Chapter 1
Under the salty waves he plunges down,
Straight to the bottom deep he drags his prey;
He, guest of the ocean, in his watery haunts,
Drowns ships and men and fast imprisons them
Within the halls of death.”
-Cynewulf
Part One
“We’ve got 30 able-bodied, quick men. Give each one a spear, and half of them knives and shortswords. We come up on the ship fast during the fog. The Fortune is faster than any carrack. Ten hooks, two rams, and four planks, and we should be over within the hour. They’ll surrender before their lookout can utter a warning.”
Selene had been many things in her life: a pickpocket, a sell-sword, a sailor. As she stepped across the gangway from the ship Fortune onto the Empire’s carrack, her title changed once more. Pirate.
The sky was just beginning to lighten, the shadows no longer hiding the ship’s damage: railings were gouged and half-destroyed from the Fortune’s grappling hooks. The rigging on the main sail was burnt and had been mostly cut away. Ash rained lazily down from the sky. At least the sailors had put the fires out quickly.
Pausing, she took in the stern of the vessel. She swallowed thickly. Hastily placed boards and tar patched the worst of the massive hole in the rear of the ship.
We shouldn’t have needed cannons. This was supposed to be an easy fight.
She had hoped the other captain would have spared his ship and surrendered quickly. That hadn’t been the way things went.
The Fortune’s cannons had left one hell of a shothole in the stern of the ship. Water had been gushing in for at least twenty minutes before the sailors had been able to patch it. They’d been dangerously close to losing the entire ship.
She turned back to face the main mast. A group of sailors gathered around it, all eyes turned to her brother. Captain Sechel Aims, now pirate leader of the Fortune. He planned the attack on the carrack and she’d been the one to lead it. She stepped over a large cannon hole on the deck. A barely successful one. Dread coiled low in her stomach at the thought of facing him now.
She made her way through the throng of sailors and their makeshift weapons. They parted easily for her. None would meet her eye as she passed.
She paused in front of one of the sailors wearing a bloody apron. “How bad are the injuries?”
He grimaced, stepping backwards at her approach. He didn’t want to be seen talking to her. “They’ll all survive.”
The sailor beside him snorted, “Survive! They deserve bonuses for the hell you just put ’em through.” His lip raised in a sneer as he eyed her up and down, “A woman aboard. You’ve been a bad omen this whole journey.”
Her hand moved to her knife, tightening for a moment. Her eyes narrowed on him, “Would you like to take that up with the Captain? You’re free to leave at any time.” She gestured to the open water.
He bared his teeth at her, “’Praps I will discuss with ’im.” He stepped forward, the lantern light exposing his grimy, blood speckled expression. His voice lowered to a quiet threat, “But none of us are leaving here without the gold we were promised.”
“You’ll get it. There’s plenty of loot to go around.”
“Aye. And ’tis no thanks to you!”
She held back her response, the dread hardening into something like anger. Fine.
Let them believe their stupid superstitions. Even if I had won the battle easily they’d still call me a curse.
She kept moving through the crowd. She would face her brother alone then.
Some sailors gripped vials of light in their hands, muttering prayers. Wide, unfocused eyes scanned over the chaos and destruction around them. The buzz from the battle was beginning to wane, the harsh reality of what they had done settling in.
As the sun rose it exposed puddles of blood marring the wooden planks underfoot. It was streaked across broken railings and splattered over equipment. The charred scent of destruction was heavy on the wind. The groaning of wood and rippling sound of tattered sails filled the silence. The violence was evident everywhere around them.
Her brother stood in the centre of the growing crowd, staring at the three men tied to the carrack’s main mast. It was more obvious as she neared how angry he really was. His mouth was pulled into a scowl, eyes slitted as he stared at the prisoners.
The hairs raised on her arms. Their captain liked to make an example of failure. And she’d failed spectacularly tonight, almost losing the ship.
She turned to face the prisoners as she neared her brother. She sucked in a deep breath. Two of them, survivors from the attack, were imperial soldiers. All three were bound and gagged with rope.
“We ought to kill ’em,” Fin, the quartermaster and second-in-command suggested, breaking the silence.
