Viper

by Bex Hogan

  And then, as if just by looking I’ve somehow infected the moment, one of the dainty bodies drops to the deck with a thud.

  I scramble over to lift the bird into my hands, and look around to see if anyone else has noticed. Confident they haven’t, I smuggle the bird back to where I was settled and open my hands.

  It’s not dead, but it’s heading that way, its wing broken, its eyes turning glassy. Its little chest rises and falls rapidly, shock its most imminent threat.

  I fold my hands back round it, gently, protectively, and close my eyes. It’s ludicrous to feel responsible, but somehow I do. Not just about the bird. About Lynx. About everything.

  Live.

  I will the bird to recover, thinking maybe if it can survive such a fall, I can survive what lies ahead for me. Stupid really.

  The sound of voices approaching brings me back to my surroundings, and I shove my hand into my pocket, the bird safely concealed just as two crewmembers stumble up to deck, drunk and loud.

  It’s Briggs and his on-off lover Choke, a woman named after her passion for crushing windpipes. I wish she’d just go ahead and crush Briggs’s.

  I hope they won’t notice me, but I’m all out of luck as Briggs spots me and nudges Choke.

  ‘Look who it is,’ he says, his words slurring together. ‘The runt.’

  Choke isn’t as drunk as Briggs and says nothing, though she grins at me with deadly intent.

  Briggs comes over to where I’m sitting and I get to my feet, hand still securely in pocket to hold the bird safe.

  ‘Isn’t it past your bedtime?’

  There’s no point in engaging with him; my only desire at this point is to slip away without causing a scene.

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ I say. ‘If you’ll excuse me . . .’

  He presses his fingers to my chest and pushes me back. ‘Hey, I’m not done talking to you.’ His eyes fall on the nibbled sea biscuit in my exposed hand and light up. ‘Been stealing from the rations, have you?’

  I shrug, inwardly bristling at the accusation. ‘Missed dinner.’

  ‘I’m hungry.’ He turns to Choke. ‘You hungry?’

  She says nothing, just watches with dangerous anticipation.

  ‘Hand it over,’ Briggs says.

  It’s only a stupid scrap of food, but I refuse to be bullied by this poor excuse for a human.

  ‘No.’

  His eyes narrow and he turns to Choke with a mirthless laugh. ‘Hear that? Runt’s grown herself a little pair of balls.’

  Oh, please. Only a man would think that was a compliment. One swift kick to his would shut him up and it takes all my efforts not to do so.

  Briggs smiles at me, before reaching to snatch the food from my hand. I could retaliate, stop him from taking it, but I fear any movement could risk hurting the bird precariously resting in my pocket.

  So I don’t react at all.

  He studies the sea biscuit as if he finds it repulsive. He holds it up for Choke to see. ‘Not sure about you, but I don’t want Runt’s leftovers. Cowardice might be catching.’

  And he casually tosses it into the ocean.

  Such a wasteful act is, of course, a great source of amusement to him, but to my relief he’s done playing with me, and he rejoins Choke, laughing so hard he starts to cough. I take the opportunity and practically run back to my cabin.

  Once I’m alone, I carefully lift the moonbird from my pocket and place it on top of my trunk to examine it. And I smile. The wing I thought was broken appears to be perfectly all right, just a little dishevelled, and the veil of death that was previously descending has now lifted. I was mistaken about how gravely hurt it was, and sigh with relief. Maybe there’s hope for both of us still.

  The door to my room bursts open. There’s no time to hide the bird as my father strides in, and it’s obvious he’s not here to tuck me in for the night.

  I freeze, unable to move.

  ‘You think you can flout my rules?’ Father growls as he steps closer. ‘You think you can leave your cabin without me finding out? That I wouldn’t know you were spying on my crew?’

  I have no idea how he knows – there wasn’t time for Briggs to tell him – but my protests shrivel away to nothing before they can leave my lips.

  ‘I thought you’d learned your lesson for disobedience with this.’ And he presses his thumb hard into my nose. Pain blooms through my head and I think I might be sick. ‘But apparently you think you’re beyond reproach. Allow me to relieve you of such misconceptions.’

