Slave of the Sea (The Chronicles of Salt and Blood Book 1)

by Dawn Dagger

  Quinn gave him an impudent look that Guy knew was not about his threat. Guy ignored his sideways glance and turned away as he nodded respectfully. Quinn began to talk to the navigator and boatswain about the new direction of the ship.

  The Captain marched a few paces away, then leaned against the starboard railing of his ship. The grey sea slipped past the boat and he listened to the flapping of the sails to determine their speed. It wasn’t near fast enough to escape the cloudy waters.

  He couldn’t wait to get to the seas of Avondella. They were crystal clear and blue as a sapphire. They were great for fishing, and had many a trader's ship passing through them, providing a doorway of opportunities.

  Captain Guy stared down into the lustless, cold water, musing. Any water but this would do. The clear, almost green waters surrounding Iatrain, where the seamen and seawomen rode on seahorses and waved at any passing ship. The purple-hued waters of Chinghon, were blossoms decorated its waves… Anywhere but this disgusting grey filth.

  He began to plot the activities that needed to be completed when he arrived in Avondella. He had to attend a festival, repair his ship, get a new crew, sell the wine and opium, meet with the prominent in Avondella…

  His thoughts slowly wandered back to the girl, the reason he had not quite yet made it back to his cabin. He knew if the other dogs on the ship ever saw her naked, they’d find pleasure to the image for months, even if she was scrawnier than a street urchin. Her ribs were easier to see than her sunken eyes were. She was not strong, nor healthy.

  She needed training.

  He sighed and pushed off of the side of the ship.

  He tried to determine any way he could use the situation to his advantage, having the girl. No plans revealed themselves to him. Why hadn’t he just left her behind?

  The Captain glanced around, making sure eyes were not on him, then rapped his knuckles on the cabin door. He tapped his foot impatiently as silence responded. He knocked again, this time louder.

  “Aye?” Came the small response.

  The Captain pushed open the door and found her sitting on the edge of the bed. Her wet hair laid across her shoulders and soaked the white tunic he had left her. She wore her tan breeches, but her feet were still bare.

  Although the clothes were meant for broad shouldered boys- Kasha’s clothes, they were- they fit her well enough. If need be, she could more well in them, without tripping or catching the hem of the tunic in a door.

  He had expected her to throw him a look of betrayal or even scorn as he entered, but was greeted with neither. Instead she regarded him with soft almond-colored eyes.

  “I apologize for barging in,” he said curtly.

  She nodded, her eyes tinged with surprise. He crossed over to his desk and began to rummage through the drawers. He tossed small trinkets and pieces of jewelry onto the desk for her to wear. “Do you enjoy drawing, Levanine?” He asked, dropping a bent, half used journal of paper beside the pile.

  She straightened on the body attentively, tilting her head slightly. “Drawing?”

  “Are you deaf?” He growled. He realized she was being thorough, but the constant repetition of his words ground his nerves. He didn’t need Sca’s larkiny if she continued on like this. Damn, he hated that stupid bird.

  “Sorry, sire,” she muttered. “I have never drawn before. I believe I would like it, though I might be bad. My hands.” She lifted her hands to show him, and he saw the slight tremble that ran course through them.

  He pulled a glass pen from his drawer and laid it atop the crumpled journal. “You’ll write and draw in here.” He gestured for her to come closer. “Pin these in your hair and put on these necklaces. You’re proving to be so much more trouble than I thought.”

  “I apologize, sire.” She mumbled, stumbling as the boat swayed. She walked toward him on unsteady legs. Her fingers worked expertly as she pinned up her hair, despite the quaking of her hands.

  “You’re my lover now, do you realize that?” She nodded, not looking to meet his gaze. “No, I don’t think you do.” Now she looked up, looking concerned. “Although I want nothing of you, the sailors believe you are mine. Wherever we land, rumors will spread like plague.”

  “Even on an island?”

  So, she was smart. “Aye.” He nodded.

  “Sire... if you don’t want me... and it isn’t safe… why didn’t you just let me be free back at port?” She asked cautiously. She began to adjourn the sparkling necklaces.

