ebookslot Chapter 11 Rules on the Ship
Chapter 11 Rules on the Ship
The airships twinkled steadily in the night sky, like three malevolent stars, hanging on the port side of the Narwhale. They were fast, but the Narwhale was no slouch either—this ship, converted from the skeleton of a giant whale, possessed incredible maneuverability in the sea of clouds. After a brief command from Captain Heinrich, the helmsman jerked the rudder, and the ship tilted, cutting into an updraft, its speed increasing dramatically.
Karen gripped the ship's railing, his fingers turning white from the force. The ship's tilt made him almost lose his balance, and the abrasions on his back were pulled, sending sharp pains through him. Xiguang clung tightly to his legs, the cub's claws hooked onto his trousers, its amber eyes fixed on the distant point of light, a low, suppressed gurgling sound emanating from its throat.
"Stop looking," Leah pulled him back. "It's no use looking. The lookout will be watching, and he'll ring the bell if there's any change. What you should do now is rest and start work tomorrow."
She led Karen and Xiguang back to the lower deck, through a cargo-filled passageway, and to a relatively secluded corner deep within the cargo hold. This area, which might have once held small items, had been cleared out, now occupied by a simple hammock, a small wooden crate serving as a table, and an oil lamp holder fixed to the wall.
"Your 'room'," Leah pointed to the hammock, "is cold in winter and hot in summer, noisy, and has rats—but with your little lion here, the rats shouldn't dare come."
She crouched down, looking at Xiguang. "Little one, you have to stay here. The captain said you can't go on deck, at least not for the next few days. The cult's airships have highly sensitive psionic detectors; if you release even the slightest psionic fluctuation, they'll come after you like hounds smelling blood."
Xi Guang seemed to understand, her ears drooping, conveying a sense of grievance: she didn't want to be locked up... in the dark... she was scared...
Karen patted its head. "It's only temporary. Once we're far enough away from Dustlight Town that the Order can't catch up, you'll be able to leave."
He himself didn't quite believe it, but Xi Guang needed comfort.
Leah stood up and took something wrapped in oiled paper from a small leather pouch at her waist. She unwrapped the paper, revealing several finger-length, dark brown strips of meat, emitting a rich aroma of spices and smoke.
"Dried rock goat meat." She placed the strips of meat on the wooden box. "A dwarven recipe. It's so hard you could use it as a hammer, but if you grind it up and soak it in water, spirits can eat it. Use it sparingly; this is my secret stash."
Xi Guang's nose twitched, its eyes fixed on the meat strip, but it didn't pounce on it immediately—it was waiting for Karen's permission.
"Thank you," Karen said, this time from the bottom of her heart.
Leah shrugged, turned to leave, then stopped. "Oh, by the way, wake up at sunrise tomorrow. Fifteen minutes after the first chime, everyone must be on deck to hear the captain's instructions for the day. Latecomers won't get breakfast. You're still injured, so you won't be assigned any heavy work on the first day, but you at least have to be there."
After she left, only Karen and Xiguang remained in the cargo hold.
The oil lamp cast flickering shadows on the bulkhead. The cargo hold was indeed vast—almost half the lower deck—crammed with all sorts of goods, secured into squares by ropes and nets. Dozens of smells mingled in the air: spices, leather, metal, damp wood, and a faint, cloying herbal scent. In the distance came the groans of the ship's structure, the muffled thud of the sails billowing, and the rhythmic lapping of waves against the hull—though sailing on a sea of clouds, the sound of the clouds moving was remarkably similar to the real ocean.
Karen sat down in the hammock, moving carefully to avoid aggravating the wound on his back. Xiguang jumped onto his lap, curling up into a ball, its golden fur gleaming warmly in the lamplight.
"Eat something." Karen picked up a piece of jerky and broke off a small piece—Lia was right, it really was as hard as a rock. He put it in his mouth and chewed; the jerky was salty, fragrant, and spicy, and it took a long time to soften. Xiguang was more direct, holding one down with his paw and biting into it with his tiny, sharp teeth, making a crunching sound.
They ate in silence. As Karen chewed, he recalled everything that had happened that day: the awakened spirit runes, the cliff jump, the Cloud Whale, and the airship that was chasing them. The silver runes on his wrist were still clear, but the light was completely subdued, and they felt only the normal temperature of skin to the touch. He tried to concentrate on "feeling" it, just like he had in the archives.
Very faint.
The structure of the texture was still perceptible—the three-dimensional labyrinth of light remained beneath her skin. The flow of energy was extremely slow, like a nearly dried-up stream. But two "lines" remained clear: one golden, warm, connected to the dawn; the other gray, blurry, extending in…some direction? Karen wasn't sure; the feeling was too ethereal.
