Toby Neighbors - Fierce Loyalty

“Hold on, mate,” the sailor shouted. “Hey, you louts, get over here and help me. This man’s trapped in the bilge shaft.”

A moment later the heavy trap door was thrown open and rough hands pulled Mansel up out of the shaft. He lay curled on the floor, panting for several minutes. The sailors around him were all murmuring, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Finally, the sailor who’d seen him bent over and spoke quietly. “Hey mate, it wasn’t Slice who threw you down there was it?”

Mansel nodded.

Without another word the other sailors all drifted away. They were afraid of Slice and his gang, Mansel knew that, but he was aghast that they would simply leave him on the floor. Mansel struggled back up onto his knees and began crawling toward the stairs that led up to the main deck. His tool satchel had been pulled off of him, and was now near the foot of the stairs, along with the extra wood he needed to repair Zollin’s furniture.

It took all his strength to crawl up the stairs, but he forced himself to keep moving. Just at the top, two sailors met him.

“Oh, good god man, what happened to you?” one of the said.

Mansel didn’t answer, he was too busy clenching his teeth to keep from crying out in pain.

“He smells worse than the privy,” the sailor said to his companion. “Are you the carpenter’s helper?”

Mansel nodded this time.

“Run and tell the lieutenant,” the sailor said. “Looks like he fell down into the bilge. I’ll get started cleaning him up.”

One sailor hurried off and the other called for a bucket of water. Seawater was used to clean the decks regularly, and soon Mansel was doused with a bucket of cold saltwater. He gasped.

“Well, he ain’t dead, is he?” said another sailor.

“What is going on here?” Zollin shouted.

Zollin had gotten worried when Mansel hadn’t returned. He had gone to the lieutenant to find out what had happened, and the first officer had sent the two sailors in search of Mansel. Now, Zollin and the lieutenant were walking quickly across the main deck to find the young warrior.

“Please, sir,” the lieutenant said coldly. “Let me deal with my men.”

“But that man’s obviously hurt,” Zollin said. “I’m a healer,” he added quickly. “Let me help him.”

“We’ve a ship’s surgeon on board. I assure you he’ll get the best care possible.”

Zollin sent a suggestion magically toward the young officer, who looked puzzled for a moment and then said, “Actually, the sick bay is rather full. I wonder if you might help him?”

Zollin nodded, ignoring the strange looks the other sailors gave their lieutenant. “Certainly. Let’s get those clothes off of him. We’ll get him cleaned up and then he can rest in my cabin.”

“You heard him,” said the lieutenant in a sharp tone to his men. “Cut those clothes off and toss them overboard. They smell like the bilge.

Mansel moaned as the sailors went to work on him. Rags were brought and seawater was poured over his head. They used knives to cut away his clothes. His boots were pulled off and cleaned. Then a stretcher was brought out, just a strip of canvas sewn around two long poles. They gently laid Mansel on the stretcher and carried him down to Zollin’s cabin.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the lieutenant asked Zollin. “It’s highly irregular. I’m not sure the captain would allow it.”

“Just let me see what I can do for him. If the captain objects, send him to me. Now, all of you, get out. Eustice and I will see to his needs.”

“Very well,” said the lieutenant. “I’ll be on the command deck if you need anything.”

“Thank you, but we’ll be find,” Zollin said, shooing everyone out of his cabin.

Once he had the door shut, he turned to Eustice.

“Make sure no one comes in until I’m finished.”

The mute servant nodded and Zollin sat down beside his friend. He let his magic flow into Mansel’s body. Mansel had lost consciousness on deck, so Zollin first let his magic sweep through the entire body. Three ribs were broken and two others were cracked. There was some minor internal bleeding, and Mansel’s collarbone was broken. Zollin’s first job was to mend the bones. It was a simple process now that he was accustomed to doing it. It took longer to relax the muscles that were in spasm and to remove the buildup of fluids that was causing the bruising. Zollin decided he couldn’t heal the bruising completely-if he did, the crew would discover his powers. Zollin wasn’t ashamed of being a wizard, or afraid of the crew for that matter, but he didn’t want to send the sailors into a panic of fear. Rumors of the sea monster attack had included his magic, and there was no need to deal with superstitious sailors if he could avoid it.

The internal bleeding keep Zollin busy the longest. He had to delve deep into the tissues around Mansel’s ribs to find exactly what was wrong. Once he isolated the bleeding, however, he was able to repair the damage. He could feel the hot wind of his magic coursing through the containment field he had surrounded it with. Soon, everything about Mansel seemed to be okay.

“I’m done,” he said, sagging back against the opposite bunk.

Eustice had a small goblet of wine ready and handed it to Zollin.

“Thanks,” he said, then took a long drink. “He’s going to be fine. I couldn’t heal him completely without giving away-”

Wham! Wham! Wham!

“This is the captain,” came an angry voice. “I’m coming in.”

Eustice started to hold the door closed but Zollin waved him off. The captain stepped boldly into the small cabin. The lieutenant waited outside with two other sailors.

“Has he said anything?” the captain asked.

“No, he’s resting,” Zollin said. “I’ve inspected his injuries. There’s nothing serious about his wounds. Just some minor cuts and bruises, but he was covered in filth. I’d like to watch him and make sure he doesn’t get sick.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the captain said. “I won’t let the crew be a burden to our passengers.”

“It’s no trouble,” Zollin said.

“No, it won’t be. Thank you for your help…”

“Zollin, my name is Zollin Quinnson.”

“Very well, Zollin,” the captain said. “Alright, get him up,” he said to the sailors out in the passageway.

Zollin stood back and watched as two men in threadbare clothes came into the room. One had a livid scar across his cheek and shot Zollin a baleful glance before grabbing Mansel roughly by the arms. They pulled him off the bunk and he slowly came to.

“What’s going on?” he mumbled.

“You’re in for it now,” said the man with the scar. “The captain don’t abide fighting on board his ship.”

“Stow that talk, Ulber, and get him down to the surgeon.”

“Captain, may I have a word with you?” Zollin asked.

“Of course,” he said, waving his men away.

“I get the impression that you aren’t happy with that sailor.”

“Yes,” the captain said, with a trying look on his face as if he were indulging an inquisitive child.

“Is there a reason? The man was obviously accosted by someone.”

“No, I’m afraid that’s not how he came to his injuries. He’s a new member of the crew. I’ll see to it that he knows his business from now on. And I’ll get our carpenter up here to repair this furniture.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Are you saying he wasn’t attacked?”

“Master Quinnson, it isn’t my practice to share details of the crew with passengers, but if you must know, your patient attacked one of the other sailors with a mallet. There was a scuffle and your patient fell down the bilge shaft. It was an unfortunate break in shipboard discipline and I shall see that it is corrected immediately. Good day.”