The Unwanted Brothers

by Aaron Galvin

  The Unwanted Brothers

  The Salted Series: Episode 8

  Aaron Galvin

  Aames & Abernathy Publishing

  Sale of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this book is coverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as “unsold” or destroyed” and neither the author nor the publisher may have received payment for it.

  The Salted Series is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2014 by Aaron Galvin. Revised January 2020.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Annetta Ribken

  You can find her at www.wordwebbing.com

  Copy Edits by Jennifer Wingard

  Cover Artist: Dmitry Yakhovsky

  www.facebook.com/entaroart/

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  THE SELKIE OWNERS

  1. Excerpt

  Appendix

  - Humans -

  - Merrows -

  - Nomads -

  - Orcinians -

  - Selkies -

  Are You A Superfan?

  About the Author

  Book Discounts & Savings

  Also by Aaron Galvin

  1

  LENNY

  Lenny cowered on the rickety docks, surrounded by hooded taskmasters.

  With Garrett Weaver escorted up to the Crayfish’s mansion, the taskmasters ceased their pretense. Crowding around the Southern Elephant Seal that was Paulo, each of the taskmasters took whips off their belts. None dared crack them yet. A few looked toward the Crayfish’s head overseer in wait of his command.

  Fenton turned his cold gaze on Lenny as he gave the order. “Get these fools out of their coats.”

  Fingers touched Lenny’s seal nose. He looked up to find his father standing alongside him.

  Declan Dolan glowered at his son. “Open your mouth.”

  When obliged, Declan jerked hard on the seal’s upper lip to release Lenny from his Salt form. The cavern’s cold seeped into Lenny’s human skin moments later. He fell shivering on the dock and noticed Paulo had likewise been released from his Elephant Seal form. Heavy steps clomped closer and Lenny heard the thump of Fenton’s razor-shell cane.

  “Captain Dolan,” said Fenton. “Our Lord Master Collins sent you to capture a slave girl. Instead you bring him an Orc calf.”

  Lenny dared to look Fenton in the face. “We caught the girl too.”

  Declan backhanded his son. “Boss Fenton’s talking, boy. Shut your mouth.”

  The sting in Lenny’s cheek smarted from the lesson. Don’t say nothing, Lenny took the slap to mean. Give Fenton what he wants.

  Fenton studied Lenny before looking off. “Your son has a lot to learn, Declan.”

  “Aye, Boss,” Declan replied. “Stubborn and hot-headed. He’ll learn better.”

  “So you’ve said for a number of years now . . .” Fenton’s gaze flickered back to Lenny. “And how is it a newly made captain caught not only Marisa Bourgeois, but an orphaned Orc too?”

  Lenny’s cheek throbbed with Declan’s reminder. Don’t give him nothing. He thought before speaking anyway. “I’m my father’s son. That’s how I caught them both.”

  Fenton frowned. “Still proud of your accomplishments, are you?”

  “Aye, sir.” Lenny stood up. “You and everyone else said Bourgeois was uncatchable—”

  “Of course I did,” said Fenton. “She wouldn’t have been much of a prize for Master Oscar to recapture and boast of otherwise, would she?”

  Lenny smarted from the sarcastic tone. “What do ya mean?”

  Fenton shook his head. “Did you truly believe Master Oscar was sent on his first hunt with even the slightest chance that he might return in failure?”

  Lenny’s stomach churned as Fenton continued.

  “Did you truly think that our Lord Master would entrust the safety of his only son and heir to an unproven lot of catchers? Let alone the rather small hands of an ill-made, nipperkin captain?” Fenton tsked.

  “Maybe we was unproven before,” said Lenny. “Not now. I didn’t just catch Bourgeois and the Orc. I bagged the Silkstealer too.”

  The other taskmasters laughed at such a claim.

  Fenton quieted their laughter with a raise of his hand. “The Silkstealer? That haunted boogeyman of Selkie children lore?” he asked skeptically.