  He grabs the moonbird with one hand, and plants the other on my face, palm splayed, holding me back.

  ‘Consider this bird represents you and see what happens when I am displeased.’

  And he crushes the fragile body in his brutal grip.

  I close my eyes and fight back the sob rising in my throat. His hand still over my face, he pushes me backwards until I hit the wall.

  ‘You will remember who I am, and you will never seek to disobey me again, do you understand?’

  His spit splatters on to my skin and I nod frantically. ‘Who am I?’ he shouts, his mouth practically touching mine.

  ‘My father.’

  ‘Who am I?’ he roars even louder.

  ‘My captain.’

  ‘Who am I?’

  ‘The Viper.’

  ‘And I will be obeyed.’ Then with one sharp thrust he smashes my head hard into the wall before he strides back out, leaving me alone once more.

  I slide down, my legs unable to support me a moment longer, and stare at the little body lying on my floor.

  The noose strangles me like never before, but despite being shaken to my very core I feel a spark of determination. He wants to silence me, to stop me meddling.

  Which means there’s something to find.

  We make port at the Sixth Isle not three weeks later. It’s my father’s favourite island and we come here frequently, in part because it offers many secluded bays where we can careen the Maiden, turning her on her side when she requires repairs, or cleaning the hull below the waterline of barnacles and weed.

  Known to most as the Rock Island, the majority of the Eastern Isles’ wealth comes from the crystal mining that takes place deep beneath its surface and it’s this bounty that truly draws my father here. As he collects the crystal in the name of the King, no one dares challenge him, but I am no longer convinced the King receives most of what we take.

  The island is permanently shrouded in darkness and today is no exception. A low wall of cloud greets us as we arrive, having drifted over from the neighbouring Fifth Isle, or Mist Island. The mist makes navigation challenging – indeed for most it would be impossible. But the Maiden knows these waters almost as well as my father, and we pass the lethal rocks that surround the island untroubled.

  The crew row to shore in small boats. Usually when they disembark here I’m not remotely jealous to be left behind. The surface of the island is barren, every inch unyielding stone so jagged that if one were foolish enough to go barefoot, one’s skin would be cut to shreds.

  Today, however, I will have to endure the terrain, because, despite my father’s best efforts to subdue me, I need answers. In the past three weeks, my every attempt to uncover clues has been frustratingly futile. Secrets are guarded too closely on the ship. I’m hoping the crew’s defences might be lowered away from the Maiden. Away from me. I strip to my undergarments to make swimming easier but wear my boots for protection. I hate how clumsy I feel in them compared to having bare feet, but the last thing I need right now is sliced soles. If I need to, I want to be able to run.

  Only a few shipmates remain behind, and I’m not in the slightest bit concerned about slipping past them. Not one of the crew left has grown up on the Maiden, so none of them knows her secrets the way I do, and I glide through the shadows unseen to climb down her side.

  And then, just above the water, I hesitate. I’m going to have to overcome all my fears, lower myself into the ice-cold ocean and swim t
o the island, if I want to find answers. Though the still shallows don’t frighten me the way the ocean depths do, I’m still not sure I can do it, my heart beating far too fast as I stare at my reflection.

  Panic settles in, my anxiety spiking, and I don’t think I can do this. I won’t make it. I should go back to my cabin now and give up, but even as I think it I can hear echoes of the crew’s hollow laughter taunting me.

  There’s only one way to silence them, and I take the plunge.

  The water’s so cold I forget to breathe, my body tense, and for a moment I think this might be the end. It’s sheer stubbornness that pulls my mind into focus and makes me calm down. I want answers. I’m going to get them, no matter what. And with more determination than I’ve ever had, I pull my arms through the water, my legs propelling me from behind, just like Grace once told me to do.

  I’m breathless by the time I reach the island, but exhilarated. I did it. But there isn’t time to dwell on my achievement. The crew already have a good head start, so I need to get moving if I’m to catch up with them.

