by Dawn Dagger
“Ships are hard to come by.” He gave a shark grin, wiping the top of the dirty counter with an equally soiled rag. He was trying to look busy, like he didn’t quite care about what Guy was saying. Guy knew his intent, but also knew he was indeed listening.
“I’m sure a few coins can find their way into your purse,” the Captain glanced around the room, picking out the form of Braxton and Alwa whispering in a dark corner, pretending as if he equally couldn't care any less about the conversation.
“How many?” The bartender’s brow raised and a hungry look crept into his fish-like eyes. Guy couldn’t help but think about how his brow looked like some furry rodent crawling across his pocked face. What a dog.
“As much as a ship and small crew is worth.” He kept his face stony, his shoulder still turned to the fat man. “Three daermach.”
“I believe a big, sparkling ruby or sapphire would be in order.” The man bartered, leaning forward, against the counter, licking his lips.
“No.” Guy shook his head. Now he had the man’s attention. “No more than four daermach.”
“Not willing to part with your jewels?” The bartender sneered. He waved his hand, feigning disinterest. “Fine, keep your money, just leave the girl. She’s pretty enough to make me a couple dirmas.” The disgust must have flashed across Guy’s face as he turned to sneer at the man, because the bartender laughed. “Oh, so you like her?”
Guy launched across the counter and grabbed Bartender’s shirt collar and jerked him close, slamming his pot belly against the counter. The man choked as the breath was forced from his body. “You will not touch Levanine.” The Captain snarled quietly.
Bartender struggled for breath, his fat face flushing red. “I-- I apologize.” He coughed out, raising his hands in defense. Guy dropped him and the man stumbled back. He brushed his shirt off with an air of offensive. “Anyways.”
“A ship.” Guy growled, wiping his nose in hopes that it would rid itself of the man’s stench.
“Yeah, yeah.” Bartender busied himself with wiping off a dented cup. “I’m not dropping my price.” Guy felt a growl rumble in his throat. Bartender knew he was stuck there until he agreed to the price. His hands were tied, until he figured out something else.
Guy suddenly felt a smirk of his own crawl across his face, an amusing thought surfacing. He leaned forward so his forearms were lying on the counter again. “I will send the treasure, but I can’t assure you that a small militia won’t be escorting it.”
Rakifi observed quietly, taking a small sip and catching the Captain’s eye. He seemed to approve. Guy did not need his approval, but at least he knew he was not losing his mind.
Guy was one of the few people who knew of the pass onto the island. A lot of people wanted Bartender’s head, pirates and traders both, who had been scammed after crash landing on the island. Bartender was defenseless when winter came.
Bartender’s face turned a nice shade of purple, but he tried to call his bluff. “Avondella has no militia.”
Guy got a boyish pleasure from seeing his face contort so. “No, Bartender, but I know those in contact with both Chinghon and Keshnitte. I think your head would look fine upon Scarlet Vexx’s ship as well.”
The Bartender swallowed. “Fine. Four daermach.” He mumbled, turning toward his keg of ale. He poured himself a large, frothing mugful and downed it in one drink. “I’ll have your ship in two days.” He mumbled.
“Good.” Guy grinned. “Thank you for your business.” He turned on his heel and marched out of the bar, signalling for Rakifi followed, who did so. They’d soon be home.
Chapter 19
Levanine’s head hurt. That was the very first she thing realized when she came to was how incredibly bad her head hurt. It was a repeated, dull pounding beneath her skull that made her vision blur and her ears ring.
She tried to sit up but her muscles protested, seizing up in a silent scream, so she fell stiffly back onto the cot. Her mind was spinning with pain and confusion. What was wrong with her? What did she do wrong? What had caused her to receive this bad of a beating?
Levanine tried to take a comforting breath but only resulted in sending a fiery burst of pain through her chest. She choked and began coughing, raking her body in blazing pain.
“Aye, aye, take it easy…” A deep woman’s voice soothed. “You had quite the scuffle.”
