by Rob J. Hayes
“I know, Captan.”
“Problem is, there aren’t any charts.”
“I know, Captan.”
“Everyone who goes anywhere near those shores never returns.”
“I know, Captan.”
“And the only damned ship, crew, and captain who could possibly help us getting to that treasure…”
“I know, Captan.”
Keelin realised he was squeezing his little clay cup almost hard enough to break it, and forced himself to relax and put the vessel down. Morley was watching him with something approaching sympathy.
“He was last spotted at Black Sands as it burned back to the sand,” Keelin said through a clenched jaw.
“Only one place he’s like to be,” Morley agreed with a solemn nod.
“You’d best make sure the crew feel bloody grateful for this, Morley.” Keelin drew in a deep breath and let it out as sigh. “I’ll plot a course for Sev’relain.”
“Might be worth you talking to the men as well, Captan. Personal touch, ya might say.”
Keelin glared at his troublesome quartermaster. “Fine. Gather them on deck. I’ll be out soon.”
By the time Keelin appeared from his cabin Morley had assembled the majority of the crew, and first and foremost in the crowd, making his displeasure obvious, was Smithe. The man was six feet of bronzed muscle, with a temperament like a forest fire and a mean streak most alley cats would envy. Keelin couldn’t help but notice the man had a dagger thrust into his belt. Weapons were generally forbidden on deck unless there was a good reason.
“Finally he graces us with his presence,” Smithe said with a smirk. “Only takes a visit from her who actually owns the ship, eh?” A couple of other pirates laughed their agreement. Keelin would have rid himself of the man long ago, but Smithe was well liked among the crew.
Keelin turned, climbed up onto the aft deck, and looked down upon his assembled crew. “Smithe,” he said with a cold stare. “If you wouldn’t mind. What is the nature of pirating?”
“Takin’ stuff that ain’t ours,” the man said instantly.
“I’ll let you think about that for a moment.”
Resting his hands on his twin cutlasses and sweeping his gaze across all the crew, Keelin raised his voice. “So you had a visit from Captain Black, the pretty one, and then what? You decided your current captain ain’t up to the task no more?” There were a couple of coughs, but even Smithe remained silent at the accusation, so Keelin continued. “Times are hard. Prey is scarce. But we’re still pulling in the loot, aren’t we? And if any man here can name another sailor on another boat taking as big a cut… well, I’ll happily call them a liar.”
“You promised us the haul of a lifetime,” Smithe shouted. “Riches beyond imagine and…”
“Aye, I did,” Keelin shouted back, interrupting the surly troublemaker. “And I almost have what I need to make good on that promise. But if you would prefer to sail into the waters of the Forgotten Empire without the guide of a chart, I think you might be on your own there, mate.” Some of the crew laughed, and Smithe’s expression grew darker.
“I ask for just a little more time,” Keelin continued. “To make you all very rich men. For now we head to Port Sev’relain.” There was a cheer from the crew. “But if anyone should spot a juicy prize on the way…” Keelin grinned and let the possibility hang in the air.
Chapter 9 - Fortune
“Beautiful,” Drake said with a grin.
“There is a… grace about her that the other ships don’t have,” Beck agreed.
The one-eyed, square-jawed, badly bruised shipwright grunted his own agreement. “Ain’t never seen another like her. Who designed her?”
Drake gave the shipwright a dangerous grin. “No one standing on this side of humanity.”
“Eh?”
“Long ago I found myself shipless and very much needing of one,” Drake said, stealing a glance at Arbiter Beck out of the corner of his eye. “Lucky for me there are things greater and more powerful than men in this world, and it just so happens I know how to find a few of them. Ever heard of the Kraken’s Maw?”
“No,” Beck said with a shake of her head that set her tail of blond hair stirring underneath her hat.
“It’s a maelstrom,” the shipwright said. “The biggest and strongest any man has ever seen.” At a glare from Beck, he cleared his throat and added, “Or woman. Opens up once every ten years or so and always right underneath a ship. Takes it down into the depths. It ain’t natural though – folk say that when it opens up you can see teeth down at the bottom of it. Some folk say it’s caused by the biggest beasty the sea has to offer: a kraken so big it can eat other krakens whole.”