  Pulling myself on to the rock is made bearable by the leather strapping I’ve wrapped round my hands, and only my fingers are cut, my blood eager to mingle with the salt water still clinging to the skin. It’s good to be out of the water, but it’s even better to be on the firm ground, even if it’s utterly unforgiving. It’s been a long time since I was on land, and I’ve longed for this moment. If only there was more time to savour it.

  Sweeping my wet hair from my face, I crouch low to the ground, my knife pressed reassuringly to my hip. I know which direction my father went in, west towards the mine, but I won’t follow their road, even if it would be kinder to my feet.

  Instead I veer slightly north, taking a less visible route towards the settlement surrounding the mine. I’ve spent a long time studying maps in case I require the knowledge in my Initiation, and though charts of the ocean have been my main focus, I’ve taken the opportunity to study the land I love so much too. Every one of the six Eastern Isles is imprinted on my mind, though admittedly the detail on my father’s maps can be sketchy at best. But he has this island particularly well recorded due to his infatuation with its crystal, and so it’s with some confidence that I choose my path, relishing the opportunity to put my knowledge to use.

  What am I hoping to discover today? What answers could I possibly find in this desolate place? Honestly I’m not sure, but something is happening between my father and the King and I’m desperate for clues, no matter how small. Serving His Majesty, fulfilling a duty to defend the realm – it’s what makes my father and his crew honourable. It may be a romantic notion, but it’s one that’s helped me accept the savagery required of my family. But now we’re spying on the King? And killing his Fleet? It makes no sense.

  The cloud is low on the land, so visibility isn’t great, but it offers me some cover should unfriendly eyes stray my way. It’s also quiet. Too quiet? Usually the drone of mining work can be heard even back on the ship, but today I hear nothing, nor do I feel the vibration of blasting underground. I’ve been too lost in thought to notice its absence until now. It’s possible they’ve ceased work while my father visits, but the quickening of my heart suggests otherwise.

  Something’s wrong.

  I move faster, barely breathing for fear of being discovered, and crawl up to my intended vantage point: the top of the cliff that surrounds the settlement. From here I have a perfect view of the mine, while the rocks provide excellent cover. I lie low, ignoring the sharp points of stone piercing my body, knowing my father would do far worse should I be discovered. And then I watch.

  The elite crew of the Maiden have already arrived at the settlement, and judging by their expressions they were not expecting the silence that greets them either. My father points at a few of them and they fan out, cutlasses drawn, pistols raised. They are alert, anticipating trouble, when a figure emerges from one of the stone huts, his arms raised.

  My father strides towards him, saying something I can’t hear from this distance. The man shakes his head and my father pushes him hard so that he falls on to the rock. I wince in reflex, and watch as my father grabs him by the neck and drags him to his feet. I can see now that the man is old, and most likely someone of importance here.

  ‘Tell me why the mine is down!’ Father bellows the question so loudly it reaches my ears perfectly.

  ‘Please, don’t hurt him.’ The voice that now carries is a woman’s and she is striding out from another hut with a bravery I admire. ‘There was an accident. If you let him go, I’ll tell you what happened.’

  To my surprise Father does as she asks and releases the old man. The woman runs over to him and wraps her arms protectively round his shoulders, shielding him from my father. I realise I’m holding my breath. I don’t trust my father for a moment. My eyes scan the crew until I locate Grace and Bronn. They are both motionless, poised to pounce at a single command. I’ve never seen them off the ship like this, standing with my father as he terrorises unarmed civilians, and I think I might be sick.

  I have to strain to hear the conversation between my father and the woman now that they’re no longer shouting, and though I miss most of what’s said, I pick up the gist. There has been great suffering here. Long winters and poor conditions had already taken a toll on these people before the accident happened at the mine just weeks ago. Hundreds of lives were lost and those who remain – mostly women, children and elderly – have been left with next to nothing. Their dwindling supply of crystal will be gone by the end of the month. Though the King had been sent word no aid has come, until now.

  My heart sinks. She thinks my father is here to help them and I feel pure fear for her.

