by J B Black
Unfortunately, with his expansion southward as far as he cared to go without dealing with Mar further, Nereus had no choice but to expand to the north. The area was uninhabited; however, a number of islands strayed about the coast of the main continent, and he never knew whether they would remain their own space or become his until he had conquered all the sea around them and at times even twice that.
Standing on an island of sirens, the young god sighed. “I understand this is your island. I am not making a claim on this island.”
“Good. Because it belongs to no one!” the siren leader snapped. She had yet to give her name, and her village glared at him and further down the coast to the pod of selkies who he guarded. “Get them off our island!”
Nereus ran a hand through his dark hair. “Tess just went into labor.”
Immediately, all the sirens deflated. Concerns overtook their anger. “Does she need anything? Food? Water? Blankets?” The leader of the sirens gave him no chance to speak. She turned to the women about her. “Get her supplies! A child is being born!”
The sirens scattered, chatting amongst themselves until only the leader remained. Glaring at him, she reached into her satchel and shoved a letter against his only just dried chest.
“What’s this?” Nereus asked with a frown.
With a huff, the siren leader crossed her arms over her chest. “This isn’t your island. Tell the birds to take your messages elsewhere!”
Iona’s writing flowed on the page, and his joy at seeing the familiar penmanship overtook the shock that his sister had misdirected the letter. He grinned, beaming at the siren. “My brother is married! Athanasius was freed of his curse, and he and his husband are expecting.” Spinning, the sea god bounced with glee. “Two new gods of Spring, and my father is now permanently in the Underworld, so no chance of running into the vengeful bastard!”
Snorting, the siren rolled her eyes. “Is that any way to speak of your sire?”
“My sire was Vasant.”
With a hum, she nodded. “Understandable.”
“I’m Nereus, by the way, though seeing as how my name was on the letter, I’m guessing you already knew,” the sea god said, frowning as he again sensed out. Despite the sirens, the island felt somewhat like his. It just wasn’t as clear cut as the others felt. Perhaps because the others hadn’t had inhabitants who so stalwartly refused to be under his rule. “Since this isn’t my island, why don’t we draw up a treaty while I’m here. Just something basic.”
The siren’s eyes narrowed. “That would be good. I am Aria.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Aria.”
All around him, the sirens returned with their arms full of supplies for the birthing mother, but before they could push him to take the gifts to the beach, the sharp cry of an infant broke the air.
“Ohhh! It sounds so healthy!” one of the sirens squealed, hugging the blankets she carried against her chest.
As they cooed, a ship appeared upon the horizon with a pirate’s flag hoisted high. Immediately, all the sirens turned as one, staring at it. A slow humming started in their throats.
“You should leave,” Aria told him. “We will send word and a preliminary agreement shortly.”
Nereus frowned. “I’m actually immune — ”
“But the selkies are not,” the leader of the sirens retorted, and he glanced down at the beach.
“The pup is too young. Why don’t I intercede instead?” Nereus offered.
Shifting and whispering amongst each other, the sirens argued. They obviously wanted to protect their island without his help and for good reason. To open any treaty with him defending them weakened their argument that this island existed outside his realm. Still, the adoration they showed and the desire to protect the newborn they hadn’t seen but only heard pushed them toward acceptance.
Luckily for all those gathered, a selkie man came up the coast with his seal skin upon one arm. “We saw the ship, my lord. Would you teleport us up the coast?”
“The northernmost outpost you were talking about?” Nereus asked, sensing out as far as his magic would allow. “It’s a bit beyond my realm, but I should be able to get you there safely. Get everyone in a group. I’ll be down shortly.” Turning to Aria, he smiled. “Thank you for this message. I will warn my sister not to send anything here, and I look forward to seeing you all under better circumstances.”
Waving him away, the sirens nodded, already humming as they raced along the edge of their island toward the point closest to where the ship approached. Whatever sailors foolishly desired to hunt in these waters were fools. Even before arriving, Nereus knew well that this land belonged to the sirens — regardless of what his magic might have implied.
