Limitless Seas, Chapter 2.

Chapter 2. 

“Hey bud, wake up. I don’t want to taste the lash just because you want to sleep in. Get to it snake man,” A voice called to him as something pulled at his wrists. Larson looked down and could see that he was below decks on a ship. A dozen benches lined each side of the stench filled compartment; each bench held a decrepit pair of rowers. His hands were chained to an oar and the coarse wood left splinters behind as he gripped it. 

“I said ahead slow down there, you don’t want me to have to tell you again,” A gruff voice shouted as someone opened the hatch to the top deck and descended the narrow stair leading to where he and the others were chained up. The small man next to him nudged Larson again, trying in vain to pull the oar on his own. Larson wasn’t sure what the deal was, so he went along with others, pulling in time to the angry orc tapping the handle of his whip on a support beam. 

“What have I gotten myself into?” Larson muttered under his breath. 

“I didn’t say you could mumble!” The orc roared, stomping his way toward Larson. 

“You, Maggot,” the orc grumbled toward Larson’s rowing companion. “You better bring this new guy up to speed. I get any trouble from him and I’m taking it out on you, hear me?” The orc growled. 

“I’ll get him working hard, Boss Karth, he’ll follow orders, no problem,” Maggot replied. 

“Good, as for you, let this be your first taste. If you’re smart and do what I says, I won’t have to hit you nearly as much as I do some of the others,” the orc said as he raised his whip and lashed out at Larson. He tried to dodge the blow, but another length of rusty chain secured his body to the floor, limiting his movement. The lash bit deep into the flesh of his back and the system showed him a bar representing his health, a one percent loss displayed, dropping him to 99%, but the pain the weapon inflicted far exceeded the amount of damage it put out. Two more hits cracked out in rapid succession, one lacerating his right shoulder and the other snapping against the scales of his lower body. Thankfully, his scales resisted the lash, preventing any new cuts, but the blow still stung. 

The orc rolled up his whip, pausing to lash out at another rower further down before moving back to the top deck and securing the hatch behind him. Larson's wounds began to slowly heal, itching as they stopped bleeding and closed. A quirk of this new world, wounds appeared to heal much more quickly than they would have in his previous life. The image his health bar began to slowly tick up toward full. For now, he concentrated at the task given to him, falling easily into the rhythm with each stroke of the oar. 

Larson new body was powerful and rowing the oar he was chained to wasn’t a problem at this speed. In contrast to his power, the scrawny human next to him struggled and did little to help with their task. A glimpse of water caught his eye as he looked through the small opening in the hull near where the oarlock was placed. The sea below beckoned, and he wished nothing more than to leap into its comforting embrace. While he rowed, Larson took stock of the those around him. He was in the second to last row on the port side and could only see the backs of most of the other prisoner’s heads, nobody looked familiar to him. 

Hushed tones were heard above the creaking of the oars and the rush of the sea against the hull of the vessel. The other prisoners were conversing among themselves, keeping the volume too low for the brutal orc overseer to hear on the deck above. Most of the prisoners were humans, with a few orcs sprinkled among them. Behind him and Maggot was a large orc and an older human. The orc nodded slightly as their eyes met, but he got the distinct impression the orc wasn’t up for any friendly conversation. The old human chained next to the orc was rail thin, but he still pulled his weight on the oar with a grim determination. 

“Hey, snake man, I’m surprised they fished you out of the water, they must have special plans for you. You’re strong, though, I’ll give you that. I think you and I are going to get along fine, become friends even,” Maggot said. Larson took an instant dislike to the weasel faced man and highly doubted they were going to be best buddies anytime soon. He didn’t expect to arrive in his new life chained as prisoner, but Larson was determined to find his way in this world, and the first step would be to free himself.

“So, who’s in charge of this place, and where exactly are we?” Larson asked. 

“Heh, took a bigger blow to your noggin than I thought, you don’t remember the ship you were on being attacked? You were the only survivor they pulled aboard. Captain Ikar’re was not very pleased that your ship went down so fast, all that plunder is now sitting at the bottom of the sea,” Maggot said, using the opportunity to answer Larson’s question as an excuse to stop rowing. He had some vague memory of what the man named Maggot was saying, but he also knew the memory was false, a way for the system and this Clio that controlled it to introduce him into the world. About the only thing he could be happy about was that he didn’t have to start his new life as a baby. 

“Who, or what, is this Captain Ikar’re?” 

“Oh, he’s not what, he’s an elf, and he’s the captain of this tub, the illustrious Gull Dropping. The Captain’s some cast off noble git I recon, and before you ask, I have no idea how the ship got its name, even though it does seem to fit the smell. The crew are your normal lot of pirate scum, somewhat on the lower end of the pirate scum meter if you ask me, given the nature of our fearsome ship,” Maggot answered. 

