Erath - Chapter 13

Wow. I'm so sorry guys. Thanks for being patient.




Gavin sighed contentedly as he finished the venison that Brynn had caught for dinner. The twilight was exquisite; just above him the sky was streaked with wispy clouds stained purple. Behind him, the sky had taken on a dark purplish hue, and just in front, the blood-red sun setting behind the mountains, setting the clouds aflame with bright orange, reds and yellows. The cool air and gentle breeze was soothing. What made the evening more enjoyable was the fact that Erath and Ellyn had not had an argument for almost four days. It was gloriously peaceful between the four travelers.
“Nice night, eh Gavin?” Brynn asked, sitting down beside his friend. At Gavin’s nod, he went on. “Red sun though. It’ll be hot tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope the tempers won’t be,” Gavin remarked.
“Remarkable isn’t it? They haven’t fought for nearly a week. I wonder why?”
“We have nothing left to argue about,” Ellyn said, coming to sit down on Gavin’s other side. “Actually, I have gotten bored of him, and I think he has of me too.”
Gavin chuckled softy, but Brynn looked about himself. “Where is he anyway?”
“He said he was going out to cut wood,” Ellyn said, brushing her dark red hair out of her eyes. “He took the big hatchet this time.”
“When did he leave?” he asked testily. Gavin’s fingers twitched nervously.
“Oh,” Ellyn shrugged her shoulders carelessly, “about a quarter of an hour ago. My, you two are so paranoid.” Ellyn got to her feet and started rummaging through the food pack. “He said he would be back within the hour with wood for a fire. But it looks like we are going to need more food. Besides, I am getting tired of meat every night. Can’t we go into a town tomorrow and buy some fruit?”
“Maybe bread and cheese, but not fruit,” Brynn said. “It is too expensive and does not travel well.”
“Well, can we go tomorrow then?”
Brynn shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose so. Will you be alright being with Erath for most of the day?” he said, turning to Gavin.
He nodded.
Night was starting to fall by then. The inferno of colors on the western horizon was dimming, and the cooling, gentle aromas of night and soft noises of nature were beginning to come out and enclose the three companions.
Heavy steps coming from the trees behind them made Brynn turn around. Arms wrapped around a pile of freshly cut wood were the first things to come out of the shadows, quickly followed by the long stride of Erath and finally his face. The hatchet sat atop the pile, glinting in the fading light. Gavin went over to him and tried to take some wood and lighten his load, but Erath snapped.
“I can carry it myself.”
“Just trying to make it a little easier,” Gavin said gently.
“I can handle it.”
Gavin turned back to the others with a small shrug.
Erath approached the small fire pit that Brynn had dug earlier and began setting up the logs. In a few minutes, there was a small blaze going. As the night was cool, the three of them crowded around it as Erath fanned the tiny tongues of fire.
“How much farther till we get to the village?” Ellyn asked.
“I would say a league or so to go,” Gavin said. “After we pass through this hill country, we should be at the foot of the first mountain. You and Brynn will need to go through these woods to get to …” he pulled out the map, a ragged piece of parchment that must have been fairly new when they started, “a little town here called Rollagen. It’s pretty rural.
Brynn looked over Gavin’s shoulder at the map. “We will leave just after dawn. I will wake you up, Ellyn.”

Gavin watched as his sister dragged alongside the briskly striding Brynn, her eyes half shut. “She never was a morning person,” he said quietly to himself.
Erath was sitting beside the smoking fire, a bucket half full of water beside him.
Something was different about him. Gavin could see that, but was not quite sure what it was. He looked at Erath’s absent eyes for a few seconds before they came back to themselves and locked on Gavin.
“What?” he snapped, complexion taking on a sour expression.
That was it; his face wasn’t showing anger at all. It was tranquil, no lines of contempt or irritation spoiling it. For a minute, Erath was handsome. It was as if Gavin could see what Erath would have been like if he had not had such a terrible past.
“Oh,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “it’s nothing.”
Erath’s brow softened a little, but not very much. After dumping the rest of the water on the remaining fire, he got to his feet, standing to his full height for the first time since he joined them. “Let’s start work while we have time.” So saying, he rolled up his blanket and set it beside the rest of the gear. Taking up the pot of rabbit stew they had had for breakfast, he offered some to Gavin – who declined- before throwing it out.
“I will be back in a few minutes,” he said, turning to find a stream in the woods.
Gavin continued docilely straightening the camp, but he was puzzled. Erath had never acted this way. He had not needed to be ordered to help; he had volunteered, even suggested it first. What happened? There must be some reason he is acting so obligingly. Is he trying to get something from me out of it?
After he finished, he sat down to watch the sun climb up the sky’s walls. All was still until the sound of splintering wood and the crashing of something hard brought a piercing scream that rang in the surrounding hills.
Gavin scrambled to his feet and bolted for the woods. “Erath! Erath!” he yelled. He needed no answer, for the continuing stream of cries and curses reached his ears easily. Then they stopped. Running, Gavin came to a small ravine, where, at the bottom, was a little brook of water. The sight that met his eyes was terrible; a fallen tree across the ravine had blocked a wall of boulders, where the stream came. Now there were only the remainders of the log, and the boulders were scattered across the ravine. Gavin stood at the edge, horrified. “Where is he?” he said quietly, anxiously. “Erath?” he called.
The sounds of someone breathing hard through their teeth reached his ears, then groans of agony came to him. Then Gavin could make out, underneath a boulder, was a leg in the baggy, ragged slacks of a sailor.
“Over here, idiot!” a voice screamed.
Gavin scrambled down the side of the ravine and over the various sized rocks until he could see Erath. He was pinned beneath a boulder that was almost as large as he. His face was red, and lines of suffering were etched in his face.
Gavin didn’t bother to ask what had happened or if Erath was all right. He got down to where Erath could see him and asked, “What do I do?”

