As yet another wave sent the deck of the ship rolling, the boy retched once more over the vine railing. Water and bile splashed into the sea, his stomach heaving until there was nothing inside. His face was covered with sweat, his clothes soaked through. The salty spray coated his arms, stinging his eyes. Behind him, there was a rich laugh.

“Still can’t hold it down, eh?” a crewman called out, swabbing the deck. Bes’sahn was a heavily built man, adorned much in the same way as his captain. He wore a light jacket that did little to cover his chest as he worked, his long hair braided into a single coil. His accent was much less, however, and Willem found it easier to converse with the deckhand.

“I—It’s getting better.” the boy gasped out, his vision swimming as the convulsions abated. As the ship rolled again, he stumbled and caught himself, his stomach once more upending itself with twitching motions. Bes’sahn merely laughed, handing the boy a bucket of water with what seemed to be a ladle inside.

“Make sure to drink after, or else you’ll just be a husk on the deck. I’d hate to have to mop you up, mankai.” He smiled as he tapped the ladle on Willem’s head gently, clapping the boy on the back before returning to his work.

“”Where—where’re you people from?” Willem asked, his head swimming with the roiling sea. He fought to control his stomach, hoping that conversation would keep Bes’sahn close by enough to catch him if he fell. “You’re not Skaavosi.”

Bes’sahn raised an eyebrow, his mouth curled into a bemused smile that hid in his beard. “No, we aren’t.” he began, but before he could continue a large arm wrapped around his neck and hauled him back.

“Aye, iss’a men’hara, Bes’sahn.” spoke another crew member, wrestling with Bes’sahn good-naturedly. He turned to face Willem, his mouth a yellowed smile. “We’re Vysians, mankai. From south of Skaavosi, It’s a—” he began, only to be cut off as Bes’sahn broke free and flipped him to the deck, the two men falling with a thud.

“Mehna y’hara, Kes’ssan.” Bes’sahn hissed, his face red with exertion as he wrestled to stay on top. “To afraid to face me head on, so you sneak up like a mouse, eh?” He was breathing hard as he forced his arms on Kes’ssan’s throat, legs wrapped around the smaller man’s waist.

Kes’ssan fought for air, not wishing to yield, He squirmed and twisted in the viselike grip, looking for a way to break free. They seemed unwilling to resort to punches, instead grappling and pulling. “Only—because you’re a—a blind cricket.” he gasped out, before suddenly falling slack, all the tension fleeing his body. The movement threw Bes’sahn off, the larger man suddenly falling forward without any resistance. Kes’ssan took the opportunity to twist sideways, squirming out of the hold in a movement that reminded Willem of a worm.

“Oy, ladies. What kind’uv women’re fightin’ on my deck?” drawled an accented voice, coming up from below deck.”I an’t paying you ta’ kiss on my ship.” Captain Is’shil called out, and the two men stood up slowly, both gasping for breath while trying to appear unfazed by each other.

“Ya don’t even pay us, Cap’n.” Kes’ssan replied, scratching at his beard. The man was younger than Bes’sahn or the captain, his beard a lanky thing of fuzz that was just starting to grow out, his hair only growing to his shoulders.

Bes’sahn snorted, hawking up a wad of spit that flew over the railing in a glorious arc. “You don’t get paid, mouse. My wallet is very much full, unlike yours.”

“Indeed?” Kes’ssan smirked, twirling a bit of hair as he looked in the other direction lazily. “I seem to recall a rather large debt to Maa’sera for drinking, back in Vysia. Have you forgotten, you booze-bellied cricket?” he teased, and the bigger man’s face began to grow pink.”I didn’t think you had it in you to forget Maa’sera. What did you say about her—beautiful teats like plums, and you were waiting for them to ripen—”

The larger man tackled Kes’ssan, his face flushed with embarrassment. Kes’ssan, for his part, did not even seem to fight back; he was laughing hard enough that tears streamed down his cheeks. Captain Is’shil had to intervene, pulling Bes’sahn away with a poorly hidden smile.

“Alright, women. You’re leavin’ a bad imp’ression on the mankai. Get back to work, or there an’t going to be any halfday for you, y’hear?” He walked away, leaving behind a cackling Kes’ssan and a livid Bes’sahn.

“Kessa y’han meshal.” he barked in his native tongue, cuffing the younger man on the shoulder. “How dare you bring that up, mouse? I was drunk!” he accused, his face still pink enough to be mistaken for a peach.

“You’re always drunk!” Kes’ssan refuted in between tears, struggling to his feet as his laughter continued. Willem could only shake his head at these lively people, unlike any that he had ever met before.

A sudden thud rocked the boat, sending it careening dangerously and making Willem’s chin strike the deck with a resounding crack. Shock stunned his thoughts, his vision swooning as he found himself jarred from the impact, both Kes’ssan and Bes’sahn struggling to keep their balance despite being capable seamen.”What the hell?” the larger man swore as he reached out for the railing, the vessel rocking as it tried to balance itself. Two more crewmen appeared from below deck, clutching what seemed to be weapons as they ran.

“J’hara!” one of them cried out, throwing one of the objects to Bes’sahn. He raised his eyebrows in shock, turning to look out into the water.

“This early in the morning?” he asked, twirling the thing in his hands. It looked vaguely like a harpoon, with a length of rope coiled into a loop. At its end was a metal spear, pronged with three length barbs that were held back at the moment, yet joints at the base suggested that they could open and lock upon an impact. More curious was the notch at the back of the metal piece, which fit smoothly into a wooden handlepiece Bes’sahn held in his hand. The limb added to his throwing power, giving greater leverage and force that ordinarily could be afforded.

