Smoke clung in the air as ash
swirled in the strong wind. The first of the raindrops were descending,
splattering over the half capsized Blade,
flames sizzling and popping as they struggled to burn the last bits of sparring
and rigging of the demolished, once fast and swift, ship.
On a small hunk of wood,
smoldering and blackened on one end that bobbed in and out of the choppy water,
a sailor hung on. His arms were burnt, the flesh having being seared away by
dragon fire. His clothes stuck to him, soaked from the top of his ruddy mess of
hair, to his bare feet, submerged in the sea. He watched the skies, quivering
from the cold, as well as from the fear of a dragon devouring him.
But as the storm rolled in,
silence fell except for the pitter of the rain on bits of wreckage scattered
like someone had taken a box of matchsticks and cast them aimlessly into a
pool. The blood and oil was washed away by the ever increasing waves. The
sailor simply hung on, drifting towards the distant, but distinct shoreline
rising into the overcast day. As darkness descended he pulled what little
measure of grit and determination left, and hauled himself fully on to the
wreckage that was his raft.
~ ~ ~
A bright flash of light woke the
sailor, Cal as he went by, to his feet. In a startled mess he staggered to his
knees, expecting a dragon roar or a shout, only to slump back down as the
realization of morning hit him. He would’ve groaned in pain, had his mouth not
been so dry that his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and his throat felt
as if it had been stuffed with sand. All he managed was a low gurgle and a
wheezy cough. The pain shot through his throat like an arrow, and he nearly
hurled himself into the sea for want of water.
A small voice echoed in his mind.
Hold on Cal! There will be rescue
parties. Hang on. You can survive. He dragged his weary body to the edge of
the raft and, clutching it with both hands, plunged his head into it. The shock
woke him once more, and a relief flooded over his tired face. He held his head
under for a long while before pulling it out with a deep breath. The rest of
his boy yearned to fling itself into the waves, now simple ripples lapping at
the edges of the raft, but if a breeze came upon Cal it would be quite the frigid
experience. Best to not take chances. I’ll
wait it out.
~ ~ ~
The rescue ship arrived within an
hour. Cal was willing to be dragged out of the water and led to a room below
deck of the Arien. The room was too
short for Cal, considered tall among most, so he crashed to a cot in the
corner. The only light in the room was a small candle dangling from the center
beam of the ceiling. As a crew member arrived with a flask of water, Cal
snatched it and hauled himself to the top deck. The het below was difficult to
bear at any time, especially when he had just bee baking out in the sun for
hours. He popped off the cork of the flask and took a large swig of water,
swishing it around in his mouth before spitting it over the deck. He tried to
wiggle his tongue and took another large swig, spitting it out.
Just as Cal finally took a small
sip of water and let it run down his throat, the captain of the ship lumbered
up from behind. To say he was large was accurate, but not adequate. He had the
grace of a walrus, the step of a dragon, and the voice of a herald. Cal winced
as he bellowed orders to two sailors at the cows nest. Spotting Cal, he sauntered
over, giving Cal a hearty slap on the back, just as Cal took a large gulp of
water. The result had Cal coughing his lungs out over the boat as the captain
stood by watching, a helpless grin on his face. Cal turned, sucking in a breath.
“Awfully sorry about that m’boy!”
he hollered. “What’s your name? Are you alright?”
Cal stuck out his hand, and in
return got it crushed by the largest handshake of his life. He slipped his
wounded hand behind his back, flexing the fingers. “It’s quite alright.” He gave
a faint smile. “I go by Cal. And no, I’m not alright. As you can see,” he gestured
to his arms, “my arms were pretty roughed up last night, and I some clothes
that haven’t been mauled.”
The general grinned. “At once.”
He turned towards the stern. “Auxy! This boy needs medical attention and some
clothes.”
Auxy, a wiry young fellow with a
shock of brown hair, the makings of an attempted moustache, and the smallest
hands, especially in comparison to the captain’s, that Cal had ever seen. But
it was the eyes that snagged His attention. They’re
blue. He’s not from here. Auxy smiled, showing a row of pearly white teeth.
Cal let out a light laugh. Ten years from
now he’ll be lucky if he’s got half that many. And they won’t be white either.
“My name’s Auxy,” he said
thrusting his out. Cal took it, trying to not envelope Auxy’s entire hand.
“Cal.”
“Follow me. I’ll get you patched
up.”
As Cal turned to leave the
captain tapped his shoulder. “Once he gets you fixed up, we need to talk. I
need to know what happened to the Blade.”
Cal nodded, his face turning to a
frown. “You won’t like it.”
I read the first chapter and I'll give a quick review over that (because you have quite a few over there already) before I get into this chapter. 
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