Read The Voyage of the Miscreation #1: The Voyage Begins Page 1


Copyright

  The Voyage of the Miscreation

  Kristen S. Walker

  Copyright © 2014 Kristen S. Walker

  Cover Illustration: Designed by Kristen S. Walker using public domain clipart from OpenClipart.org and watercolor textures from Jacqueline Moliner

  Edited by Charlee M. Redman

  ISBN:

  All rights reserved.

  © Kristen S. Walker and kristenwalker.net

  Other Stories

  Fae of Calaveras

  Small Town Witch

  Witch Hunt (coming August 2014)

  Witch Gate (coming Fall 2014)

  “Witch Test”- a prequel short story

  “Midsummer Knight” - a prequel short story

  “A Midwinter Night’s Dream” - short story between books 1 and 2

  The Voyage of the Miscreation

  Episode 1: The Voyage Begins

  Episode 2: The Trouble with Fangfrogs (coming August 2014)

  Episode 3: The Sunken Forest (coming September 2014)

  Wyld Magic

  Korinna’s Story: A Flight of Marewings

  Tales of Wyld Magic

  “Together We Will Fly”

  “The Hedge Witch”

  Wyld Magic in a Flash: Five Short Tales of Wyld Magic

  Mynta leaned against the ship’s railing and looked ahead at the crowded port, scanning for a glimpse of her very important client. The breeze ruffled through her short, dark hair. “Easy does it,” she called over the dock noise. “Wouldn’t want to scrape the fresh paint off one of these big, fancy merchant ships.”

  Beside her, the ship’s pilot, Yuri, let out a smug laugh. Propping himself up against the custom brace set before the wheel, he steered the ship expertly. Under his touch, Miscreation maneuvered between the larger vessels to its assigned dock on the western side of the port.

  Before today, Mynta had answered to no one but her crew, enjoying the freedom of the open seas. The retired mercenary made a living off killing monsters for whomever had the gold to pay for her services. But the person waiting in Kyratia City would end that. Although the ship barely made a sound as it nosed up against the wooden dock, to Mynta, it echoed like a judge’s gavel, sealing her sentence to serve another. However, she wouldn’t let her feelings show: she joked and smiled as if this were a job like any other.

  When the ship slid into place, the other sailors sprang into action. Rei dropped the anchor, while Nikephoros hopped over to the dock and secured the ropes. Mynta watched them without a word. Each one of them knew what they were doing and carried out their task with long-practiced motions.

  Once the ship was docked, Yuri took his crutch off its hook and hobbled across the deck to Rei. “Very smoothly done, my dear,” he said, looking up at her with a smile.

  Rei landed barefoot on the deck next to the shorter man and ran her fingers through his curly blond hair. “You, too. I barely felt a thing when you slipped in.”

  Yuri grabbed her around the waist with his free hand and pulled her closer, tipping his head back for a kiss. For a moment her free-flowing black hair swept forward like a curtain, hiding both of them from the rest of the world. Then he pulled back and looked over his shoulder. “Captain,” he called. “Permission to go ashore with my wife.”

  Mynta, who had been averting her eyes from the happy couple, looked up and waved them away. “Take a few hours off, but don’t be too long. I’ll sail at sunset without you if you don’t come back in time.”

  The pair hurried to leave, talking about their plans for the morning in low, excited tones. “One more day of freedom before we sell out to the nobles,” Rei muttered, and Mynta pretended not to hear.

  Nikephoros popped his head back over the railing and looked at her hopefully, but Mynta shook her head. “You, I’ve got a job for. Wait there for a bit.”

  Mynta went down into the hold, taking the steps two at a time, and paused just long enough for her eyes to adjust to the dim light of the lanterns. Long tables with benches stretched out on either side of the hold, and crew berths lined the walls, so there was only a narrow walkway in the middle, and she had to watch her step. She turned for the galley at the fore of the ship.

  No meal was planned, but the heat of the cooking fires still hit her full on as she entered the brightly painted room. She blinked and looked around, seeing no one in the chaos of hanging pots, herbs, and food. “Leina?” she called.