Sliding onto the beach, he gathered his magic around the pod, and stepping in the middle, Nereus teleported them to their hidden northern village which could only be reached for a short span and where this pod spent their season before their young were able to take to the sea.
It was a beautiful village upon a small hill, and the elderly and the sick who had been unable to travel out with the pod after last season came to greet them.
“Nereus,” Tess called from beside her husband Graham. In her arms a small babe lay wrapped in a skin of his own. “Come and meet your newest citizen.”
Grinning from ear to ear, the god magicked himself dry and placed boots upon his feet as he stepped off the sand and onto the grass. He would need a sweater to stay in the cold winds much longer, but from the look of some of the old women approaching, they already had one in hand for him as the rest of the selkies dressed in the clothes brought to them and slung their skins across their shoulders like a shawl.
“And what name have you given this handsome devil?” Nereus asked, cooing over the tiny newborn.
“We were thinking Nero,” Graham informed him.
Heart swelling with joy, the sea god chuckled, “What a beautiful name. I love it.”
Chapter Six
Bill frowned down at the letters that Bellamy wrote on the deck in the water. They dried quickly enough that most of the others wouldn’t notice, but the older man traced them in the air with his hand.
“B,” he concluded after a moment, half guessing.
Bellamy smiled. “Okay, and this one?”
Crossing his arms, Bill frowned. “I?”
“He’s spelling your name again,” Simon called from where he sat on the lower yard of the mizzenmast. His legs swung in the air.
“There are a lot of words that begin with B and I,” Bellamy retorted.
Pressing his lips together, Simon scoffed. “Biting big bits of bitter birds.”
“Biased bigots of biblical bigness birth bibulous bilge rats,” Bellamy snapped in return. Then, after a pause, he added, “Bitch.”
Silence fell over the three. It dragged on, leaving the fear that he had gone too far to swell in his belly. Then Bill broke, laughing and folding over as his guffaw left him breathless. Up in the mizzenmast, Simon gasped. He pressed a hand to his chest in exaggerated offense.
“How dare you! My mother was a fine woman with nothing biblical about her,” Simon exclaimed, balancing as he climbed to his feet and scurried down the mast. He paused halfway down to shake his fist, yelling, “And I’ll show you which of us is the bitchy bilgerat!”
“You have no idea what he said either,” Bill accused, slapping Bellamy on the back.
Landing on his feet, Simon snorted. “I got enough of it. I know biblical, bigness, birth, bilge rats, and bitch. The rest — well, I can guess.”
“I think we should all be more curious about how a street urchin came to have such an advanced vocabulary,” the captain said as he came up from below deck.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Ned studied Bellamy. He did that more and more lately. Every time Bellamy mastered another task, the captain moved him about the ship, letting him learn from the rest of the crew in-between spats with merchant vessels and rendezvous with ports where they would sell
the goods they had stolen.
Everyone on the crew received an equal share of the goods, and at times, they would agree to communal expenses for the ship. Cookie often had extra in his share to maintain their stores, but all the ship’s purchases came back to the captain. He kept the log of numbers, and the details of the ship’s running had yet to be a task which Bellamy had a chance to learn.
“Apologies, Captain Rowell, I’ll finish scrubbing the desk,” Bellamy offered, bowing his head as he returned to his work.
However, Ned shook his head. “I’ve already told you, call me Ned. Captain is for when we’re in the thick of it.” Gesturing to the bucket and brush, he said, “Simon will take over here since he seems keen on disrupting your work.”
“What? Bill was —”
“And I’m sure he’ll help Bill with his letters as well since he is so keen on showing how well he’s mastered his own,” the captain added, and though the crew was the most democratic group Bellamy had ever seen, Simon did not argue.
