“Let it go, Zak,” said Bartrand. “We’ll all eat well tonight, and five percent is nothing to be splitting the sinking mood over.”
“Oh, blood and thunder, Bartrand,” said Zak. “I’d sink more than the mood if that’s what it takes to get my—”
Hachia was behind him on the ladder and announced her presence by giving him a hard slap on the butt.
“Knock off the language,” she said. “You’re in the presence of a lady.”
“You’re about as much a lady as I am a qyss,” said Zak. Hachia made a face at him, and he made one back.
He pulled himself over the railing, and then with Bartrand’s help and Hachia lifting from below, began to pull up the bundle of prism fish. Demetro watched them, stepping in to take Hachia’s hand and help her up the last few ladder rungs.
“She is a lady, and a beautiful one at that,” he said, smiling.
He’s clueless. And I’m an oceanfoot, with as much say and sway as one of these fish.
Under Prince Demetro had taken command of the Sand Angel three months ago, after the death of their last captain, old man Dagon. Zak still had fond memories of him, even if he’d been drunk most of the time, and had finished himself off on a batch of bad ale.
“Thank you, Demetro,” said Hachia. “It’s nice to know that someone still understands what it means to have good manners.”
Zak groaned, splitting off from the group instead of speaking his mind and saying something he would probably regret. He made his way up the main mast, climbing the old hardwood slats up to where the flag hung high above the deck. He switched out Demetro’s family banner for the fresh catch flag, which would alert any nearby and interested ships to their haul.
Bartrand whistled, drawing Zak’s attention while he still stood in the crow’s nest. He looked down at the deck to see the big man waving up at him, a mischievous grin splayed across his face.
“Give us your best dive, Zak!” he shouted. “Show us the one that won you the diving contest at the First Season Festival!”
Zak leaned his head to the side and smiled. He remembered the festival well enough. He’d spent a bit of time each day during the lead up practicing different flips on land, and different diving angles off the Palmian cliffs while they were in dock.
Hachia said something to Demetro that Zak couldn’t hear from his perch. Demetro made a boisterous gesture and immediately began taking his shirt off. He’d been there for the diving contest, too. A twisted ankle had kept him from participating, but Zak had seen his form before, and it wasn’t half bad.
“I’ll throw a dive,” Zak shouted, grinning down at Bartrand. “Under the condition that I get my finder’s fee.”
“You throw a better dive than me, and it’s a deal,” shouted Demetro. “Hachia will judge.”
“Hachia and Bartrand,” said Zak.
Demetro shook his head.
“Just Hachia.” He smiled at her, and Zak felt a sudden intense urge to vomit down onto deck.
The diving path from the crow’s nest of the Sand Angel down to the water was at a far less than ideal angle. Zak had thrown plenty of dives from the top of the mast before, and while it was doable, the forward momentum required to avoid slamming into the edge of the deck limited his acrobatic potential.
Demetro was already on his way up the mast by the time Zak had stripped his shirt off. He tossed it down to the deck below, and felt oddly pleased to see Hachia reaching out to catch it for him.
“Don’t get it dirty,” said Zak. “It’s the only clean one I have left.”
Hachia stuck her tongue out at him and waved the shirt around her head, as though considering whether or not to throw it into the ocean. Zak cracked one of his knuckles in her direction, a gesture which by Malnian standards would have merited a prayer to the Worldmaker on behalf of anyone unlucky enough to be watching.
He stepped up onto the crow’s nest outer railing. The wood was thin and ill-suited to bearing the weight of a person. Zak only needed a single step, however, and he began prepping for it while plotting his path into the cerulean waters below.
Hesitation had never been a hurdle for Zak when it came to diving. He felt the fear in his chest, even only twentyish feet up, but it was the same fear he felt at the top of the highest Arkaian diving cliffs, with a hundred feet of open air beneath him. It was nothing he couldn’t handle.
Diving, like many things in life, was all about that first step. Once over the edge, all of the potential outcomes and possibilities narrowed down into a single strand, a single thread to hold onto and follow to the end.
Zak launched into a confident, twisting dive. His knees pulled up toward his chest, committing his entire body into several flips. He saw blurs of the sun, Krexellious, and Methrakia as he twisted upside down, and then the water as he came around.
One, two rotations, and then he untucked for the final stretch. The edge of the ship’s hull was only a few feet away from him as he sped by toward the water. There was good reason for why so few island divers ever attempted complicated tricks from the crow’s nest.
Zak hit the water smoothly, sinking down a dozen feet and taking a moment before doing anything to feel the last of the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The rush of a high level dive, at least to him, was better than being drunk off ale, or spirits. It was better than sex.
He took his time surfacing, even though his lungs ached for oxygen, his fast-beating heart running through the supply in double the normal time. When he finally took that first breath, the air tasted salty and sweet, and the sun felt good on his face.
Zak slicked back his hair and saw Demetro motioning for him to swim to the side and clear space for his landing. He did, not seeing any sense in being a poor sport. Demetro went through the same motions that Zak had, his eyes scanning the water and the air intensely. There was a certain pride in his posture that transcended ego, and Zak couldn’t help but smile at it, even as competitive as he was.
Demetro set his foot and launched forward. His foot slipped as he entered the air, but he was a little taller than Zak, and apparently much more effective at leveraging his body into a jump. He flipped once, twice, three times, and landed feet first after clearing the edge of the boat by more than twice the margin of Zak.
He’s good. At least as good as me. Maybe even better…
“Not bad,” said Zak, addressing the empty patch of ocean where Demetro had entered the water. “Not bad at all.”
Demetro surfaced a moment later. He locked eyes with Zak, raising his head into a nod that was neither friendly nor aggressive.
“Yours was a little short,” said Demetro.
“You landed feet first,” said Zak.
He couldn’t hold back a smile, feeling an unwanted fondness for his crewmate and captain. Despite everything, he’d come to know Demetro as a friend and a deck brother over the past few months. He wasn’t a bad person, just a little spoiled by his upbringing. The two of them looked up at Hachia, who was standing at the railing’s edge, arms crossed.
“Tie,” she announced.
“Sink it,” said Zak. “You say that knowing that I’m the clear-cut winner, Hachia!”
“She’s trying to save your pride, Zakarias,” said Demetro. “You should let her.”
Zak brought his hands in close to Demetro’s ear, and cracked his knuckles.
CHAPTER 3
History reads in such a way to make it seem inevitable that Lord Emperor Altreis the First conquered the outer islands. Tis a shame that there is almost nothing on the official record of the desperation precipitating those events. – Cadwin the Historian, Founding of an Empire