His entire life, he wanted to be king. He wanted to be God. He wanted control. He wanted power. He wanted absolute dominance of his reality, unopposed by anyone who dared try. And now he would be. He had everything he needed to finally take the throne he'd built up in his mind. He'd finally have a chance to be the messiah of the new world. Two thousand years from now, people would be praying to him.
His spear seemed to hum in his hands, radiating with an invisible power that could only be felt by direct contact. It was ready to be wielded again. It had slumbered long enough, kept hidden by a family that weren't brave enough to use it. But Julian had every intention of utilizing the relic.
The real Spear of Destiny belonged to him—to the Eclipsed—and soon to the Black Sun. He would take his rightful place, and Julian Corvus could have it all. The spear was in his grasp, and soon enough the Order of the Black Sun would be his too.
His new age was coming.
END
Pirate Gold
Prologue
“Why have you boarded us, captain?”
“Admiral,” Walton Ogden corrected. If he was going to be addressed by his title, he always preferred that it be the correct one. “A captain commands one vessel. I command many.”
The captain of this captured ship rolled his eyes and wiped some blood off his face. He was probably just annoyed with himself. He had been such easy prey for Admiral Walton Ogden and his pirate crew. He hadn't put up much of a fight and now they were going to rob him dry, striping the defeated vessel clean of any and all things valuable.
It had become almost routine for Admiral Ogden. It was hardly even a challenge at all anymore. Though, it was made all the more easy that he had more than a dozen pirate ships at his command. He used to use them all for one score and completely overwhelm the target with superior numbers. That was when they were all less experienced. Now he could take a ship with his own ship rather easily, and his fleet would disperse and each part of it would do the same. Every three months they would gather and pool their spoils together.
Admiral Ogden had become one the most feared names on the seas, and his pirate fleet caused just as much panic. No one dared challenge him; not with that many fighters and that many cannons under his command.
As much as he enjoyed leading so many vessels, he was happy he could do it from the security of his flagship, the Scarlet Wing. Under its dark red sails, he always felt easy no matter what he was doing, even if he was running his sword through someone's stomach.
“Why do you think I've boarded you?” Admiral Ogden asked the captain of the shipping vessel they were standing on. Ogden's crew were already running around the ship, taking whatever they could find. The defeated sailors on board had no choice except to comply or die at this point. “To have a drink? Or perhaps I just wished to speak to such a legendary and esteemed captain of shipping frigate like you ... the notorious ... what was your name?” Before the captain could answer, Ogden continued. “Oh, that's right, I don't care because you are nobody. What the hell do you think I'm doing here?”
“You're pillaging us,” the captain said.
“Precisely. You tried to fight us off. You failed of course, so now we are going to claim our reward for our efforts.”
The honest truth was that this shipping vessel probably wouldn't give Admiral Ogden and his fleet much, but the crew had been itching for a fight. Hopefully this was enough to satisfy them until they moved on to their next target. Until they could find something with a prize that was really worth fighting and dying over.
“You said you command many ships,” the shipping captain said uneasily. “You are him, aren't you? Ogden. The pirate admiral.”
“That's me, yes,” Ogden smirked.
“You and that damned armada of devils haven't gotten enough yet? You just have to keep attacking innocent people—”
“No one in the world is innocent, my friend.”
The shipping captain spat on the deck and started yelling. “When will it be enough? How much do you need? How much more?”
Admiral Ogden considered the question, and he pondered it still for some time after. One day, long after he and his crew had raided that shipping vessel, he finally realized the answer to that question.
No amount of gold would ever be enough to satisfy him.
1
BROKE AND BROKEN
Life was much harder without money—and David Purdue hated it. It hadn't been long since he was able to purchase almost everything he ever wanted. The things he couldn't buy, he still managed to get thanks to the resources he could afford. If he wanted to go across the world, he'd just use his private jet. Now he could barely manage to get down the street by anything other than his own two feet.
There weren't many billionaires in the world and even less former billionaires. The few who had that much money didn't often lose it. How was it even possible to lose that much money? It was an absurd thought to even consider.
David Purdue, though, was a former billionaire. He'd lost it all—no—it was taken from him.
One of the most dangerous enemies he'd ever made over his many years of trotting the globe had literally returned from death to haunt him, and to take everything from him.
Julian Corvus and his secret society, the Order of the Black Sun, had robbed Purdue blind. They'd taken anything he had any connection to. They hacked into his finances and drained all of his accounts. They burned his house to the ground. They stole all of the artifacts that he had spent years collecting and protecting. They had even taken his friends prisoner.
To top it off, Julian and the Black Sun tried to kill him. They left him to die in the inferno that they turned his house into. He would have burned too, if one of their own members hadn't seen just how dangerous Julian Corvus was. She had pulled Purdue out of that fire, because she thought he was the only one who could stop the Black Sun.
Maybe he was...but it didn't seem likely anymore.