Drake laughed. “Superstition for the most part, I assure you. The Kraken’s Maw is something far more dangerous. It’s the one and only gateway to the court of Rin.”
The shipwright gasped and struggled from his chair. “Are you mad? You say her name standing on dry land?” The man pulled a bronze bit out of his pocket, spat upon it, and threw it as hard as he could into the ocean. “Quick,” he urged. “An offering for her peace!”
Drake loved it when people played their parts, and right now the superstitious shipwright was playing his as well as any man could have. “Oh aye,” he cooed. “For most folk you’d be right – saying her name with your feet planted on dry land would be to invite disaster. Why, she’s been known to wipe entire islands off the charts. But me, see, I’m not most men. I’m one of her beloved. One of her chosen. The sea goddess, she smiles upon me. Said so herself when I met her.”
Drake glanced at Beck. The Arbiter looked anything but impressed.
“Pirates believing in a capricious sea goddess. How quaint.”
“You got yourself a walking, talking, living god, and you think to mock our beliefs?” Drake shook his head. “Might be you should put more stock in powers greater than yourself. There’s things in this world, Arbiter, that would find great pleasure in corrupting and destroying one of Volmar’s faithful. Might be our quaint beliefs are all that’s keeping you safe.”
Beck narrowed her eyes but didn’t reply.
“You really met her?” the shipwright said.
“Aye.”
“But nobody ever called to her court returns.”
Drake shrugged. “There’s at least one that has. Though can’t say I was all the same when I came back.”
The shipwright sagged back into his chair, a look one part astonishment to three parts awe on his face. “How?”
“Well, I found myself all sorts of stranded on an island, you see, needing of that ship I mentioned. So I built a raft, nothing but logs lashed together with coconut hair really, and I set out to summon the Maw. Made all the right offerings and said all the right words, and it opened up right beneath my little raft – just as you said, only without the teeth, I reckon. Waves taller than the tallest building man has ever built and waters rushing in every direction faster than a bird can fly, and down I went on my little raft into the depths.” Drake paused and took a deep breath. “And that there is where I died.”
“You died?” Beck said, her eyes narrowing.
Drake felt her compulsion brush against his will. “Aye,” he said with a grin. “Can’t exactly get to Rin’s court without drowning. Waters closed in over my head and filled my lungs and the light went out. Next thing I know, my eyes are opening and there’s the goddess herself, breathing air back into my lungs. Must’ve wretched up half the ocean before I found myself speaking again.”
“What was she like?” said the shipwright, leaning eagerly forwards in his chair.
Drake gazed off into the ocean and smiled. “She was ever changing. One moment her skin would be driftwood and her hair seaweed, then she might seem to clear, like she was made of water itself. Or she would appear to be part of the coral throne she sat upon.” He took a deep breath and let it out as a ragged sigh. “Only thing I can say for sure is she was beautiful no matter what form she took.
Not human beauty though. Beautiful like the sea, eh.
“Turns out not many men seek her court willingly, so she was a drop curious as to why a man like myself might throw his self upon her mercy. So I told her. Said I needed a ship, one like no other. But deals aren’t lightly struck with gods now, are they? I agreed to give her something no other man could.” He paused and glanced at Beck; the woman was making a good show of feigning disinterest, but Drake could see she was listening intently. “Something no other person in this whole world of ours could give. And in return she gave me the Fortune. Fastest ship ever to call the seas its home.”
“What did you give her?” the shipwright asked right on cue.
Drake smiled out at the ocean, well aware that both the shipwright and the Arbiter were watching him, waiting for him to answer. Eventually he turned and walked away, heading towards the town. After a few moments Arbiter Beck began to follow.
“How much of that story you just told is truth?” she called.
“How do you know any of it is?”
