Daughter of the Pirate King

by Tricia Levenseller

  “Take a deep breath,” I say, even as the water starts filling me. I feel myself changing, inside and out.

  And with no more hesitation, I pull him under with me and begin to swim.

  My heart races. Pure joy surges through me to feel so full, to be surrounded by the sea. To a human, it would be freezing cold. But not to me. It is soothing and revitalizing and refreshing. I can feel strength and health pouring into me as I start swimming at an impossibly fast pace.

  And I can feel my body change.

  My hair lengthens, takes on a life of its own as it swirls and whips through the water. My skin whitens, changing from the tan color the sun gave me to the color of white pearls. My nails lengthen and sharpen ever so slightly. I can breathe even while under the water. I can move effortlessly through it. I can see as well as if I were on land, night or day. I feel connected to the sea life around me. The snails on the rocks deep below me. The fish swimming far to the right. The plants swaying in the light current below. Even the tiny creatures that can’t be seen with my eyes. I can still feel them.

  I want nothing more than to swim and simply enjoy the feel of the water flowing by me as I propel myself forward.

  But a weight prohibits my swim.

  I almost forgot. There’s a man with me. His eyes are open, even through the salty water. He’s watching me with clear astonishment.

  As he should. I am power and beauty. I am song and water. I rule the sea and all creatures within it.

  The man points upward. Then he gestures to his throat. A trail of blood mixes in the water, flowing behind us. A nearby acura eel smells it, but then it senses me and flees in the other direction.

  The man shakes me, gripping my arm. I return my attention to him. Ah, he is drowning. He needs air if he is to survive.

  I will relish watching him squirm and drown. It’ll be an enjoyable spectacle as I continue to swim and become one with the soothing waters. Perhaps I’ll dance with his lifeless body afterward.

  He begins kicking his feet, trying to reach the surface on his own, but his injuries are too great for him to manage it, and my grip is too strong for him to ever get away.

  Finally, he stops struggling. Instead he puts his hands on either side of my face, straining to look into my eyes. He presses his lips to mine once before he is still.

  At that simple motion, something awakens inside me. Riden. This is the man who got himself shot by helping me escape from Vordan, and now I’m letting him drown.

  Instantly, I swim for the surface. He’s not breathing, even above the water. I need to get him to land. I sense around me for interruptions in the water, looking for something large that resists the flow of the natural currents around me. There is a ship not too far off. Riden’s ship. They must be searching for him.

  Faster than anything else in the water, I swim for the ship. Like a bird in the air, I pass through effortlessly, mounting league after league.

  I’m swimming toward my other captors yet again, but I cannot hand myself over to them without a plan of escape. Panic sets in. There’s no time. Every second that passes is a second that brings Riden closer to death. I need to get to the ship now.

  I don’t halt my movements toward the ship, but I submerge my head and start singing. From below the water my voice is clear. Clear and sharp as a bell. It travels fast, reaching the ears of those on the Night Farer. The power of my song is limitless when I am in the ocean. The sea keeps nourishing me, feeding me so I never tire.

  Reaching out toward the ship, I prepare the men for what is to come. They need to be ready for us. We cannot waste a second. I still can control only three men at a time, so I first reach out to Kearan, telling him to move the ship in our direction. Then I find Enwen and Draxen. I bring them to the ship’s edge and hold Riden up, so it will be him that Draxen sees first.

  “Lower a rope!” Draxen commands immediately.

  As his men hasten to obey, I let out one more verse. This time I reach even farther out.

  I’m forced to swim to the right, dodging the large knotted rope that splashes me with water as it reaches its end. My body changes as soon as I’m hoisted out of the water, so quickly that no one can take notice. None can see my siren form unless they peer through the water, and I think it’s safe to say that they were too far away to notice. But that is hardly a concern for me at the moment.

  Draxen's men haul us up quickly. There must be at least five of them tugging on the rope. I have to grip the edge of the railing once I get to the top—it’s difficult while holding on to Riden’s weight as well. Otherwise they would have hauled me all the way over, and I probably would have broken a finger or my wrist as it jammed into the railing.

