by David Talon
Captain Voorhees yelled something at me in Dutch, which I took to mean ‘get on my ship or I’m leaving you here’. The travel bag bounced against my back as I carefully stood up and grasped the rope ladder, looking at Dancing Bear as he spoke to me in his native language again. “I will find you in Campeche. Kan Balam is not your enemy, nor is his mother, you will see.”
I seriously had my doubts, but I only said, “Goodbye, ‘Bear.”
Then I felt myself jerked upward as the sailors began hauling up the rope ladder. Dancing Bear raised a hand in farewell, and began backing the canoe away from the ship, turning it around and heading back toward the fiery glow as the men pulled me up and over the deck rail. The deck had small dragon-globes hung on the main mast and the fore mast, with a large one hung on the stern, so I could see the ship in their light. She had a large main deck, which was also the lowest, a fore deck and an aft deck, with the stern deck the highest and smallest of them. The deck was clear of cargo, except for a few barrels stowed here and there, and clean, the wide cargo hatch shut tight.
Her decks were filled with people, men for the most part, but I noticed a woman in a blue dress with an old woman standing next to her on the aft deck above me, as the captain grabbed my shoulder. “Gawk at my ship later; I need the wind now, ya?”
“Yes sir,” I replied, Mr. Bierson helping me get untangled from the rope where it had snared my foot. The sailors and passengers, dressed in simple clothes for the most part, except for a few like Master Gomez who wore breeches that ended at the knee and hose, along with his coat with gold buttons, gave me room as I held out my arms. “Smoke, take enough for six, and more if I can spare it. Do you have six little ones nearby?”
“Ready to help, including Tiger,” she replied in my ear.
“Okay, you six take enough to animate the air-golems Smoke creates. Place them exactly where she tells you.” Six young girl voices answered in assent, the mouths of the men around me hanging open in shock as I felt fangs enter both my arms and my strength began to flow out. My arms were cold as they withdrew, and I shook them out to warm them again as the air in front of me began to swirl. A moment later my hair was blown back as the first air-golem appeared. It was a mermaid in shape, not well defined but holding a net in her hands, one of the little dragon-ghosts taking it over a moment later as its tail began to slowly beat the air, causing it to rise above everyone’s head. I looked at the captain. “Sir, Smoke will have the other five finished in short order, if you want to get the sails ready.”
Captain Voorhees shook himself and turned to Mr. Bierson, speaking to him in Dutch. At once Mr. Bierson spoke to the sailors, who were already moving toward the ratlines, while several began to draw up the anchor. They climbed up the rope ladders and unfurled the large mainsail, and smaller foresail, as Smoke created five more mermaids like the first, the sea-anchor now dripping salt water on the deck. The captain gave me a nod and I said, “Okay, Smoke, place them like we were taught.”
All six mermaids began to move towards the sails. Four of them placed themselves in front of the mainsail, while the other two moved in front of the foresail, and then all six moved in unison until their nets were stretched over the canvas and they began to push. The passengers gave a cheer as the sails began to fill, canvas snapping, but thankfully not tearing as the ship began to creak, moving like an old, fat woman roused from sleep. But gradually she woke up and picked up speed, the man on the tiller pulling hard until she was heading south.
Captain Voorhees looked away from the sails and gave me a smile as broad as he was. “Gut, gut; all we need is a few hours head start and we lose them.” He looked at Mr. Bierson. “You heard them say they were going to sack the town, ya?”
“Aye captain,” Mr. Bierson replied, “but they know the route we’ll take. They’ll catch up to us once they realize the lad’s aboard.”
The captain’s smile turned crafty. “Not if we alter our route, ya? We will sail for Tortuga.”
Some of the passengers cried out in alarm, Master Gomez’s voice being the loudest. “Tortuga? Fortress of the pirate king, Captain Black? Sir, have you lost your wits?”
“We’ve been there before,” Mr. Bierson said. “Mind you, it’s a dangerous place, but so are the wharfs in London.”
A stout, older man with a full beard and a gentleman’s coat asked, “What about us?” He spoke with an English accent. “I paid good money to reach Campeche.”