“The best lies are half truths,” she said, struggling to keep up with Drake’s longer stride in the sand. “Makes the shit easier to swallow. Folk of my profession learn to spot them pretty quick.”
Drake nodded along. “I can honestly say, Arbiter, that there is more truth than not in that tale. I can also say that we suffer under a different set of gods out here on the sea, and you would do well to be more careful. Volmar won’t be able to save you out there in the blue, but our quaint gods might just.”
“Where are you going this time?” the Arbiter demanded as she quickened her pace to catch up with Drake.
“Why are you following me?” Drake shot back.
“Because I have to protect you.”
“And what if I’m just going for a piss again? Didn’t get a good enough look last time, eh? I know my cock is fairly impressive an’ all, but a woman of your age and passing good looks, I reckon you’ve seen better and bigger. Just how old are you, anyways? I know you Arbiters tend to live a bit longer than us mere mortals.”
“Old enough to know the difference between a man with purpose in his stride and one just wandering off for a piss. So where are you going?”
Drake stopped and grinned at the woman. “I do like it when you get all commanding.” Beck didn’t show a hint of a blush, and that just made Drake want her more. “Might be you happened to miss that ship on the horizon over there.” He pointed and the Arbiter turned to look. Drake pounced on the opportunity to walk away, but she quickly turned and caught up with him again. “Reckon I might just go wait for their arrival.”
Chapter 10 - The Phoenix
Port Sev’relain was exactly the sort of place Keelin liked. It wasn’t one of those trading towns that claimed to be a free city, but neither did it belong to any sort of empire. It was a small town, though large in comparison to most pirate settlements, full of hard-working honest folk just trying to get by. Here people raised children, enjoyed their lives, and weren’t subject to taxes or the rule of another person. That wasn’t to say there weren’t rules, but they were the rules of the people and any justice that needed handing out was also handed out by the people.
The buildings were small, ugly things mostly made from the trees that crowded the island. It seemed every island of any sort of habitable size in the Pirate Isles was swamped by tall green trees that threatened to label themselves as a jungle. It made clearing an area for a new settlement hard work, but it also had the benefit of providing handy building materials for both houses and ships. Not that many ships out on the water were built by the pirates that infested the isles – just stolen by them.
A one-legged man wielding a wooden crutch began hobbling along the pier towards The Phoenix’s dinghy as it was rowed into position and Morley leapt up to secure it to its berth. The one-legged man made good speed despite his affliction, and the small boy behind him carrying a large tome moved just as fast.
Keelin climbed out of the boat and signalled for the rest of his crew to wait. He’d brought just eight men ashore.
“Come on,” said the one-legged harbour master. “Let’s hear ya voice. My eyesight ain’t no good no more, but unless you’re another new one I reckon I’ll know you by your voice.”
Keelin smiled and briefly considered using a fake accent. “I’ll pay you an extra copper bit for the berth if you get it right,” he said.
The old harbour master snorted. “I’ll accept no bribes from you or anyone else, Stillwater. Still The Phoenix, is it?”
“No other ship for me, old man.”
“Old man? I have the good manners to remember your name,” the harbour master snapped. “Damned least you can do is repay the favour.”
“Uh…”
The harbour master spat into the bay. “Ask around. Loading or unloading?”
“Unloading,” Keelin said, feeling a little embarrassed. “Just a little.”
“Little or a lot, you all pay the same. How long a stay?”
“A few days.”
The old man sighed. “Few is not a fucking number, lad. I thought captains had to know how to count.”
Keelin heard a few of his crew laugh from the boat, and he turned and shot them a glare. “We’ll say four days then.”
“One gold bit,” said the harbour master. “That’s ten silver bits, in case you’re still finding the counting hard. Some people use their fingers as aids.”
Keelin decided the best course was to smile through the humiliation. “It was only eight silver bits last I was here. That’s a two-silver markup.”
“More pirates these days,” the old man said, and he wasn’t wrong. Keelin counted more ships than he’d seen in one place in the Pirate Isles for a long time. “Space is at a premium. And I’m charging you an extra bit for your attitude.”