“Sc-scuffle?” Levanine wheezed out. It hurt like death to speak. Had she fought someone? Surely not. Why did her dry mouth taste of salt and blood?
“With a nasty ol’ sea serpent. I hear, anyways.”
It started to come back. It didn’t rush back, but instead it trickled back in small flashes of color and sound. Finally, Levanine was able to piece all the sounds and pain together into memories. Levanine felt herself relax, more at ease with the fact that she’d attacked a giant sea serpent than the idea she had been beaten by a master.
She was okay with the fact that her pain was from the sea serpent because it didn’t seem real. It could easily be pushed to the back of her mind. And, unlike a beating, it proved she had moved on. She wasn’t so much a maid. She was doing something.
She struggled to sit up, her breath coming in short, fast wheezes from the pain. “Wh-where’s Captain Guy?” She rasped. A firm hand pushed her shoulder back against the bed.
“At the bar,” was the only explanation provided. Levanine swallowed down the bile in her throat, fighting to discover why he would be at the bar of all places.
He had lost his ship, and… who knew how many of his crew… but did he have to break so easily? That’s what she assumed anyways. Were all men so weak-souled?
“S-Silva? Rakifi?”
The woman said nothing. Levanine would not let that be finality. Her eyes adjusted to the flickering light of a nearby candle and her eyes focused on the plush, ruddy face of the woman with the strange accent. Despite her soft look, her eyes were dangerously fierce.
“I need to…” Levanine tried to rasp out. “The C-Cap--”
“I’ll get’cha the Cap’n. Just lie still, will ya? I’ ain’t like you’re in any shape to be passionate.” The woman stood up, blocking the flickering candlelight. As if summoned by their conversation, a tall silhouette passed silently into the room.
“How is she?” The voice asked gruffly.
“She’s awaken, Cap’n.”
The Captain stepped in quietly. “Levanine?” He whispered, crouching by the bed, his sapphire eyes locking onto hers. They glimmered in the candlelight. He wasn’t drunk like she thought.
“Aye, Cap’n?” She croaked, one last time she attempted to sit up, to salute, but this last time her body refused to even respond.
“You’re the stupidest mate I’ve ever had on my ship,” he grumbled. Levanine winced. She couldn’t say she had been hoping for praise, but this wasn’t what she had predicted. But what could be expected? “But you’re also one of the bravest.” Levanine slowly opened her eyes.
Captain Guy’s eyes glowed blue and warm in the candlelight, and a soft smile almost played his lips. “What possessed you to think to attack the beast’s eyes?” His voice had a tinge of feeling besides its usual clipped, precise coldness.
“I saw a scar...” Levanine wheezed out, feeling some sort of warm, oozing feeling caressing the inside of her chest and lungs. It was an odd feeling.
The Captain nodded, standing. “Good mate. It ain’t dead, but it won’t mess with us for a long time.” He held his hand up, perhaps to pat her head or slug her shoulder like the sailors often did when congratulating each other, but he let it drop back by his side when he saw her stiffen. His eyes hardened.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Levanine chided herself. Her vision blurred from fresh pain and she let out a sharp sigh.
“A ship will be ready soon.” He reported to her, as if she were a confidant. “Rest up. You have another couple days.” He glanced behind him and lowered his voice. “If you’re not
better by then, there are skilled doctors near the port. You will be okay.”
Levanine blinked in acknowledgment, not attempting to nod. He nodded instead and swept out. Levanine closed her eyes, the pain pulsing through her body. They would be leaving soon. Sailing once more. On the way to a rich, beautiful land full of new mysteries.
Despite her inability to move and the pain coursing her body, she had to admit, she was excited at the thought.
Chapter 20
The new ship wasn’t even worth it’s weight in lumber. That was the first thing Quinn had said when he reported back to Guy. However, Guy had remained carefully optimistic. He was aware that on the other side of the forested island lay another hidden port, so he supposed Bartender would borrow a sloop from one of the hoarding pirates holed up for the summer with promise for ale at a later date.
