Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Jonathan Michael (red novels .txt) 📖

The three offenders at the table cannot contain their laughter. Lump, on the other hand, looks worried about the idea of a man’s rear being used for anything other than an exit, and Gentry knows immediately who the culprits are.

“You three have scrubbing duty tomorrow.” His tone is stern. “It’s a one-man job, so it shouldn’t be difficult. The hard part will be figuring out how to share one stick, but you three seem to be familiar with that. And if I see any cock-tickling or ass-grabbing, I’ll throw you overboard myself.”

“What? Wait a second. You can’t…” starts Cudgel.

“Yes. I can. And I did. Elder, you’ve been promoted for a day. Our voyage north is primarily transporting, rather than fishing, so I’ve been told, but I think we can afford to teach the greenhorn a thing or two about what it really takes to be an angler.”

Gentry pulls the conversation back to the initiation they gave me. “So, what in Susy’s name did you do to him anyhow? Beat him with a bag of feathers? There’s no evidence of any flogging aside from the sticky chicken.”

“Well, the piranhas—” Shiner gets cut off.

“What? You used piranhas?” Gentry laughs. “Did you rip out their pointies first?”

“It’s bloody grand. The piranhas peel. The salts heal, and the honey pastes the feathery shame all over your face. Except this one healed before the salts could. That’s a bloody shame. It’s the best part, but this one went and relieved himself of the sting before it ever stung.”

“You’re an idiot!” Gentry cries. “Healing is timebound. No chance he could’ve healed that fast.”

“Whatever. It was a hoot.”

“It was not a hoot.  Not at all,” I add scornfully and immediately feel embarrassed with all eyes on me. None of them mock me as I would’ve expected, so I continue. “It did sting. I may be able to heal, but I can’t free myself of the pain inflicted. Not immediately.”

A moment of silence. Some of the crew give me a downcast expression. Others just stare and fidget with their hands. But all stare at me with uncertainty, maybe wonder. I can’t tell. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve never spoken to anyone about it. It could be taboo for all I know.

“You can heal instantaneously?” Stripe doubts.

“No. Er…” Am I being judged? Did I do something wrong? “The pain is nearly instantaneous. It hurt, and it wasn’t a hoot. The healing doesn’t happen until after the pain.” The men at the table continue to stare. Maybe I’m a freak. I should have kept my mouth shut.

“So, Elder, what’s your backstory? How’d you come to be with us?” the second mate, Stripe, asks bluntly. “Cap’n didn’t mention nothing to us.”

Caught off guard by the sudden probe into my past, I freeze while I struggle to think up a response.

“No worries, Elder. You’re here now. We don’t need to know your story.” Stripe fills the silence that I could not. The rest of the men look upon me as a villain, or a saint. Again, I can’t tell, but they’re staring.

“Thank you,” I reply with my head sunk between my shoulders. “It’s not a pleasant one. Not what I choose to relive if I mustn’t.” There are a few undertones around the table and more stares. I leave my answer to that so as not to offer any more opportunity for questions about my past, or my talents.

The remainder of the evening continues with laughter, merrymaking, and rations of mead for the younger crew while the veterans drink more than their fair share. Stave is the only one controlling his intake as the other authority figures join in. I don’t believe there is anything in particular we’re celebrating, but several sporadic toasts and songs erupt throughout the evening that make for a joyous occasion. One that is much overdue.

As the evening winds down, the captain shows face and points out that I have more duties to fulfill before the night’s end. And he requests for me to join him in his quarters after I clean the sticky filth from my scalp.

The sun is low, and the warm evening winds are moving in, preventing the temperatures from declining. The breeze is welcomed, however. Warm or cool, it feels good on the skin. I rap on the captain’s door, breaking the silence of calm evening.

“Come in,” his gruff voice calls out. He doesn’t bother rising from his chair behind his desk.

“Captain Crowbill, sir.” I nod my head in greeting.

“Sit. Or don’t. I suppose I don’t care if we are to be honest with one another.”

“Sir?” I remain standing, but move into the quarters closer to where he’s sitting. An uncommon, sizable sway of the vessel jolts me forward, and I stumble into the captain’s desk.  I knock over the portraits and scatter all the parchment I picked up earlier. I scramble to tidy it all up before he reprimands me.

The captain shakes his head and gestures for me to stop. “It’s better this way.” His gaze narrows. “You don’t belong on a vessel, do you? You’ve got a long way before you can claim your sea legs.” His gaze shifts back to his desk. He pauses for a long moment as he stares longingly at one of the portraits. “Elder, you appreciate honesty, do you not?”

“Of course, sir. I’m sorry. May I ask what this is about?”

He doesn’t answer. “I trust you’ve seen my family.” He grabs one of the frames on his desk and displays it to me. “I enjoy being on this vessel. Spending time at port with the crew, reeling in a large catch, living the life of an angler—it has meaning. It is a good life. But…” he pauses and looks up at me. “Family is important too. Although my beloved wife is