  Draxen grabs Riden and lays him down on the ship’s deck. I’m about to step forward to help when I’m seized by what feels like twenty men.

  “Go grab Holdin!” he orders. Someone runs belowdecks.

  “The ship’s doctor can’t help him,” I snap.

  I’m momentarily distracted by the filthy fingers at my body. They probe and push, straying to places they shouldn’t. Places hardly necessary for restraining me. My muscles hurt from the strain. My pride hurts from the whole scene.

  “What did you do to him?” Draxen demands.

  That’s it. I don’t care if the whole crew witnesses this. They’re about to die anyway. I slam my abilities into Draxen, ordering him to make his men let me go.

  His crew hears me singing; they’re perplexed enough by that. But once Draxen orders them to let me go, they’re dumbfounded.

  He has to repeat himself, more loudly this time, before they listen. They must decide I’m not behind the change if they still obeyed Draxen’s order. Good.

  I rush to Riden, sit on the cold deck, and place a hand on either side of his head. I lower my head as though going in for a kiss. I need to force air back into his lungs. Plugging his nose with the fingers of my right hand, I blow into his mouth, willing the air to reach down into his lungs.

  I wait a moment and then try again. Five times I do this, and nothing changes.

  “No,” I say, barely a whisper. I lie on top of his body, placing my head against his chest, a silent plea for it to start moving up and down, for his lungs to work, for his body to keep the life within.

  This can’t be happening. Not after he rescued me. Not after he let himself get shot to help me. He can’t die now.

  But there is water in his lungs. I can sense it beneath my cheek. And if I could just get it out …

  I place my hands against his chest to make it look as though I’m using them to force the water from his lungs, but I know at this point they’re useless.

  I sing, so softly that only Riden can hear, were he awake. I tell his mind to stay alert. I beg the organs to remain steady. I cannot heal his wounds. I cannot speed up or change anything. I can only reach his mind. I tell him not to give up. Not yet. He’s not allowed to die.

  When I’ve expelled some of the song from me, I pull at the water beneath me, the water in Riden’s lungs. I cannot touch it, but I can sense it. And I demand that it come to me.

  It does not move.

  But I dig my fingers into Riden’s chest, and pull—both physically and mentally. I will him back to life with every essence of myself.

  And finally, the water sways upward. It drifts out of the lungs, through his flesh, sweats out of his skin, and comes into me.

  “Now breathe!” I say and sing at the same time. I blow air into his mouth once more. Demand that his lungs start working. Riden’s heart still beats, so if I can convince his lungs to pump on their own, he will be all right. He has to be all right.

  Riden gasps, heaving in the loudest breath I have ever heard. It reminds me of a newborn babe taking its first breath. It is the sound of life.

  I lean away from him and take a moment to breathe myself.

  In seconds, they are upon me. Draxen must have regained his senses. A blade is shoved under my throat. Another presses against my stomach
, digging in enough to scratch the skin. I can’t even muster up the strength to care. Riden is alive. That’s all that matters. His eyes are closed and his wounds still bleed. But he will survive.

  “What would you like done with her, Captain?” one of the offending pirates asks.

  “Take her back to the brig. I want five men down there watching her at all times. She’s not to be given food or water. And don’t talk to her.”

  Like a caged bird, I’m locked up. Again.

  I’m really starting to hate this.

  Chapter 20

  THERE ISN’T A WORD for how cold I feel in the brig. Now that I can afford to think about myself, I register the effect of wet clothes and the brisk morning air. Small gaps in the wood allow faint breezes to escape into the ship. They rake against my skin, sending me racking with shivers.

  My extra changes of clothes are no longer in here. I’ve no idea what Riden’s done with them. Maybe the other pirates took them once my cell was unlocked. Fabric can be sold at a pretty price, and pirates are always looking to make a profit.

  I sit on the floor, my arms wrapped around my legs. My toes have gone numb. I remove my boots and rub at them fiercely with my hands.

