Chapter 1
The black flag proudly flapped in the fresh morning breeze. Anywhere else in the civilized world, the ship would be attacked by local authorities, or at least prevented from docking. But the Jakari Isles were barely considered a civilized world and here, in this shithole port called the Devil’s Anchorage, the Scurvy Jewel was welcomed as if the king himself decided to visit. And he did, sort of. A majestic white shark was embroidered on the black cloth, telling everyone that Captain Arthur Vexx, the infamous Cursed Shark, has honored this filthy dump with his presence.
Finally. Nicolas’ fingers gripped the mug of a rather disgusting ale tighter. He wasn’t drunk but wasn’t exactly sober either. Hasn’t been in weeks.
He liked to tell himself that he was doing this for his country, for King Hayden, for justice. But, truth be told, it was just something to occupy himself with, to draw his mind away from the awful nightmares that plagued it.
They were natural, at start. That’s what the doctors told him. After his “traumatic experience”, it was normal to wake up in the middle of the night covered in cold sweat, frightened to death. Not screaming though. No, his throat was usually so constricted that it barely allowed any air through. And often it was the suffocating feeling that tore him out of the gruesome memories.
Natural. Fuck that. Without even thinking about it, he raised the mug to his lips again and emptied it, grimacing over the taste of its contents. The fact that even now, weeks later, the nightmares weren’t getting better was far from natural. If anything, he was getting worse. Liquor helped, to some extent. But waking up every day with a constant hangover was far from ideal either.
Nothing in his life made sense anymore. All his friends were dead, his dreams and sometimes even his waking moments were haunted by their cries of agony. His older brother, whom he admired and loved, turned out to be a traitor and attempted to slaughter half of the capital. His mother, whom he neither admired nor loved, shut herself off from her remaining children since they refused to conform to her worldview. The only person Nicolas had left now was his sister Clara, but he didn’t dare to bother her with his pitiful problems. She and her husband have been through so much and they were so happy now, he couldn’t possibly disturb that. His problems were his own to handle.
So, he left. No, he didn’t run away. It might have seemed that way to some people, but he didn’t. He left a note behind to inform the king that he was taking a few weeks off. A break from his duties. A well deserved one, if you asked him. Yes, some might even call his act a desertion, but he hoped that Hayden would understand. If not, well…being executed was a way to stop the nightmares as well.
The crew of the Scurvy Jewel was incredibly disciplined for a bunch of ragtag misfits but Nicolas wasn’t surprised. It was no secret that Arthur Vexx reigned with an iron fist and didn’t hesitate to brutally punish even the slightest sign of insubordination. Executing Nicolas’ plan was not going to be easy but it was not like he had anything to lose at this point.
He stayed in the tavern all day, watching Vexx’s crew unload their cargo—the blood stains on some of the crates were hard to miss but nobody gave a damn about it in this place. There were two women, bound, beaten and bruised, whom his men dragged from the ship to one of the brothels. The pirates came out a while later. Without the girls, but with a pouch of coins. Nicolas had to forcibly release the grip on his dagger. He really had to work harder on pretending he didn’t care about this if he wanted to go through with his plan and rid the world of the “Cursed Shark” and his monsters forever.
It was personal too. That bastard was the mastermind behind the trap that cost Admiral Redwood, Nicolas’ father, his life. The other crews helped him, but Vexx was the one who was leading them and he was going to die for it. Revenge might have been a petty motivation, but it gave Nicolas something to focus on.
The amount of ale he’d drunk enabled him a dreamless sleep on a bug-ridden pallet in the cheapest tavern in Anchorage. But it also ensured he woke up with a horrible headache and his first trip of the morning was to throw up into a bucket near his so-called bed. Fuck, he was a mess! But he was not going to back out now.
A new mug of ale washed down the taste of his own vomit (the bartender began pouring it as soon as he noticed Nicolas entering through the squeaky door) and, with a relieved sigh, the Orellian lowered himself into the same seat as all the days before. It allowed him a view of the entire bay and a large part of the town. He could see the Jewel docked at one of the piers, ever-vigilant guards patrolling the deck while the rest of the crew enjoyed their shore leave in one of the countless taverns and brothels.
It wasn’t until late evening when a heavy hand finally landed on his shoulder. “You Calder Blakemore?” The man was big, at least a head taller than Nicolas—who wasn’t a dwarf either—muscles bulging on his arms as he rudely reached for Nicolas’ mug, taking a large gulp.