Between the waves of pain, Erath gritted his words out through his teeth. “Get a rope … put it in a bowline … on a bight knot … and get it wet.”
“Right,” and with that, Gavin took off for the campsite, leaving Erath alone again.
Once he felt that Gavin was far enough out of earshot, Erath let out a loud cry of pain. The tears he had tried to hold back came down in rivers. He let his head down on the cool rocks and cried. It was all he could do for the next ten minutes until Gavin came back very suddenly, catching Erath in another tremor of sobs. For a second, Erath wanted to stop blubbering in front of this quiet and powerful young man, but then it didn’t matter. His pain was real, and there was no possible way he could convince otherwise.
Gavin sat down beside him and held the rope out. “How do you do it?”
“You don’t know how?” he managed to spit out.
“I was never a sailor.”
“Give it to me,” he ordered.
Gavin handed him the rope, and Erath pushed himself up on his elbows. When his back arched up though, a renewed pain shuddered down his leg. More tears ran down his cheeks, but he had stopped his sobbing. Quickly swiping the mist from his eyes, he took the rope and tied the knot, clumsily at first, then tighter.
“Go soak that in water,” he said. “It will hold better.” Once this had been done, Erath instructed him how to tie it around the boulder so that it would be lifted without any further damage to his leg. This being completed, Gavin threw the remainder of the rope over a sturdy limb protruding from a thick tree.
“Now just pull on the rope. The boulder should lift,” Erath said. Every word said was more breath used up and more pain added to his limbs.
Gavin wrapped the end of the rope around his right arm and grabbed with both hands, yanking on the rope. It didn’t budge. He tried again, throwing his weight down and trying to bring the rope with him, but once again, it remained where it was. The sun was high up in the sky by then, and the sweat poured down Gavin’s face and neck, soaking his shirt and the tunic underneath. After a third hard tug, he let go of the rope and staggered back a bit.
“I’ll be right back,” he said breathlessly, and took off at a tired jog for the camp. As soon as he came in sight of it, he could see Brynn and Ellyn just getting back. Calling to them, he came up and told them what had happened in as short sentences as he could. “… And I need help pulling on the rope. It’s not moving at all, and Erath has been under that boulder for nearly two hours.”
Brynn’s anxious and tense face at once turned to where Gavin tiredly pointed. He ran at a sprint, Ellyn struggling to keep up behind. Gavin came last of all to the place where Erath lay. The three of them took hold of the rope, and on Brynn’s count, heaved in unison on the cord. The boulder lifted.
“Ellyn!” Brynn yelled, face red and biceps straining, “pull him out!”
Immediately letting go of the rope, Ellyn darted up to Erath’s side. She grabbed him from under the arms and dragged him away slowly, her feet shuffling, trying to keep balance. Erath let out a wild cry of pain.
“Is he out?” Brynn yelled desperately from behind the boulder.
“Yes!” she shouted back.
Brynn sighed, letting go of the rope. Gavin followed suite and the huge rock crashed down, splintering and damaging the thick cord. Small pieces and chips of rock flew for a second, then only dust.
Erath was screaming now. The sudden movement of his broken leg had hurt, but not only that, but it had been jerked up onto a higher rock when Ellyn pulled him away. This sent waves of anguish throughout his body. He lay on the ground, writhing in pain; the others didn’t know what to do. Black dots flashed across his vision, his mind becoming more and more blank as consciousness threatened to leave him.. Erath remained facedown for several minutes, shuddering with pain and uncontrollable sobs.
At last, he turned his head toward them, the tears gone. His face was swollen and red, his eyes almost bloodshot. “Help me up,” he said weakly.
Brynn was the first to come out their stupor. “Not yet,” he said. “We should make a litter to carry you back to camp. Ellyn, you go back to camp and make up the fire; find as many bandages as you can, and see if there are any herbs you can find as well. Gavin, you and I will make the litter.” Kneeling down, he looked Erath in the eyes. “Wait a few minutes until we can get you back without much more pain for you.”
Drawing a shaky breath, Erath nodded.

The pain was still ever-present for Erath, but it was much better lying on the three extra sleeping blankets everyone had given him. Ellyn was making another poultice for the few cuts he had received, and Gavin was fitting a splint for his entire leg and re-binding it. One of the bones in his shin was broken, and the muscles in his thighs were badly bruised. It had been two days since the accident, but his pain was still horrible. The only way he could keep himself from bursting out was his pride. When he was with Gavin, it was all right to cry in front of him, but he didn’t want the others to see his tears. He didn’t exactly know why that was so, but something about Gavin disarmed him so that it was all right.
Brynn came up to him, holding out to him a tin plate with a haunch of some meat he had caught and cooked while the twins took care of him. “It will be a few months before your leg heals you know,” he said in passing..
Erath took the food, his attitude at once sour at the news. Lying around for a few days was all right, but for months?

Some hours later, when the other two had gone to bed, Brynn went over to Gavin and spoke softly in his ear. “Looks like the days of peace will be over soon.”
Wearily looking up at Erath, then Ellyn, Gavin sighed through a slight smile. “I give it twenty-four hours.”

