Cursed: Legend of the Grimoire, Book One

by Leah Ross

  “Flank speed!” Declan shouted above the noise. “Run her out!” The men coaxed the ship faster, but the enemy continued to advance. Declan glanced up at Morgan above him, who was keeping an eye on the other ship. “Status, Mr. Morgan!”

  “Still advancing, sir! They’re moving in for overbear!” We can’t outrun them. They have the better position. How do we change that?

  Declan pounded his fist against the rail. “Shit!” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he quickly considered their options. Failing to come up with anything better, and knowing the chase guns would begin to seize at any moment, he growled with frustration. “All hands, arm yerselves an’ prepare to fight them man to man!”

  Suddenly, a wild idea struck Morgan’s brain. “Sir!” He swung down to the bridge. “I have another suggestion.”

  “By all means, lad, because I’ve got naught to go wi’.”

  “Club haul, sir.”

  Declan gaped at the boy. “Club haul?! That’s madness, son!”

  “I’m afraid it’s our only option, sir. We’re about to lose our aft guns. At least if we club haul, we can hit them with a few good broadsides to inflict as much damage as possible before engaging in the hand-to-hand.”

  Declan shook his head. “I’m bleedin’ daft for even considerin’ this…” He yelled again to the crew, “Belay that last order! Make yer safety lines good an’ fast, an’ prepare to club haul!”

  “Where’s the captain, sir?” Morgan asked. “Shall I warn him?”

  “Nae, lad.” Declan shook his head emphatically. “The captain is wi’ Miss Laria; the bairn is on the way. Guinn left me in charge. No worries, Jonathan, he’ll figure it out. Ye just get yer line secure.”

  “What bloody fantastic timing,” Morgan muttered under his breath.

  The men scrambled to secure their safety lines, grumbling and casting wary glances at Declan as if he’d suddenly gone mad. Morgan grabbed the nearest spare length of line and wrapped it around his waist. He definitely did not want to be thrown overboard.

  Declan jumped down to the weather deck and wrenched open the companionway hatch. “Beckett!” he bellowed.

  Master gunner Beckett’s face appeared below, sweaty and soot-covered. “What the hell d’ye want, Maclairish?! I’m bloody busy!”

  “Leave the chase guns! Man an’ prepare all the starboard cannons. When we come to broadside, get off as many shots as ye can!”

  “Sir?”

  “We’re club haulin’, Beckett! I’m countin’ on ye to cut that ship off at her knees!”

  Beckett stared at Declan incredulously.

  “Godsdamnit, Beckett! Acknowledge!”

  “Aye, aye, sir!”

  Declan slammed the hatch shut, raced back to the bridge, and secured his safety line. “Capstan at the ready!”

  “Aye!”

  “Prepare to club haul!”

  “Aye!”

  “Drop port side anchor!”

  The men at the capstan stood back, letting the bars spin wildly as the port anchor sank to the ocean floor.

  “Brace for impact!” Declan grabbed the bridge rail with one hand and Morgan’s arm with the other.

  Morgan closed his eyes and held his breath. There was a sharp jolt through the ship as the anchor bit into the sea floor. Sinclair lashed the helm as the Grimoire swiftly came about, broadside to the enemy. The starboard cannons immediately erupted in a continuous roll of bone-rattling thunder. Suddenly on a collision course with their prey, and under heavy fire, the other ship hastily came about, unleashing their own volley of cannon fire.

  His ears ringing, the very air buffeting his lungs, Morgan shot a terrified look at Declan.

  Declan looked down and met Morgan’s eyes, smiling at the boy. “Well done, lad. Now let’s teach the blighters a lesson! I’ve got yer back. Ye’re small an’ fast; use it to yer advantage.”

  Morgan nodded, his fear easing a bit knowing Declan was watching out for him, but his heart pounded as the other ship drew alongside the Grimoire. He noted the name etched into the hull, Dragon’s Plunder. She looked Annali, but the hulking forms moving about her deck were decidedly not. Morgan’s stomach churned. How could a boy his size stand a chance against foes like that?

  “Rhitons!” someone shouted.

  “Prepare to board!” came the command from the other ship.

  “Hold them off, men!” Declan ordered, as everyone untied their safety lines. “Protect the ship!”