As far as most of the world knew—and as far as that order of maniacs knew—David Purdue was dead. He died inside of his burning home. His fabled collection of artifacts was nowhere to be found in the scorched remains of his estate. It seemed that the exceptionally rich man had ended up having an exceptionally painful death.
Some days, he felt like he might as well be dead. He was left with nothing. Homeless, broke, and alone, he spent every day wandering around just trying to survive. The little cash he managed to scavenge was used on food or water, anything just to keep breathing.
Shortly before he lost it all, a psychic woman had warned him about his impending defeat and everything she said came true. So hopefully, her final words of foresight to him would come true as well.
“The only one who can lay a dead man to rest is another dead man.”
Julian Corvus was the dead man who came and ruined him, revived by an ancient spear blessed with some unknown power. Now Purdue was, for all intents and purposes, dead. So, if those predictions were as accurate as they seemed, maybe he had a chance of making sure Julian stayed dead this time.
With his current conditions, though, there was no way of even attempting to stand up to Julian. He had nothing to use against him. He had no way of getting to him. If he tried anything now, he'd be killed immediately. The Black Sun would be finishing the job that they thought they started back when they tried to kill him.
The people who tried to murder him, who thought they had, almost gave him an advantage in a strange way. Now he could catch them off guard, just like how they had ambushed him.
Purdue wanted to reclaim everything that was his. He wanted that more than he wanted anything, but it wouldn't be an easy task. It would be nearly impossible. He at least needed some sort of money just to get himself balanced again. Just having a roof over his head would be a good place to start.
Back when he was rich, Purdue had spent so much time gallivanting all over the world in his private jet on exotic expeditions to faraway places, he had never known how terrifying a normal
everyday street could be. He never knew the worry of not being able to get food or shelter. He had never known what it was like to have no comforts at all. Even in his most stressful and dangerous of times before, he could always afford at least a small comfort or advantage. Now, he was a completely different person.
And he hated every second of being poor.
There was one way to get a small portion of his billions back. It wouldn't come close to replenishing his lost fortune entirely but it would at least be a start, and would still be an incredible amount of money by normal standards.
However, it was a long shot. It probably wasn't even worth the trouble it would take ... then again, if it meant helping him get back everything that was taken, then it maybe it was worth it after all. There was only one way to know for sure.
Purdue remembered the story of Admiral Walton Ogden's pirate fleet and the unbelievable amount of ships that fleet had plundered, and the absurd amount of treasure they had taken. He'd known that swashbuckling piece of history for years but had never given it more than a passing thought. It was interesting on its own, but compared to the things he'd learned about in all of his travels, it wasn't more remarkable than most of those, at least on the surface.
Only recently, when he had visited the New England Pirate Museum in Salem during his last artifact hunt, was Purdue reminded of that story, and the thought occurred to him that finding the pirate fleet's treasure might be something worth looking into. Now, it was more than just an interesting notion—it was a necessity.
Admiral Ogden and his pirate fleet had supposedly amassed a mountain of gold from hundreds of raids and battles. No one knew where the treasure trove was, despite many having tried finding it to no success. They were mostly just searching the seas blindly, apparently hoping to just stumble upon the gargantuan amount of treasure. Many tried, and they had all failed miserably at finding anything.
Everyone who tried finding it lacked a key tool for any search—a map. The blueprints they would need make their way to the treasure, to all of the riches an entire armada of criminals had claimed from their enemies.
Purdue didn't share the problem that anyone who had tried before had. The map that they needed was not some hypothetical, unattainable thing. He already owned it. He had for years. Purdue bought the map at an auction for a few millions on a whim, back when that kind of money was nothing more than pocket change for him. Unlike most of the old relics he collected, Admiral Ogden's map hadn't been part of the collection that the Order of the Black Sun absconded with.
The treasure map hadn't been displayed with the rest. He preferred that his collection be solely rare items with a variety of values, uses, and insight to different cultures of old. A map leading to a pile of pirate gold wasn't overly exciting to a man who already had far more money than almost any amount of gold would be worth.
Now, with all of his circumstances having changed, that lost gold suddenly became far more enticing than it had been before. He needed money desperately, and maybe finding Admiral Ogden's treasure hoard was the best way to get himself back on track. Once he had some funds, he could start planning how to get his friends back, his property back, and his life back.
Admiral Ogden's treasure could be the key.
The map wasn't with his collection but was hopefully still where he left it; in a safety deposit box at one of his banks. He hadn't dared go inside since the Order of the Black Sun attacked and drained all of his accounts. They though he was dead and he wanted to keep it that way. Going to a public place where he could easily be identified wasn't a smart move.
Having spent weeks on the streets, half-starved and unkempt, he hardly looked like the late billionaire David Purdue at all. Rather, he was a peasant in comparison, a beggar who would have never even been looked at by the man he used to be. David Purdue would never have taken notice of someone like him, and certainly could have never imagined becoming that way.