  The men outside my cell do nothing. They hardly spare me a glance. Draxen was obviously responsible for this lot being chosen to watch me. They won’t respond to any of my comments.

  “Is it Draxen’s intention for me to die or can I get a blanket?

  “Oi, Ugly, I’m talking to you.”

  One man looks. His face reddens, and then he goes back to staring at the walls.

  “How’s it that Draxen managed to find a whole group of deaf men as my guards?

  “Get me a blasted blanket, or I’ll have your heads!

  “Don’t suppose one of you would like to toss me your shirt?” At this point I would take any foul-smelling garment, as long as it’s dry.

  Eventually I try to force myself to dry. I run in circles, wave my arms about—anything to get my blood pumping. But each thing I do sends more air onto my raw skin. I wish I were back in the water.

  I remove as much clothing as I dare in this company.

  How is there still water on my skin? How can there be so much of it? The truly terrible part is I could whisk it away, but I don’t know what the consequences would be. Would I lose myself and become the siren? Or could I manage to keep my head like I did those few times with Riden’s help? I don’t know, but at this point, I can’t risk it. Not with what’s about to come.

  I don’t know how much time passes before I give up being quite so careful. I sing a low tune to the man who looked up at my taunt. He seems to be the weak one of the bunch. Get me a blanket! I hurl the words at him in the form of a harsh song. Only he can hear the intent of the song. To the others, I’m making meaningless noise.

  Abruptly, he gets up and leaves.

  “Where yeh going?” another one asks him. He doesn’t receive a response.

  The enchanted man returns shortly. He hands me a blanket through the bars. “Just to get you to shut up,” I have him say, to throw off any suspicions the others might have.

  “About bloody time,” I say. I rip the cloth from his hands and use it to wipe the water from my skin. Then I wrap myself in it. So much better. I can actually think clearly.

  All I need now is to wait out the rest of the day. Possibly the night, too. I don’t know how long it will take.

  Yesterday and this morning have thoroughly exhausted me. I drift in and out of sleep. First I dream of Riden. He’s healthy and well. He tells me again he’s a better shot than I am. We take turns shooting at dummies. In the end, he wins. But this makes me realize this is a dream. In reality, he couldn’t possibly beat me.

  Then I dream of my father. He’s demanding the map. Screaming at me from where I rest behind bars, refusing to let me out until I produce it. I search through my clothes, where I know I’ve put the map, but it’s mysteriously not there. He tells me I’ll never see the outside of the cell. The bars start moving closer, crushing my skin.

  I gasp out loud. The men on the other side of the bars snort before going back to their dice and drinking.

  A few moments later, I slink into blissful sleep once again, thinking about the last song I uttered before being pulled back aboard this ship.

  It won’t be long now.

  * * *

  I wake to the sound of gunshots. A huge smile stretches across my face.

  It’s time.

  “All hands on deck!” Draxen shouts from above. My guards all hurry up the stairs, leaving me alone below.

  After flipping over the table in my cell, I check the leg for my lockpicks. They’re still here. All that time and Riden couldn’t figure out how I got out of my cell.

  The fight above is loud. There’s screaming and grunting. Swinging limbs and clanging metal. Cursing and collapsing.

  Eventually, I hear rapid stomping; it’s distinct from the rest of the ongoing battle. Probably because it’s closer. If I had to guess, I’d say someone rolled down the stairs. Shame, that. Probably will hurt like mad the next day if the poor bastard isn’t already dead.

  “Captain, you down here?”

  “Over here!” I shout back.

  Niridia’s face comes into view, followed by two more members of my crew. I could jump for how glad I am to see them.

  “Got your beckonings. Wallov came to me the moment he heard you singing,” she says. She looks me up and down. “You can’t be in a good mood. You look terrible.”

  I cringe. “Don’t remind me.”

  Niridia grins. She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, but that’s not why she’s my first mate. We met five years ago, both the daughters of pirates. Niridia’s my senior by one year, but she follows orders and fights nearly as well as I do. With hair the color of the sun and bright blue eyes, she’s a complete contradiction, as anyone who’s seen her fight can attest.

