Sea of Thieves

by Chris Allcock

  “You wake up.” Ned shuddered. “And it feels like you had the worst dream of your life.”

  “He just lets you go?” Larinna’s eyebrows were raised in surprise. “I’d expected you to tell me he takes your soul as payment, or something. What does he do it for?”

  Faizel shrugged. “Everyone has their own ideas, of course. Some say that he is paying off a great debt, or that he is cursed somehow. Others that he is searching for his lost love and will cast those of us he finds back to the land of the living, like a fisherman of souls. I think that perhaps it is wiser not to ask him too many questions. Do not bite the hand that feeds you, yes?”

  “An’ we know dead used to just mean dead,” Ned added, ominously, “which is why the taverns ain’t stuffed with pirates from the olden days. No one wants to take the Ferryman for granted and muck about, in case next time he ain’t there to save you.”

  Larinna imagined desperately treading water in an endless, ethereal ocean, calling and pleading as the Ferryman stared implacably down at her . . . and then turned the ship’s wheel, vanishing into the fog and leaving her soul to sink beneath the waves. Despite the heat of the day, she shivered. “You mean to tell me that Adelheid is on this Ferry of the Damned right now? Waiting for the door to open? What if she’s not allowed through?”

  “Then that will be the start of another adventure, perhaps,” Faizel said guardedly. “One we may all have to face one day, when we are very old or very sick and the Ferryman decides he would prefer not to take us aboard. Until then, we must forge ahead in her name and hope that she finds her way back to us. At least there is still hope that we will see her again, yes?”

  Larinna was trying to take all of this in. She still had a thousand questions that she suspected there were no answers for, at least for now. A world of lost souls and skeletons, ghoulish ferrymen and the dead coming back to life?

  She stood up.

  “As acting captain,” she said firmly, “I say we go and wait for Adelheid at the nearest tavern. I need a very, very large drink.”

  RAMSEY

  The vessel that approached Tribute Peak was dazzling, considered by many to be the most magnificent on the Sea of Thieves. Her sails were a bright scarlet, trimmed with silver and bearing a crest known by everyone that saw it, for this was the ship of the Pirate Lord. She far outmatched any other galleon, and many smaller vessels sailed in her wake like chicks following their mother.

  Her size meant that she needed to remain far from the shore and out in the deeper waters, but this was no concern for those aboard her, for she had been designed to hold a number of rowboats at her stern that could be lowered to ferry her crew when needed. It was in one of these boats that Ramsey sat, stroking his graying beard pensively as he stared at the distant statues. Word had reached him of an old acquaintance who lurked in the ruins below, and there was much that had to be said.

  Three of his crew rode with him, burdened with the provisions Ramsey had instructed them to assemble, but as ever he insisted on being the one to row them ashore. His great arms grasped the oars as readily as they ever had, propelling them toward land with an ease that belied the man’s advancing years, and before long they were marching up the shore in a long crocodile formation.

  Twenty men and women trailed behind Ramsey. Together they carried lengths of rope and chain, stout axes and sturdy planks—everything that they would need to reach their destination. Each of them was a pirate of renown and normally sailed on voyages of their own, but today was a momentous one, and each of them wanted to say that they’d been there to witness it.

  A fine drizzle swept them as they made their way across the island to where the fallen statue lay. They moved without haste, Ramsey limping slightly on his wooden leg, which had been carved to resemble the fore claw of a griffin. One man struck up a shanty as they traveled, and one-by-one they took up with it, until the island rang with their voices:

  Cloaked in folds of midnight waters

  Side by side, we sons and daughters

  We set forth on no king’s orders

  But we sail together.

  Ours is a life of wild ambition

  Take all we please, need no permission

  Woe unto those in opposition

  For we sail together.

  Hold fast! Tides are turning

  Flames roar, fires are burning

  We’ll all be returning

  If we sail together.

  All on the waves shall know our story

  Sing of the battles fought ashore, we

  All shall thrive on fame and glory

  When we sail together.

