by Rob J. Hayes
“Captain!” A grizzled old pirate with more grey hair than black leapt down from a ladder that led up to the deck.
“What is it, Ollie?”
“The sea, Captain.”
“Aye, still there, is it?”
“It’s… um… ah, shit. Captain, you best come look fer ya own self.”
Drake wasted no time in running for the ladder, and Beck followed in close pursuit. The older pirate had gone ahead, and as Beck emerged into the waning light of the day she could see him, and what looked like most of the crew, crowded around the railings of the ship and looking down at the water below them.
Beck followed Drake as he mounted the ladder to the poop deck and crossed to the side of the ship. Many of his crew were looking to him now, asking what they should do, while others were making crude signs in the air.
As Drake reached the railing his face paled, his mouth hanging open. The man was clearly speechless – for the first time in his life, Beck suspected. She reached the railing a moment later, and looked down to see why. The sea was black.
It took Beck a while to realise that it wasn’t actually the sea that was black. There was something darker than night just below the surface of the water, and whatever it was, it seemed to stretch the entire length of the ship and then some. Judging by the reaction of the crews on the other ships, it spanned all three of them. With a whispered blessing of sight, Beck could just about make out scales on the black surface.
“What is it?”
“It’s a leviathan,” Drake said, his voice full of awe and dread.
“Shall we get the poles, Cap’n?” shouted one of the pirates to a cacophony of replies from other crew members.
“Anyone so much as spits into the water, and I’ll personally sacrifice ya to Rin,” Drake shouted over the din. He gestured downwards to make his point. “Stillwater,” he yelled across to The Phoenix. “Same goes for your crew. Let’s try to not make any aggressive moves, eh.”
“How big is it?” Beck said. She’d never seen a creature so large. She’d never even imagined anything living could grow so monstruous. Even a dragon would pale in comparison to the beast that floated beneath them.
“Big enough that it could sink all three ships with barely a flick, and it wouldn’t even notice the carnage it caused.” Drake grabbed hold of Beck’s shoulder and turned her around to face him. A part of her realised she should be insulted by the manhandling, but something about the size of the creature beneath them shocked her into inaction.
“You know why there’s so few tales about these bloody things?” Drake hissed.
Beck shook her head. Drake’s face was different; all the usual smug self-confidence was gone, replaced by earnest fear.
“Because nobody tends to live through a sighting. They ain’t just your average beastie come up from the depths for a glimpse of sunlight, Arbiter. They’re Rin’s damned servants. Sent by an angry goddess to punish those who earn her wrath,” Drake added in a whisper.
“I’m sure people must have said Vol…” Beck was silenced by a slap from Drake. For a moment she was too shocked to react. But only for a moment.
“How dare…”
“I just saved your life, and that of every other man, woman, and child on these three boats. I’m sure your god’s name has been said over the sea before. For one reason or another, she” – he pointed downwards – “has decided to take offence, and trust me when I tell you this, Arbiter. Your god will not be able to save you from her. Not here.”
Beck thought about arguing for a moment. One last glance over the side of the boat convinced her that, though it might all be shit, sometimes it was better to be cautious. Instead, she leaned forwards so that her face was close to Drake’s, and attempted to still her shaking.
“If you ever slap me again, you will lose that hand.”
“Captain,” shouted a pirate from the lower deck. “What do we do?”
Beck held Drake’s gaze for a few moments more, until a grin erupted onto his face and he turned to face his crew.
“Do?” Drake shouted loudly enough to carry to the adjacent ship. “We do nothing. That beastie down there is one of Rin’s, and we are her fucking chosen!” A cheer passed through the pirates below, and Drake leapt up onto the railing that overlooked the main deck, steadying himself by grabbing hold of a low-hanging rope.
“You really think she’d send a leviathan to kill us? No. She sent it to inspire us. To congratulate us on our victory. Her victory. And to remind us that out here on the blue, we live and die by her leave.
“Today we did the impossible, boys. Today we took on Sarth and we fucking won!” Again a cheer erupted from the gathered pirates; this time it wasn’t only Drake’s crew. Beck looked across to Stillwater’s ship to see the captain and many of his crew standing at or on the railing, leaning out to hear Drake’s words and cheering along.
“They burned our towns, slaughtered friends and family members, and they tried to murder us. But did we let them?”
“No!” the pirates shouted in unison.
“They tried to take away our freedom, but did we let them?”
“No!” The atmosphere was so charged that Beck almost found herself joining in. After all, she’d fought to keep these people alive and free as well.
“No!” Drake screamed back. “We fought and we won!” Pirates from both the Fortune and The Phoenix cheered even louder than before, complete with stamping on the decks and wooting calls from up in the rigging. Beck watched Drake from behind as he strutted back and forth on the railing, inciting the crowd to even more noise. Eventually the captain raised his hand, and the crews fell silent, waiting.
“Today was historic.” Drake didn’t shout. He pitched his voice to carry, and Beck saw that the sudden lowering of volume worked. Crew members on The Phoenix were hanging dangerously far out over the stretch of water between the two vessels to hear the man’s next words. It was almost as if they’d forgotten about the giant sea creature below them. “And the thing about history is you either watch it pass, or you make it happen. Well, today we made it happen.”