Respect for Ned outweighed all else in the end. He spoke with a calm tone. Even in the heat of battle, Ned moved with a certainty that Bellamy had never seen. As if Ned had nothing else to lose. As if he knew the worst of what might be done to a man. Death held no sway. Nothing could touch him, and his serenity fed the crew, keeping them free to be the general joyful, passionate people that Bellamy had begun to know. Or perhaps, they were simply relieved to no longer be under Captain Teague.
The exact details seemed to be hidden, but everyone listened when he gave them orders, and they had elected him captain of their ship unlike Teague. From what Bellamy could put together, the cursed sword corrupted a crewmate — Jonathan Teague — on their last attempt at a heist against a dead sorcerer’s trove. When Teague picked up the sword despite Ned ordering him to leave it behind, the man went mad.
What that madness exactly meant, Bellamy could not tell. He had seen a giant of a man, but perhaps Teague had always loomed that way. Perhaps the hunger for power served as the only sign of the curse — that and the thirst for blood.
“Come on, Mr. Drake,” Ned called.
Brows furrowing, Bellamy stood, handing the brush to Simon as he followed the captain toward the cabin where their most valuable possessions remained — every map they had and the books of their coins.
“Why did you call me Mr. Drake?”
Ned cocked a single brow. “Consider it a reminder to call me Ned.” Pointing to the table, he crossed to stand behind it. A map sat upon the table. “We’re going to take advantage finally of that little bracelet of yours.”
Few of the symbols made sense. Pirates rarely wrote anything out completely, so Bellamy wasn’t surprised, but markings on the map made even less sense than a few others Ned had allowed him to see during his time on the ship. All he recognized was the water and island on the map as well as the small marker which served to represent the ship itself.
“Before Teague, this was the fourth hit in our run on five highly dangerous scores. This,” Ned pointed to the island, “is a sirens’ island. One of the only two that hasn’t been pulled into the veil or been brought into the fold of Faerie. It’s also close to a commonly used route between this group of gold quarries and the Skaldic capital.”
Matching the words to the symbols, Bellamy nodded along. “Which means there are a few sunken ships in the area between the route and the island?”
“Considering the Skalds changed to a pathway along the cost to avoid the issue, I would say more than a few,” Ned retorted, guiding his finger along the new path. “It’s simple enough to block the noise with cotton, but someone needs to make the dives, and the waters around the island are populated by several carnivorous species of merfolk.” Their eyes met, and Ned smiled. “That’s where your cuff comes in handy.”
“But if I can hear the sirens…”
Ned shook his head. “If the curse of Teague’s sword rebounded onto him, the enchantment in a siren’s voice shouldn’t be able to affect you either.”
“If you’re wrong, I could be the reason the ship runs aground or sinks,” Bellamy forewarned, but the easy smile remained on the captain’s face. He was as serene as ever.
With a loose shrug, the captain said, “If you manage to fill our hull, I’ll let you apprentice to me.”
“Pirates don’t do apprenticeships.”
“You don’t know what pirates do,” Ned returned. Making a wide gesture about the cabin, he offered, “All these maps and books — I can teach you everything you need to know to captain your own crew someday. You’re smart. People like you. If we get our hands on another ship, don’t you want the chance to be the one to decide where it goes?”
Despite the other man’s words, Bellamy hesitated. People listened to Ned. When he said they had a chance to make money by hitting a merchant ship at a certain point or selling at a different port than what was closest, the crew voted and sided with his word because of his knowledge. His selection as the captain likely came for the same reason, but the ability to read nautical maps and trade only helped if he had the experience to go with it. Still, if he could read those maps, Bellamy’s chances of finding his mother increased.
Regardless, none of that mattered. He had never learned to swim. His father loathed the sea, and his mother never left their home. For so long, Bellamy believed she feared the outside world, but when his father lay dying in his bed, she left quickly enough with that chest his father hid clutched to her chest. As an urchin, he had avoided getting wet unless to wash up in the rare chances he got because if he removed his clothes, Bellamy risked someone stealing them.