Erath - Chapter 10

“Hey you!” a voice shouted from behind.
Erath didn’t bother turning around. Shoving another body out of the way, he made his way to the door quickly.
“Stop! You still have to pay your tab!”
Finally stopping at the door, Erath turned around slowly. The spherical bald innkeeper bustled up to him, his face redder than usual with indignation. He held aloft a long wooden spoon, dripping with stew from the kitchen. At last he reached Erath.
“You did not pay for that meal, and I intend to get it from you,” he said, anger spicing his voice.
“I’ll be darned if I give it to you,” he retorted.
“Don’t use language at my inn, lad!” the owner nearly roared. “Just pay your bill and get out of here.”
“The only thing I’m giving you is this,” Erath swung a clenched fist into the innkeeper’s prodigious girth, following it up with a swing to the nose. The man keeled over, moaning as Erath made his escape out the tavern. He couldn’t have been a stone’s throw away before he heard a bellowing noise from behind him.
“After him, boys! That’s the one!”
Erath swiveled his head around. Three lanky men were running after him, two with clubs, and the third with a sharp, leather-making tool. All were fast runners. Erath doubled his speed, racing through the crowded town. Very soon though, his breath ran short and his legs cramped from the sprinting. He managed to get out of the town, but there was no place to hide. The road led on a broad plain devoid of trees, and miles away loomed the mountains.
Stopping, Erath doubled over, hands on his knees, panting. Weariness flooded his consciousness. Rising to his full height, he turned to where the town’s gates were. At once he could see the three men, still running hard, but behind him were at least a dozen other men. Apparently the innkeeper was a very popular man, and the incident he made at the tavern upset several men of the town.
He picked up his weary feet and began to run again. The scorching heat drew sweat from his body and sapped the little strength he had left. A sudden pain jabbed him in the shoulder and he went sprawling. At once he felt a heavy weight on his back, then a voice crying out.
“I have him! Come quickly before he gets away!”
Erath struggled, but his attacker didn’t budge. Just above his shoulder blade, he could feel something running and sticking to his tunic. Once again he felt the sickening nausea of capture and potential death approaching. Grunting heavily, he forced his shoulders up, not caring about the wound. The man above him started with a cry, but before Erath could use the man’s surprise against him, he felt another shock, but only in his other shoulder.
“Ah!” he cried aloud and fell back on his face.
“Is this the lad?”
Erath could hear another voice from behind him. The other men were near. He turned his face to one side and could see a pair of boots. He exhaled loudly, admitting defeat.
“Yes. What do you want to do with him?” came his attacker’s rasping voice.
“Let him stand on his own feet,” the other commanded.
“Yessir.”
The weight lifted from Erath’s back. Two strong hands gripped his shoulders and yanked him to his feet. He grimaced as the hands grasped his wounds, but refused to cry out. Immediately, he felt lightheaded and wavered as if about to fall, but the two men on both sides grabbed his arms and held him in place. He raised his head, looking at the great man before him straight in the face. Although he tried to appear unhurt and defiant, he could tell the other men could see he really was the opposite.
The huge man in front of him took another step closer, bending his head a little to be on a level with Erath’s. “You have stolen food from Glutundon, and he demands it back. Will you give it to him?”
“And if I don’t?” Erath asked haughtily.
“I and these men will take it from you by force.”
Erath stole a glance around him. Several men, all wiry with muscles rippling up and down their arms, surrounded him. Looking back at their leader, he spat at his feet. “I have nothing to say to you,” he snarled.
At once a man ran at him, his bloodied leather tool upraised. Erath darted away and swung his fist into the man’s stomach, making him double over. That seemed to be the signal for the others to attack. Blows were showered on Erath, but he refused to give in. He continued to fight, an unarmed lad against a dozen armed, seasoned men. Suddenly a knife was thrust into his thigh as if out of nowhere. Erath gave a loud cry of pain and fell, clutching the hilt. As soon as he was on the ground, dozens of feet started kicking his body. He looked up as a cudgel came hurtling toward him. Not knowing what else to do, Erath turned his head to the side and squeezed his eyes shut. The blow sent showers of sparking light into his head. Darkness flooded his senses and he stopped moving.