  “Ravish that bitch, boys! Take everything! And absolutely no quarter!” At that word from their captain, Rhitons swung across the space between the ships. Before long, the Grimoire’s deck was infested with them.

  Morgan didn’t have time to think. With a savage scream, he jumped down into the melee. He didn’t even notice who he was fighting; he just swung his sword at every blade that crossed his path. Ye’re small an’ fast; use it to yer advantage, Declan had told him. It was good advice. As long as he kept moving, his small size made it hard for anyone to get to him. He was beginning to gain some confidence. Suddenly a blow to the back of his head knocked him flat on the deck.

  He laid there for several moments, trying to stop the world from spinning. He squinted up through the growing throbbing in his skull and saw an absolutely massive creature standing over him. The Rhiton was at least twice Morgan’s height, with legs the size of tree trunks and heavily muscled arms lined by clearly defined veins and sinew. His skin was the dark grey of a twilit ocean sky, with strange blue designs tattooed all over. His hands each had two thick fingers and a thumb. There was no hair anywhere on the Rhiton’s body, and his bulbous head featured a short snout, thick lips, drooping ears and two nubby horns. He scowled down at Morgan through narrowed almond-shaped eyes that were entirely black.

  “Get up, whelp, so I can kill ye properly,” the Rhiton boomed in a deep voice.

  “Tarrik!” The Rhiton looked up as another one called to him. “What the hell are you doing? Get your ass over here!”

  Morgan stood slowly, raising his blade to challenge Tarrik. The brute sneered nastily. “Really, infant? I could crush ye with my bare hands!”

  “What ‘bout me, ye thick-headed imbecile?” Declan aimed his sword at Tarrik’s throat. “Dare to challenge me?”

  Tarrik clanged his blade against Declan’s. “Sure. I can kill ye first.”

  “Get out o’ here, Morgan! Go an’ help Guinn!” Declan hissed. He jerked his head in the direction of the captain’s cabin, just as the piercing shriek of a woman’s scream cut through the fighting. Morgan’s eyes widened and he hesitated. “Go, lad!” Declan ordered. Ignoring Laria’s agonized cries, he sneered and beckoned the Rhiton forward. “It seems ye have a date wi’ the gatekeepers o’ hell. Let’s see that ye arrive on time.”

  Morgan ran as fast as he could up the stairs to the captain’s cabin. Suddenly, Guinn burst out of the door. Morgan flattened himself against the wall to avoid being trampled as Guinn rushed to banish the invading Rhitons from his ship. Morgan entered the cabin to a flurry of activity. The tiny infant was bundled in blankets, safely laid in a basket, and squalling as the doctor tended to Laria, who was exhausted from both exertion and anxiety over the unforeseen attack outside the door. Instinctively, Morgan went to the baby and cradled the child against his chest, sighing as the crying stopped.

  “A girl,” Laria told him with a blissful smile, “Her name is Teagan.”

  Morgan looked down at the tiny girl in his arms who had drifted off to sleep. “Miss Teagan,” he whispered, “Welcome to the Aeon Grimoire.” He knelt beside the bed and held the baby out to her mother. He smiled as the two of them enjoyed a perfect moment of happiness.

  Then there was a commotion at the door and a Rhiton burst into the room. Doctor Baskin ran to face the invader. Laria gazed at her daughter for another second, then kissed Teagan on the forehead and pushed the tiny bundle back into Morgan’s arms.

  “Protect her, Jonathan,” Laria pleaded breathlessly, “You must promise me that!”r />
  Morgan looked from Teagan to Laria with fear in his eyes. How could he take care of such a tiny child? He was only a child himself.

  “Promise me, Jonathan!”

  He reached out and grabbed Laria’s hand. “I promise I will always protect her, ma’am.”

  Laria relaxed with relief and smiled. “Now hide. I’ll do what I can.”

  Morgan ducked into the closet and clutched Teagan to his chest, praying that she would stay asleep. He heard the sickening sound of metal slashing through flesh and then a thud on the floor. Then he heard the Rhiton growl and advance toward Laria. She hurled spells at the brute as quickly and furiously as she could manage in her exhaustion, but Morgan could tell that her strength was waning.

