The Pirate (Captains & Cannons Book 1)

by Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  Ethan lunged forward, intent on ripping the lich’s head off. He’d barely gotten a foot before one of the guards drove the butt of his spear into Ethan’s stomach. As he doubled over, another guard cracked him across the head, while a third put the point of a sword against the side of his neck.

  The lich cocked his head before tipping his hat. “Full marks for concern for your fellows, Master Ethan,” he said. “But your anger is misplaced. If anything, it should be directed at your friend for getting you involved in such ill pursuits.”

  “She hasn’t done anything to you,” Ethan said. “And neither have I.”

  The lich held up a finger. “On the contrary, Master Ethan. She’s tried to rob me once already, and now has attempted the same thing a second time, not to mention, she—and you, I might add—has, up until recently, tried to kill me as well. That’s also not counting the murder of Jacob and the stealing of his ship. Let’s be honest, now, my good sir, you are as much of a scoundrel as any other.”

  “I did what I had to.”

  “That’s what they all say, Master Ethan,” Lord Belmont said as he settled back into his throne. “That’s what they all say. No, correction, some of those I take instead beg for mercy. And I’ll have you know that I grant them what mercy they’ve granted others—which is usually none.”

  Ethan dropped his brow and glared. “And you think that gives you the right to make people your slaves?”

  “They’re not innocent people, Master Ethan,” the lich casually replied as he toyed with some of the beads on his staff. “They’re the worst people. The morally repugnant. The hopeless. The absolute dregs of society who will do nothing but tear it down if given a chance—which is exactly the kind of person your vampire is.”

  “No. You’re wrong.”

  “I can appreciate your point of view, Master Ethan,” the lich said, leaning forward. “If I were you, I might say the same. She is a pretty thing, isn’t she? I think any gentleman would be hard-pressed not to defend her honor until his dying breath. That said, you know in your heart that such a vile creature cannot be permitted to live. Ridding the world of her is nothing more than killing a rabid dog.”

  “You’re one to talk,” Ethan spat.

  “Yes, my ghastly appearance,” Lord Belmont said, gesturing toward himself with a smile. “An unfortunate side effect for taking on immortality. But you of all people should know that outside appearances have little to do with the heart inside. Whereas I look to save the world, she looks to end it.”

  “All she wants to do is save a couple of kids. She’s not the one trying to make the world burn. As far as I can tell, that’s what you’re out to do.”

  The lich took to his feet and laughed. “You think you know this world or the people in it?” he asked. “I’ve been here for centuries, and truth be told, it was a fine place long ago. A place where men and women cared for their fellow neighbors, where the trade of goods and ideas flourished, where wars were waged on chessboards and it would’ve been thought unconscionable to let the sun set on an unsettled disagreement. Look where this place is now. No one gives even as much as a passing glance to the poor and wretched, and robbers, cutthroats, and pirates brazenly take what they want in broad daylight while people—good people—are forced to cower in their homes and pay what little they have to corrupt guards and governments.”

  “You think you can change that? Or even better, you expect me to believe you’re going to be the savior of the world?” Ethan scoffed.

  The lich idly tapped his staff on the ground a few times while inspecting the skull attached at the top. “I have no reason to lie, Master Ethan,” he said. “I have no ego to bolster, especially regarding the likes of you. But yes, I intend to restore this world to its former glory, and to do that, I must conquer it first before I can reinstate justice and order.”

  “You’ve got a long way to go.”

  “Indeed, I do,” Lord Belmont said. “Hence the need to take the wicked and have them serve a righteous cause.”

  “Zoey’s not wicked. Killing her only proves you’re the evil one.”

  Lord Belmont sighed heavily and grinned as if he were being lectured by a toddler. “My dear friend, even if her heart hasn’t rotted away as of this moment, it will soon enough,” he said. “Vampires are ultimately unwanted by society, and eventually succumb to their thirst for blood, making them desperate to satiate their undying appetite. Not everyone is willing to give them what they want like you do, Master Ethan. And when the cattle refuse to be slaughtered, they are so anyway, usually with much more horrific results.”