“You will get there still,” Captain Voorhees said. “The Draco Magistris has a regular smuggling route to Campeche, and I will pay your fees to get you there safely.”
“The Draco Magistris has a smuggling route to Tortuga?” Master Gomez made a dismissive gesture with his pudgy hands. “Absurd; the crown would never allow it.”
“The Spanish crown has little to say in the matter, ya,” Captain Voorhees replied with a smile gone sardonic. “Were it not for Lord Tiberius, the Spanish would have already lost the Yucatan to the savage Maya. But Lord Tiberius made a treaty with the witch Olde Bone Woman, and all there is quiet.”
I gave a start at the name but no one noticed, as Master Gomez argued, “But why would someone as respected as Tiberius make a deal with someone as notorious as Captain Black? That makes no sense whatsoever.”
Captain Voorhees hesitated before saying, “Neither one will talk about it, but there is something they both fear, something that takes merchant ships and pirates alike and leaves them empty and adrift on the open sea.”
“Other pirates, of course,” Master Gomez said dismissively. “I mean, what else could it be?”
“Not pirates,” Mr. Bierson replied. “We came upon one off the coast of a Bahamian island last year, when I sailed with the ‘Pride of Penzance’. We boarded her and found no one aboard, not even corpses, although there’d obviously been a fight. All the valuable treasure was gone; there wasn’t a gem or a scrap of gold aboard, although we found silver and other coins. But the strangest thing of all,” and he held up a finger for all to focus on his words, “was that we found casks of brandy and rum, small and large, all untouched. Now I ask you, what sort of pirate would leave strong spirits like that?”
“Shadowman pirates,” I answered. “Men neither alive nor dead, who drink the blood of men like wine. Captain Cholula told me about them before I got away from her.”
All eyes turned on me as Captain Voorhees said, “I think an explanation of what exactly happened tonight is in order, ya? Especially since Master Gomez says the fault is yours that we are heading toward Tortuga, instead of the safer route to Campeche.”
His words stung me like hornets. “It’s not my fault this happened,” I yelped, stabbing a finger at Master Gomez. “It was his greed that started us down this path.”
Master Gomez’s face turned a choleric red. “Insolent boy; your grandfather would whip you if he heard you speak in such a manner.”
“He’s dead,” I snarled at him, savagely wiping away the tears trying to gather in my eyes. “Gran-Pere and Belle-M’ere both died by the hand of your man Seth.”
Master Gomez’s face went from choleric to a deathly pale as a woman’s voice spoke from the back. “I believe the tale should be told in full, but first, the lad should be fed.” The crowd of men gave way as she added, “Giving strength to dragon-spirits is hungry work.”
I stared at the woman as she approached. She was willowy slender, with raven dark hair caught up in a silver net behind her head, and a face more fair than any I’d ever seen. She wore a blue dress that left her shoulders bare to the cool night air, its embroidered sleeves and hem as frayed as the blue shoes on her feet. She held a bottle of dark glass in her hand. Behind her the old woman, dressed in a matronly gown of grey fabric, frowned fiercely at us. “Young man,” the old woman said, “before she spins you some pretty tale, let me introduce my niece, Selene Vargas, courtesan of the pleasure palaces of Venice. Were I you, I would stay as far from her treacherous wil
es as I could.”
Selene merely laughed as she glided towards me. “My aunt has come with me on this trip to see my virtue remains intact.” The old woman made a disgusted sound as Selene stopped beside me. “I was the courtesan to a member of the high council of Venice, who had several Dragons in his service. So I know something of them. Are you hungry?”
I admitted I was, and in short order Selene had me sitting on a barrel up on the aft deck with a bowl of porridge, mixed in with pieces of salt pork, which I ate along with one of my oat-cakes. A small crowd assembled around us, many of the faces hidden behind the ones in front as Master Gomez began the tale. He told it in a way that skirted the truth, making his selling of the African woman with the black pox more an error than a deliberate act. Meanwhile Selene had gotten one of the younger sailors, a man a few years older than I with sandy blond hair, to get her clear and blue Venetian wineglass from her cabin, and open the bottle for her. She poured and took a sip, but then handed me the glass for us to share as I finished eating.