But, Saints see if Guy was every optimistic again. The… thing was small, rickety, and poorly made. It was full of gaps, creaking and shuddering on even these low, slow tides. The oars were barely sticks, and the sail was tattered and stained. It might as well have been a raft with wooden rails.
Guy must have groaned out loud, because Quinn nodded in agreement. “It’s pitiful,” Guy choked. The Bartender had cheated him. He hadn’t yet paid, and he knew that was why he was being spited. “I’ll give him a chest full of snakes!” He spat, beginning to pace, anger welling in his chest.
“You can send him the plague if you want, but first we need to get off this island.”
Guy waded forward onto the wet sand, examining the rig. How could he make any use of this piece of washed up garbage? How in all the lands would he ever make it to Avondella?
Guy gripped the pits in the wood and scaled it quickly, groaning simultaneously with the ship as it rocked. Guy landed as soft as he could on the deck, hoping the damned thing wouldn’t break beneath his feet. He glanced around, wishing he had more time to build his own sloop. But they were out of time.
There were people who needed money. People to see. Things that had to be done.
He strode over to the trap door leading into the sick bay, and when he yanked it up it nearly came off its hinges. He threw aside the handle, which had splintered off. Peering down into the sick bay, he saw many beady pairs of eyes glared back, luminescent in the sudden rays of sunshine.
He missed his love, The Red Running Royalty.
“How goes?” Quinn called.
“We cannot use this ship! It’s infested with rats.” Guy spat. He stalked to the edge of the raft and jumped off the side, landing onto the wet sand, bending his knees before straightening. “The wood’s all rotted as well.” He was seething with rage. His veins pulsed. Maybe he would give in and gut the Bartender. He didn’t need him particularly alive. The men on the island would be able to figure themselves out.
He was about to snap at a figure walking along the beach, to tell them that Bartender better get him a good ship or he was going to lose his lying tongue, if not both of his eyes, but he noticed that it wasn’t any of the inhabitants of the island.
“Why aren’t you lyin’ down?” Quinn called as Levanine limped toward them. Guy swore under his breath, letting go of the crystal he hadn’t realized he was holding tightly.
“I hope… I hope that isn’t our ship.” She rasped, looking very pale.
“Why aren’t you lying down? We have enough injured men, if you are getting better, do not ruin it!” Quinn ignored her question, looking frustrated with her.
She shrugged, wincing slightly in pain. “The lady left, so I came out to see if I could… help.” She paused to take in a sharp gasp of air.
Guy had to keep his face steely, amusement tingling in his stomach despite his anger. How stupid. Like something he’d do.
“Is that our new ship?” Levanine asked again. Quinn shook his head.
“Definitely not.” Guy said. “We are getting a different new ship.” He felt his hands clenched into fists. Levanine looked like she might have had something to say, but she did not open her mouth. “I am going to go and see if I can find a functioning vessel, or at the very least something easier to repair.”
Guy began to stalk down the beach, toward a part that dipped below a craggy cliff. He was not sure exactly what he was looking for, if he were to be honest with himself. He figured if he were to walk around the length of the island, however far that might be, he would eventually run into something. He passed under the shade of the cliff and swore in the sun, tipping his crumpled hat down lower over his face, beginning to sweat. After walking along the barren beach for a long while, a small copse of huts came into view.
Fishermen’s huts… one of them could provide a ship, he figured. He needed nothing glorious, just something to get him to the love of his pathetic life. Something to get him to true The Red Running Royalty, with her imposing flags and shining cannons. His perfect galleon. She waited for him at port. He had been gone long enough that the fortified commissions would make her a force to be reckoned with.
The huts seemed to be vacant, but the Captain rapped his knuckles on the door of the first one he came to anyways. A thin, black-skinned child, not very unlike Kasha, opened the door and stared at him with wide eyes.