  Ethan pressed his lips together. “Zoey’s not like that. What if she got her hunger under control? She deserves a chance.”

  Lord Belmont chuckled and began slowly pacing around Ethan. “Give a vampire a chance?” he asked as if the notion were the most alien thing he’d ever heard. “I wonder, Master Ethan, would you be so eager to give her a chance at the risk of your life?”

  “I already have.”

  “Agreeing to be her blood doll is hardly a risk worth noting. I’d have been more impressed if you’d refused yet kept her in your company.” Lord Belmont then smirked and tapped Ethan on his head with his staff. “But you disagree, don’t you?”

  Ethan flipped him his middle finger.

  Lord Belmont shrugged and, leaning on his staff, drew his face close to Ethan’s. “Since we still have time to enjoy one another’s company, what do you say we test this hypothesis of yours?”

  “That I’d risk my life to give Zoey a chance?”

  Lord Belmont nodded.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “I assume you are a man who enjoys a round of cards,” the lich said, pulling out the deck Ethan had been using at the tavern, cards that he’d forgotten he’d stuffed in his pocket when he took Zoey back upstairs. “I thought perhaps you’d care to play a game.”

  A tiny wellspring of hope bubbled in Ethan’s soul. “I would if we’re playing for Zoey’s life.”

  “And what of yours?”

  “I’ll gamble with mine if that’s what it takes to make it happen.”

  “I’d expect no less,” he said. The lich then riffled through the cards before pulling out two clubs and a heart. “Pick the heart three times in a row, and we’ll say that’s a win for you.”

  “And if I lose?”

  “You die, of course,” Lord Belmont said. “But since you’re convinced you’re going to die anyway, let’s make it even more interesting.”

  “More interesting than being killed?”

  The lich nodded as he idly danced a card around his fingers. “I’d planned on executing you quickly, painlessly,” he said. “But to give you actual stakes that matter, if you play for Zoey and lose, I keelhaul you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Strap you beneath my ship as we set sail so the barnacles on the hull tear your flesh to ribbons, and your blood attracts every shark around for a hundred miles,” he said. “If you’re lucky, you’ll only last an hour.”

  Ethan cringed at the description. Despite the graphic images running through his mind, he knew he had to play, not only for a chance at freedom for himself, but for Zoey. He hadn’t come this far only to die now. Sure, lots of people had probably said those words before and ended up not saying any more, but he was one damn lucky bastard. He had the stats to prove it.

  What were the odds of picking three in a row, one in three, was it? That couldn’t be too hard. No, wait. That wasn’t right. Ethan closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to work out the math. All he succeeded in doing was giving himself a headache. Stupid eight intellect.

  “Shall we play, then, Master Ethan?” the lich asked, shuffling the three cards with the grace and speed of a seasoned dealer. “Or do you wish to concede your argument to me and admit that a vampire is not worth the risk?”

  Ethan steeled his spirit, sucked in a breath, and readied himself for the luckiest game he’d ever played. “Alright,”
he said. “Let’s do it.”

  “Wonderful!” Lord Belmont said. He then turned to a skeletal guard and motioned toward one of the side halls. “Have the lovely Miss Zoey brought in. She’ll want to see this.”

  The skeleton clacked all seven of his teeth together, after which Lord Belmont laughed and waved him off. “Of course, keep her in chains. Now go.”

  The next couple of minutes were spent in silence. Eventually, Zoey, shackled at the wrists and ankles and gagged with a dirty cloth, hobbled into the room. On each side of her stood creatures with pale skin, milky white eyes, and long claws that dripped a thick black substance. The moment the monsters saw Ethan, they lunged at him, hissing and spitting, only to be frozen in place by Lord Belmont’s hand.

  “Stay.” When they did, he gave an exasperated sigh. “Ghasts. Terrible at basic manners, but fantastic at killing your enemies. What can you do?”

