Well, this is my first fic!!! I wrote it just today, and I think it's
coming along nicely, but the first part might be a little confusing.I'll
explain more later on. Constructive criticism is welcome, but please, NO
FLAMES! I am such a sensitive person.hee hee, yeah right. Rating is for
possible violence and language; I might change it later on.Well, I hope you
like it!
Disclaimer: I own Aphneal, and possibly some more characters later, but other than that, the COM characters are Tamora Pierce's.*rubs hands together evilly*.but how I wish they were mine!!! * Comes out of evil state* But until then, ya can't sue me!
A deafening bang came from overhead, and the ship rocked violently. She was thrown into the wall, along with half the galley's supplies and the other slaves. She slipped down to the floor, and then followed the ship's movement with each rock it took.
Another crash from the deck, and plaster and wood started to fall from the ceiling, covering everything in a fine white dust. Somebody fell hard on her elbow, she was pushed to the floor; her head struck the leg of the table. Dazed, she pulled herself up, only to be rounded into a barrel holding apples. It tipped and the hard fruit rained down on her. Shrieking, she covered her head with her hands and a third explosion damaged the ship- this time, louder. The ceiling gave way above her and the pirates fell through, hitting the other slaves and the table. Somebody's sword fell loose and drew through a male slave with a cracked head. A lantern from the deck fell into the galley and burst open, shattering glass. The flame crept up a screaming woman's dress and onto the barrels. The woman ran into the barrels, scattering vegetables and fruits, leaving her to run out and be trampled on. She looked up in time to roll away from a dark slave's body, and realized that her bottom lip was bit through.
Yelling in confusion and terror she ran to the galley's door, getting punched in the leg from a man half on fire, and stumbling over a child like herself who appeared to be dead from the sword. Smoke was starting to fill the small kitchen, and it was getting hard to breath.
Another round of pirates came crashing through the ceiling, cursing and shouting. Almost instantly followed a cannon ball, landing straight in the center of the galley. She screamed and covered her face as the boat pitched forward, throwing her into the mass of dead and fire. A freezing wave of cold washed over her as she crawled away, wood splinters digging into her hands and legs. It took her a moment to realize that it was water-not water from the barrels, but water from the sea. She looked back and saw the huge hole the cannon ball had made in the floor, where water was already filling in.
Her arm ached and blood ran into her eyes from some wound on her head, but she managed to stand up. Slaves were already frantically fighting to get out the hole. Her eyes started to water as the smoke came nearer, and she knew she didn't have long to think. Water flooded up to her knees, and screams of fright from the deck told her that the same thing was happening overhead.
She ran for the hole, pushing her way past the others, getting tripped and punched in the act. Wood tore at her clothes, and made a deep gash in her side. She howled in pain, but managed to get both legs into the icy water. Someone fell on her head as the rest of the ship split open, bloodying her arms. Everyone flew for the water, and she filled her lungs with air and thrust herself down the hole and into the water below.
Underwater, she dared not open her eyes, but ran one hand along the ships bottom, ignoring the people who tugged at her and the bits and pieces of wood. Luckily, she was a strong swimmer, and managed to get away from the slaves. Halfway across the boat, her air gave, and she struggled madly for the light she could see behind her eyelids that marked the open sea.
Suddenly, the wood beneath her hand ended, and she was there. She pushed her way to the surface, feeling weak and light-headed. She burst into the openness, gasping-choking-for air. Her lungs relaxed and she started to cough violently. A wave pushed her back under the ship, banging her head, and panicking, she dove farther underwater and swam until she was sure she was far enough away from the ship to not be pushed under. A foot kicked into her head just as she made her way back to the surface of the water, making her spin. She dog paddled away weakly, knowing that it was close to the end. Blood flowed from the wound at her side and on her head, and one eye was beginning to swell up. Her hands were bleeding within form splinters, same as her feet. A bruise had formed on her upper arm and on her knee. Looking into the sky, she saw that it was bright with flames from not only her boat, but also three others, and the shadows of what the pirates called boom-stones shook the land beyond.
Grabbing hold of a piece of floating wood, she crawled on it, legs dangling off the edge, and lay her head in her arms. She let the waves push her out of the wreckage and fighting and farther into Pebbled Sea.
"I'm surprised that she doesn't have any broken bones," a male voice commented softly.
"It's amazing that her injuries aren't worse than they are, after being through all that," a woman's crisp voice replied.
"Well, she soon blacked out after she made it into the water," the man explained. "She floated out farther than all the rest-seeing that the rest were mostly all killed in the battle." A cool hand touched the girl's forehead. "It took the Navy almost an entire day to rescue the few remaining, then a sailor spotted her raft, and saw her on it. They rowed out there to see if she was alive, and she was."
"That's incredible," the woman murmured. "She must have been a galley slave, from the look of these wounds." She ran a hand along the sleeping girl's leg, pausing at a large black and blue bruise the size of her hand. "And she's so young-can't be more than twelve."
"It would seem to be that way," the man said absently, examining the girl's head wound. "The healers fixed her up best they could-removed all the splinters, bandaged her head and stomach, fixed her lip. She was unconscious the whole time. Now all we can do is wait for her to wake up-if she does."
"Of course she will," the woman said crisply, with more sureness in her voice than she felt.
"Well, she lost a lot of blood," the man sighed.
"It can be replaced."
"Let's only hope."
"Do they know her name?"
"Of course not. The pirates didn't keep records of their kitchen staff, now, did they?"
"Well, no."
"You see? It will be virtually impossible to figure out who these people are if they die, and it's not like they are going to suddenly wake up and tell us their names. Come along. There are other beds we must visit before out meeting with his Grace. Others who are awake."