Looking closer, he could see what Maggot meant. This vessel wasn’t exactly a warship and was essentially a small merchant ship that had been repurposed. He could tell from the way it rode in the water that there must have had another deck below the one they were on. The lower deck would be home to whatever cargo and stores the ship had, but in the short time that he had been awake, nobody had come down from the top deck, save for the angry orc. If he turned his head far enough to the rear, he could just make out a ladder leading to the deck below. Their compartment didn’t run the length of the ship, so there could be more to it than the thought. Based on the noise above and the lack of noise below, he figured that there wasn’t exactly a huge swarm of pirates onboard. If they could somehow free themselves, they might be able to overpower their captors. 

“Hey Maggot, how many of the pirates are there?” Larson asked. The name Maggot might be an insult, but he found he didn’t really care if he offended the man. 

“I get what you’re thinking and it’s a bad idea. Ikar’re may run a crappy ship, but his boys are as vicious as the come. They’ll be no mutiny even if you could somehow break free. I know you’re strong, but you obviously weren’t gifted mentally, were you?” Maggot shot back. 

“Don’t listen to that one,” the orc behind him growled. He’s accepted his lot in life, but many of us wish to taste freedom once more,” the orc behind him whispered. 

“Bah, you’re all morons,” Maggot replied with disgust. The orc growled and strained at his chains, the attachment points creaking ominously as the tried to get at Maggot. 

“Hah, you’re an even bigger idiot than snake boy here. These pirates have us locked down tight. There’s no escape from here, other than being tossed over the side to chum for the Makon,” Maggot taunted. 

The creaking of the deck under the orc gave Larson an idea. The chains around him were pitted with rust, but the iron was still strong, much too strong for even his powerful arms to break. Where the chains were attached to the deck was a different story. His arms were attached to the oar and then to the deck below, giving him just enough reach to move the oar properly, but no more. Larson tested the bonds, pushing all his strength into it. The bolts in the deck creaked like they had with the orc but didn’t budge. 

“The deck is strong, even my power isn’t enough to break it. Stay ready, a time will come when can make a move. Until then, act like you’re going along with our captor’s wishes,” the orc behind him whispered. 

“Thank you, I'm Larson, what's your name?” Larson asked of the orc behind him. He received no reply and again fell into the hypnotic rhythm of his work. Through the small opening for the oar, he could monitor the sun’s position and when a few hours had passed the hatch to the deck above slammed open. 

“Make it quick, waste my time and I’ll see your rations cut,” Karth bellowed. A pair of young sailors, still children in his eyes, began to walk down the aisle, struggling with large tin buckets full of fresh water. At each rowing station, they dipped their cups in and allowed each rower a few seconds to drink. Those that were too slow, had the unfinished water pulled from them. Those that tried to hold onto their cups longer, got a taste of Karth’s lash for their efforts. Larson could see that several of the rowers were in bad shape, barely able to hold onto their cups and down the precious water. 

The boys made their way slowly towards the rear. When they stopped at Larson’s row, he followed instructions and quickly downed the small cup of water. As the cooling liquid slid down his throat, Larson realized how thirsty he had become. He handed the cup over and the last row got their water. The sailors then began to make their way back up the row, surprisingly, they handed out a second cup of water. Larson slammed this one down as well. At first, it seemed odd that the pirates would give them a second cup of water, but then again, if they couldn’t row, the pirates couldn’t catch their prey.

“How often do they give water and food?” Larson asked. Maggot ignored him, but the orc behind him replied. 

“Four or five times a day for water, depending on our pace and the heat. Twice a day they feed us, once in the morning and once in the evening. They give us enough to keep our energy up, but not enough to feel full. These pirates may be cold hearted and brutal, but they realize they need us. The dangerous time is when they take a new prize. If they get some new strong rower, like yourself, you can be sure that one of the weaker ones will have to give up their seat,” Larson thought on that cold reality. In fact, he wondered who had sat on this bench before him. 

“Who did I replace?” Larson asked, getting no reply from the orc. Maggot snickered and the orc lunged at him once more. 

“Don’t worry snake boy, you keep pulling strong for our bench, and old Maggot here will make sure you’re in that seat for a good long time. Mess with me and you’ll get what the previous occupant received,” the little man warned. It didn’t look like he was going to offer any further information, so Larson went back to work. While rowing wasn’t difficult, his lower body began to cramp where it was chained to the deck. He had to struggle against his bonds in order to move his tail enough to keep the blood flowing. 

They had one more water break and then as the sun began to set, they were given their evening meal. To serve the evening meal, the water boys were joined by another pair of crew, one would drop a wooden bowl on the bench between the rowers and the other crewman would ladle some kind of stew into it. The smell was less than appetizing, but with the amount of work he had done pulling on the oar, he was ready to eat just about anything. When they finally made it to his row, the sailor dropped a bowl down between the two of them, and the second one ladled in some stew. Maggot snatched up the bowl and set it in his lap, strangely, the little man didn’t begin to slurp it down like all the other prisoners had. The second bowl was placed between them and after it was filed, Larson reached down to grab it, only to have maggot snatch away the second one. 

“Too slow, snake man. Tonight, Maggot finally gets a full belly,” the little thief taunted. The sailors ladling out the stew merely laughed at this turn of events, they weren’t there to settle disputes, just to serve the food. If two prisoners fought over their rations, well, it just made a boring work detail a bit more entertaining. Furious, Larson reached for Maggot, the chains on his securing his body creaking ominously as he was held just out of reach. Maggot made a show of slurping down the watery stew and licking each bowl clean. 