  Zoey looked at Ethan with sorrow, but Ethan tried his best to return a look of confidence. “We’re going to be okay,” he said. “I promise.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Lord Belmont said. He then shuffled the three cards he had one more time before fanning them out to Ethan facedown. “Choose.”

  Ethan studied all three, trying to find some sort of clue as to which the heart was. To his dismay, he saw nothing that told him which card was which. After what felt like an eternity, Ethan shut his eyes and reminded himself to trust the luck. “The one on the left.”

  “My left or yours?”

  “Mine.”

  The lich casually flipped the card over, and lo and behold, the heart popped up. “Well done, Master Ethan,” he said. “I’ll tell you what, to keep the point going: if you quit now, I’ll let you go with my blessing, provided you never come back here again.”

  “And Zoey?”

  “Why, she stays, of course,” Lord Belmont said, dropping his hand on her head. “I wouldn’t dream of giving her up so easily.”

  Ethan paused. He could walk away, and since he still had a ship, albeit a small one, he could potentially find a crew and win the race. It’s not as if he knew her all that well, he told himself. It’s not as if she hadn’t backstabbed him.

  Ethan snorted, disgusted with himself for even considering.

  “No way,” he said. “Zoey’s coming with me. End of story.”

  “A compassionate lad, I see,” he said. “Very commendable. Your loyalty, too, but as for your intelligence in the matter, I must say, I find it sorely lacking. The odds are not in your favor.”

  “Shuffle the damn cards, and let’s get this over with.”

  “As you wish, Master Ethan.”

  The lich shuffled the cards once more, and once they were fanned out a second time, Ethan didn’t bother looking at all. “Middle,” he said. He then added with a chuckle. “My middle.”

  “The middle it is,” Lord Belmont replied. After he flipped the card over, the lich whistled. “My, my, my. This has become quite the contest, has it not? Care to hear my next offer?”

  “Only if it’s about you letting Zoey go right now.”

  The lich patted Ethan on the shoulder before tousling his hair. “How you jest, Master Ethan!” he said. “No, I thought perhaps I’d sponsor you at the Grand Regatta.”

  “Say again?”

  “The race,” he said. “That is where you are headed, is it not? To race against Azrael and win a precious soul?”

  Ethan cocked his head, and his mouth twisted. “How do you know about that?”

  “I told you. I’ve been around a long, long time,” he said. He then clapped Ethan heartily on the shoulder. “What do you say? You walk out of here right now, and I will send you with a skeletal crew as fine as any other out there. I’ll even have my shipwright tend to your sails and rigging, so she’ll cut through the water as if the gods themselves have blessed your ship. I’d wager even a fool asleep at the helm could win that race, then.”

  Zoey tried to speak, but the gag performed admirably and turned her words into unintelligible mush. Surprisingly, Lord Belmont gestured to one of his guards who promptly removed it.

  “Would you like to add to this conversation, my dear?” he asked.

  “Take the offer,” she said with an unnatural calm. “One of us needs to get out of here.”

  “We’re both getting out of here,” Ethan said. “I win one more time, and we both get to leave.”

  “That you do,” Lord Belmont chimed in. “Lose, however, and you both die.”

  “I know, but—”

  Before Ethan could finish, Zoey quickly cut him off, her voice dripping with disgust. “Ethan, you’re pathetic. You know that? Absolutely pathetic.”

  “What?” Ethan stammered, completely caught off guard.

  “You’re pathetic,” she repeated. “Are you this stupid back home, too? A girl hints at some ass, and you become her bitch? I bet it doesn’t even take that much, does it? A kiss? A smile? Hell, I bet if we were back home, I could get you to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and I wouldn’t even need to get your stupid name right.”

  “Testy, testy,” the lich said, shaking a finger at her. “Lover’s quarrel?”

  “I’d rather be drawn and quartered than have to kiss him again,” she spat.

  Ethan straightened, snapping himself out of the shock that had grabbed him. “Zoey, why are you being like this?”