  Lenny grimaced. “Wait till Tieran gets here. See for yourselves what I done.”

  “What you did,” said Fenton. “Did your crew not help?”

  Paulo gave Lenny a stern look. “Aye. We did.”

  “I see,” said Fenton to Paulo. “And were you ordered to abandon your mission, in lieu of what Captain Dolan apparently thought of as a much more enticing target, or did you disobey Master August’s orders willingly?”

  Lenny glanced at Paulo as his large friend hesitated to answer.

  The surrounding taskmasters had unfurled their whips. One even swished the ends of tattered leather across the floor, no doubt eager to swing and call screams from the brute before him.

  Lenny’s earrings flashed. Lie, Paulie. He spoke to his friend’s mind alone. Tell him I ordered it. They didn’t take these whips out to not use them.

  Paulo glared at the Selkie taskmasters around him, defying them all. “I did it willingly.”

  “A noble answer. Loyal too.” Fenton shifted back to Lenny. “And where is the remainder of your crew, Captain Dolan? I recall seven were sent out, yet only the two of you and Master Oscar have returned.”

  “Tieran kept Ellie behind,” said Lenny. “Henry abandoned us when his slave girl ran off.”

  “Abandoned, you say?”

  “Aye,” said Lenny, unsatisfied when Fenton’s face gave no hint as to his feelings on the matter. “Ask Oscar if you don’t believe me. He’ll tell you the same.”

  “I’ll do that,” said Fenton. “Still . . . that only accounts for six catchers. I believe you were assigned a sprinter, a pup. Where is Racer?”

  Lenny’s chin dipped in a feigned show of disapproval. “He ran off with Henry’s girl when the rest of us were trying to capture Marisa and the Silkstealer.”

  Fenton’s gaze flickered to a hooded taskmaster. “Go now and fetch Racer’s father. Lock him in the stocks. We’ll make an example of him soon, along with these two.”

  The deep bellow of a conch-shell horn echoed throughout the cavern. A warning alarm that sounded a second time. Lenny looked toward the cavern’s main, watery entrance in time to see a pair of triangular-shaped dorsal fins breach the surface, the two swimming side-by-side.

  “Nomads . . .” a taskmaster whispered.

  The pair of fins approached far faster than anything Lenny had ever seen swim, trailing white V’s in their wakes. Their dorsal fins dipped beneath the surface twenty feet from the dock. Seconds later, two short-fin Mako Sharks exploded from the water, soaring high above, transforming as their arch reached its apex. Their sickle-fin tails split in two to form human legs. Arms burst from their pectoral fins like hands shoving through tight sleeves. Both finished their conversion to human before landing upon the dock and taking a knee.

  Lenny backed into Fenton as both Nomads
rose to their full height. Their human legs sheened bluish-grey, retaining their Nomadic hue, and their human toes were webbed. Sinewy muscle cleaved to their lean chests and arms. Tattooed runes and symbols lined their extremities. Lenny thought their markings familiar, but struggled to place where he had seen such patterns before.

  The shorter of the two wore a triangular patch, carved from a seashell, over his right eye.

  Lenny forced himself to not look away as the lone eye’s gaze fell on him. Something in Lenny’s core whispered that eye peered deep inside his soul, and he exhaled when it glanced away.

  The one-eyed stranger finished his slow surveillance of those amongst the dock and mumbled in a Nomadic tongue.

  His companion stepped forward, arms open. “Greetings,” said the stranger, his voice clear and distinct. Eyes sharp. “I am called Quill. This is my brother, Watawa.” He motioned to the one-eyed Nomad. “The Open Shell.”

  Fenton stepped around Lenny to address them. “Our master’s greetings to you also. Forgive my ignorance. You have the look of Nomads, yet you stand before us, breathing our air. Never have I seen such a feat. I must ask . . . how is this possible?”

  The one-eye, Watawa, sneered before mumbling again in the Nomadic tongue.