  A dark head in a flower-printed kerchief slammed into one of the pots, sending the dinged copper vessel clattering to the ground. “Ow!” Leina bent to pick up the pot and replaced it on its hook.

  The brilliant crooked smile appeared as she came forward, dusting her hands on a faded pink apron. “Is that you, cap’n? Have we docked already?”

  “Yes, we’re here,” Mynta grumbled. She reached out and touched the younger girl’s forehead, where a red bump was already swelling. “You should be more careful, little sister. I’m not giving hazard pay for injuries you get while cooking.”

  Leina brushed the concerned touch away with a laugh. “I’m tougher than that, cap’n. Did you need something? I was gonna skip dinner at noon, seeing as how the crew can eat ashore today.”

  Mynta reached into her pocket and pulled out a worn, creased piece of paper. “Take this to the markets,” she said, pressing it into Leina’s hand. “It’s a line of credit toward provisions for this voyage. I’m sending Nik with you to help carry.”

  Leina’s face lit up again at the mention of buying food. “Oh, great! What should I serve for supper tonight?”

  Mynta’s mouth twisted up in one corner. “Anything but fish! We’re supposed to be taking on four passengers, so make enough for everyone. You know what these city types like to eat. We can give them one good meal before it’s salt meat and hard tack.”

  Leina hung her apron up and smoothed her dress out with her hands. “I’ll do what I can.” Her smile faded. “You’ll tell Nik not to argue with me this time, right?”

  “I’ve already warned him to be on his best behavior with you,” Mynta murmured reassuringly. She kissed Leina on the cheek and watched her bounce off again.

  One more person to check on. Mynta walked past the narrow hold to the enclosed room at the stern.

  The door was closed, but not locked. Mynta strode inside.

  Genara whirled at the sound of the opening door and crossed her arms over her chest. “What did I tell you about coming in my cabin without knocking?”

  Mynta dragged a wooden chair across the floor, sat on it backwards, and leaned forward with her arms over the backrest. “It was my cabin until a few days ago.”

  “I pay you good money for a private cabin, and you made me move out of my old one.” Genara indicated the cramped quarters with a sweep of her hand. “There’s barely room in here for me and my instruments without you barging in.”

  Mynta shrugged. “Had to make room for the new passengers. They’re very specific about their needs.”

  Genara sat delicately on the edge of the bunk and looked directly at the captain. “Why are we even taking on new passengers? A stuffy scholar and his research team will just get in the way.”

  Mynta sighed. “I can’t afford to keep this boat afloat on the occasional monster hunts anymore,” she said slowly, picking at her fingernails. “The scholar’s offering a steady contract for the whole season. We do this job for eight months and that could give us enough of a cushion to keep us going for another year, maybe two. I’m doing this to take care of my crew.”

  Genara’s face softened a little and she looked away. “I didn’t know things were that bad.”

 
“Yeah, well, I kinda need all of us to be together on this for it to work.” Mynta looked at the floor and took a deep breath, because what came next was hard to say. “Will you help me make a good impression with this guy? You know how to talk to these educated types.”

  Genara cleared her throat and the edge came back into her voice. “I think the first thing would be to get you into some nicer clothes.” She gestured down at the captain’s bare feet, ragged trousers, and threadbare shirt.

  Mynta scowled and ran a hand back through her hair. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

  Ameyron dug in the pockets of his violet mage robes until he found the scrap of paper he was looking for. He checked the name on his copy of the contract and scowled as he looked back at the bedraggled bucket floating before him. With two stumpy masts and not even forty meters long, he could hardly call Miscreation a ship. “It’s smaller than I expected,” he complained.

  “It’s more maneuverable,” Omalia explained patiently. She pointed below the water line. “The flat bottom design means that it can sail into shallow bays. You can go practically anywhere, instead of being limited to the major ports. Better for your research.”

  She turned to the line of dockhands who were carrying the mage’s many chests and bags of books, papers, and research materials onto the ship. “The captain has reassured me that you’ll have the largest cabin, with plenty of room for all of your supplies.”

  Ameyron folded his arms, tucking his hands into his