It was Italian wine, red as blood and full of fruit. It tasted like nothing I’d ever had before, and despite the food it quickly went to my head as I began to tell my tale to the crowd around me. Had the wine not tasted so good I would’ve been more cautious, but Selene was generous with the glass, and when she began asking me for details about the night’s events I felt honor-bound to answer them without skirting the truth, as I’d learned to do since I couldn’t lie. When I reached the part where I’d returned to the shoppe I pulled no blows but gave them all the details, ending with Belle-M’ere’s words about how the best revenge upon Seth would be to live my life free. Selene put her hand on my arm and even her aunt gave me a sympathetic look.
Before I could go on, I heard a voice I’d never expected to hear again. “He lying,” I heard Seth say from the back of the crowd. “I never done killed Master Rios.”
I lurched to my feet, Selene’s hand tightening on my arm as I yelled, “Seth, I’ll kill you for what you did, I swear it!”
Seth pushed his way through the crowd until he stood in front of me. He was big and broad shouldered, with a broken front tooth and misshapen nose from the fights he’d been in, with unkempt black hair and a three day beard. “You a demon,” he snarled at me. “You killed my Elisha ‘cause she wouldn’t lay with you, like that African whore would, so I killed your mother.” He drew a dagger as long as my forearm. “Now I gonna kill you too!”
He started forward but stopped as Captain Voorhees pulled an Artifact pistol from beneath his coat and pointed it at Seth’s head. “One step and your brains are all over my deck, ya?” He cocked the hammer back, a piece of solid quickfire in the spot where it would fall if he pulled the trigger. “Mr. Bierson, get a rope and tie him up.”
Mr. Bierson did as the captain bade while Captain Voorhees kept his weapon trained on Seth, everyone around him scrambling to get out of the way. Seth’s eyes darted about like he was a caged rat, but several sailors grabbed large hammers or axes and came back to stand near the captain, and moments later Mr. Bierson came back with rope and tied Seth’s hands behind his back. But the captain still kept his weapon trained on Seth as he spoke to Master Gomez. “Master Rios was your friend, ya?”
“More than a friend,” Master Gomez grimly replied. “We served together under Commander Mendez when he attacked Fort Caroline and took it from the French, so many years ago. I wondered why Seth was so keen to come along on this trip, to convince Lord Tiberius to give me my smuggling route back.” His face was going back to choleric red as he strode up to Seth, who began to cringe. “Mistress Johanna was bad enough, but to drive an axe into the back of my oldest, dearest friend is beyond madness.” He shook his finger in Seth’s face. “I am going to hang you from Captain Voorhees’s yardarm right now.”
Seth’s eyes went wide as he screamed, “No! He lie ‘cause he hates me.”
“Smoke will back up everything I’ve said,” I yelled at him. “Dragon-
ghosts don’t lie and neither do Dragons; everyone knows that’s the truth.”
“They demons like you,” he yelled back, “and all demons lie. They all lie.”
“Everyone lies except you, ya?” Captain Voorhees glanced at Master Gomez as he came back over to stand beside the captain. “I have a better idea. You sell him to the Buccan on Tortuga.”
Master Gomez gave him a quizzical look. “The Buccan?”
“Ya. They are hunters and pirates, but not part of Captain Black’s brotherhood. They are renegade protestant Huguenots, independent, and not subject to his laws, which means they can have indentured servants.” His smile grew evil. “Someone as strong as this one is worth gold to them, enough gold to make the trip worthwhile, but tell them what this one did to a fellow Huguenot and they will double the gold they pay you.” The captain looked at me. “I know these Buccan, and when they are finished, this Seth will wish Master Gomez had hung him, or you had cut his throat. He will not live through the seven years of servitude.”
Master Gomez gave him a satisfied smile. “Captain, you make a very convincing argument. Are you not worried about losing your cargo to these pirates?”
“Nein, because this is not a treasure ship but only one carrying household goods, things not interesting to pirates but needful to the people living on the island.” He shrugged. “I will have to pay a fee to Captain Black, and a fee to any of his brotherhood we meet to escort us, but I get higher price for my cargo, because the pirates have gold to spend.” He motioned towards the stern of the ship. “And if we meet a pirate not part of the brotherhood, I have placed a mortar on my deck able to shoot a ghost-shell onto any ship chasing me.” He chuckled. “Let us see them do that while fighting their own dead.”