  Other people are daring to appear from their homes now too. What are they doing? Do they think this is safe? My heart beats so loudly it’s deafening. They’re all in danger. No, no, no. Don’t bring your children out. Get back inside. Hurry.

  My father shoots first. Lazily he lifts his pistol, the bullet passing straight through the old man’s head. The woman springs back in horror and starts to scream. Then all I can hear is a murderous chorus. Screams. Crying. Pleading. Begging. My father doesn’t even need to issue an order; his crew quick to take his lead.

  The villagers are slaughtered in less time than it takes for my father to plunder their remaining supply of crystal – all that they had left to trade for food. They won’t need either now.

  My mind is a tempest of horrors, my thoughts tossed around in nightmarish fragments, but finally one thought pushes through to make itself heard. Run.

  I have only minutes – the time it’ll take the crew to gather up anything of value – to return to the ship and make sure my presence here goes undiscovered. Scrambling to my feet, I stumble and slide as I race back towards the shore.

  They killed them. They killed all of them. Defenceless, unarmed innocents. Children . . .

  I shake my head. I can’t think about that now. I have to hurry, but I trip over myself as urgency propels me faster than my body can go. Tears are clouding my vision and I wipe them furiously away as I try to keep to my path. Finally the Maiden comes into view and I dive recklessly into the sea. My mind screams with panic at being in the water but I press on, knowing some things are more terrifying than the ocean, clambering up the side of the ship and collapsing on to deck before managing to hurry back to my cabin unnoticed.

  Only when I’ve changed my wet undergarments for my dress, and rubbed my hair as dry as possible do I allow myself a moment to breathe and it’s then that a sob escapes my lips. I press my hand to my mouth hard, silencing the sound, panic rising like sickness up my throat.

  They killed them all. Even the children.

  I knew my father was a ruthless man, but I thought he’d limit his cruelty to depriving them of their crystal. To slaughter an entire settlement? That was beyond what I’d thought him capable of. Finally I understand what a fool I’ve been.

  I believed that th
e Viper existed to protect. Lethal? Yes. Morally questionable? Most definitely. But always to defend the innocent. It is this fundamental core value that I have clung to.

  Now I see that we have become nothing more than common thieves and murderers. Brutal killers who take whatever we please, helping no one but ourselves. I cannot become one of them. I won’t.

  I hear the crew coming aboard the ship. My presence will be required to greet the returning party and I try to arrange my face into a neutral expression, then check my hair. It’s still a little wet, but hopefully won’t raise too many suspicions. No one would believe I’d willingly go near water anyway. It’ll be much harder to keep my anger and contempt masked.

  As I make my way up to deck, a jolt of movement beneath tells me we’ve already weighed anchor, my father apparently not keen on staying here any longer. That makes two of us – if I never return to this awful place again, that would be fine with me.

  When I reach the open air I see most of the crew are splattered with blood. My father is striding in my direction, deep in conversation with Cleeve and Bronn. Grace walks slightly behind them.

  ‘Welcome home, Captain,’ I say as is my duty. ‘Did you have a successful journey?’ You murderous bastard.

  He doesn’t answer – in fact, I think he’s going to walk straight past me – but then he pauses as he takes in my appearance, his eye lingering on my damp hair. He says nothing, just carries on, but the slight smirk he gives me as he sweeps past nearly destroys me. In that moment I understand I’ve been played for a fool. My father knew I’d disobey him, knew I would follow them to the settlement. Which means that everything that just happened was intended for me. He wanted me to see the slaughter, wanted me to see that there was no limit to his cruelty. And he wanted to drive home to me the reach of his power, that he’s as fearful on land as he is at sea.

  Grace avoids me altogether and I understand that she too was part of Father’s plan. A warning that even those who are important to me ultimately belong to him. To open my eyes to what even my closest friend is truly capable of. A painful reminder that her loyalty lies with him, and not with me. It hurts to be forced to admit that she belongs to a world I do not, and that I must leave her behind. But I’ll have to come to terms with it. Because the next time I get off this boat I don’t intend to come back.