  “What, so you could be snatched up and resold in a matter of an hour? No. I don’t waste more money than I have to. No, Levanine, you are now my lover. My enemies will think that you are my weakness, no matter how soon I’m rid of you. You will forever be in danger. Do you realize that?”

  He held her gaze and her eyes faltered. She nodded slightly, avoiding his gaze. “Aye.”

  “You’ll be arm candy.” He continued, shuffling through his maps quickly. “I’ll take you to dances and dinners and parades and dress you up and give you whatever you pout for.”

  “Starting when, sire?”

  “Now.” He glanced her over. She looked more favorable, but still like a sewer rat. “Braid your hair, and unbutton the top button of your blouse,” he commanded, picking up his belt and hilt and buckling them around his hips while she obeyed.

  He looked over her again. Now she looked more like a wench, if she was thinner than a greyhound. “Let’s start practicing our parts now so you don’t mess it up later, hm? Ask me for something. Anything.”

  Levanine’s eyes widened. She faltered a moment, then repeated “‘anything’?”

  “Yes, anything.” He slung his cloak around his shoulders and slid his broadsword into its hilt. He glanced in the mirror on the wardrobe and saw Levanine bit her lip. Her thoughts were warring all across her face. Could she not ask one simple question?

  “I… I want… would like you to teach me how to be a pirate. Will you teach me to be a pirate?”

  “Absolutely not.” He almost laughed at her insanity.

  “Why not?” She shot back. She bit her lip, her eyes widening in surprise at her own words. She seemed to forget how to speak.

  He turned to face her. “You’re weak, and untrained, and you’ll be in danger constantly, between those sex-hungry mongols and other pirates. You’re pathetic and incapable.” He wanted the words to bite, so she would send the asinine thoughts out of her head. “It’s too dangerous. No. It’s out of the question.”

  “You just said you’ve doomed me to a life of danger by pretending I’m your lover,” she retorted cautiously, as if prodding cold water with her toes. “Are you afraid that because I’m a girl, I cannot do it, sire?”

  “No, you foolish girl!” He exclaimed, feeling insulted. He wasn’t a boar. “The only competitor that comes close to me is Scarlett Vexx. You think I doubt women? No, you are weak and I cannot favor you if you are a pirate, you understand that? You’ll break after the first day. And I am not sure how you assume being a mistress will work, since you also want to be a pirate.”

  “Let me try, Captain.” Her voice was a whisper. “At least teach me how to be strong and sword fight, so that I might be able to care for myself when you aren’t around, as I am your lover and in constant danger.” Her eyes were desperate, begging him for this chance. Her want crowded out her fears of displeasing her master. She reused his own words. Clever mouse.

  “If I tell you ‘no’, Levanine, what foolish thing do you think you’ll do?” His eyes narrowed. He knew desperation all too well.

  “I will do anything for anyone on this crew to get them to teach me,” she whispered. Even she knew not what she was saying. He clenched his jaw, straightening. She wouldn’t. He knew that. Instead, she would mope.

  Guy rolled his eyes, rolling his shoulders while his mind churned. Levanine stepped backwards, but did not look frightened. She drove him crazy.

  “Fine.” Her eyes went wide and her mouth f
ell. “Come, you’re still my lover for now, however. Let’s go meet Quinn.” He held out his arm, shaking it impatiently.

  “Quinn?” She took his gingerly.

  “The only person aboard this ship I trust with my life.”

  Guy removed the tricorn hat from his head and placed it atop hers. It fell down over her face and she had to adjust it, but it still hung low. It almost reminded him of a small child, masquerading as a great knight or hero. She was a mouse, masquerading as a pirate.

  Saints and Fire, his ship had turned into a circus.

  He thrust open the door, blinking in the sunlight, and whispered, “smile.”

  Chapter 4

  Levanine tilted her chin up, a thin smile pulling across her face, and he smiled himself as wandering eyes glued to her. Now that she was clean and dressed, they noticed her for more than just her existence as a female. Even ugly with starvation, he knew she was prettier than most.