* * * * *

“Ellyn, stop being so paranoid.” Gavin rolled his eyes at his twin. “Just because there was a fight at the inn a couple hours ago doesn’t mean we’ll meet up with that man. And if we do,” he patted the young man on the shoulder beside him, “Brynn will take care of him.”
Ellyn chuckled. “I think you’re the one who’s being paranoid,” she retorted good-naturedly. “I only said that once as we were leaving, and you’re still going on about it.”
Brynn sighed. They had been going at it for twenty minutes now. He was walking in between the twins to keep Ellyn from roughing up her docile twin, but he could not stop her talking. Although he liked Gavin immensely, he was beginning to tire of their constant bickering.
“Those beds were really uncomfortable, don’t you think?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“Yes,” Gavin agreed heartily, glad for the change, and rubbing his shoulder. “I am sore all over.”
Ellyn shrugged. “I was really tired so I fell asleep pretty quickly. I didn’t notice anything about them.”
“I usually sleep well anywhere,” Brynn commented, “but that bed was harder than most rocks I have slept on during hunts.”
The three of them had finally left the little bustling town and had made their way a little down the road. Before them was a wide expanse of plain, brown and cracked by the recent drought. Ditches lined the roads, apparently to drain them of water when it rained. But now they were filled with dust and debris from travelers; no sign of water anywhere near them. Far away in the distance, the purple mountains shot up from the ground, their peaks so high they looked as if they would soon scrape the blue expanse above them. Thin wisps of clouds hung thousands of feet above them, giving what little shade they could to the three travelers and baggage pony. Nearly a hundred yards away though were a band of men.
Ellyn grabbed her twin’s sleeve. “I told you,” she whispered, “they are bandits around here!”
Gavin didn’t reply. As the men came closer, he noticed they were all armed … and that their weapons had blood on them. He forced himself to go on though.
Soon enough, the men passed them and went back into the village.
After they had been in the town a while, Gavin shielded his eyes with his hand. “Do you see any place farther out where we could rest for the night?”
“You’re already thinking about stopping?” Ellyn asked, leaning over to see her twin around Brynn.
Brynn’s keen eyes spotted a small copse several miles away. He pointed in its direction. “If we go far enough we can reach those trees over there and spend the night.”
Ellyn drifted and began walking nearer to the side of the road.
Tapping Brynn on the shoulder, Gavin gave him the reigns to the pony with one hand and held his finger to his lips with the other. Then, slipping around Brynn with a sly smile playing on his lips, Gavin edged over to Ellyn who was gazing at the vast flatness around her. He walked past her, tripping her with his foot as he went.
Startled, Ellyn gave a little cry and fell down, rolling off the road and down the small incline to the ditch below. She grunted as she landed on her stomach and pushed herself up with her hands. The ground gave a little, and as she gazed more closely at it, she started up to her feet, screaming. “There’s a body here! A dead body!”
Gavin’s laughter ceased; his head snapped to where she was. Quickly skidding down the hill, he pushed Ellyn aside with sudden energy. “Get back,” he ordered, then knelt where the corpse was. He grasped the dusty wrist and felt for a pulse. His face relaxed and he set the arm down.
He looked up at Brynn and Ellyn who were both with him now. “He is alive, but hurt badly.” As Gavin ran his finger down the side of the unconscious man’s face, the dirt came off, revealing a black and blue spot on the man’s temple. Blood covered him in various places, mainly around the temples, nose and back.
“I’m sorry I pushed you over,” Gavin stood and turned to Ellyn. “I did not want you near him if he really was dead – or even decaying.”
Ellyn pushed the stray red locks out of her pale face. “It only scared me a little,” she said.
“What are we going to do about him?” Brynn asked, pointing to the man lying in the dust.
“Take care of him until he is better and then allow him to go his way,” Gavin said simply.
Ellyn took her gaze off the unconscious man and looked at her brother. “Then I suppose we must get him out of this hole and take him to the place Brynn said we would stay the night.”
Both boys looked at her in surprise.
Ellyn glanced from one face to the other. “What?”
“That’s the first time you haven’t argued with something he’s said this whole time,” Brynn said, pointing at Gavin.
Ellyn gave him a quirky smile. “I can do things willingly, you know. Come on, let’s just get him out of the dirt.” She went to stand at the crumpled up body’s head. “I will hold up his neck while you two carry him.”
Within a few minutes, they had carried him to the road and, after moving some of the luggage off the pony, had the stranger sitting on its back, leaning on its soft mane. Gavin led the horse while Ellyn made sure the man didn’t slip off; Brynn carried the bags.

* * * * *

“I’m so tired,” Brynn remarked as he set down the heavy gear and sat.
Gavin took a seat beside the newly built fire and drew his knees up, sighing deeply.
Ellyn was the only busy one among them. The boys had laid the man out on the opposite side of the fire, and Ellyn was gently bathing the wounds around the invalid’s face. He was a pleasant looking fellow, she thought. Black hair that came to his shoulders, a muscular body, and a tawny face all appealed to her. Perhaps she would get to know him better once he woke up.
The wounds on him were immense. Many of them were bruises, but some were cuts, dried and cracked blood covering them. She dabbed her dirtied cloth with water from her canteen and continued wiping the blood and dirt away. As she washed his face, his eyeballs stirred under their lids. They fluttered and finally opened, staring up at Ellyn with a mixture of fear, wonder, and anger.
“Don’t worry,” Ellyn said coaxingly, “we are friends. We found you at the bottom of a ditch, so we’re making sure you get better.”
“I don’t want your help,” he said, pushing her hand away and getting to his feet. He staggered with weakness and sank back to the ground.
“Here, lie down,” Ellyn said, pushing his shoulder a bit. “You’ll make yourself worse if you try to get up.”
“Get away from me,” he said scornfully, smacking her hand this time.
Ellyn’s face turned crimson with indignation. With a flick of her wrist, she rapped sharply on Erath’s bruised knuckles. “I was just trying to help you,” she snapped. Tossing her head, she stood and looked down on him condescendingly. “See if I ever help you again,” she retorted, and went over to Brynn and Gavin, sitting down between them with a humph.
Brynn got to his feet and stood over the ailing man. “What’s your name?”
“Why do you want to know?” he retorted. “Who are you anyway? Where am I?”
“What’s your name?” Brynn persisted. When the man refused to say anything, he gave in with a short sigh. “I am Brynn, that lad over there is Gavin, and that’s his twin, Ellyn. You have no right to brush her aside when she was only trying to help you. I ask again, what’s your name?”
After a silence, the young man gazed straight ahead of him. “Erath,” he mumbled.
Brynn nodded and looked at the twins who had fixed their eyes on him. Turning back to Erath, he spoke again. “Where do you come from? And what happened to you?”
Erath sat sullenly, refusing to speak.
Brynn was getting tired of dealing with this man already. “Look. We rescued you from the ditch you were tossed into. Ellyn dealt with your wounds, Gavin and I carried you all the way over here, and believe me, you are no featherweight. I believe we have a right to know who you are and where you’re going.” His words were simple, spoken calmly. He took a step toward Erath. “So, who are you?” Erath didn’t answer but stared coldly at Brynn. He took another step. Erath sprang to his feet, fists clenched.
Gavin stood quickly. “What happened to you, Erath?” His tone was so commanding it forced Erath to lower his hands. Ellyn gazed up at her brother. Gavin had never spoken in that tone before.
Erath swung his haughty gaze at him. “I did not pay for my food at an inn, so they came after me.”
“Where are you from?” Gavin asked in the same commanding tone.
Erath’s eyes lowered a little, the pride leaving them. “A ship called the Freedom. I deserted.” Then his eyes darted up and his fingers clenched into fists again. “But if you try to make me go back or report me to the authorities, I’ll kill you.”
Ellyn looked at her brother, frightened.
Brynn had had enough. He pulled his knife from his belt and hit Erath on the head with his pommel in one quick motion. Erath groaned and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Erath: chapter 7

Ratline sat down next to Erath. “Want to make a bet?” he asked.

