Under Fallen Stars - Mel Odom [76]
His bare feet slapped against the deck, hard and callused from not wearing shoes and working the ship. At five, he already knew how to mend sails and nets. He also worked on the cleaning crews and in the galley. Days went by in those times when he'd never spoken a word. Even then it was mostly a quickly bellowed, "Aye sir!" followed by the smart salute his father had taught him.
He dipped the bucket into the crate of wet sand, scraping it up, then hurried back to the fire. The first bucketful had smothered some of the fire, but it was still in danger of spreading.
Bunyip caught a wave crossways, wallowing in the trough of rough water for a moment. Jherek stumbled at the railing, nearly spilling the bucket of sand overboard. He fought to keep hold of it, knowing his father would punish him if he didn't.
The pirate ship bore down on the merchantman. Bunyip closed rapidly when she got behind the other vessel and stripped the wind from her. Jherek's stomach twisted when he realized the killing would start soon. They had more buckets of sand for any blood that was spilled on Bunyip's deck, and a stiff-bristled brush to scrub it away before it dried in.
Jherek tossed the sand over the fire. As he turned, Bunyip slammed into her prey with an explosive, hollow boom that splintered wood. Bunyip heeled over from the impact, then caught another crossways wave that tossed her high for a moment.
Without any chance to save himself, Jherek went over. He plummeted, splashing into the ocean. As he went under, he saw the shadowy shapes of the two ships come together again above him. Another boom, this one altered by its passage through water, crashed around him.
He kept his hand locked around the bucket. If he lost it, Bloody Falkane would whip him. Out of reflex, he tried to swim, but he was caught in an undercurrent, one of the vast movements that constantly shaped the undersea. Unable to use his other hand, he couldn't make any headway in the water.
In Breezerunner's brig, Jherek felt the fever cover him in a sheen of perspiration. He struggled to wake from the dream, but was trapped by it. Waiting in the back of his mind, he knew what would happen next. At five, he'd given up, unwilling to release the bucket.
Bubbles streamed from his mouth as his vision darkened.
Still, he kept himself from breathing. Then, in the distance, he saw a gliding gray shape streaking toward him. All those years ago, that shape had belonged to the dolphin that had turned up out of nowhere and saved him. He'd heard the mysterious voice for the first time in his life then.
Live, that you may serve.
Now, it wasn't a dolphin. Even though part of Jherek knew it was only a dream, part of him also knew what he was experiencing was something else as well.
The shape came closer, dolphinlike in its first appearance. It knifed through the water, and Jherek saw the hard lines of it. He remembered seeing it before, when he'd been held prisoner in Butterfly's brig after the Amnians had discovered the tattoo he wore.
The shark was at least forty feet long, hard-muscled and gray as three-day-old death. Black lines etched its body, looking like scars at first, then becoming runes carved deep into the flesh. One eye glared at him coldly, but the other eye was gone, ripped away by claws or teeth. Still, the hollow raked him savagely with its gaze. The shark stopped, hanging motionless in the sea, the silhouettes of the two ships farther away as they continued sailing.
Don't think to fool yourself, boy, the shark told Jherek in a cold and malevolent voice that echoed inside his head. I know about you. I've always known about you. Turn back while you still can.
Jherek wanted to ask the shark what it was he was supposed to turn back from, but he couldn't. The dream had him in its thrall and fear closed his voice. He still held the bucket, unable to let it go even now. His father's rules still controlled him.
The shark opened its mouth, revealing rows of sharp teeth eight or nine inches long. It flicked its tail, speeding around him in a circle.