  Quill seemed to find his brother’s words humorous. “Do you believe in the Ancients, Selkie?” He asked of Fenton. “That they gifted this realm equally to their Salt Children, both Merrow and Nomad?”

  “Aye,” said Fenton.

  Quill’s grin revealed pointed white teeth. “We are their bastards. Call me and my brethren what you will. The scorned ones, the in-betweens, the unloved, it makes no matter to us. We are the Unwanted.”

  Declan stepped forward, brushing Lenny aside. “I’ve heard of your kind,” he said to the brothers. “It’s said the Sancul king wove his black magic over Merrows ravaged in the Nomad War. Made them birth half-breeds as an insult to both races.”

  How does Pop know all that? Lenny wondered.

  Quill bowed his head to Declan. “An educated slave. Impressive.”

  “I might say the same for half-breeds,” Declan replied.

  Lenny grinned when his father’s response coaxed a laugh from Quill and the smallest of smiles from his one-eyed brother too.

  Quill spoke on, addressing Fenton again. “It remains our hope your master would grant us an audience. Perhaps forgive our father’s heathen shark blood in favor of our gentle dolphin mother’s.”

  Fenton nodded. “Our Lord Master cares little for the blood running in your veins, so long as you come seeking trade and not war. Have you come for the auction?”

  “Perhaps,” said Quill. “The Ancients granted my brother a vision. In it, Watawa saw a crayfish hoarding numerous bounties, greatly desired by our enemies. Our chieftain, No Boundaries, sent us to learn what treasures your master keeps hidden in his cavern.”

  Fenton balked at that. “Your pardon, sirs. Our master is but a poor trader—”

  Watawa’s lone eyed squinted and he mumbled in his native tongue.

  Quill frowned at Fenton. “My brother names you liar, Selkie. Yet I think you only misspoke. Please . . . continue. You were saying your master is poor?”

  Lenny saw beads of sweat forming atop Fenton’s balding head. Better think of something fast, boss. He nearly grinned then, having never seen the head overseer at such a loss for words.

  “Aye,” said Fenton, finally. “Poor compared to owners in the capital. His stock is in the trading of slaves. Not caverns and titles. Nor does he hoard secrets or doubloons.”

  “Wiser minds than my own have said all that glistens is not silver and gold,” said Quill. “We heard your master’s auction mentioned on the currents. Perhaps we’ll stay and find the treasure from my brother’s vision there.”

  Lenny scratched his head. Slaves as treasure? These two must not a been to many auctions before.

  Fenton nodded in deference to Quill. “I’ll inform Master August immediately. In the meantime, please allow Declan to show you our master’s hospitality. You shall have a warm meal—”

  Watawa mumbled, interrupting.

  When he had finished, Quill squinted at Fenton. “We should like to accompany you to see your master.” He stepped forward. “And we shall go see him now.”

  Lenny took note of Quill’s hand moving to the hilts of his weapons as he spoke.

  Fenton noticed too. “Of course.” He bowed away, his earrings flashing. “Right this way, if you please.”

  Lenny imagined the old overseer was attempting to contact anyone near their master with a warning of the Nomad intrusion. He snorted when Fenton snapped his fingers and took most of the hooded guardians he’d brought to the dock to escort the brothers away, bound for the Crayfish’s mansion atop the stony hill. They had barely left the dock when cold, iron manacles pinched around Lenny’s wrists. Surprised, he looked into the face of the one who shackled him. “Pop?”

  Declan gave his son an immediate scolding glance. “When are you ever gonna learn, pup?” he whispered.

  Lenny wanted to defend himself. The warning look in his father’s eyes told him it would do no good. Hearing more rattling chains, he looked across the dock and saw Paulo being fitted with a pair of shackles too.

  Declan addressed the few remaining taskmasters. “Ya heard Boss Fenton. Get these two outta here.”

  A guardian tugged at Lenny’s hood.

  Lenny held his ground. Glared at his father. “You’d send your only son to the stocks?”