The other crewmen had there own harpoons, quickly spreading out along the deck. There were no bows and arrows, no swords or spears. Willem was not sure what exactly he had been expecting, but surely not this. They were wrapping the ends of rope into the deck, around reinforced pieces of metal that he had noticed but never quite questioned. He felt out of place here, out of his element on the seas. He could only watch as they worked, another impact jarring the ship and drawing the captain out of his quarters.

“Y’bleed me that fish, y’hear? I want ta’ eat well tonight!” he called out, and the crew cheered in response. Kes’ssan was the only one without a harpoon, having clambered up the rigging with unnatural grace. Willem hurried away from the railing to join Captain Is’shil’s side, uncertain of what he was to expect. The captain merely smiled, seeing the boy’s nervousness. “Don’t worry, mankai. Nessa looks after her own.”

“Along the port!” Kes’ssan suddenly shouted, before the captain could say any more. Bes’sahn and another crew member there suddenly sunk into a throwing stance, their harpoons at the ready. Their boots had slotted into the same metal plates that they had fastened the rope to, securing them to the deck so that they could keep all their focus on what was to come. “It’s breaching for air!” Kes’ssan yelled from above in the rigging, and there was a sudden spray of seawater as something broke through the surface.

Willem was not sure quite what it was at first, its figure obscured by speed and the sea spray. It seemed like an eel, long and snakelike as it soared out of the water. A massive fin ran from its neck and continued down its back, a bright blood-red. Its scales shimmered in the sunlight, a vibrant emerald green that transitioned to murky blue towards the belly. There were two fins that stuck out of the sides, likes webbed fingers that flailed in the air.

Yet strangest of all was its head, unlike that of any other fish Willem had seen. Its eyes were massive, large as a grown man’s fist, and they bulged out of either side, above a squat mouth lined with rows upon rows of thin needle-like teeth. From nose to forehead bulged a massive lump of bone and scale, like a ram. It was stark-white, flaring out in front of the eyes. Clearly this was what the fish had used to strike the boat—it did not even seem damaged from the attempt.

The entire beast was massive, perhaps three-quarters the length of the boat. As it arced, Willem could see its body flying in a crescent, from head tapering towards its eel-like tail. There was a graceful elegance to its movements, a dangerous power inside its muscular body. He was almost enraptured by the fish, unable to blink.

The crewmen had no such qualms. Both hurled their harpoons in a coordinated movement, aiming for the flank of the fish. The first missed, flying over the upper fin where it tapered towards the tail, landing in the water past it. Yet Bes’sahn’s throw was true, the head of the harpoon burying itself into the side right above the pectoral fin, throwing a shower of scarlet as the fish dove back into the water.

The length of rope spooled out, following the fish until it reached the end, tightening and pulling on the metal plate that it was fastened to. Bes’sahn hauled on the rope as well, and the other crewmen ran over to aid him. They fought the fish, heaving as they pulled it back with concerted strength. The animal resisted, the rope flailing wildly as it tried to swim away.

“Come on, boys.” the captain muttered, watching intently as his men fought the fish. They seemed to be winning, reeling in the length of rope slowly. The seawater around them was stained a dark red, the froth against the side of the ship a deep crimson.

“Is there a danger here?” Willem asked nervously, ignorant of the ordeal. The captain shook his head as he watched, unblinking.

“If the J’hara tried to swim away, that’s fine. The problem is if it dives under the ship to the other side or tries to flip us—then we’ll have to cut it loose, and we won’t get the is’shil back.” he muttered.

Willem felt his eyebrows go up in surprise—so the harpoons shared the captain’s name? Ye before he could ask, the captain shouted to Kes’ssan. “How’s it doing, boy?”

There was a pause as Kes’ssan watched, struggling to see clearly through the blood and foam. “The rope’s going straight, captain. Look’s like a good one!”

“How are you going to kill it?” Willem asked, confused. He saw no weapons other than the is’shil, and they did not seem to be lethal. Yet the captain merely smiled, clapping a hand on the boy’s shoulder. The crew kept hauling on the rope, and the pace seemed to be growing faster. The fish’s struggles slowed, the movement of the rope more erratic and infrequent now.

“You never seen J’hara fishing, boy? You’ve ta bleed the fish out’n let it run itself to the ground.” he explained as the crew began to pull in coordinated motions, reeling in more and more of the rope. The ship rocked as the fish slammed against the side in its final death throes, the water all around a vibrant crimson. Other fish would be drawn to this; they had to work quickly.

Bes’sahn and another crewman threw more ropes over the side of the ship before the vaulted into the water, blades out. Willem ran to the railing, watching as they descended into the froth to cut away at the massive fish. When they had a large piece of meat, they threw them onto the deck, where waiting crew members caught them. They worked quickly, coordinated with practice. Yet Willem found himself fascinated with how they could swim so easily; they had to stay afloat as they hacked away at the J’hara, on occasion diving under to get at the other side. The captain placed his hand on Willem’s shoulder, and the boy found himself staring at those fingers. How had he failed to notice earlier?

Glistening in the sea spray was a translucent membrane, stretching between the fingers like a webbing. It was thin, yet it stretched and snapped with a tenacity of rubber. Captain Is’shil, seeing were he was looking merely smiled.

“We’re Vysians, boy. Seafarers need some perks, after all.”