Xi Guang finished a piece of jerky, licked her paws, and looked up at him. The cub conveyed a simple message: sleepy.
"Go to sleep," Karen whispered.
He placed Xiguang on the inside of the hammock, then lay down on the outside, carefully avoiding putting pressure on his wound. The oil lamp's light was dim, and the depths of the cargo hold were shrouded in darkness. He closed his eyes, listening to the rocking of the ship and Xiguang's gradually steady breathing, and slowly drifted off to sleep.
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"Clang—clang—clang—"
The loud clanging of metal jolted Karen awake from her sleep.
He sat bolt upright, a sharp pain shooting through his back, making him gasp. The cargo hold was still dimly lit, with only a few slivers of grayish-white light filtering in from the upper ventilation openings—it was just dawn. The tolling of the bells continued, echoing rhythmically through every corner of the ship's hold.
Wake-up clock.
Karen struggled to get out of bed, her legs still a little weak. Xiguang also woke up, her amber eyes gleaming in the dim light, conveying a sense of confusion.
"I need to go to the deck," Karen said, pulling on her patched shirt. Her left shoulder joint was still sore, but better than last night. "You stay here, don't make a sound, and don't release any psionic energy. Understand?"
Xi Guang nodded, though reluctantly.
Karen splashed water (in a small earthenware jar placed on a wooden crate) on her face, straightened her clothes, and strode out of the cargo hold. Other sailors were already moving about in the passageway, all looking sleepy but walking quickly. She followed the flow of people up the stairs to the upper deck.
The sea of clouds in the morning light presents a different kind of spectacle.
The deep gray clouds on the eastern horizon were tinged with gold and red, like a giant, burning velvet blanket. The Narwhale sailed on the surface of the sea of clouds, its stern leaving a long, white trail that shimmered in the morning light. The air was cool and moist, with the thinness unique to high altitudes; each breath sent a slight tingling sensation through the lungs.
More than twenty people had already gathered on deck. The sailors were dressed in practical work clothes, most of them with dark complexions and calloused, scarred hands. They stood in twos and threes, talking quietly and yawning. Grom was also there, standing by the mainmast, inspecting a bundle of rope. Leah leaned against the gunwale, munching on a piece of hard bread.
Karen found an inconspicuous corner to stand in.
Captain Heinrich emerged from the wheelhouse at the stern. He was fully dressed, his dark blue coat buttoned up, a long sword hanging at his waist. He walked to the mainmast, scanned the crew on deck, his dark gray eyes appearing particularly sharp in the morning light.
"Everyone's here." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly to everyone's ears. "Today's sailing plan remains unchanged. We'll continue north to the trading post on the edge of the Emerald Forest. The journey is expected to take three days, but it may be extended if we encounter psionic turbulence."
He paused, his gaze falling on Karen.
"The newcomer, Karen Everett, will be joining the Narwhal today as a menial worker. Leah will train him on basic ship duties. Grom will assist with routine cargo hold inspections."
Grom nodded, and Lydia raised her hand to indicate that she understood.
"Everyone else, stay on duty," Heinrich continued. "Lookouts, be extra vigilant. Although those three cult airships were outmaneuvered last night, there's no guarantee they won't catch up. Report any suspicious targets immediately. Dismissed."
The crowd dispersed, and the sailors went to their posts. Leah walked over to Karen and handed him half a piece of hard bread.
"Breakfast," she said. "We can eat on the go while I show you around the ship."
For the next two hours, Karen followed Lydia on and off the Narwhal.
The ship was more complex than he had imagined. Besides the upper decks, cargo holds, and crew quarters, there was an engine room—a deafeningly loud space at the stern, where a massive psionic converter burned some kind of crystalline fuel, driving three propellers at the stern. There was a galley, small, but emitting the aroma of stewing soup. There was a medical room, even smaller, with only a bed and a few medicine cabinets. There was also the captain's cabin, the navigation room, and an armory (although Leah said the Cloud Whale was a trading ship, "it still needs some self-defense equipment").
"Your main tasks are a few," Leah said as they walked. "First, assist with cargo hold inspections. Once every morning and evening, check that the cargo is securely fastened, and that there is no dampness, insect damage, or... anything that shouldn't be there."
"Something that shouldn't be there?" Karen asked.
"Smugglers, smuggled goods, or some kind of psionic creature—cloud sea voyages sometimes attract strange things that attach themselves to the hull." Leah shrugged. "Second, cleaning. Deck, passageways, common areas, clean once a day. Third, support work. Like furling sails, tying ropes, moving small items—we'll talk about that when you're healed."