  “Nah,” Declan replied. “I’m sending a captain who didn’t follow orders and lost a Selkie in his charge because of it.”

  I didn’t lose him, Pop. Lenny thought, but did not say. I set Racer and a bunch of others free so Oscar couldn’t slave them . . . I did what I thought you would’ve.

  Declan glanced at the taskmaster. “Take them to the stocks till Boss Fenton decides what he wants done with them.”

  Lenny seethed as the taskmaster pulled hard.

  His father’s earrings flashed. Declan’s voice filled Lenny’s head. Ya did good out there, Len. But you know the penalty for losing one of your crew same as me.

  Yeah. I know what the penalty is. Lenny put his back to Declan and followed the taskmaster’s lead toward the stockyard. Twenty lashes.

  Then why’d you come back? Declan asked, treading alongside him.

  Lenny stepped off the docks onto a sandstone path that led between the small guest homes August provided his guests and buyers. I’m a Dolan, aren’t I? he answered his father.

  Yeah, you are, said Declan. You’re coming back like this proves your mettle. Might even be Fenton gives ya less of the lash for the haul ya brung in.

  Might be? Lenny humphed. He should’ve set me free by now.

  How’s that? Declan asked.

  Part of the deal I made with Oscar. Said if I caught the Orc for him, he’d gimme my freedom. Thought between that and the reward August promised—

  Declan’s hand clapped Lenny on his shoulder. Whipped him around. “You enslaved that boy?” he growled.

  “He’s no boy, Pop. He’s an Orc—”

  “He’s an innocent boy,” said Declan. “Orc or not. He’s no runner. Ya can see it in his face. And you brought him here on a . . . what? A promise? From Oscar?”

  Lenny fumed when the taskmasters sniggered. He shook away from his captor. Stepped closer to his father. “I wanted to get us outta here.”

  “We’re Dolans.”

  “Yeah,” said Lenny. “We don’t run. I know. This wouldn’t of been running, Pop. We was gonna swim outta here, free and clear, with marks from the Crayfish to prove it.”

  Declan shook his head. “Boss Fenton was right. You still got a lot to learn, pup.”

  Lenny clenched his fists, about to argue the point that he seized an opportunity for them both. The defense died when he heard his name roared from a familiar voice behind him.

  “Dolan!”

  Lenny spun and saw Henry Boucher’s snar
l before the larger man knocked him to the ground. He curled into a ball as Henry pummeled him.

  “You die now, nipperkin,” said Henry as he punched. “I told you I would—”

  The rain of Henry’s fists stopped, replaced by a different scuffle.

  Lenny risked a peek.

  Henry lay on his back a few feet away, clutching his throat, coughing to catch his breath. He sneered as he climbed to his feet.

  A shadow blocked Lenny’s vision, stepping in between him and Henry. His protector wore a black suit with white circles throughout. The same Ringed Seal suit Lenny wore.

  Declan Dolan growled at Henry. “Stay away from my son.”

  2

  CHIDI

  Chidi watched her owner rise and charge Lenny’s father. Henry slashed and stabbed, his attacks brutal and rapid.

  The little man moved with surprising quickness.

  I don’t believe it. Chidi thought as the elder Dolan dodged rather than countered, always a half step ahead of Henry.

  The surrounding taskmasters cheered the fight on. “Get him, Dolan! Whip that Leper!”

  Beside Chidi, Ellie was whispering. “Kill him, Declan.” She urged. “Kill him.”

  Chidi allowed herself to be caught up in their excitement. A pit in her stomach bid otherwise. Still, as the bout raged on, she saw something in Henry’s face she had not witnessed often—frustration.

  Henry sneered, then bull-rushed Declan.

  Again, the little man danced away, a hair’s breadth from Henry running him through. “Call yourself a catcher, Henry?” Declan taunted, sidestepping another of Henry’s swipes.

  Henry allowed the force of his last attack to carry through, finding only air where Declan had stood. He slashed behind him blindly.