The girl listened to the sound of footsteps as the two speakers retreated. Without opening her eyes, she whispered through cracked lips, "Aphneal. My name is Aphneal."
Disclaimer: I own Aphneal, and possibly some more characters later, but other than that, the COM characters are Tamora Pierce's.*rubs hands together evilly*.but how I wish they were mine!!! * Comes out of evil state* But until then, ya can't sue me!
A deafening bang came from overhead, and the ship rocked violently. She was thrown into the wall, along with half the galley's supplies and the other slaves. She slipped down to the floor, and then followed the ship's movement with each rock it took.
Another crash from the deck, and plaster and wood started to fall from the ceiling, covering everything in a fine white dust. Somebody fell hard on her elbow, she was pushed to the floor; her head struck the leg of the table. Dazed, she pulled herself up, only to be rounded into a barrel holding apples. It tipped and the hard fruit rained down on her. Shrieking, she covered her head with her hands and a third explosion damaged the ship- this time, louder. The ceiling gave way above her and the pirates fell through, hitting the other slaves and the table. Somebody's sword fell loose and drew through a male slave with a cracked head. A lantern from the deck fell into the galley and burst open, shattering glass. The flame crept up a screaming woman's dress and onto the barrels. The woman ran into the barrels, scattering vegetables and fruits, leaving her to run out and be trampled on. She looked up in time to roll away from a dark slave's body, and realized that her bottom lip was bit through.
Yelling in confusion and terror she ran to the galley's door, getting punched in the leg from a man half on fire, and stumbling over a child like herself who appeared to be dead from the sword. Smoke was starting to fill the small kitchen, and it was getting hard to breath.
Another round of pirates came crashing through the ceiling, cursing and shouting. Almost instantly followed a cannon ball, landing straight in the center of the galley. She screamed and covered her face as the boat pitched forward, throwing her into the mass of dead and fire. A freezing wave of cold washed over her as she crawled away, wood splinters digging into her hands and legs. It took her a moment to realize that it was water-not water from the barrels, but water from the sea. She looked back and saw the huge hole the cannon ball had made in the floor, where water was already filling in.
Her arm ached and blood ran into her eyes from some wound on her head, but she managed to stand up. Slaves were already frantically fighting to get out the hole. Her eyes started to water as the smoke came nearer, and she knew she didn't have long to think. Water flooded up to her knees, and screams of fright from the deck told her that the same thing was happening overhead.
She ran for the hole, pushing her way past the others, getting tripped and punched in the act. Wood tore at her clothes, and made a deep gash in her side. She howled in pain, but managed to get both legs into the icy water. Someone fell on her head as the rest of the ship split open, bloodying her arms. Everyone flew for the water, and she filled her lungs with air and thrust herself down the hole and into the water below.
Underwater, she dared not open her eyes, but ran one hand along the ships bottom, ignoring the people who tugged at her and the bits and pieces of wood. Luckily, she was a strong swimmer, and managed to get away from the slaves. Halfway across the boat, her air gave, and she struggled madly for the light she could see behind her eyelids that marked the open sea.
Suddenly, the wood beneath her hand ended, and she was there. She pushed her way to the surface, feeling weak and light-headed. She burst into the openness, gasping-choking-for air. Her lungs relaxed and she started to cough violently. A wave pushed her back under the ship, banging her head, and panicking, she dove farther underwater and swam until she was sure she was far enough away from the ship to not be pushed under. A foot kicked into her head just as she made her way back to the surface of the water, making her spin. She dog paddled away weakly, knowing that it was close to the end. Blood flowed from the wound at her side and on her head, and one eye was beginning to swell up. Her hands were bleeding within form splinters, same as her feet. A bruise had formed on her upper arm and on her knee. Looking into the sky, she saw that it was bright with flames from not only her boat, but also three others, and the shadows of what the pirates called boom-stones shook the land beyond.
Grabbing hold of a piece of floating wood, she crawled on it, legs dangling off the edge, and lay her head in her arms. She let the waves push her out of the wreckage and fighting and farther into Pebbled Sea.
"I'm surprised that she doesn't have any broken bones," a male voice commented softly.
"It's amazing that her injuries aren't worse than they are, after being through all that," a woman's crisp voice replied.
"Well, she soon blacked out after she made it into the water," the man explained. "She floated out farther than all the rest-seeing that the rest were mostly all killed in the battle." A cool hand touched the girl's forehead. "It took the Navy almost an entire day to rescue the few remaining, then a sailor spotted her raft, and saw her on it. They rowed out there to see if she was alive, and she was."
"That's incredible," the woman murmured. "She must have been a galley slave, from the look of these wounds." She ran a hand along the sleeping girl's leg, pausing at a large black and blue bruise the size of her hand. "And she's so young-can't be more than twelve."
"It would seem to be that way," the man said absently, examining the girl's head wound. "The healers fixed her up best they could-removed all the splinters, bandaged her head and stomach, fixed her lip. She was unconscious the whole time. Now all we can do is wait for her to wake up-if she does."
"Of course she will," the woman said crisply, with more sureness in her voice than she felt.
"Well, she lost a lot of blood," the man sighed.
"It can be replaced."
"Let's only hope."
"Do they know her name?"
"Of course not. The pirates didn't keep records of their kitchen staff, now, did they?"
"Well, no."
"You see? It will be virtually impossible to figure out who these people are if they die, and it's not like they are going to suddenly wake up and tell us their names. Come along. There are other beds we must visit before out meeting with his Grace. Others who are awake."
The girl listened to the sound of footsteps as the two speakers retreated. Without opening her eyes, she whispered through cracked lips, "Aphneal. My name is Aphneal."