They went to the stern, where cleaning tools were piled up: brooms, mops, and buckets. Leah handed Karen a broom.
"Start with the aft deck. Remember, sweeping on a ship isn't just about sweeping randomly—you have to sweep along the grain of the planks, otherwise you won't get it clean and you'll damage the deck. After sweeping, wipe it with a mop dipped in seawater; seawater can prevent mold."
Karen took the broom. He had worked as a scribe and organized archives, but sweeping... shouldn't be too difficult, right?
As it turned out, sweeping the floor on a ship at sea was much more difficult than he had imagined.
The Narwhale swayed constantly with the airflow, sometimes gently undulating, sometimes suddenly tilting. Karen had to maintain her balance while sweeping vigorously, careful not to sweep trash into the wrong places—such as air vents or gaps in the cargo piles. After sweeping for less than ten minutes, she was drenched in sweat, the wound on her back soaked with sweat and stinging.
Leah watched from the side, occasionally offering pointers: "The left side isn't clean enough." "Watch out for that cable post." "Sweep against the wind, or the dust will blow right back into your face."
By the time Karen finished sweeping the aft deck, the sun had fully risen, and the sea of clouds was a golden expanse. His arms were sore and numb, and the abrasions on his back burned, but the deck was indeed clean—or at least it looked clean.
"Not bad," Leah commented. "Barely passing for your first time. Go get some water, then head to the cargo hold; Grom is waiting for you."
Inside the cargo hold, Grom was crouching in front of an open cargo container, holding a small metal instrument—it resembled a compass, but with more complex markings and pointers. The instrument emitted a slight buzzing sound, and the pointer trembled slightly.
"Come here." Grom said without looking up. "Do you recognize this?"
Karen shook her head.
"A psionic resonance meter," Grom said. "It's used to detect the psionic stability of cargo. Some cargo—such as certain ores, herbs, or psionic artifacts—emits psionic fluctuations. If the fluctuations are too strong, they might interfere with the ship's navigation arrays; if the fluctuations are unstable, they might deteriorate or even explode."
He handed the instrument to Karen. "Here, I'll show you how to use it."
For the next half hour, Grom taught Karen how to use the resonator: how to calibrate it, how to read the different colored pointers, and how to distinguish between "safe fluctuations," "warning fluctuations," and "dangerous fluctuations." Then they began inspecting the cargo in the hold.
Most of the cargo was "quiet"—the pointer only trembled slightly. But a few boxes caused the pointer to deflect noticeably:
A box of ore wrapped in lead foil, the pointer pointing to the red area. "This is crude 'Resonance Crystal' ore," Grom explained. "It's unrefined, the psionic energy is mixed, but stable. Just leave it here."
A sealed container of liquid, the pointer trembling violently. "Oil from a deep-sea whale, used in advanced lubricants and certain alchemy. Highly psionic, requires regular checks to ensure the seal is secure, and must not be near heat sources."
There was also a small wooden box, wrapped in layers of runic paper, and the pointer barely moved. "Don't touch this," Grom said sternly. "This is cargo handled by the captain himself. We're only responsible for transporting it; we won't open it or interfere."
After completing the inspection, Grom put away the instruments. "Check them twice a day, morning and evening, and record the readings. If there's anything abnormal—the pointer entering the red zone for more than three seconds—report it to me or the captain immediately. Understood?"
Karen nodded. "Understood."
Grom looked at him, his blue eyes beneath thick eyebrows scrutinizing him. "Kid, how's that thing on your wrist feeling today?"
Karen instinctively pulled her hand away. "Thank goodness. It doesn't hurt anymore."
"I'm not asking if it hurts." Grom took a step closer and lowered his voice. "I'm asking if you can control it. Last night when you were unconscious, I scanned you with a detector—not intentionally, just a routine check on the wounded. The instrument showed that your psionic readings were strange: the base value was almost zero, like someone without a pulse, but the 'spirit rune density' was ridiculously high, and the structure... I've never seen anything like it before."
He stared into Karen's eyes. "The captain let you on board because he thinks you might be a talent, or at least not one of those lunatics the Order is. But if you can't even control your abilities, then you're a ticking time bomb that could blow the whole ship to smithereens at any moment."
Karen's throat was dry. "I...I'll try to control myself."
"That would be for the best." Grom turned to leave, then turned back after a few steps. "Also, keep an eye on your lion. Lydia is soft-hearted and might secretly feed it, but you need to understand—the Order's airships are still in pursuit. That little thing is too conspicuous; if we're exposed, we're all doomed."