  “How’s the situation up top?” I ask.

  “Shipshape, Captain,” Niridia says. “Tylon’s men have nearly half of them on their backs already.”

  “Tylon’s here?” Venom creeps into my voice.

  “Sorry. He caught me leaving. I didn’t tell him where I was going, but he followed.”

  “Bloody hell, that man needs to learn to mind his own business.”

  “You know how he is.”

  Yes, but I’m still going to have a long talk with him when this is all done. Tylon captains one of the ships in my father’s fleet. And lately he’s gotten it into his head that the two of us need to be … involved. A notion my father no doubt persuaded him of. I, however, want nothing to do with the arrogant piss pot.

  “Wouldn’t be too harsh on him, Captain. His men helped a few of the girls up top when they were in a tight spot.”

  “I’m sure. And how many times did the girls have to assist his idiotic crew?”

  “Plenty.”

  “I thought so.”

  “Shall we go join the fight, then?” Mandsy asks eagerly from where she stands between Niridia and Sorinda.

  “Sword?” I ask.

  “Here, Captain.” This from Sorinda. The raven-haired girl produces my sword out of seemingly nowhere. Sorinda hides more weapons on her than a spy does secrets.

  Ah, my cutlass. One of the first gifts my father ever gave me. I had Sorinda hold on to it for me while I went on my mission. I can see she took good care of it. There’s no one I’d trust more with a weapon than Sorinda.

  Seeing them again warms me. Now I want nothing more than to be back on my ship, but first things first.

  “Let’s help the boys and girls upstairs, shall we?”

  “Aye,” they all respond together.

  We trod above deck and engage in the fight. It’s utter chaos. I have only a moment to register friend from foe as I try to remember the faces of all the men from the Night Farer. This would be far easier if Tylon’s men weren’t mixed in with Draxen’s. Instead of simply killing
all the men on the ship, I now have to be wary of the pirates who serve under my father in Tylon’s crew. To be fair, a couple of the men are mine. But I know every member of my ship so well, it’d be impossible for me to mistake them for anyone else.

  There are people still trying to board the ship, eager to join the battle. Draxen and his men don’t stand a chance, but they’re putting up a fight. Most of them are, anyway. I see Kearan sitting on the deck, drinking, not a care in the world. Not much of a fighter, that one.

  I spot Draxen. He’s fighting two of Tylon’s men at once. For a moment, I wish one of them would kill him. Riden can’t blame me for that, and I do so want to see him dead. But I know that no matter by whose hand he falls, Riden will still hurt from the loss. I hate that I keep proving Vordan right. I care about Riden’s pain. I don’t know why, but I do.

  Before my eyes, Draxen slays one of Tylon’s men. The other steps back a couple of feet. Then he advances with a new fury. Bad move, that. The poor man’s not thinking clearly. He will only join his friend.

  Draxen kills him, too. The pirate falls to the deck as Tylon boards the ship. Seeing a man kill one of your own men is a terrible sight. It helps you pick your targets during a battle. And Tylon races for Draxen immediately.

  This needs to stop. Now.

  Tylon is an excellent fighter. He’s been pirating a good six years of his life, ever since he was a lad of twelve. Now he’s one of my father’s most trusted men and a good match for any pirate captain. I couldn’t say who would win in a fight.

  This makes me unaccountably nervous. I can’t risk Tylon winning, but how would it look if I intervened?

  Oh, for stars’ sake!

  I race forward, jumping between the two men who are still a good ten feet from each other.

  “Alosa,” I hear Tylon say from behind me.

  I ignore him for now. “Draxen, you need to stop this. Tell your men to surrender, or more will die.”

  Draxen looks at me, his eyes filled with blood lust. Surrendering is the last thing he will consider, even at the cost of the lives of all his men. He advances toward me, determined to end me once and for all.

  I’ll just have to knock him out again. But how will it look to everyone else if I don’t kill him?