  Hold to our course and no surrender

  See how she gleams in all her splendor

  Fight to the last, we must defend her

  As we sail together.

  Words of warning have been spoken

  Ancient creatures have awoken

  Still, until our bond is broken

  We shall sail together!

  Their song carried them across the glassy shore to the base of the fallen statue, where Ramsey had long ago determined the entrance to the ruins would be. They hefted their lanterns as they descended and now there was no more singing, only the clatter of booted feet as they followed their captain down the many steps and through the silent passages.

  Finally, they reached the great chasm, and it was here that Ramsey’s crew began their work. First, guide ropes were cast across the divide using powerful harpoon guns, then the bravest of the pirates began to climb across them, hand over hand with tools at their belts. Anchors were driven deep into the dark rock either side of the abyss and wood was cut to length. They toiled through the night, working to create a sturdy rope bridge that would span the abyss.

  Through it all Ramsey stood, patient and impassive. He ate nothing, said nothing, drank nothing, and might well have been taken for a statue himself—if not for his eyes, which were very much alive and focused on the tunnel that lay across the ravine. Only when the bridge was finally completed did he turn to inspect it, plucking at the ropes that served as handrails and nodding in appreciation. “Should be good for a century or two,” he commented. “That’ll do, all of you. You can go back to the ship.”

  There were several protestations, concerns for Ramsey’s safety among them, but he waved them all away. “There are many things pirates should do together,” he informed them, “and some they must do alone. I’ll see you all back aboard in time for the feast.”

  His crew left him only reluctantly, abandoning the tools and supplies they’d used during the labor, and retreated one by one until Ramsey’s lantern was the only light remaining. He crossed the newly formed bridge without much fanfare, his griffin claw clomping heavily on each wooden plank, and made his way deeper into the ruins. Finally, he reached the large stone door, shook his head with wry amusement at the glittering key that adorned it, and surrendered a golden coin from his purse so that he could enter.

  Two skeletons were emptying the contents of a freshly plundered chest under the silent supervision of their leader, who sat reclined on his golden throne. Upon seeing Ramsey’s frame outlined in the doorway, the two abandoned their task and promptly dived into the pile of treasure they’d been attending to, attempting to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible. Ramsey grunted in satisfaction, for his reputation now seemingly made even the undead think twice before facing him. He ignored the cadaverous cowards, instead striding purposefully across the great treasure chamber. He stood before the glittering chair and stared into two sightless, emerald eyes.

  “Hello, Rathbone,” he said calmly. “Too greedy to die, I see.”

  Insofar as a skeleton could display emotion, the Gold Hoarder seemed to be both furious and fearful at the reunion, but Ramsey’s hand did not stray to his weapon. “I came to talk,” he said, simply. “Nothing more. You always did think I did too much talking, but you’ll listen to me today. You’ll have to forgive me for coming into your little lair by the front d
oor, but I’m too old and too worn out to be traipsing through a secret passage at my time of life. Besides, I’m sure you’ve filled it with all manner of traps and devious little schemes.”

  He turned, slowly, taking in the piles of treasure that filled every corner of the room. “You’re doing very well for yourself, I see. Barely a day goes by that I don’t hear stories of the fearsome Gold Hoarder, the mysterious Skeleton Lord who strikes in the darkness and steals every last coin and copper from the pirates he encounters. If only it could make you happy.

  “That’s the trouble with greed, Rathbone. The more you feed it, the more it grows, and the bigger its next meal has to be. When I lured you here all those years ago with rumors of treasure, it was your greed I counted on. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist this place, but I never imagined it’d lead to—” He paused and gestured at the skeletal form that sat motionless before him. “—all of this. How long did it take you to pick up all of those coins and jewels from the bottom of the sea, I wonder? Months, I’d wager. Years, perhaps. Long enough for the flesh to fall from your bones, at any rate.”