  The distinct rasp of metal abruptly cut off Laria’s voice, and leaden silence filled the room. Morgan bit his lip and held his breath, forcing back the panic within him. Heavy footsteps stomped toward the closet where the children were hidden, and Morgan squeezed his eyes shut, held out his hand, and uttered, “Davdour!” The door was ripped off its hinges, and Morgan braced his body for the blow he knew was coming.

  Morgan sat there with his hand in the air and his eyes clamped shut, shielding the baby with his body, hoping his spell had worked. The Rhiton glanced into the closet, seemed not to see the children, and stomped back into the room. At that moment, Guinn burst into the cabin and ran the intruder through with his sword. Only then did he have the chance to survey the scene.

  Panic gripped his heart and crushed the air from his lungs. Unable to even utter a sound, he stood paralyzed, his eyes wide in disbelieving shock, his body incapable of drawing breath. When spots began invading his vision, he finally remembered to breathe. Sound returned to him as well, and it left his body in a soul-crushing howl of pure anguish. Guinn stumbled to the blood-soaked bed and cradled his murdered wife in his arms. Rocking back and forth, he sat there, lost in unimaginable grief, as tears streamed down his face. He stroked Laria’s face and hair, holding her tightly to his body and kissing her still lips as if he could bring her back to life with the strength of his will alone.

  Morgan choked back his own pain and laid Teagan gently on a pile of clothing inside the closet, creating a protective nest around her. Dispelling the invisibility charm in a painful whisper that almost couldn’t make it past the lump in his throat, he prodded the tiny child awake enough so that she made some noise. Hopefully that would draw the captain’s attention and offer him a little bit of solace in this time of tragic grief. He slipped silently out of the room.

  Everything was chaos on deck. The fight was over, but the aftermath was grisly and unpleasantly necessary. Morgan assisted his crewmen with the cleanup, tossing the bodies of slain enemies overboard, and carefully laying fallen comrades neatly to the side for proper handling. After he had laid the final sheet over the last crewman awaiting burial, he and several men swabbed the deck silently and solemnly and then he retired to his bunk, exhausted, and sore in both his body and soul.

  ~*~

  “Captain, they’re—” Declan stepped into Guinn’s cabin. Guinn sat sobbing on the floor, clinging to Laria’s lifeless body. The bodies of Baskin and the Rhiton responsible for this bloodbath lay forgotten where they’d fallen.

  Declan stared at the horrifying scene before him. He wanted to shut it out, he wanted to scream, he wanted to do something, but he was frozen in shock. Everything in his body was utterly still, and in that moment he wished he’d died as well. He couldn’t fathom the alternative.

  No’ Laria! No’ my Laria! How can I possibly go on wi’out her? Nae! Nae, it canna be true!

  Finally he managed to suck in a deep ragged breath. “LARIA!” He staggered to her side, tears falling freely, bent over her body, and cried.

  His thoughts skittered in all directions as any attempt at articulation abandoned him. Gods, she’s still warm. She was so alive an’ vibrant this mornin’, an’ now… Where did all o’ her color go? Fuckin’ Ashur was right, the bastard! The gods dinna give a shit ‘bout me. Why would they take her away from me? Why?

  The words burst from him in a vicious tirade as he raised his burning eyes to the heavens and screamed his grief at the gods. “Why?! Why, ye heartless bastards? Ye didna have tae take this soul!” He spread his arms wide in invitation. “Take mine instead! Take me, jus’ give Laria back! Please, give her back.” He collapsed over her body once more. “I denounce the lot o’ ye. Ye have no regard for me; I will return the sentiment in kind.”

  “Declan.” Guinn squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “You don’t mean that.”

  Declan sat up abruptly and threw off Guinn’s comforting hand. “I do mean it! I’ve wasted enough o’ my wretched life pleadin’ for their assistance, an’ the fuckers have done naught but strike me down again an’ again! That’s it! I’m done!” Then a new wave of panic came over him. “Guinn, the bairn! An’ Jonathan! I sent him in here tae help. Where are they?”

  “Mate, calm down!” Guinn grabbed Declan’s shoulders and shook him gently. “I haven’t seen Jonathan. As for Teagan, I did not leave this room until after she was born. I don’t see her here, so she must be elsewhere. Perhaps Jonathan has her with him.”