  “Don’t, ‘Zoey, why are you being like this?’ to me,” she said, mocking his tone. “There’s no us, remember? I said that from the start. You were my toy. My useless, stupid toy that I should never have decided to play with.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing, Ethan. I figured since we’re both going to die, I wanted to die with a clear conscience, and that means not letting you toss your life away because you’ve got some white-knight complex.”

  The room fell silent, aside from the raspy breathing of the ghasts. In the light of Zoey’s rant, Ethan had a lot to think about, a lot he didn’t want to think about. He couldn’t understand why she’d turned on him so viciously, and the more he tried to work it out, the more he felt his soul wilt and his shoulders fall.

  “Perhaps you could make a decision before the oceans dry? Or am I the one being too optimistic thinking that might be something you could manage?”

  “I’ll play,” Ethan whispered.

  Lord Belmont snapped back as if he’d been cracked with a whip. “You will? Even after all that? Are you certain?”

  Ethan bit on a knuckle as he made sure himself. “Yeah,” he finally said. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Very well, Master Ethan. Very well indeed,” Lord Belmont said. He then smirked at Zoey and added, “Let the record show, Master Ethan is a far, far more noble being than you will ever be.”

  The lich shuffled the three cards one last time. Once finished, Ethan clasped his hands in front of his face and bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. This was it. All he had to do was win one more time.

  “Left—No! Middle again!” he shouted.

  Lord Belmont tilted his head as if he were a judge being asked to rule on a challenge. After a few seconds of thinking, he finally nodded to himself. “For the record,” he said slowly. “State which one you want. I’ll have none of this tomfoolery.”

  “Middle,” Ethan said again confidently.

  Lord Belmont flipped out the middle card. Two of clubs.

  “No,” Ethan said, gasping.

  Even the lich seemed surprised. He revealed the other cards, and the five of hearts was indeed on the left. “And so the game ends,” he said with a shrug. He then pulled out his pistol and gave Ethan a two-fingered salute. “You are a gentleman of the highest order, Master Ethan. I’ll spare you the keelhaul.”

  With that, he pointed the weapon at Ethan’s chest and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Bone Room

  The shot struck Ethan in the chest and blasted a hole out the back.

  It hurt. A lot. B
ut only for a second.

  Ethan fell, striking his head on the cold floor. He could feel his skin grow warm and sticky. His vision dimmed, and the world seemed to stretch far away. He heard Zoey scream, and a moment later, she was kneeling at his side. Tears ran down her cheeks unabated, and she tried to cradle his face as best she could.

  “Damnit, Ethan,” she sobbed. “You were supposed to leave.”

  Everything faded to black, though his hearing lingered for a few more seconds. During that time, he heard Zoey struggle, and then Lord Belmont’s commanding, though distant, voice. “Throw his body in the bone room. We’ll raise him in the morning with the others.”

  Ethan wasn’t sure how much time passed before his next conscious thought. Maybe it was only a couple of seconds. Or an hour. Hell, a century, for all he knew. What he was sure of, trapped in a void, was that death wasn’t so bad. He’d always expected that if there were an afterlife, it would have more, well, stuff. Not any sort of stuff in particular, but at least some sort of stuff. Clouds. Angels. Trumpets. Ferrymen. Valkyries. Pitchforks, even.

  But where he was had none of that. All that existed was him, or rather, his thoughts. He discovered that little bit when he tried holding his hand in front of his face, only to find out he had neither hand nor face. He simply was.

  A tiny pinprick of light drew his attention, and he willed himself toward it. It grew rapidly, and then pain stabbed his chest. He tried to grab his torso, but nothing happened. Liquid filled his mouth. He sputtered at first, but when he realized how sweet it tasted and how wonderful it made him feel, he swallowed as much as he could.

  His eyes fluttered open.

  Ethan found himself on his back with Maii leaning over with a healing potion grasped in his jaws, pouring what was left of it into Ethan’s mouth. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Where’s Zoey? And how did you get here?”