“Yes.” That was the name he has been using since he left Ebris.
“Heard you’ve been looking for us.” The giant looked Nicolas up and down, his lips twisting into an amused smirk. “I can’t see what a piece of shit like you has to offer us though. You wouldn’t last two days as a part of our crew, boy. Go back to that bitch who gave birth to you and suck on her tits some more. Come back when you’ve grown a bit.”
It had been a while since someone called Nicolas a boy. He was almost twenty, taller and more muscular than most men his age. And much angrier. “You’re right. I’ve not even been listening to your blabbering for five minutes and I already want to punch your fat face. Is that what the crew of the famous Arthur Vexx does? Talk and talk?” Nicolas stood up, staggering a little. Fuck, he shouldn’t have drank so much. The afternoon flew by and he didn’t even realize he had been downing one ale after another. Now it was too late to do something about it. But these were just some filthy pirates, there was no way they could defeat a trained soldier, right?
“Sassy,” the giant revealed his rotting teeth in an incomplete smile, seizing Nicolas up again. “You have a pretty ass, I might make you my bitch. But you sure as hell don’t have what it takes to become one of us. So give it up, boy.” With an evil glint in his eyes, the man stressed out the last word, knowing it would only feed Nicolas’ fury.
Fists clenched, Nicolas was ready to throw the first punch, but a sharp voice made him stop. “HEY!” The bartender glared at them and pointed to the door. “Take that outside! NOW!” He didn’t care that they were going to beat and quite possibly kill each other. He did, however, care about his furniture.
“Gladly,” Nicolas growled, finished the ale, and headed toward the door. The world rocked and spun around him and a voice in the back of his head kept yelling at him, telling him the already stupid plan was about to turn into a disaster that was most likely going to cost him his life. But Nicolas was drunk, he hadn’t slept properly in weeks, and the only thing capable of silencing the screams echoing through his mind was anger. And pain. He was already beyond angry and, by the looks of his opponent, he was in for a lot of pain as well. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
They followed him to a small opening between two disheveled shacks. Nicolas’ peripheral vision caught sight of someone standing nearby, watching him with an eyebrow raised. It must have been a woman, although she was dressed as a man and had a sword and a couple of other blades at her waist. Her green eyes and red braid reminded him of Clara. What would she think if she saw him now? Would she shake her head and leave like the mysterious woman just did? No, he couldn’t think about his sister right now.
“You sure about t-” The man didn’t get to finish his sentence, the force of Nicolas’ punch making him stagger back. “Oooh,” he smirked and wiped blood off his lip, “the little boy likes to play dirty? Careful,” Nicolas narrowly managed to dodge one fist only to be punched in the gut by the other one, while the pirate chuckled and continued to tease him, “you might find playing with grown-ups a little too dangerous.”
Trembling with rage, Nicolas threw himself at the much larger man, not even knowing what he was doing anymore. He kicked and punched, getting kicked and punched in return. Why was he even fighting this man? Conscious thoughts evaporated from his mind, only the fury remained. “Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” he found himself screaming. Not at the pirate, but at the ever-present voices in his head.
As they rolled on the ground, the man coughed some blood into Nicolas’ face, grimacing in pain. Good. That felt amazing and Nicolas needed more. MORE! His fist found the spot on the pirate’s side where one of his previous hits must have broken a rib. Nicolas punched it and then dug his fingers into it, enjoying the feeling of the shattered bones moving under the man’s skin.
For once, a scream of pain was music to his ears. Because this time, he was the one causing the pain, he was the one in control. Not just a frightened bystander, not a helpless victim.
Nobody ever came to help Nicolas. No matter how much he screamed, how scared he was, he was alone, and the only people for miles and miles around were the enemies chasing him.
A hand gripped his upper arm, tearing him out of the memory, and he jerked back, letting out a satisfied cackle when he felt his elbow connect with the soft cartilage of someone’s nose. Nobody ever came to help Nicolas but the pirate’s friends were nearby and they swiftly joined the fray. Their bodies became a jumbled mess of limbs and nails and teeth, guttural growls, gasps for air, and angry shouts coming from the pile. Nicolas didn’t even register that he had no chance of winning anymore, lost in the cacophony of his memories and glimpses of what was really happening around him. He fought and fought until the world around him finally went black.
