on the deck (is it still nautical if the ship doesn’t go on water?) we rushed aboard, our footsteps clanging against the corrugated metal of the boarding ramp. The ramp itself was retracted almost as soon as we were aboard, sliding into an alcove beneath our feet as the watchman pulled a lever before tying off a light chain to cover the gap in the deck’s handrail.

I barely had time to consider how many OSHA safety violations were probably going on here before Grafton impatiently grunted at us again.

“Captain would like a word with you, Priest. On the bridge.” He gestured towards a clearly-marked passageway leading upwards that went along the deck to our right. Leigh nodded amicably and headed into the passage without hesitation, leaving me alone with Grafton.

Traitor.

The big man gave me the stink-eye for a second and then beckoned me after him. I followed him through an open hatch into the belly of the ship, a somewhat claustrophobic maze of tight passageways lined with pipes and cables that was lit by weird orange lightbulbs in metal cages. I say weird because the lightsource inside them seemed to be… squirming… in an endless loop from the pipe it was attached to. Something about the light made me uneasy, and the more I stared into it, the more wrong it felt. My hackles went up as something wrang an instinctive alarm bell in my brain, urging me to get out as quickly as possible.

“You can stare at the pretty lights later. I’m not here to babysit you, boy. Get a move on!” Grafton yelled from down the hall.

Jerking in place like I’d been slapped, I stood perplexed for a moment at how far he’d gotten ahead of me before warily continuing on. We continued down the hallway for a couple minutes, going up a couple of cramped stairways until we entered a long hall with a dozen hatch doors lining the sides. Each of the doors had a locking wheel in the center, and Grafton gave one a half turn before opening it with one hand.

“Ship mage’s quarters. Two on the right here are yours and the priest’s, as the Captain thought it’d be better to stick you close together. Only other mage aboard is the core tender, Master Zaraiah, at the other end. Bother them too much and I won’t have to throw you overboard, I’ll just have one of the deck hands sweep your ashes into the wastebin.” He gestured impatiently for me to go in.

The rooms were… small. Maybe two and a half meters wide and half again as long. Most of the space inside was taken up by a small bed against one wall and a combination desk/wardrobe bolted to the opposite wall. In the back was a tiny little sink and a toilet, with a clear tube of water on the wall next to them. No windows. No light other than the creepy orange bulbs.

“The glass marks your water ration. Use more than you’re allotted and the Captain will take it out of your pay. You’re not a bloody child and I’m not your mother, so keep the place clean while you’re aboard. As a ship’s mage, and specifically a warder, you get to skip out on all the crew’s ‘menial’ duties. Your one and only job is to be ready and damn-well answer when the alarm goes off— which it will, and frequently. I don’t care if you’re mid-way through shitting out your guts, if the call goes out then you’d better learn to wipe while fighting. You don’t show up or take too long, you’re walking back to Delmoth. Do a piss-poor job? You’re walking back to Delmoth. You sensing the theme here?” He snarked at me.

Honestly, I was completely over this guy and his attitude. The day hadn’t even really started and I already felt exhausted, so I just grit my teeth again and nodded. Grafton shrugged at my acceptance.

“Other than that, you’ve the run of the place. Don’t get in the way of people actually working, and don’t bother the real passengers. Signs are everywhere and if you get lost just ask one of the crew. Bells mark mealtimes, though the cook’s always got something— long as you don’t piss him off. Any questions?”

“How will I know where to go when the alarm goes off?” I asked.

“Ha! Just follow the screams. Welcome to the Duchess Corinne, boy.” He gave a dark chuckle and stalked off into the corridor.

I hate that guy.

Tossing my duffel bag onto the bed, I glared suspiciously at the weird light in my room before hunting down the switch to turn it off. The dark didn’t bother me any, and until I figured out what the hell was going on, there was no way I’d be letting that light anywhere near me.