Looking around, Faline found Lukas coiling rope next to an ungainly-looking device, like a crossbow, only larger.

She wandered over to it. “What is this thing?” she said, running a hand over a large wheel attached to the side of it.

“It’s called a grappler. You load one of these,” he held up a long metallic bolt with a series of hooks on the end, “with rope attached to it. When the bolt snags onto an opposing ship, the winch over there,” he pointed to a large wheel to one side of the grappler, “is used to drag the opposing ship close enough to be boarded.”

“How well does it work?” she said, admiring the device’s lean lines and utility.

“Oh, it works well once you get in range. For longer-distance targets, you can use this little beauty.” He hefted an iron bolt with a number of barbs on it, all the way around the shaft. “Does pretty nasty damage, particularly around the waterline.”

At least six of these devices squatted upon the deck, two on each side, one in the bow, and another in the stern.

Lukas finished stowing the rope. “Okay, enough of that. Ready to learn how to swing a sword?”

Faline nodded, then Lukas turned and grabbed a wrapped parcel off a hatch cover.

She pointed. “What is that?”

“Pakuls,” he said, untying the cord that bound the parcel. Opening up the leather enclosure revealed two short wooden swords, tear-shaped but edgeless.

“Is this what we’re going to train with?”

“At least initially,” Lukas said, hefting one of the Pakuls into his hand, then handing it over to her. “This way I can teach you to defend yourself without drawing blood.”

She couldn’t resist. “Your blood, or mine?”

“Most importantly, mine. Once we master defense, we’ll work on attack. Eventually, we’ll use the real thing. But at this point, you’re just as dangerous to me as you are to yourself.” He took the Pakul and stood off to one side of the deck.

“Okay, swing at me,” he said.

She looked at the Pakul. The sword she had killed Iago with was the only weapon she’d ever used with the intent to harm someone. This wooden peg in her hand felt more like the sticks she and the other kids had used back at the settlement to poke each other. She jabbed the weapon forward.

Crack. The Pakul resounded when Lukas smacked it out of her hand. It spun to the deck before she could react. Lukas grabbed her around the waist and stuck the Pakul under her chin. “You’re dead.”

Her heart raced, shock and embarrassment rebounding though her. She looked at him sidelong. “Okay.”

He released her, picked up the Pakul, and handed it back to her. “Not much of an effort. When I say swing, I mean like this.” He slashed at her. She jumped back, surprised. “Not like you’re poking food on your plate. Your life depends on what you are doing. Give your actions the right focus.”

She nodded.

“Now swing at me, and this time, act like you mean it.”

She focused on his face and swung as hard as she could. Lukas caught the blow with his weapon, and the vibration resonated through her forearms with incredible pain. “Ouch,” she yelped, then dropped the Pakul.

Lukas let loose an exasperated sigh. “Oh, for Creator’s sake. Pick up your weapon. How do you expect to stay alive?”

A flash of anger ran through Faline. “Oh, so the first time you did this, you were flawless.”

Lukas stared hard at her. “I was, because if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be talking now. My life depended on it. It was either kill or be killed.”

She wasn’t sure what to say, not having anticipated that answer. “Sorry … I just … never had to do this before.”

Lukas’ face softened a bit. “Being a good fighter takes practice. That is what we’re doing. I should not expect too much from you.”

The comment stung, but his tone was not condescending; rather, it was declarative. She didn’t know how to fight, and to expect otherwise was foolishness. So, she choked down a bubble of pride and picked up her Pakul. “I am trying.”

“Understood. Let’s continue.”

For the better part of the next hour, Faline tried and failed to fend off Lukas’ attacks. Several times, he knocked the weapon out of her hands, or struck various body parts – legs, arms, and once, in a somewhat playful manner, her butt.

After that particular incident, she rubbed her backside. “Are you quite enjoying yourself?”

“Why yes, I am,” he said with a smile. “I think that should be enough for one session.”

Faline sat back on the hatch cover, then realized her backside hurt more than she anticipated. “Yes, I agree. That was quite enough. I’m not sure I learned anything, though.”

“I did. I know what your weaknesses are, and the next time we spar, I’ll show you what to do about them.” He put his hand out.

She handed over the Pakul. “Fantastic.” Her arms and legs hurt so much they trembled. “I think I’m going to hurt tomorrow.”

“I have no doubt you will,” Lukas said far too cheerfully. “Your body is having to learn new skills, and that always comes with a fair amount of discomfort.”

Faline stood and stretched her back. “Enjoy the rest of your watch. Maybe you can find someone else to beat for the rest of the night.”

“At least until tomorrow night,” he said with an irritating grin.

Faline slipped back to the galley, carefully moving her aching limbs and sore joints. Already, she could hear Argus lighting up the galley bunk area with his snores. As his nocturnal slumbers rattled the pans in the nearby galley, she gingerly navigated the darkened recesses and found her bunk. But despite the loudness, she quickly found sleep and dropped off dead-like.

Dreams came, like a flood from her subconscious. Hazy and inconsistent, they swirled around her, taking her back to the waterhole near the ridge. Snow surrounded her, which she found curious, as she hadn’t been there except in the late summer and fall. Walking toward the ridgeline, dark clouds swirled overhead, wind blew in her face. Rain pelted her face. She could no longer see where she was going. Falling to her knees, she crawled, but even the rock surface betrayed her, turning into sucking mud that grabbed and pulled at her arms and legs.

“Wake up, sleepy-head,” Argus’ voice cut through to her mind.

She opened her eyes. Hadn’t she just fallen asleep? “What…”

“Time to get breakfast started for the crew. We’re cooking today, thanks to that raid; we now have enough fresh vittles. So get cracking, Mr. Firestarter.”

She rolled upright in the bunk. Klonk. The pain in her forehead radiated throughout her face.

“That’s one way to wake up,” Argus said. The smell of something bitter and foul drifted under her nose. She opened her eyes to see a cup of black drink being offered. “Here’s the other, Kaff.”

“I’d rather drink from the bilge. Keep that away from me. I’m up,” Faline climbed out of the bunk and shook the cobwebs of sleep out of her head.

So the day began, slowly and painfully, but she gradually woke up and attended to her duties. Breakfast was served without incident. Then the ship hoisted full sail and raced north across the Gulf toward the coastline of Cazidor.

As they traveled, she began to settle into the routine of ship life, which consisted mainly of relentless chores and monotonous boredom. Despite this, or maybe because of it, she began to look forward to sparring with Lukas each evening. He seemed to as well, though whether it was because he always won or that he enjoyed a break from the ship’s routine was not obvious.