Master Gomez laughed. “It would seem I am in better hands than I thought. If we could retire to your cabin, I would hear more about this Captain Black, and his brotherhood. I will bring a bottle of that excellent port you commented on earlier.”
“Gut, gut,” the captain replied. He turned to Mr. Bierson and gave him orders in Dutch before turning back to Master Gomez, the pair of them heading for the opening in the center of the aft deck and climbing down the ladder. Mr. Bierson spoke to several of the sailors in Dutch, and the men grabbed the now struggling Seth and took him with them to the hatch. I watched him with mixed feelings. The Dragon part of me wanted to fight him, sword to sword, and take his life in payment for taking Belle-M’ere’s, even at the risk of losing my own. Alfonzo had always said justice should be swift and sure, and I wanted to be the one to dispense it to Seth. But another part of me whispered it wasn’t justice I wanted but revenge.
However, it wasn’t my choice to make, and I watched as the sailors hauled him down the ladder. Many of the passengers waited until his cries could no longer be heard before they headed for the ladder themselves, the Englishman with the full beard giving me a calculating look before heading down below.
Selene and her aunt remained with me on the aft deck, the old woman pulling out a gold locket from around her neck and opening it up for me to see. “I am saddened by your loss, young man, and I wanted you to know you are not the only one who mourns.” Looking at the picture inside, I saw it was of a young woman about my age, who strongly resembled Selene but in a more ethereal way. “This is my daughter, Arabella, who ran away with an English sailor to the New World when she was no older than you are now. When my niece ran into trouble,” the old woman giving Selene a dark look, “I agreed to finance bringing us both here so I could discover my daughter’s fate before I die.”
“Do you think you can, after so long?” I asked as she closed the locket and put it away.
The old woman shrugged. “My head tells me I am a foolish old woman, but my heart bids me to continue searching until I find the truth.”
“The heart should always rule the head,” Selene remarked.
The old woman gave her a snort. “You, of all people to say th
at, is beyond belief. Selene will help me in my search only until she reaches her old friend in Campeche, Master Valencia the apothecary, at which point I will be left to fend for myself while she charms him back into her bed.”
“She can’t,” I blurted out. “Master Valencia’s married.”
Selene gasped. “Are you certain?”
“I attended his wedding,” I replied. Selene’s face fell, and I immediately felt sorry for her. “I’m sorry if that’s bad news, but they’re very happy together. A child’s on the way, or so I’ve heard.” I struggled for something else to say as the old lady smirked at Selene. “If you’re in some kind of trouble, I’m sure Master Valencia will do what he can to help.”
Selene drew herself up. “No, I am in no trouble, but merely wished to visit with an old friend. However,” and the old lady’s smirk died as Selene smiled at her, “we are no longer headed for Campeche. I feel certain that, not only will Tortuga prove an interesting place to visit, but my dear aunt will find the knowledge she seeks on its streets...or in one of its many brothels, perchance.”
Had the old woman been Medusa, Selene would’ve turned to stone on the spot. “I will retire to my cabin now,” she said and stalked off to the hatch, where a sailor coming up helped her climb down.
Selene sighed as she turned my way. “Pray forgive me; my aunt and I never got along before, and I fear being confined together has only made matters worse. Walk with me; I would have you see this mortar the captain speaks of, before I retire myself.
We walked together towards the rear of the ship, climbing up the stairs to the stern deck. It was narrow, with a flagpole hanging a tri-color flag of three stripes, the tiller a long pole carved in the shape of a queen wearing a crown, which a broad shouldered sailor held on a steady course. It also had a small bronze mortar, like a large soup bowl, sitting in front of the tiller. The light from the dragon-globe hanging off of another pole set over the stern rail gave enough illumination to see the royal crest of some country of the Olde World cast into the metal as part of the mold: three elongated lions on a shield, one over the other, in a field of small hearts. It also showed me something else. “Selene,” I said as I ran my hand along the inside, “feel this.”