  “We have tae find them!”

  “Yes. Will you help me look?”

  Declan frowned at him. “O’ course! Why would I no’?”

  “I thought I’d lost you there for a moment, my friend.” Guinn stood, helped Declan to his feet, and began to tear the room apart.

  As Declan neared the closet, he heard tiny sounds of whimpering. He peered inside. “Guinn!”

  Guinn rushed over and scooped up his newborn daughter, cradling her tightly against his chest. Both men breathed sighs of relief that she was unharmed. Guinn placed Teagan into Declan’s arms. “This is your Uncle Declan, Teagan.”

  Declan smiled sadly, tears brimming again. “She looks like her mother.”

  Guinn went back to his wife and gently lifted her body. He carried her to the door. “We have to send her on her way so we can start to heal.”

  Declan nodded and carried Teagan as he followed Guinn out of the cabin. His heart pounded as he cradled the baby against his chest. He hadn’t missed the red mark emblazoned across the back of the tiny infant’s neck. He was just thankful that he was the only one who knew what it meant.

  Thank ye, my Laria, for givin’ me a reason to continue on. I promise I’ll take care o’ her.

  He stared down at the impossibly tiny child, his heart swelling with pride. She was so beautiful. He knew that he’d told Laria that the joy and fulfillment of being a father wasn’t important to him, but he felt it, and it was amazing. He kissed Teagan’s forehead and nestled her against his shoulder.

  “I jus’ want ye to ken, Teagan,” he whispered to her, “that no matter what happens, I will always love ye.” He stroked the downy softness of her hair. An’ I wish I had more than this fucked up world to offer ye.

  ~*~

  Declan wanted nothing more than to sleep. Perhaps if he could sleep, he could escape his personal hell for a short time. He’d found Jonathan asleep in his bunk and decided not to rob the lad of that which so cruelly eluded him.

  Unable to quiet his mind, he decided to try to get some work done. Now there were supply lists to draw up, job requisitions to prepare, repairs to plan for, and he had to get them to the nearest port as soon as possible to get it all done. He sighed as the tip of his pen snapped, and he went to his chest to get another. Opening the lid, his gaze diverted to the bound stack of letters he’d saved from his correspondence with Laria while she was at school and they were at sea. He pulled them out.

  Clutching the stack tightly in his hands, he stared at them for a long time. This pile of seemingly innocent paper was probably the single most incriminating assemblage of evidence of Laria’s infidelity. The earliest letters were innocuous enough, but over time, as their feelings for each other had grown, they were increasingly filled with declarations of love and uncertainty over
their future. He fervently hoped that if Laria had kept a similar bundle of letters from him, they were stored somewhere that Guinn would never discover. Her feelings for Declan had been reciprocated just as passionately back to her. Finally, his heart aching with loss, he pulled one of the most recent letters from the stack.

  My dearest Declan,

  I can’t concentrate on my studies at the moment, so I decided to empty my distracting thoughts into a letter in the hopes that then I can refocus on graduation. It would be a terrible shame to spend all this time away from you and then fail my exams…

  I’m so excited that you can come to Holystorm for my graduation! Then, of course, there’s the wedding… And then we’ll all be together and we can see each other every day.

  I wish I knew what to do. Things have changed so much in the last couple of years. Guinn and I are both very different from the people we were when we met. If I were to meet him for the first time now, I doubt I would have allowed him to pursue me. If I had known three years ago what love really feels like, I would have waited for you. I’m certain we would have found each other even without Guinn’s involvement.

  I want you. I love you. I want to marry you, not Guinn. Laria Emily Maclairish… I like that. I want a huge ranch in Arcana with you and a bunch of happy, red-haired children running around. Why can’t it just be as simple as having what I really want? Why does everything have to be so damn complicated?

  This all sounds so ridiculous. I haven’t even kissed you, and I’m creating fantasies that I have no business considering. I want to kiss you. I just know your kisses would take my breath away. Will you kiss me before I get married? Just so I know what it feels like?

  I should get back to my studies. I’m sorry this is such a jumbled mess of incoherent thought. I’ll see you soon. Until then, as always, stay safe.