But how hard could it be? Dogs could swim. Worst case scenario, he could tie a rope about his waist and climb his way back up.
“How much gold can we hold?”
***
The crew stuffed their ears, setting up large dredging nets along one side of the ship. Ropes wove between, prepping it to curl, so they could pull it up again and again as Bellamy filled it. Despite plugging their ears, only the barest number were on deck. The rest were below. Some — who couldn’t be trusted not to get curious, were tied up or placed in the makeshift brig.
When they drew within range, the young man climbed over the edge, crawling down the nets toward the water’s surface. Sharks wove about the waters, waiting for their latest meal, and amongst them merfolk with tails like sharks and torsos like ogres launched, feasting upon the smaller sharks around them.
When the singing started, Bellamy tensed. His heart raced. No one screamed above, so the cotton must have worked, and even as he listened to the first few notes, the magical sway within the song failed to reach him.
Taking several shallow breaths in quick succession as Simon had suggested, Bellamy tugged the rope around his waist, signaling those above to lower them. The ship slowed to a stop, dropping its anchor. Down and down, the net went. Faster and faster, Bellamy’s heart beat, and as he took one final deep breath, he sank beneath the waves.
A shock like a spark traveled along his skin from his bare feet up, and the first strike of claws sent another shiver to follow. The merfolk shrieked. Swimming away, the trail of blood attracted the sharks and even other merfolks to follow. Every single attack rebounded, leaving Bellamy to focus on the wreckages which covered the ocean’s floor.
His feet felt like weights, dragging him down to the bottom, and he held fast to the net, bringing it down alongside him. Toes tingling, he trudged across the sand, digging through the wreckage. Chest after chest, he lifted through the water. They were almost too heavy, but his adrenaline and the ongoing panic drove him to feats he never imagined himself capable of doing. Up went the first load.
By the time the net came down, his chest ached, and the tingling crept its way up to his knees, but he found he did not need to go up to the surface of the water to breath. Perhaps it was the cuff, but his lungs were his least concern. A second load saw the tingling buzz up to his hips, and each step left him in agony. All sensation i
n his hands vanished. Despite the growing numbness, he filled the net a third time. Just once more. Once more, and he could ride the net back up to the ship.
Down came the net. Sharks wove above his head, but the merfolk had left, obviously realizing how pointless he proved to be. Some swam toward the island, but unless they were deaf, they were just as likely to be caught under the sway as anyone else. It wasn’t the notes or the beauty of the music that caused the spell to work. Hearing it — even if they couldn’t understand — would be enough.
Halfway through loading the fourth, all feeling below his ribs disappeared, and he stumbled, barely managing to shuffle forward. Pain crawled up his spine, and his hands failed, causing the chest he carried to crash forward. Only the lock kept the gold from spilling out, and not for the first time, Bellamy wondered if he could even be sure if these chests were full of anything of value. They held the Skaldic mark which Ned showed him.
Reaching forward, Bellamy almost screamed, but he could not move his jaw. His entire body froze, tumbling forward in the water. Black filled his vision. Everything hurt.
When he came too, Bellamy shot up, screaming as pain almost pushed him back in unconsciousness, but a hand upon his shoulder settled him. “Wh-what happened?”
“You almost drowned,” Matthias — the makeshift doctor of the crew — informed him, patting Bellamy on the shoulder once more.
Standing with his arms crossed, Ned frowned down at him with narrowed eyes. “You never came up for a breath. I don’t care how powerful that cuff is, you shouldn’t have pushed it.”
Desperate to grab onto the lie offered and too tired to argue, Bellamy allowed his head to fall back onto the pillow of the cot where he rested. “I wanted to prove myself. It won’t happen again.”
“Matthias...give us the room.”
Glancing between the two, Matthias murmured, “Don’t be too hard on the lad.”
“Matthias.”
“I’m going — I’m going,” he said, and off he went, leaving Bellamy alone with the captain.