Again a cheer went up, and again Drake strutted back and forth for the pirates before holding his hand up for quiet. Beck caught herself in a smile, and quickly replaced it with a much more fitting scowl.
“Now, it ain’t over. Not by a bloody long shot. In fact, this right here is just the beginning. They’re gonna send more, a lot more. They’re gonna come at us with every fucking thing they have.”
Drake paused and swept a gaze over all those gathered before him. Beck tore her eyes away from him and risked a glance at the pirates. They were rapt, hanging on his every word and looking at Drake Morrass as if he were their saviour – or, Beck realised, their king.
“So we’re gonna answer with everything we have. The Fortune and The Phoenix and all of you are just the start. By the time they next come at us I intend to have every pirate that calls the isles their home, and every ship they sail, ready to fight alongside you.
“This is our home,” he shouted. “This is her kingdom. And we are Rin’s chosen!” Again the crews cheered, and again Drake strutted for them.
“Break out the rum,” he said when the noise had died down enough that he could be heard. “Two portions per man, and then back to work. I want these ships ready to sail by nightfall.”
Beck realised she was standing behind Drake, but couldn’t recall moving from the port side railing. She quickly rectified the situation by crossing back to the railing and arranging herself as if she’d never left it. The problem was that Drake was compelling, and his words were inspiring. Beck found herself caught up in them and wanting to help. It was unusual for her, a woman who had built a reputation of indifference.
“Is it still there?” Drake said as he approached.
“Yes.” Beck took care to keep her voice neutral. “Although only a couple of people seem to care anymore. Fancy words, you said. Were they for their benefit?” Beck waved towards the two
ships. “Or for hers?”
Drake smiled. “Both. They needed something else to think about, and it never hurts to appease the local deity, eh. So you believe in her now?”
Beck ignored the question. It was difficult not to believe in Rin, given the timely appearance of a leviathan directly below her, but she certainly wasn’t about to admit that to Drake Morrass, nor convert. She did decide it would be prudent to refrain from speaking Volmar’s name when over water in the future.
“Thought so,” Drake said. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go torture a man.”
“I can help,” Beck said before she could think of a reason to stop.
“Eh?”
“You need to know what he knows.”
“Might help save lives. Might help win the war that’s coming.”
Beck turned and pinned Drake with a stare. “I’ll help.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter why?” Beck attempted to seize hold of Drake’s will but, as always, it proved to be as slippery as the man’s reputation. “You want my help. I’m willing to give it.”
Drake walked out of the little cell, leaving a broken wreck of a man behind. The admiral was kneeling on the wooden floor with his head buried in his hands and great, racking sobs escaping from his lips. It appeared he could be made to be less than a gentleman after all. Drake knew the man’s breaking had been inevitable the moment Beck had entered the room, the moment he realised that his faith in the Inquisition had been a lie. The moment he realised that Drake had corrupted an Arbiter. The subsequent questioning, during which Drake had learned everything the admiral knew about Sarth’s invasion of the Pirate Isles, had reduced the man to tears. To see him struggle to resist Beck’s compulsion and fail, to see the man’s will subverted by such a small woman – Drake would be lying to himself if he tried to deny the whole situation had turned him on.
“Did you get everything?” Beck said from behind. Drake felt her compulsion wash over him and take hold of nothing. That he was one of the few people who could resist her subversion of a person’s will only turned him on even more.
Drake stopped and turned on his heel so suddenly that Beck almost walked into him. She was mere inches away from him, close enough to touch, close enough to smell. He smiled at her, making certain his one golden tooth showed.
“Not yet,” he said with a wink.
He expected her to hit him, or insult him, or hit and insult him – but she didn’t. For a few moments Arbiter Beck just stared up at Drake. Then she snorted, pushed past him roughly, and stormed away to her cabin. Drake watched her go with a smile plastered to his face. Not for the first time, he caught himself imagining what she’d look like naked. His imagination was not left wanting.
Climbing ladders was not the easiest thing to do with one arm in a sling. Nor was it the first time Drake had done it. An unfortunate consequence of being a pirate was that he spent much, if not most, of his life on board a ship. It was impossible to sail without climbing ladders, ropes, and rigging, and occasionally free-climbing up the outside hull even as the ship was cresting and falling through thirty-foot waves. Drake hoped he’d never have to repeat that experience, but if it had taught him one thing, it was to not complain at the relatively simple climb of a six-foot ladder leading to the main deck.
Up top he found his crew had ceased their celebrations and were well into the act of getting the ship squared away. Refugees were being led onto the captured Man of War, and supplies were being moved the other way. The wounded were all gone from the deck. Those that were likely to live were recovering in the mess, while those that weren’t were also being moved to the Man of War. There was still plenty of blood on deck, and it was impossible not to notice the smell of it along with the stench of loosened bowels – an unfortunate side effect of death.
“Princess,” Drake shouted over to his first mate as he limped his way to the captain’s cabin. There was nothing in the world Drake wanted to do right now more than sleep – with the one possible exception of Arbiter Beck – but sleep would have to wait. He had more pressing concerns.