  Her hands moved toward her blouse to rebutton it, but he nudged her in the ribs to stop her. “You’re safe. Don’t.” Her fumbling fingers fell away from the cloth.

  He led her across the deck and to Quinn, who was sitting on the edge of the ship, whittling at a piece of wood. He whistling a merry tune, despite the horrible weather of grey skies and grey seas and thick fog.

  Guy cleared his throat and gestured to Levanine, who was standing by his elbow. “Quinn, my pleasure, Levanine. Levanine, Quinn.”

  Quinn turned, swinging his legs over the edge of the ship, and faced them. “Ah, a gorgeous pleasure you are, my dear. You look earnest too. The Captain will need that on dreary days like this.” He leaned down and kissed her pale hand.

  Guy glanced at Levanine out of the corner of his eye as Levanine stiffened slightly. She rubbed her palm against the fabric of her white shirt as he held her hand in his large one. She slowly responded, “pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  “We will be teaching her to be a pirate,” Guy spoke in hushed tones as Quinn gently dropped her hand. The men were talking amongst themselves, but not about what he was saying.

  Quinn gave her a curious look, his bushy, red brows raising high on his forehead. Guy could pick up the impression of delight from the twinkle in his eyes. He stroked his beard, eyeing her.

  “Why, if I could ask, would you like that, Levanine? A fine lady as yourself usually would not be interested in such an... endeavour.” Guy found it amusing he called her a ‘fine lady’, as she was to be an Indulgence.

  “W-well, First Mate Quinn,” she responded bashfully, “I really do adore thee sea. I enjoy the idea of adventures and being free instead of maid.” A ghost of a smile pulled at her chapped lips.

  How had she warmed so suddenly to Quinn? Curse him and his charms, Guy would never understand it. Quinn gave him a near impudent look, before turning back to Levanine to continue speaking. Damn man knew of his skills.

  “You must first start learning by watching, Levanine.” She cocked her head, confused by his response. “The Captain will teach you dancing and writing and how to look beautiful, obviously. Then, once these scallywags learn you are off limits to their groping hands,” he shouted the second part, glaring at some of the men, “we can teach you with the lads.”

  “Aye,” she nodded.

  Guy appreciated her compliance, and led her away from Quinn, giving him a nod. They made their way to the quarter deck, Levanine leaning heavily against him, her steps unsteady.

  She was not so bad at walking so that her weight on his arm was only about the same as Sca’s larkiny. The bird sat sunning, with his multi-hued feathers fluffed and his purple feet scratching at his perch on the crow’s nest. He somehow had the appearance of being bored, although he was but a bird.

  Guy had her sit atop a barstool on the deck, and he glanced her over. He wished the sky were clear, so the sun could warm the rose in her cheeks and glitter off of the jewelry, drawing eyes.

  Alas, the sun hid its face, so he would deal with the inconvenience and let her feminine presence be enough.

  The Captain stood straight and whistled loudly with two fingers, a sound that pierced through the air and made the larkiny shuffle uneasily. Silva started from where he handled the ship and saluted, standing at attention.

  A woeful as the skinny, pale boy was, at least he respected his Captain. Guy could appreciate that, if he were practically useless. Seems that’s all your band is anymore, Captain. He thought to himself. A bunch of practically useless half wits that, combined, make one useful sailor.

  His crew began milling from below deck and the dining hall and whatever cracks they were hiding in, and began to line along the spar deck, yawning and mumbling amongst themselves.

  He once had an army, Guy did. Now all he had was a magnificent ship filled to its brim with useless slobs, a failed mission, a debt, and a slave girl he had no purpose for. Gods and Saints, see if wine passed his lips again.

  He seethed.

  Quinn came and stood beside him, holding the long whip in his hand. Quinn lifted it to hand it to him, but Guy unsheathed his sword instead, causing Levanine and Silva both to jump uneasily.

  No, no whippings yet. He was aching for a good sword fight, like a pinned cat gone too long without a hunt.

  The Captain paced back and forth across the deck, swinging his cutlass and enjoying the pull of his muscles as the sword rolled across his palm and cut wide, imaginary circles in the air.