Erath’s curiosity was aroused. “What about?” he said, leaning a little closer and lowering his voice.

“Whether you can escape or not,” came the reply.

His heart skipped a beat. “Off the Freedom?”

“Aye, that’s the idea.”

“What’s the price?”

Ratline scooted closer to his mate. He tilted his head to the side to talk with Erath instead of looking at him straight in the eye. “Life and money.”

Erath forced himself to be still and not jerk. “How do you mean?” he asked guardedly.

“I mean that if you win and get away, you have your life – freedom. If you get caught, you give me all the money we make from the Navy for two seasons.”

Stroking the stubby whiskers on his chin, Erath thought over it. The stakes seemed fair enough. He knew well that if he were caught, he would not only lose his pay for half a year, but he would probably lose his life as well. Deserters were usually hanged soon after being brought back. It took only a moment for Erath to think of all this before he gave his answer.

“Alright,” he said, “I’ll do it.” He extended his hand to meet Ratline’s and they shook on it.

Later that night, while they were on their watch, Ratline told Erath the plan he had formulated. They were to land in Tróss within a fortnight. While it was dark, and while he was on his watch, Erath would sneak off the ship; Ratline would make sure he was missed for at least a few hours.

It seemed Ratline was trying to help Erath get away instead of looking for a way to get money. Erath was not sure whether to be glad of the extra help, or more wary of it. With Ratline, no one could be sure. But he was aching to be rid of the Freedom. He longed to travel the streets again and not be constantly yelled at. To make and carry out his own orders. What he really wanted was true freedom, and it was not to be found on this ship.

Erath was at the crow’s nest – where he usually was on the long watch. All he could see was blackness and a faint line indicating where the rope ladder was. The mast swayed with the ship, but Erath kept perfect balance. A person who was new to a ship would have been terrified with such movement, but Erath had quickly adjusted.

He leaned his elbows on the rail, looking out into blackness, his mind far away. The wind tossed his long hair about him, but he didn’t notice. What will I do when I am away from here? he thought. The possibilities opened up before him. He could become a tradesman and work his way up to positions of power. Erath quickly rejected that idea. He was selfish, and did not want the responsibility of taking care of other people and their petty matters. What he wanted was to do anything that he enjoyed.

At last, the night came when Erath was to escape. There was a full moon, which unhappily for Erath, provided much illumination. His chest fluttered with excitement at the thought, he would soon be rid of the Freedom forever.

Ratline came up to him, his sauntering gait an instant annoyance. “You ready?” he whispered. Erath leaned over the edge of the railing, peering out over the streets that lay not more than a bow shot away. They were docked at a harbor, and were able to bring the Freedom up to the very piers for unloading. And yet he was nervous.

It was so simple, he told himself. All he had to do was climb out the port side, land softly, and get away down the pier and through the city. He did not answer Ratline at once.

“Come now, lad,” Ratline taunted, “yur’ not turnin’ coward on me, are ya’?”

Erath’s gaze snapped to meet Ratline’s, eyes flaming. “No,” he said fiercely. “I’m not the sort ‘a’ person to turn yeller’.” This was not to reassure only Ratline, but also himself.

“You got a quarter hour, then yur’ on yur’ own.” He extended his lean, calloused hand. “See ya’ in a few hours, boy.”

The young sailor straightened and turned to face him. “Goodbye,” he said, taking the hand and shaking it. “I will get away though.”

Ratline made no response. He lifted his eyebrows in doubt and ambled away.

Erath turned his gaze back to the city. He had no idea where he would go when he left it; all he knew was that it was his one opportunity to have his liberty back. Looking up, he saw a man in the crow’s nest. There was really no need for him to be up there; they were at land, but Erath saw instantly the danger it would cause him to be seen by that man in the full moonlight.

After taking a quick glance at the sky, he decided to wait until the cloud would pass over the moon. Then – and only then – would he make his attempt at freedom.

Erath casually walked to midship and took a good look at where the dock was. It could not have been more than six feet away. He was so close; it would be disastrous to fail in even one point of his plan. He had to make sure where he was going to land after it got darker.

Too soon did the cloud cover the moon. Erath’s spirits rose with the beating of his heart. This was it. He had to get off now. With one final deep breath, he launched himself over the side and landed on the dock. Immediately, he flattened himself to make sure no one had noticed. It did not appear so. Slowly, very slowly, Erath raised himself, and stole as quietly as he could down the pier.

Only when he had made it past the first few houses did he pause to breathe. He had escaped. The thought crowded his mind, filled him with ecstasy.

Confident in his silence, Erath broke into a run, going through the town in no more than five minutes. He stopped to catch his breath after he was clear of the little seaside city, and then took off running again. He knew not where he would go, or where to find food, but one thing reverberated in his mind: he was free.