After he left, Karen stood in the cargo hold for a long time.
The spirit runes on his wrist lay dormant beneath his skin, but Grom's words weighed heavily on his heart. Control? He didn't even know what these runes were or how he got them; how could he control them?
He walked back to his corner. Xi Guang peeked out from behind a pile of sacks, saw him, and immediately ran over, nuzzling his leg. The cub conveyed a simple message: hungry.
Karen took out the jerky Leah had given her, broke it into pieces, soaked it in water until it softened, and then fed it to Dawn. The cub ate quickly, its amber eyes filled with satisfaction.
"Dawn," Karen said softly, stroking its fur with her fingers, "you must learn to hide yourself. Completely hide yourself. No psionic fluctuations, no emotional fluctuations, and even... try not to think about me. Because of our connection, your thoughts might leak out through the spirit runes."
Xi Guang looked up, her eyes filled with confusion: Why? We're friends.
"Because those black people are still chasing us," Karen said. "If they find us, they'll kill you, and they might kill me too. To survive, we have to pretend we don't exist."
Xi Guang remained silent for a long time. Finally, it conveyed a faint but firm thought: I will try my best.
That evening, Karen completed her second cargo hold inspection, recorded the readings, and then returned to the deck for the sunset assembly. Captain Heinrich gave a brief summary of the day's voyage, without mentioning the Order's airships—apparently, they had been shaken off for the time being.
Dinner was stew and hard bread. Karen took a portion and ate it at the cargo hold entrance. Leah came over and handed him an apple.
"Here you go," she said. "The wounded need vitamins."
"Thank you." Karen took the apple, hesitated for a moment, and asked, "Lia, you... seem to know a lot about spirits?"
Leah sat down beside him and took a bite of her apple. "I come from the 'Wind Whisperers,' nestled in the mountains of the eastern North. For generations, we have lived alongside wind spirits, learning their language and drawing upon their power. So, I suppose I'm somewhat familiar with spirits."
Her tone was casual, but Karen noticed that her eyes darkened slightly when she mentioned the "Wind Whisperers."
"Then how did you end up on the Narwhale?" he asked.
Leah was silent for a few seconds. "The tribe... is gone. Three years ago, the Azure Flame Cult entered our valley, saying that we had 'established deep connections with wild spirits without authorization,' violating the Spirit Vein Security Law. They demanded that all members of the tribe register their contracts and undergo a 'purification ritual.' Some resisted, some compromised... In the end, the valley burned for three days and three nights."
She stood up and dusted off her pants. "So, I understand why you ran away with that lion cub. The Order... they don't understand. They only see 'resources' and 'threats,' not the connection between lives."
After she left, Karen sat in the twilight and slowly finished her apple.
Night fell, and the stars lit up one by one. He returned to the corner of the cargo hold, where Xiguang was already curled up asleep in the hammock. The cub's breathing was steady, and its golden fur rose and fell gently with each breath.
Karen sat down on the edge of the hammock, raised her wrist, and looked at the silver pattern around her wrist.
In the dim light, the lines were almost invisible, but he could feel their presence—like a second layer of skin, like a third eye, like an invisible passage connecting him to the dawn, connecting him to this mysterious world.
He closed his eyes and tried to "communicate" with it.
It's not a command, not a plea, it's simply... listening.
At first there was nothing. Only the sounds of the cargo hold, the rocking of the ship, and my own heartbeat.
But gradually, he sensed something else.
Deep within the spiritual patterns, there was an extremely subtle "flow." It wasn't energy, but more like... information? Like countless tiny points of light moving along the path of the patterns, each point of light carrying a little bit of data: the concentration of environmental spiritual energy, the vital signs of the Dawn Light, the stress distribution of the ship's structure, and even some vague, rhythmic pulsation in the distance—it could be the tides of the sea of clouds, or something else entirely.
The spirit pattern automatically collects, analyzes, and processes information.
Karen, as the "host" of this spirit rune, can access this information at any time, as long as he concentrates.
He opened his eyes, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside him: surprise, fear, and a touch of indescribable excitement.
This is not a curse, not a flaw.
This was a possibility he had never imagined.
Outside the window, the night was deep. The Narwhale sailed smoothly through the sea of clouds, heading north towards the unknown Emerald Forest.
Far behind, three black iron airships continued their search. Roland stood on the bridge of the largest one, watching the intermittent but ever-present silver signal on the detection array screen.
"Resonance body..." he muttered to himself, a cold light flashing in his light gray eyes, "You can't escape."