  He felt like a Keshnitte panther; powerful, claws flexing, waiting eagerly for the first taste of blood. Damn, he loved the way that the weight pulled across his shoulders. He could feel every muscle in his body as he bounced lightly on his feet.

  Slowly every sailor turned attention to him, a bored curiosity causing them to watch him pace.

  “Attention, you dogs!” He shouted. “Does anyone wish to be captain of the Red Running Royalty? Does any of you bilge rats think you could possibly lead my ship better than myself?”

  Silva’s eyes widened to the size of large coins, and Levanine, who had begun penning against her parchment in a scribbling attempt of drawing, looked up. Her face was pale. He had thrown a fish head to sharks. The men began to buzz and circle uneasily, excitedly.

  “Anyone who wants to be Captain, step forward, and we will duel!”

  He could almost smell the metallic tinge, feel the aching in his muscles. He hoped the duel would be long and hard won.

  He wanted blood.

  “I’ll challenge you, boy!” A man missing four teeth with no replacements crowed, pulling out his own curved sword.

  Guy grinned, pointing his blade at the mutinous sailor. “A fight to death?”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Unless you’re afraid, boy?”

  A few renegades chuckled.

  He felt his blood boil and he forced a smile to spread across his clenched jaw. He felt his teeth crack. Oh he would string this man’s intestines across the sails as decoration.

  “I fear nothing.” Levanine was still staring at him. He chuckled, then pointed the tip of his sword to his first mate. “Quinn, oversee this duel. You know the rules.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.” Quinn raised his voice ceremonially. Guy could have believed he had once worked for a royal family. Some sort of announcer. “A duel to the death for the title of Captain of the Red Running Royalty!”

  The pirates roared, some for him, some for his opponent. Guy rolled on his heels as the man stormed up the stairs, and raised his sword to deflect the blade swinging down toward his head.

  He twisted his blade and met each swing with a precision, and soon his arms began to ache, but he loved the sound of steel hitting steel. He sidestepped, causing the man to stumble forward as he lashed out, and Guy swung the blade at the back of his knee, clipping it narrowly and, to his pleasure, seeing blood well. The man yelped and wheeled around, meeting his next stroke.

  Guy’s arms were burning and he was sweating furiously. He was much more out of shape than
he thought, damned trading missions and wine.

  He fainted left and used the movement to ram forward, slamming the man with his shoulder and knocking him backwards a few feet.

  He swung his sword forward and blood began to trickle down the man’s chest. The man, angered, began to swing harder and faster at the captain, and he grinned. It was a dance of silver and red and pain. Guardian dragons of Kethaltar it was delicious.

  The men roared, both for him and his mutinous opponent, and Guy felt the thrill of battle make him light headed. He clipped the man’s arm, who struck at his shoulder in return. He was shaking as his body burned, sweat mingled with blood dripping off of him. His opponent was panting heavily now, his eyes wild.

  The Captain went in for the kill.

  He ducked beneath his opponent’s blade then hopped up, slamming the top of his head into the pirate’s jaw. The man yelped and stumbled backwards, then Guy grabbed his shirt, slamming him back against the railing of the ship. He held the side of his now red tinged blade against his throat.

  “Do you yield?” He asked, his voice commanding. He did not care whether he yielded or not, he would kill the man.

  That was the condition.

  The man coughed in response, his eyes bulging, but defiant. Guy moved to strike the mutinous fool, when suddenly his arms were grabbed! He shouted in surprise, trying to turn around and confront his attackers.

  Guy was hoisted into the air suddenly and he heard Levanine yelped. His opponent darted away from him and he was suddenly slammed against the side of the ship, dropping his sword. It clattered onto the deck.

  As he gasped for air, he was bent backwards over the railing. His head was forced backwards over the grey ocean churning below.

  Guy struggled to raise his head, glaring at the man, feeling anger burn through him. “Cheat!”

  “We’re pirates, boy. Try as you might, there are no rules.” His opponent sneered, walking over and raising his fist. Pain exploded through Guy’s face and he felt warm blood trickle down his chin as his vision warped.