Erath: Chapter 4

The man they called Nicksin was the only person aboard the entire ship that bothered to take any hint of an interest in Erath. After the newcomer had been released from a few days of solitary confinement with only water to live on, Nicksin had shoved a hunk of something that felt hard and stale into Erath’s hand. However, he wolfed the food and washed it down with water to take the taste away. It did not, but he had been famished. And weak. After he had been unchained from the wall, Erath barely had enough strength to stand, let alone walk and climb out of the hold. It took him a quarter of an hour for to climb out of the hold without his head spinning, and longer to get to the galley where he could find food. All the while, his anger boiled as he noticed that some of the crew were watching his slow progress, yet not helping him when he would collapse. .
He sat on one of the benches, wishing he could have more food. Nicksin had already eaten his ration and was looking intently at Erath’s face. Although he had only been without food a few days, it had definitely left its mark on him. Already, his face was yellow and his cheeks were sunken in. His body that was once filled out finely was much thinner than before. His right wrist was caked with dried blood – evidence he had tried many a time to escape.
“How ya’ doing, lad?” Nicksin asked, nudging him good-naturedly.
Erath jerked away with a sour complexion. “Don’t touch me,” he growled.
“The chain didn’t do anythin’ for you, then? Didn’t calm that fire down, that’s for sure,” he added under his breath.
“I hate ‘im for doing it,” Erath said, unconsciously beginning to use the slang.
“Who?”
“The captain. He chains me up to a wall for a few days, meanin’ to starve me to death, then he lets me free when I’m at its door. ‘E just wants to watch me suffer, that’s what. Well I won’t let ‘im,” he said, slapping his knee. “I’ll show him I don’t break so easily.”
“Looks like you almost did,” Nicksin joked.
Erath leapt to his feet enraged and grabbed at Nicksin’s collar, dragging him from his seat.
“That what you think, eh?” he snarled, not six inches from his face.
“Well let me tell you something. I don’t want to hear any of what you have to say. What do you know? You’re a rag-tag sailor who’s known nothin’ but the sea.”
“What do you have to back yourself up with? A fishin’ line?” Nicksin retorted.
The few men that had gathered around the two chuckled softly.
Erath turned a nasty, angry face towards them that silenced them. He turned back to Nicksin and with a shove that sent him back to his bench, let go of his collar and walked away to the forecastle. His head was swimming from the sudden movement he had made and he did not want to pass out before the crew.
He was not lonely, for he was accustomed to being friendless. With the sour attitude he constantly wore, no lad his age dared cross his path. But Erath wasn’t always like that. He used to be happy and joyful as a child, until his mother died and his father had turned bad. Dareth used to be a rather fat and jolly man until his wife’s death. Then he took to his work. At times he would be gone fishing for days without returning. Because Erath had to work too to make money, he had to go along whenever his father went out fishing. The horrible attitude Dareth had rubbed off a little on his son, then when Erath did a poor job with the lines he would beat him at home. Erath did all he could to avoid his father, and because he did not have any friend to confide his troubles to, he bottled the anger inside until it eventually started boiling into a continuous anger that never went away.
Ratline sauntered in. He was a seaman, and so agile among the ropes that he had earned the nickname. Erath had already taken a keen disliking to him. He closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. Hopefully, Ratline wouldn’t notice him and would walk away. His hopes were dashed as he heard the whining voice address him.
“Cap’n says yur’ to be part ‘a’ my watch. Said ya’ prolly’ wouldn’t know what times those were, so they’re from e’lle’n to three at night. I’ll be comin’ to wake ya’ up on the first two nights, but after that, yur’ on yur’ own.”
Erath nodded.
“But ya’ got’ta learn ‘ow to climb the ropes so you can do it at night. C’mon.” He tugged on the edge of Erath’s hammock.
Erath rolled out of it and followed Ratline to the deck. His back had healed, and he felt he could climb the ropes fine. Surprisingly, his sour attitude turned a bit brighter as he walked about the deck, the warm breeze off the sea pouring over him like water. He took a deep breath and leaned over the rail to look out across the sea. All there was for his eyes to meet were blue; blue sky, blue water.
“C’mon, lad,” Ratline said again. “Into the riggings.”
Erath’s good mood was crushed with Ratline’s droning voice. He dragged his gaze from off the water and followed the seaman up the rope ladder of the mainmast.

Within two weeks aboard the Freedom, Erath had become almost as agile in the riggings as Ratline. He spent all the time he could climbing them, doing anything to get away from the crew. They were a nasty group, hardly worth the name of Navy seamen. The Freedom hardly even looked like a Navy vessel. Maybe at one time it did, but those glory days were long gone.
Erath discovered how he had been taken aboard the Freedom too. Nicksin and another sailor were talking about him, saying he had been pressed into the Navy. He found that out near midnight his second week at sea while he was on watch. They had been talking together in low voices at the helm.
“The lad was pressed eh?” the seaman asked.
“Aye, while he was walking down an alley.”
“What sort of lad was he?”
“Ah, from what I could tell, he was a fisherman’s son, on the poorer side of things. No education.”
The other man started scratching his head. “Now, how long was it you followed ‘im?”
“Hard to say,” Nicksin replied. “Long enough to get a good idea where he goes after fishin’ and where the most vulnerable places in the town were to get ‘im.”
Erath’s eyebrows shot up as he heard that. He had been followed? How ignorant was he?
He did not care to hear anymore of that conversation, so he slipped as quietly away from the men as he could, hoping they would not see him.

If Erath was not in the riggings, eating his rations, or sleeping, he was learning how to make the different knots. He had taken a liking to them and their complicated ways. Often when he was angry, he would take a line and run up into the riggings to sit on the foreroyal yard and tie knots, then untangle them, hence his skill in knot tying.
Although he was learning the ways of the ship, he was not learning how to gain favor with the captain. Erath had learned well not to anger him, for the fury of the captain was insatiable. It did not matter to Erath what the captain’s name was; he never bothered to learn it, and always referred to him as “Cap’n.”
As the weeks dragged by, Erath quickly picked up the sailor’s ways of speaking, acting, and even their sauntering gait. No one could have told he was a newcomer aboard the Freedom, for even his clothes were as tattered as his mate’s. He fitted in with them all right, but he wanted desperately to get off. However, it looked impossible for him to escape, or even resign without having the Navy call it desertion. If he did desert though, he could live a free life – so long as he did not come under the Court Marshall’s radar. And if that happened, he could be hanged. Without any kind of fair trial.
Risky as it seemed, the idea appealed to Erath. Then one day, his chance came.

