The seawater crusted a thin film of salt across his skin, by now punctured only by his perspiration, the cold sweat of panic. He was too young to die. Certainly, seafaring loners had a short life expectancy, but that was because they were poor and that oft left them at gutting whim of pirates like Bloth - not because they'd been scattered as part of their ships debris across the shore and subsequently captured.
Leaving Andorus suddenly seemed like it had been such a bad idea. This terror was nothing like the sense of venomous self-loathing and disappointment at the hands of those who felt he had to be an ecomancer, born of two perfectly capable parents. Until today, that had been the worst fear he'd known, the ridicule of his family and peers in light of failure.
Azur had no strength to defend himself from four people. No kicking and writhing was doing him any good. If they'd had the courtesy to blindfold him rather than simply gag him and bind him and hang him by the wrists off a hook