“You’ll pay for that Maggot,” Larson hissed. 

“Nope, I’ve got the fastest hands on the seas and you better speak to me in a nicer tone or you’ll starve. Let this just be a friendly reminder that Maggots in charge down here,” Maggot threatened. Larson lunged again, pushing his whole body into it. He couldn’t quite reach Maggot, but he did notice a bit of slack in the chains holding his lower body down. Examining the chain, he could see it was still in good shape, the bolt holding his body to the floor, however, had slid out a bit when he pulled on it.  

“Lay off you lot, get some sleep, we’ll need you strong in the morning. These should be some good hunting grounds,” Karth growled before locking them in for the night. 

“Feels like we got a light breeze, enough for them to raise sail without too much strain on it,” the orc behind him said. Larson did notice there was a slight of breeze flowing through the small opening where the oarlock met the hull. It was enough to move the air around a bit, but not enough to push out any of the stench in their compartment.

“Why do they only use the sail during a light wind?” Larson asked. 

“They took damage to it in one of their fights, and small tears are appearing. At least that’s what I overheard from the sailors slopping our rations a few days ago. Better be glad the sail is damaged, it means they have more reason to keep us alive,” the orc said. 

“Thank you, I appreciate your answers. Tell me, if I had some way to get us free, would you join me in taking the ship?” Larson asked. Silence followed. 

“Aye, I’d take a chance if one arose,” the orc whispered back. The sounds in the hold quieted as the others drifted off into an exhausted sleep. Larson found he had to only nod off for a few seconds and then woke up full of energy as if he had taken a full night’s sleep. The feeling was a strange one, but he chalked it up to a quirk of his new body. Having more time during the night was the perfect opportunity to work on his bonds. He tried to keep as quiet as he could, pulling on the chains with his powerful lower body. The bolt in the floor would nudge its way up, but never very far, no matter how hard he strained. By the time first glow of morning began to show, the bolt had been worked out only a tiny bit more than it had when he started.

“Wake up you apes, time for chow,” Karth roared as the threw back the deck hatch and descended along with the sailors bringing the morning chow. Maggot looked over at him, and Larson could see the gleam of evil in the little man’s eye. This Maggot liked to call him snake man, well, he was about to learn that nothing is a fast as a snake striking at its prey. As the sailors made their way down the compartment, Larson readied himself. 

A chipped wooden bowl clunked down between them and then the second sailor dropped a gooey ladle of some porridge into it. It was a test of reflexes as both shot their hands toward the bowl. Larson reaching it at nearly the same time as the surprisingly quick Maggot. The little man gave a small tug, but while he was quick, he was no match for the strength of a naga. Larson placed the bowl in his lap as the second empty bowl clanked down. Maggot looked a bit stressed and reached for it too soon, causing the bowl to clatter to the floor and the dollop of porridge to splash onto the bench between them. He couldn’t do the same with the water, as the water boys must have been ordered to hand the cups directly to each prisoner.

“Ha, looks like our little Maggot’s met his match in this one,” A sailor said. 

“Who dropped their bowl!” Karth demanded to know as he stomped down the row. 

“The snake man sir, he stole my breakfast and threw his own bowl down in order to insult you,” Maggot tried to argue. Karth looked down on Larson, who busied himself with cramming down his meal. 

“Looks like he’s following orders. Still, no reason not to punish the both of you. It’ll get my arms warmed up for the day,” Karth said before lashing out with his whip. The other sailors jumped out of the way, having just finished dishing out the last of the chow. A crack of the whip left a bloody furrow across Maggot’s cheek. The second blow sounded out and Larson felt the lash burn across his lower back. Maggot absorbed two more blows, one to the shoulder and another that took off the tip of the man’s ear before the orc turned his attention back to Larson. 

Another blow stung across the tip of his tail, unable to penetrate his scales, but hurting nearly as bad as if it had. With a grunt, Karth tried again, hitting near the same spot with limited results. The lack of visible damage infuriated the brutal overseer and he lashed out a half dozen more times, the blows randomly hitting over Larson’s body, with one nearly taking out his eye.

“Think your scales are tougher than old Karth do you? Don’t worry, I’ve got something that will take care of that problem.  I’ll introduce to you to her later,” Karth threatened as he moved to the front of the compartment, breathing hard from the effort of lashing the pair. The orc waited a few moments as the last of the prisoners finished their meal. 

“Now, you’ve been fed and watered, get to it, at a steady pace, row!” The orc ordered, staying for just long enough to make sure they were rowing at the correct pace and in unison, administering a few lashes to the prisoners who got out of rhythm. It was going to be a long day, but at least he had beaten Maggot at his own game, even if he also had to suffer a bit for it. He might not remember exactly who he was in his old life, but he knew how to deal with people like Maggot. People like Maggot had to be utterly crushed. Show any weakness and they would exploit it. People like Maggot thought kindness was weakness, so he would find neither kindness nor pity with Larson.