Erath: Chapter 1

It was raining. Hard. Erath’s leather shoes were soaked from the muddy streets. He stomped through the old, rundown town with his baggy pants rolled down over his shoes as a vain attempt to protect the various and sensitive cuts along his legs. Once again, he had proved how inefficient he was with the fishing hooks today. His father had been boiling mad when Erath’s mistakes had made them lose a small swordfish. It could have made them quite a few silver coins. Erath knew his father would beat him again just as soon as he got home. But that would be in a long while, for he was trying to stay away from his house until his father would calm down.
Although Erath was only nineteen summers, his buzzed black hair, dark eyebrows, and striking blue eyes made him look much older. However, unlike others, he was never mistaken for his father, who was much taller – a giant of the town – and had mottled brown hair. Mottled, meaning there were patches of mud that had crusted into his locks because he never washed.
Erath decided to walk down an overshadowed alleyway. It was even darker in there than it was outside of it because of the overhanging rubbish. Footsteps echoed behind him, but he hardly noticed. Dozens of townspeople walked through alleys every day; they were much shorter than taking the rutted and muddy roads.
From that day forward though, he would learn to make sure he knew who’s footsteps followed him. A strong arm suddenly curled itself around his neck, and the next moment Erath felt a sharp blow on the back of his head. The arm released its hold on him and he crumpled to the ground, vision fading into blackness.

ж ж ж ж ж

Cold water splashed onto Erath’s face. He sputtered and his eyes flashed open.
“Wake up, you!” someone yelled. “You expectin’ ‘t’ sleep all day?”
Another splash of water was flung in his face. He sputtered again and got up on his elbows, staring bleary-eyed into the pockmarked face of a man. The water felt terrible. A horrible headache was all he could think about at first. Then he tried to ask a question, but his tongue seemed thick, tied down.
At last, he managed to speak. “Where am I?”
“On the Freedom ‘a’ course! Now git’ movin’ or cap’n will ‘ave your head!”
Erath was shoved out of what he took to be a hammock. The floor swayed beneath him, but he was used to being on the ocean. On the ocean! Where am I?
Darting up the ladder, he shot out into the brightness of day and spun round and round, his wide eyes taking in the scene. Three huge masts. White sails, deck, raggedy men. Beyond those and surrounding him on all sides was blue. He was on a ship out on the ocean. It was then that Erath realized he had been shanghaied.
The first sensation he felt was fear. Why had he of all people been shanghaied? He knew it happened every day in his town; men would disappear for years at a time and return as dying sea captains.
He held a hand up to his head, which was pounding now. Where was it from? Oh yes. He remembered. He had been given a smart hit to his head, and was now suffering its consequences.
Just then a monster of a man appeared on deck. His burly tall frame would have been enough to frighten one stiff. Not including his face. A smashed in nose, crooked black teeth, and sunken eyes filled his face. What unnerved Erath the most was that one of the man’s ears had somehow been blown away from its usual place. It looked as if it were sliding down his face. He was the captain. Erath could only tell that by the ill-fitting blue jackets captains wore.
He caught sight of Erath. “All hands on deck!” he bellowed. It was repeated by a middle aged, once-muscular first mate. Within twenty seconds, dozens of men were on the decks surrounding the captain.
Erath backed up a little.
“Boys, we got ourselves a newcomer,” the captain said, rubbing his hands.
A chuckle rustled from the men. Erath’s stomach knotted.
“Bring ‘im forward, men,” the captain said.
Two men from behind suddenly clasped his arms. Erath struggled, but eventually stood before the monstrous captain.
“Since ‘ee’s new, we ought’ta give ‘im a proper welcome. Give ‘im five lashes!”
Several whoops and hoots rose from the crew and two of them tied his arms around the mainmast. A few seconds later, he heard and felt a crack that sent waves of pain shooting over his back. He let out a cry that was almost a yell and tried not to show the tears that sprung up in his eyes. Even though he had been humiliated, his pride would not let him cry and scream like a weak girl.
Another shock of pain rushed into him. Another cry was emitted. Now it was impossible for Erath to contain his tears. There was a pause in the beating. Erath wished they would just keep going and get it over with, not drag it out so his pain could be more pronounced. He was struck again with the whip; three lashes, two to go. Erath bit his lip hard to keep it from trembling. A trickle of blood ran between his teeth. His pride broke as the fourth lash wrapped around his back and hit his chest. He cried out in pain, not caring anymore if the crew laughed. Then the fifth lash curled around him, drawing another cry. Erath stood, with arms hugging the mast, and flushed face, waiting for the men to untie him. But all he heard was a man speaking to the captain.
“Cap’n, he slept in this mornin’. I had to throw water on him ta’ wake ‘im up.”
“Cap’n,” said another man, “that be five more lashes.”
“Give it to ‘im,” the captain ordered.
Erath’s heart sunk, then blazed with hatred at the man who had ordered five more lashes for him.

