Unfortunately, waking up in a cell felt no different than waking up anywhere else. Redwynn groaned as he nearly tipped off the rickety mat onto the floor. Getting kidnapped by a bunch of mad robots was a new experience for him. Red sat up on the musty bed in his cell, blinking rapidly. His joints ached from the shaking of the ship and the mattress that clearly had only been slept in by rats.
"Well, that sucks," He muttered under his breath.
He had hoped that there would be at least some difference when he woke up in a cell. He had slept in many locations during his 16 years of life. Sleeping in different locations always seemed to arouse some variation in the way he felt in the morning. Once he had slept on top of the bakery, getting aroused by the smell of fresh bread was incredible. Most of the time, it wasn't that pleasant. As weird as it sounded, it was true. This stupid cell made him feel well… just normal, which really sucked.
The deck boards wobbled as he rose unsteadily to his feet. Rough boards scraped at his feet as he waited a moment for his body to adjust to the slight shake of the ship. The waves must have been rather strong today to rock the ship as much as they were. Perhaps a storm was brewing. That would aid in his escape if he chose to act. Despite the potential of a storm for cover, Red wasn't sure if he wanted to act now or not.
"There's still a lot I don't know," He reminded himself.
Those bloody tin cans seemed to keep very tight shifts. Not to mention, they talked just about as much as a snail. It was so boring. At least with human jailors, he had someone to make fun of. He assumed that at least. He'd never actually been imprisoned before, so this was a first.
Despite all of his provocative attempts, the Gearborn hardly seemed to react to his taunts. Well, all of them, except for the one who was forced to bring him food each day. That guy never seemed to calm down.
Red glanced out the port side window at the slight light smeared across its surface. It was just thick enough to allow the smallest twinge of dawn light. They were still heading north. That surprised him. North would lead them closer to The Fallen Isles, increasing their chances of being spotted. Nobody would stand for the wretched Gearborn in this part of the seas.
The little morning light was just enough to see the slight outlines of the cell around him. Red focused on the palm of his hand. It took a lot of concentration to create a semblance of balance between the rocking ship and the breathing of his body. When he finally felt the connection, Red focused the energy within his heart to his hand. Not his actual heart, his sea heart. A thin glow of red mist flickered to life in the center of his hand.
He felt the mist draining from his sea heart in the center of his chest. With him successfully creating the form, he wouldn't have to worry about maintaining his concentration. As long as he kept the glowing light in the back of his mind and kept funneling a bit of mist, he could keep the construct active. Now for the tricky part. Red wasn't experienced by any means because the only one who taught him was an ancient statue of a man on his home island.
One of the first things the sculpture had taught Red was to change the color of his mist. Apparently, no one had red mist, and it was dangerous to go flaunting around. Red felt his jaw clench. He certainly enjoyed that his mist's color was the same as his name. But he listened carefully to Old Man Gary's instructions anyway. Changing the color of one's magic was not something most could do. It seemed he was special in that regard as well.
He focused on the slight rocking of the ship. Since he was on the sea, it would make drawing the connection between him and the Heart of Valencia much simpler. That didn't make it easy by any means. It was still damn near impossible for him.
He did it anyway, despite it taking multiple minutes. All the while, he stood in intense concentration, hoping that the tin can that was supposed to bring his food didn't come too early. Lines of sweat dripped down his face, but he ignored them, totally engrossed in the red glow of his palm.
The light began to swirl and twist as if spinning in a vortex. He noted that once again, the change to the light didn't come gradually like the old man had said it would. The mist turned chaotic, and then, in one instant, a red glow filled the room, and the next, a warm teal flooded from his palm. Red let out a ragged sigh and almost lost control of the twisting ball of light. He reinforced his concentration on the flood of mist exiting his body.
Taking a step forward, Red swung his hand back and forth across the room, letting the teal glow flood across his small containment. It made the rugged, downcast chamber feel serene despite the cramped environment. The room suddenly felt like he was stuck in a dream.
Ignoring the urge to lie down and enjoy the tranquil glow, he bent down to examine a strange piece of floorboard in the cell. He had taken the time to meticulously carve a rugged map of the interior of the ship. Creating a map visible only at a specific angle of lighting had been very difficult. Out of everything, he prided himself on being resourceful. Still, carving markings into hardwood was very difficult to do with a spoon.
Red felt his mist quickly dissipate and eventually had to release the glowing ball of light. Without having any of the seven layers, his sea heart was rather weak. He couldn't contain nearly as much mist to make it practical during a fight yet. Still, the constant practice of draining himself was like exercising, and slowly his heart was holding more and more mist.
With an exhaustive sigh, he dropped back down onto his mattress. There really wasn't much he could do today. His plan of escape relied on his getting out of his cell. He'd already managed that a few times, but the problem was actually escaping the boat.
There were hundreds of robots crawling the ship. In a fight, he wouldn't stand a chance. Not that he would have fought fair even if he did. That also wasn't considering the strangely powerful Gearborn that was the captain. Red couldn't even sense him, which meant he was incredibly strong.
As a result, Red needed to set the stage for the inevitable showdown. Understanding the interior of the ship was crucial to setting traps. It was something that he could definitely do, just as long as the tin cans didn't catch him in the process. That was why he couldn't act yet. He still hadn't received his morning slop. The Gearborn usually delivered this so-called food shortly after sunrise. After that, he would be able to act.
"I wonder where these Gearborn are heading?" He muttered to himself.
It was a question he had pondered many times. Gearborn were supposed to be prevented from even entering Valencia, and yet that was exactly where they were. Now, they weren't heading back to their homeland but instead deeper into the human-occupied sea.
If the Gearborn were caught here, it would be death on sight. Red wasn't sure how he felt about that. He didn't care for the Gearborn, but he also wasn't a vindictive hater of the robots. Well, other than them catching him and all. But that would be resolved soon enough.
He had lost enough to the blasted things already. He certainly wasn't willing to let himself die to stop them, which would inevitably happen if any humans crossed paths with the Gearborn ship. It would sink…and him with it.
Shaking his head to clear the depressing thoughts, Red firmly told himself, "Think happy thoughts. There is no point in wallowing in your sorrows. This is a new experience after all. It will be such an incredible story. How many people will be able to say the Gearborn captured them and then they escaped?"
He paused and cocked his head slightly, "Well, now that I think about it. That doesn't seem like it is giving me much of a chance either."
Red laughed. That just meant his escape would be that much more dashing and impressive. If he managed to escape, that is.
"Happy thoughts, I said. Let's see what is there to think about. I'm going to eat soon, so that's pretty cool. The food has an interesting texture despite tasting like grease. Uh, what else? Honestly, I'm stumped," He muttered to himself, "Bloody hell, I'm totally insane."
Red sighed. He couldn't believe himself. It had only been a few days, and he was already talking to himself. He really needed to find someone to banter with, or soon he'd talk himself to death.