  He sighed. “I should have faced you myself with a sword in my hand and given you the death you deserved, not left you to this lingering torment you’ve created for yourself. But no, I was off chasing my own ambitions. Living out all those grand adventures I’d dreamed of since I was a boy. And now, Rathbone,” Ramsey leaned in closer, grinning down at the glittering figure, who seemed either unwilling or unable to react. “You’re going to hear all about them.”

  For many weeks after the fateful kraken attack, all Ramsey saw of the Sea of Thieves was the view from his tiny window, for he had been ordered to bed. He lacked the strength or will to argue, for as Mercia pointed out, he had been lucky to survive at all. Had the merfolk not carried his unconscious form back across the waves to Golden Sands, he would surely have perished along with his plans for a brighter future.

  Ramsey remained listless and inconsolable even once he was up and about, staggering against the walls of his room as he struggled to get used to his new leg and finally electing to walk with a stout cane. He was a captain without a ship, and he had no means to procure another, for his fortune was now locked away with keys that only Rathbone possessed.

  Eventually, boredom overwhelmed him and he took his first steps outside for many months, wandering down to the dock to stare wistfully at the sea, until somebody clapped a hand on his shoulder. To his surprise, he found Briggsy at his side, her cheerful demeanor undiminished by the passage of time. She had been sent to fetch him, she explained, for they greatly needed his counsel.

  To Ramsey’s utter astonishment, “they” turned out to be a gathering of pirates, Shan and Captain Slate among them, who had taken his fateful speech to heart. His dream of an alliance, far from being crushed by Rathbone’s treachery, seemed to have been bolstered by it. The people of Golden Sands had seen what it meant when pirates bickered among themselves rather than paying heed to what might still be waiting out upon the Sea of Thieves.

  “If there’s krakens out there, there could be anything,” Briggsy explained. “The more we know about the world, the better.” The kraken they’d defeated was spotted from time to time, she informed him, though it always stained the sea an inky black and kept its body safely out of sight. Evidently it had learned a valuable lesson about preying on pirates, though such creatures were rumored to live for centuries, and Ramsey doubted he’d seen the last of it.

  They sailed under a single flag from that day forward, sometimes journeying as a convoy and sometimes spending weeks apart before coming together to tell their tales and share the spoils. Ramsey was immensely gratified when Slate yielded captaincy to him for their maiden voyage, and before long their adventures had provided enough coin for Slate to afford a new ship of his own. Before long, they were being approached by others who wished to join their cause, to master the Sea of Thieves in its entirety.

  The alliance was never without its conflicts, for some who were welcomed aboard turned out to be false in their intentions, taking more than their share or hiding the largest hoards for themselves. One thing Ramsey refused to tolerate was stealing among members of the union, and those who were caught doing so were summarily dismissed, often with a volley of cannon fire to speed them on their way.

  There were also those who thought, as Graymarrow had, that to truly live the pirate life meant anything and anyone was fair game. Those pirates soon learned not to attack any ship that sailed under Ramsey’s flag, however, for a slight against one was a slight against all, and his support was growing by the day.

  The more they traveled, the more experienced they became, soon learning to spot the telltale signs of a storm on the horizon and how to tell when skeletons might be lurking nearby. Even so, the Sea of Thieves always had something new to surprise them. Curses, and cursed objects, in particular, continued to add an element of danger and uncertainty to every crumbling shrine or ancient talisman they came across.

  Many famous pirates, both within the alliance and without, succumbed to these malign forces and became dark legends in their own right. One by one, they were consumed by ambition, aggression, or other driving forces that left them twisted or transformed just like Rathbone, even beyond death.

  They were known as Skeleton Lords, for they seemed to hold some sway over the undead pirates who’d served with them in life, and they continued to sail across the Sea of Thieves and wreak havoc. People soon learned to tread cautiously if a Skeleton Lord’s ship had been reported in the area.

  Not every magical artifact led to calamity, however, and Ramsey and followers also discovered plenty of trinkets and talismans that granted great boons—positive effects that could calm the waters, raise shipwrecks from the bottom of the sea, and even heal wounds more readily.