“Aye, Cap’n,” Princess said as he fell in line with Drake. The man looked terrible, with one eye swollen shut and a larger, darker bag than Drake had ever seen under the other.
“How are preparations?”
“Could be better,” Princess admitted. “We’re down a few men and they took a spell off their feet with the rum, but they’re all back up to it now. We should be ready to sail by night. Hopefully, Cap’n.”
“Good enough.” Drake nodded. “Princess, I need you to get over to the Man of War and find the ship’s charts. Bring them to me as soon as you find them, and under no circumstances is anyone else to see them. Good?”
“Aye, Cap’n. Something wrong?”
Drake stopped outside his cabin and fixed his first mate with a blank stare. “Get to it, Princess.”
Chapter 21 - Starry Dawn
“Sail starboard!”
Elaina threw the rope she’d been fixing aside and leapt to her feet. She sprinted to the starboard side and reached for her monoscope. Sure enough, there was the tell-tale white of a sail at the very edge of visible range.
“Change course, put us on her,” she shouted to Ed the Navigator. “Pollick, The moment you get a glimpse of what she is, you yell.”
“Wouldn’t ya rather it be a surprise, Cap?” Four-Eyed Pollick called down from the nest.
“Don’t get smart with me! Remember where the Hells we are and keep all four of your eyes peeled.”
Elaina went back to her rope. It was tangled, frayed, torn, ripped, and mouldy, but if there was one thing she’d learned growing up in the Pirate Isles, it was that no matter how much like shit something seemed, it could be made near good as new with a lot of hard work. She sat back down on the deck and took one of the knotted sections in hand, working it back and forth against itself to loosen the salty crust that formed on all knots. Some captains didn’t like doing this sort of work; they preferred to distance themselves from their crew and sit in their cabins, staring at charts and pretending they were busy when really they were just plain lazy. Elaina was not one of those captains. If there was a job to be done, she was the first to sign up for the task, and her cabin was little more than a place to sleep. She preferred to be up on deck, to be able to see the ocean and the sky.
Corin hovered nearby, watching and chewing on his lip. Elaina had noticed him even before she sat back down on the deck, but decided to wait for her quartermaster to make his move.
The knot in the rope loosened just enough for Elaina to start threading it through, and within a minute she’d untangled it entirely, leaving only a stiff, salt-encrusted kink in the rope where it had been. Unfortunately the kink would need to be ironed out before the rope could be used again, but that was a task for later, once all the knots had been removed. The loosening of the knot had also revealed yet another mouldy strand of rope that would need to be cleaned. Elaina pulled out her boot knife and started scraping away at the green-blue filth.
“Elaina…” Corin said after what seemed like an age of waiting.
Familiarity with the crew was something her father disagreed with, but whatever his misgivings, he let Elaina run her ship as she pleased, and she preferred to breed trust through friendship. Most of her crew still referred to her as “Captain”, but Corin had known her since birth; they had in fact both fed off the same tit as babies, after Elaina’s mother had run dry. An unfortunate consequence of having eight previous children, Elaina wagered.
“Your concerns, or the crew’s?” Elaina interrupted him
The quartermaster squirmed a little, then walked to the aft railing to stare out at the sea. “Mine. Crew would follow you into the port of Sarth if you led them there. Probably.”
“Because they know I never would,” Elaina countered as she cut away a decaying thread of rope. She heard Corin spit over the side of the ship. “Point is, they trust you, perhaps more than they shoul
d.”
“Have I ever done wrong by them before? Haven’t I earned that trust?”
“Earned it and more, Elaina. You know that. But I got responsibilities, as quartermaster, to them, to you, and to the ship. Ya know?”
“It’s OK, Corin. Out with it.”
There was silence, a little too long a silence. Elaina looked up to find her friend staring out across the blue behind them with a vacant look on his face that went beyond peaceful and into serene. Elaina was up in flash, the old rope once again discarded. She grabbed hold of Corin and shook him hard, until his eyes came back into focus.
“Are you using on board my ship?” Elaina hissed as she held the man close. Close enough to smell it on his breath.
“Um…” Corin glanced downwards, and Elaina realised she was still holding her boot knife – only now it was pressed up against the quartermaster’s neck.
With a curse that was more fury than words, Elaina drove the knife point-first into the aft railing and took a step back from Corin. She could feel a choking rage inside that was attempting to blot out all rational thought, but she took control and refused to let it out. Her temper was a horrible thing, and it ran in the family. Hers was second only to her father’s; even so, it was nothing in comparison to his.
Elaina had once witnessed her father beat a man to death with his bare hands, and keep on swinging until there was little left of the man’s head but bloody mush and bone. Even then, he’d ordered the corpse strung up so he could continue to beat it. The mere memory helped Elaina to calm her inner rage.
“I don’t care what ya do on your time, but I told ya not to use that shit while on my ship.”
“I don’t,” Corin protested. “Not usually. I mean, I just… I needed something to take the edge off before I came to speak to you.”
“Take the edge off?”
“It helps me relax.”
“You weren’t just relaxed.” Elaina gave him a hard shove before sitting back down with her rope. “You were one shitting step away from being asleep.”