If he could barely recognize himself, then it was likely that others would have trouble too.
Purdue crossed the street to the bank. Most people who passed him ignored him completely. Others glanced at him with revulsion at his smell.
All he could do was hope that the contents of his deposit box hadn't been removed just yet. If the bank got notice of his death and then purged his box, then there went his contingency plan.
He went into the lobby, which was empty on a mid-week afternoon, and approached one of the tellers. She gave him a pleasant smile but he could see the displeasure on her face. He looked worse for wear and he most assuredly reeked. He looked far different than most of the richer clientele this bank did business with, than the kind of customer he used to be. Still, the teller kept up the professional pretenses well enough.
“Good morning,” she said with that forced smile still unnaturally stretched across her face. “How can I help you today?”
He tried to return her smile but in his current state, he probably looked like a skunk bearing its teeth. She squirmed in response to his pitiful attempt at friendliness and he could tell she was avoiding breathing through her nose.
“Aye,” Purdue said. “I would like to access my safe deposit box.”
She looked at him uncertainly, straining to recognize him, probably thinking it was impossible that someone like him was actually an established customer. Finally, she turned to her computer monitor.
“Your name?”
He didn't want to say it out loud. That name belonged to someone who was supposed to be burnt to crisp. For all he knew, the Order of the Black Sun made sure that the name alone would trigger all sorts of alarms. He wouldn't put it past them, especially with a psychopath like Julian Corvus now leading them. He couldn't risk it.
“I have the box number, if that helps.”
“I would need the name as well,” she said firmly. “For security. If you have some sort of identification...”
He used to have identification but those cards were just more kindling for the fire that burned through his house. He had nothing to use anymore. Not that it mattered, really. The Black Sun had erased him from most places. He probably wasn't even in the bank's systems anymore either.
“Sorry, I don't,” Purdue said with a sigh, poking around his pockets just for emphasis. “But if I could just get a peek at the box, eh? Just this once.”
“I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that.” She didn't look very sorry. If anything, she looked relieved to not have to help him.
“Not to worry,” Purdue said with fake innocence. “I am sure things will sort themselves out.”
This wasn't unexpected. He always doubted he'd be able to just stroll in and retrieve the contents of his safe deposit box. It was a hope, since it was the easiest option. He didn't want to go to his backup plan, but in this case, there wasn't another choice.
His lack of any and all resources—including even his own name—had left him with very few options.
Purdue could try his hand at slipping a robbery note, but that would undoubtedly end in complete and utter failure. Even if he miraculously pulled it off, that would put far too many eyes on him. He would have the attention of the law, and probably the Order of the Black Sun. If the police didn't find him, Julian Corvus and his secret society certainly would, and they would finish what they started this time. They would be certain that Purdue was really dead.
No.
He had to be smarter than that. He had very few tools at his disposal. His charm was usually one of his more useful attributes, but his current appearance dampened its appeal. Besides that, his only remaining possession was an old journal—a book of shadows that had been written by a psychotic, old witch centuries ago. It had been the latest addition to his collection, and now was the sole remaining artifact he owned. It was filled with disturbing experiments and gruesome spells. Its author, Mona Greed, had been the most wicked of real witches.
After acquiring it, and seeing the terrible things inside, he had wanted nothing more than to burn it, but it was
impossible to burn thanks to a protection its author had placed on it. So, he wanted to bury it where no one could ever find it.
Now, though, he found himself sometimes relieves that he still had it. As awful as the book was, it was better than having nothing. He considered selling it to some occult store or to some practicing witches. The journal was practically legendary among the witch community, but he didn't want to spread the vile writing inside. It was too dangerous to give to someone else.
Even if he might be able to fetch a decent price for the book of shadows, it was hardly enough to start rebuilding his life. He could always sell the wretched thing after he found Admiral Ogden's treasure; when it was no longer his only asset and it wasn't the only thing that he could still call his own.
While Purdue wasn't any kind of witch or wizard, the old spell book had knowledge that could be used in other ways.
Feeling beaten after his visit to the bank, Purdue sat on a bench and flipped through the old book of shadows. Just as he did, every time he opened the book, he would do his best not to linger on any page too long. He didn't want to see more of that witch's disturbing musings than he needed to. There were things in there ... things too dark to let the mind think about. There were instructions inside to perform all sorts of cruel acts with magic.
With the spells inside, he could set the whole bank on fire in an instant or have everyone working there spontaneously combust, but he didn't want or need anything so violent.
Luckily, the book of shadows also contained a recipe for something of a sleeping powder. Perfect for someone like him, who wasn't a sadistic lunatic wanting to torture people with magic. The ingredients were all natural and easy enough to find. They were just used in a combination that most people would never think of. Once they were mixed together, he just had to say a few words from the book and the powder would be ready for use.
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 9 Page 20