The old man waited, and the boy behind him carrying the tome watched Keelin. Clearly most captains would attempt to haggle. Keelin knew better than to waste his time. “Sounds reasonable,” he lied as he pulled his purse from his belt and began counting bits.
The boy with the tome stepped forward and expertly opened the large book to a half-filled page. Keelin couldn’t help but notice that his name and that of his ship were already scribbled on the bottom of the page with only the particulars, and the cost of his stay, left blank. He spilled ten silver bits onto the book, which promptly snapped shut. The boy took a hasty step backwards.
“I wonder, um, harbour master,” Keelin said quickly as the man turned to walk away. “Has anyone from Sev’relain seen the Fortune recently.”
The boy stepped forward again, and again opened the book. Keelin noticed the ten silver he’d previously deposited had already vanished. He dropped another bit onto the book, which again snapped shut.
“The Fortune is currently undergoing repairs on a beach just a short walk that way,” the harbour master said with the briefest of nods as to the direction before turning away again.
Keelin considered asking after Drake Morrass specifically, but decided his purse had suffered more than enough for one day.
“Two boats, Morley,” Keelin ordered without turning to look at his quartermaster. “Prioritise men that didn’t get ashore at Fango.”
“The cargo?”
“Can wait. I’ve got crew with bits burning holes in their pockets. Let the men have some fun first. Business can come later for once.” His declaration was greeted by a cheer from the men that had accompanied him.
“And you, Captan?”
Keelin gave his quartermaster a brief grin. “I’ve got things to do.”
She wasn’t beautiful – Keelin knew – but there was something about her that drew him in like a fish on a line. He’d always been that way, and couldn’t explain why. Things caught his attention, things most people would dismiss in an instant, but with Keelin he couldn’t help but think about them.
Once, long ago, Keelin’s brother, Derran, had noticed that their father’s old cutlass had caught him in
just such a way. Keelin was only six at the time, and Derran nine and much bigger, already allowed to train with swords. Together they broke into their father’s armoury and Derran had taught Keelin the basics of fighting with a sword. They both caught the beating of a lifetime when their father found out. Beatings had been a staple of Keelin’s childhood.
This woman wasn’t the first to catch Keelin’s attention. Long ago Elaina Black had been the object of his obsession. That particular infatuation had died the moment the cursed woman had revealed herself to be very much her father’s daughter. Keelin suppressed a shudder as he remembered Elaina covered in red as if she’d bathed in blood, her eyes wide and a manic grin on her face.
A man with ruddy cheeks, from both drink and the obvious exertion of simply staying upright under such intoxication, bumped into Keelin’s table. The man and his two friends laughed and made some joke about the table coming out of nowhere. Keelin did his best to ignore them and continued staring at the not-quite-beautiful woman.
“Now this here,” said the drunk to his companions “is jus’ the fuckin’ thing we’re… uh… we need.”
Keelin glanced at him and then away.
“The table,” said one of the drunken friends. “Seems yer all alone an’ this table is better suited to three fine fellows like ourselves.”
Paying the men a little more attention, Keelin decided they were most definitely pirates, but he couldn’t name either their captain or their ship. “I’m impressed you can count so high,” he said with a smile. “Reckon there’s plenty of other tables in this little tavern. I suggest you find one.”
“I found this one,” the man said, placing both fists on the table and glaring at Keelin across the round stretch of wood.
This was the problem with pirates, Keelin had to admit; all they ever wanted to do was drink, fight, and fuck. And if they were deprived of drinking and fucking for any period of time, they tended to resort to the fighting. It dawned on Keelin that perhaps it would be a good idea to give his own crew a fight every now and then regardless of the inherent danger. At the thought of his crew, he looked around the tavern for backup. Of course, there was none. He’d gone ahead of all of his men precisely to be able to spy, in relative privacy, on the woman. In fact, looking around, he realised he knew no one currently drinking in the tavern, and that meant no one would be likely to come to his aid. He had only two options: stand his ground alone, or run away. Running away had never really been an option for Keelin.