  Many of these were studied at great length by Mercia, who spent more and more time on land as the years passed, writing down her findings in great tomes—though she insisted these should be locked away until they were needed.

  Ramsey had found her slumped over one such an artifact, a skull necklace that bore the Reaper’s Mark. She was smiling peacefully in her stillness, cold hands still holding the quill with which she had penned her final advice to him: This will suit you. He had no idea what magic resided in the necklace, but he wore it, always.

  Shan, too, had long since given up constant life on the waves, though he continued to tinker and improve on all manner of contraptions and devices—anything that took his fancy. Shan could be found crouched over a lathe refining a telescope’s lens small enough to be mounted on a rifle one morning; the next, he might be whittling a graceful dancer out of driftwood to spin atop an ornate music box for his grandchildren back home.

  Their deeds were mighty and their reputations had spread from one corner of the oceans to another. There was nowhere they hadn’t been, nothing they hadn’t tasted, fought, stolen, or sold. And yet, as the days, the months, the years of brawling and battling and laughing and looting blurred together, something still seemed to be missing.

  Ramsey was standing at the helm of his mighty galleon when it came to him. He turned to crack a joke, looking first to Mercia and then to Shan. Neither was there, of course, and it was then that he realized he no longer sailed with his friends at his side. Oh, he had a crew who were loyal and brave, but they called him Captain and not Ramsey. They thought of him as the fearsome Pirate Lord, a living legend to be admired and respected. Someone to be aspired to. But they’d never dare to share a drink with him.

  And that, Ramsey realized, was what he’d been searching for all along. The missing piece of the puzzle. That was when he decided to retire.

  The words bounced back and forth, echoing in the vaulted chamber that the Gold Hoarder had chosen for his lair. The Pirate Lord stood waiting, tapping his cane impatiently, but if the skeleton was even able to respond, he gave no sign of doing so. “Retiring!” he repeated, impatiently. “I’ve sailed the length and breadth of th
e Sea of Thieves. I’ve left footprints on every island and fought off pirates, sharks, and krakens. I’ve cracked riddles and dodged traps and plundered everything from teacups to tiaras!” His voice rose as he spoke until he was practically bellowing. “There is no pirate more famous, more feared, and more ferocious than I!”

  Just like that, he sagged, and was Ramsey once more. “But if you can’t share the memories with your friends in a tavern afterward, none of it matters. If you can’t boast or brag about it, can’t share your stories and pass on what you’ve learned, then what’s the point in having a reputation? Well, I’m going to do something about that. Make sure that anyone who’s really made a name for themselves always has a place to tell their stories. Maybe even ask for advice, if they’re not too proud.

  “I’ve got a fine ship, but this will be my final voyage on the Sea of Thieves. It’s time for someone else to stake a claim to her, I reckon. Trading Companies, merchants, gangs, soothsayers . . . The world is always changing, and maybe that’s not such a bad thing after all. Oh, those Gold Hoarders of yours are welcome to any of my fortune they can find, and so is anyone else. I won’t need it anymore. It’s always a give and take, see.”

  He paused, then said slowly, “I’m sorry, Rathbone, that I couldn’t be a better captain to you. Sorry I couldn’t make you see that there’s so much more to the world than just its precious stones. Sorry that we couldn’t be friends.”

  His expression hardened as he continued. “But even so, you were wrong. Wrong to think the Sea of Thieves exists so people like you can make a profit. Wrong to betray your crew. Wrong to believe all that matters on a voyage is the reward at the end of it. And yet you came damn close to turning our home into everything I despised. I hated you for that.”

  Ramsey’s face was so close now that he could see his own anger reflected in the Gold Hoarder’s emerald eyes. “And now look at you. The man will be forgotten, and all people will see is the monster. You can plunder every last coin from the Sea of Thieves, Rathbone, but you’ll always be the poorest pirate I know.”