Guy had expected an older person, and one more fiercely built. He realized as a Untonopian, the boy’s mother or father had most likely been a spice trader. They must have been shipwrecked.
“Sacros?” The boy squeaked.
“Sacros.” He greeted. “Is your father home?” The boy tilted his head, obviously stupid to Woanasy. Guy groaned inwardly, but kept an indifferent face and posture. “Father… uh…” He had taken lessons on this. He had spent how many months in Utonopia? He gestured to the boy and then held his hand up high, by his head. “Father?” He repeated dumbly.
“Perna!” The child exclaimed. That was the word. Obviously.
Guy nodded. “Perna.”
The boy nodded and darted back into the hut, leaving the door open. Guy pushed into the hut and examined the insides. The structure was made of large stones, mud, and driftwood, and the inside was sparsely furnished. The floor was neatly fit together stones. Crates upon crates were stacked against the wall, scribbled over in unfamiliar writing and bleached from the sun pouring in through one of the open windows.
The boy darted in from the only other door, holding up a scrawny finger, indicating his father would be out in a moment. He chittered off something happily, then, realizing Guy didn’t speak the same language, pointed at himself and announced, “Akachi.”
Guy nodded and pointed to himself. “Captain Guy.” The kid nodded and mumbled it under his breath softly, rolling the name around on his tongue as he wandered back in the direction he had come.
A man barked the child’s name and the patter of bare feet hurried off. Guy straightened. A tall, broad shouldered man with molasses skin stormed into the room, his amber eyes shining dangerously. He growled softly, glaring at Guy.
“Captain Guy.” He introduced, not providing a hand.
“I do not care.” The man growled in a deep voice. “Get out of my house.”
Guy was not surprised by the hostility. “I would like your help.” He countered carefully.
“I do not care.” The man spat in a thick accent. “You are a pirate.”
Guy felt his brows rise in revelation. So, the man hated pirates. Other sea dogs must have sunk his ship, not the serpent as Guy originally thought. If Quinn were there he might have bargained with the disgruntled man. He was in the house and if he left he wouldn’t be let back in, so he could bargain. Guy would have to bargain.
“I can offer you a trade.” Guy noticed the soft outline of a knife tucked in the man’s tan britches as he shifted.
“You’re all the same.” The big man scoffed. “I would never trust you. You are murderers, and you leave people like me and my son to die of starvation on some Hosh-forsaken island filled with drunks, vipers, and whores.”
Guy could not keep the amused smile off of his lips. Oh, how did he feel the same way.
Perhaps he would be doing many people favors by killing Bartender. The man was ready to punch him, he could tell. “You help me get off this island and I’ll sell your spices in Avondella.” He offered quickly, before the man could move or finish his thought. “Send the profit, receipts, and a ship back to you for you and your son.”
The man was caught off guard. Then his eyes narrowed. “How is it I am to know you are not lying through your teeth?”
Guy sighed. Of course he knew this was coming. Damn island. “I’ll leave this with you as a deal-keeper, mm?” He pulled a leather cord from the breast of his shirt and pulled the necklace over his head. He held it up and the emerald shard caught a ray of sunlight through the window, shooting beams of translucent green throughout the room and dazzling both of their eyes.
The man let out a short breath, his eyes mesmerized. Guy continued, “It’s a gift from my beloved. When the profit is shipped back, then you’ll send this back with my messenger.”
The man grabbed up the emerald shard and it vanished in his large hand, the light disappearing. He looked up at Guy. “Fine. I will accept this offer. But if you do not return the profit of my spices in one moon, I give this shard to the fat man.”
Guy felt his hands clench into fists at the thought of Bartender having his precious gem. He should kill the pig. No one needed him. “Agreed.” He nodded.
The man nodded back. “Your ship should be ready in a few sunrises. I will need men to finish it.”
“You’re sure you can do it in that time?”
“If I have help.”
“Aye.”
The man ushered him out of the hut.
Chapter 21