After what seemed an eternity, Erath was finally untied from the mast. He slunk to the bottom, his shirt torn and bloody. With head leaned against the mast, he let out great sobs of pain while the crew scattered about the ship. Then a gruff hand gripped his shoulders and yanked him up.
He broke away from the man, his shoulders feeling like they were blazing with fire.
“Git’ to work, man,” the first mate said. “Up in the riggings with you! Mainmast! Cap’n wants ya’ to ‘elp Nicksin with the sails. And,” he added, “how good are you with seein’ things?”
Erath did not want to talk to this man, this disgusting, dirty sea rat. But at last he answered the question. “Pretty good.”
“Then Cap’n will want ya’ to go to the crow’s nest and relieve the man up there.”
Erath had a general idea what the crow’s nest was, but he was not about to ask for more clarification. He turned and walked toward the rope ladder going up and started the ascent. His back and shoulders protested loudly against any movement or straining of them, and Erath had to stop several times as he climbed to the highest mast where a thin wiry man was.
“There you are!” he shouted. “Had a good wakin’ up with that eh?”
Erath’s face seemed to be plastered into a scowl by now. “What am I supposed to do?” he said gruffly, still clutching the rope ladder.
“See that down there?” he pointed.
Erath leaned as much as he dared out to look where Nicksin pointed. There was a line in the sail, but it was not a seam line.
“That there is a rip, and you ‘n’ I got’ a’ fix it. I ain’t goin’ down there though. Pricked myself so hard last time wit’ a needle that I hit me bone. You’re goin’ down to sew it up right while I hold the rope steady. Now ‘ere,’” he said, holding up a noose, “you put this around yer’ waist, and I lower you down on it. C’mon, put it on.”
Erath edged out across the beam where Nicksin was sitting. They must have been at least ninety feet above the deck, but Nicksin sat there as nimble and at ease as a cat. He scooted across the timber and tried hard to ignore his pain. When he was sitting next to the thin sailor, he picked up the noose with one hand and slid it over his head. Rays of pain coiled around his torso as the rough rope rubbed against his open wounds. Then after receiving the thick needle and thread, he gingerly lowered himself down the sail. Nicksin anchored himself to the beam and held onto the rope.
Once he reached the hole, Erath realized this would be much harder than it seemed. He looked back up at Nicksin. “I don’t know nothin’ about sewing up a hole this big!” he shouted up. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to just cut the whole thing loose and do it on the deck?”
“No!” Nicksin shouted back. “How could we put it back up with cut ropes?”
That was definitely not a satisfactory answer to Erath, and he told the man so. Just then he dropped several feet. This startled him badly, but he could not scream. Then the rope went taut again.
“You obey what I tell ya’!” Nicksin yelled. “Or I may just drop rope entirely!”
Erath was pulled back up to where the slit in the sail was. By now his back was a little better, but hardly. Normally when he had been beaten by his father, he was allowed a day of rest to recover from it. But here, where work was constant, he did not know how he could manage it.
The hole looked harder to mend than it was, and Erath soon had the job completed. Then he was slowly lifted back to the royal yard and was heaved onto it. The only way Nicksin could help the weakened young man was to grab his shirt from behind and pull him up, which only aggravated the agony in Erath’s back. He gritted his teeth, trying not to show any of the pain he was writhing in.
“NICKSIN!!” a voice bellowed from below.
“Aye, sir?” he shouted down.
“Git’ down here, and bring the boy with ya’!”
“Aye, Cap’n! C’mon lad, let’s go.”
Nicksin gave Erath a shove. Erath tried to ignore the burning pain and scooted his way to the mainmast. Once he had gotten to the decks, he looked up after Nicksin who was rambling down the rigging as nimbly as a rat down a sewer. He made it to the deck as well, but in half the time Erath had taken.
“What d’you think you were doin’ up there, Nicksin?” the captain spoke loudly. “You could’a taken half that time if you’d a just cut the sail loose and fixed it down ‘ere.”
“I know that, sir,” Nicksin answered, jamming his hands into his holey pockets. “But it was much more fun when I had the lad here do it. You should’a seen ‘im, all red in the face with that rope clutching at his back and makin’ ‘im bleed all the more!” He laughed a second, then remembered his place and ceased, looking down at his dark feet.
But instead of correcting, the captain threw his head back and laughed. “I did see it!” he said. “It was a sight I enjoyed so much I ‘ad to hear it from you!”
There was absolutely no sense in what the captain had just said, but the men around the captain started laughing too – all fake laughs Erath could tell.
It was not so much that he noticed that forced laughter, but he realized he had been made game of. It infuriated him.
“What right have you to kidnap me from my village, whip me for no good reasons, and make fun of me?” he shouted. “I am not to be laughed at, do you hear me?”
The captain sobered a little. After a brief pause, he said, “Boy, I don’t know whether to laugh or have you put in the brig for such language to a captain.” Then after another silence, he decided.

It was nightfall. Erath had been sent to the hold – under guard – and had been given a short chain to attach his right hand to the wall. At first he struggled against it, trying to pull the chain from the wall, then thinking it might burst a hole and drown him, he thought better of it.
This chain had an instant fear in him. He had never been clapped in one before; it was something unpleasantly new. It caged him in, restrained, forbade: all things Erath could not stand. He loved the freedom to do what he wanted and never be told no. But liberty was exactly the opposite of what he would get on the Freedom.
The only bright side was that his left hand had been left free of chains. But he hardly noticed it. All he was concerned about was getting himself away from first the chain, then the ship. But how was he to escape the captain and crew and get to land, wherever that was? He considered stealing maybe a dory, but then his problem was how to get to land? He had no idea where he was going.
Just then his thoughts were broken by an impossibly loud grumbling from his stomach. He had not eaten since two mornings ago.
Erath sat down to stew in his anger. Facing the wall so he could cross his arms, his face contorted into a scowl, he angrily listed all the rotten things about the ship. Its crew was disgusting, the captain was a monster in disguise, the sails were so yellowed and old they hardly looked like Navy sails, and the list went on.
And here, though he did not know it at the time, Erath would stay for several weeks.