The third man bound between the soldiers was unfamiliar. Judging by his fine silk clothes he was likely the ship’s chartering party. A rich lord from Nalsi, perhaps, who rented the cargo vessel. On imperial business, no less. Selene’s stomach sank at the thought. It was obvious now that they hadn’t been chasing a standard merchant vessel. They had accidentally attacked an imperial ship.
We are completely fucked.
Her brother still hadn’t spoken. He was staring down at the ships manifest as if it might begin to explain what the fuck was going on.
Selene crossed her arms, suppressing a shiver. “No, we can’t kill them. The empire is going to come looking for their lost ship eventually.” The sailors shifted uncomfortably at her words. She pointed to the lord, “They’re our hostages. As long as they are alive the empire won’t attack us. I say we use them to negotiate safe passage through the Imperial Isles. If we make it out of the empire’s waters, we’re free.”
“Thats a terrible plan. There’s alliances between the empire and every island ’ere to the Emerald Sea. The ship will be recognised at any port we dock at. We’ll all be arrested and hung! I say we kill the three of them! Take as much cargo as the Fortune can carry, and get as far away as we can before anyone comes lookin’,” Fin said.
“And give up half the loot?! No, we’re better taking our chances through the Isles. It’s a reasonable second plan.”
“We wouldn’t need a second plan if your attack hadn’t gone to shit,” he shot back.
Her brother interjected before she could respond, “Fin’s right. Selene, this is your mess. The cost of repairs for the Fortune ought to come from your wages.”
“I’ll be working for six months free!”
“If you’re lucky,” Sechel said.
Selene’s eyes narrowed. “You said this was a merchant vessel. A single merchant vessel. Do you have any idea what we’ve done? We attacked a fucking imperial trading ship!” she snarled. She stepped forward, jabbing a finger in her brother’s chest. “No wonder the attack went to shit. They’ll send a warship after us! We are going to lose our heads for this, and you’re worried about- about wages!”
A murmur rose from the sailors crowded around them. Anger flared in his eyes. He looked like their mother, dark olive skin covered in freckles and raven black hair. Bright sea-blue eyes narrowed on her. Her brother had always been the ambitious one. Cunning and scheming constantly. He’d gained a reputation on the ports they travelled as a ruthlessly violent negotiator and trader.
“You’re right.” Sechel’s lip curled in disgust, “Perhaps lost wages aren’t enough. This is your fault. You ought to make it right.”
Selene paused. Her anger fizzled out like a bucket of water had been thrown over her. Her brother’s ire- Fin’s- the entire ship was suddenly focused on her. Her stomach roiled. She took a hesitant step back. There were murmurs of agreement, other sailors echoing him, Make it right. Aye.
Sechel stepped forward, almost closing the distance between them. His voice stayed loud though, ensuring their audience would catch his every word, “You failed me tonight, and not for the first time. You dare to question my capabilities?”
“Sechel,” she said his name quietly, the sound almost lost in the wind. “Let’s talk in your quarters. We should decide our next steps. This isn’t what we expected-”
“No, of course I didn’t expect this.” He laughed, the sound loud and deranged in the quiet. “You volunteered to lead the battle.” His face turned red as his voice raised louder, “How are we supposed to make a profit off the cargo when half of it is now in the fucking sea?!”
She flinched at his tone, stepping backwards.
Someone spoke in the crowd, their voice a low murmur, “Traitor!” She dared not turn her head to see who it was. She kept her eyes on her brother. The voices grew louder, chanting all around her.
“She’s cursed!”
“Send her overboard!”
Her back hit someone else. The sailor roughly shoved her forward. They were closing in on her. Their rage was palpable. Six months of distrust…
Her heart began to race. She tried desperately to reason with them, “We just need a plan. We can spare men to find the cargo-”
“I trusted you with this!” Her brother snarled, “This is the last mistake you’ll make working for me. Fin! James! Take her back to the Fortune and throw her in the brig.”
“The brig?! No! Sechel- please!”
He was past reasoning with. Her voice was lost over the shouts of agreement from the other sailors. Her brother nodded, and three of them grabbed her, snapping her wrists painfully tight behind her back. She tried to fight them off, screaming threats and then obscenities. It was useless. Fin was already winding the rope in knots around her arms. He began dragging her backwards.
“All prisoners to the brig!” Her brother roared. The sailors cheered in response.
