by Lux Miller
One thing I do notice about him is he’s cocky as hell. Once he’s aboard the ship, he never bothers to look back to see if I changed my mind. He goes on about his business like he’s just gonna weigh anchor and go about his day! Like he didn’t just escape hellhounds and a dive off a cliff. Jerk. I guess he assumes that I’m no danger to him either and I’ve gone on about my life onshore. What he doesn’t realize is that he picked the wrong thief to try to plunder.
Though I’m out of breath and my arms are aching by the time I reach the side of the ship, I make it there in time to grab hold of the same rope the Kingsman used to climb. My shoulders burn with every knot that I ascend. Finally, my fingernails are scraping at the mahogany wood that lines the outer rail of the vessel. I claw my nails into it and with the last bit of strength I’ve got, I twist my body over it and collapse onto the wood planks below. My chest heaves with the effort of drawing breaths in and out of my throbbing chest.
“I must admit, after everything that just happened, I really didn’t think you’d follow me. The fact that you did, though, makes me even more intrigued to find out what exactly you stole from that Navian bounty hunter.”
Groaning, I roll over onto my back and look up, my eyes widening as I see a familiar set of green eyes peering down at me with an amused twinkle in them. He just as good as admitted he has my parcel, but he didn’t exactly say so, and at this point, I’m not offering up information unless I have to.
I open my mouth to repeat my plea for mercy, but he quickly shakes his head. He chuckles, “You’ve already invoked Parley… and I intend to honor that, but I don’t think you’re going to be particularly thrilled with the outcome. You see…”
He reaches up behind his head and begins untying the leather strips binding the mask that’s obscuring his face. As they fall away one by one, a chiseled jaw begins to peek through. He tugs the remainder of the mask off over his head and tosses it to the wood planking below. My heart jumps into my throat as I look up at a man who can’t be much older than myself.
He’s young, but rugged and his face is peppered with hair the color of chocolate, which frames the sculpted Viking features like a damn portrait. He’s handsome to a dangerous degree. I find myself staring way longer than I should, shaking my head to snap myself out of my daze as he finishes his statement, “...you’ve already met the captain of this vessel.”
He thrusts his hand forward and holds it there expectantly. “Name’s Drake… welcome aboard my ship, Lost Girl…”
Chapter Four
Drake
If looks could kill, the daggers coming from the girl’s eyes right now would be my undoing. She’s seething. I can practically see the steam coming out of her ears, which would almost be amusing if I didn’t know that she’s become a prodigy of an old friend of mine. She hasn’t said as much, but her mannerisms and the garb she’s outfitted in scream Skink or one of his lesser minions.
If I had any change to spare, I’d be willing to bet that her sticky fingers are stealing for him and his ragtag gang of misfits that run the Lost Isles. Well, he thinks he runs the Lost Isles, at least. The truth is, he only runs a very small port. And the only reason nobody’s challenged him is because nobody’s managed to mount the numbers yet to knock him from his imaginary seat of power.
With all things considered, I knew she’d be angry when she figured out I’d pilfered the parcel out of that atrocity of a bag she has slung over her. But we’re all common thieves here. Stealing’s what we do, and if she was willing to risk her life for it and piss off a Navian bounty hunter, I knew it had to be valuable. Which means that if Skink sent her after it, she’s probably one of his better thieves. I wasn’t exactly planning on being confronted by her, though. I figured I’d be halfway out to sea before she realized it was gone. Underestimating her tenacity was definitely my first mistake.
The second was probably telling her that I own this rig. I mean, possession is ninth-tenths of the law, especially when you operate under the Code of Thieves, so it’s not an outright lie. At this exact moment in time, I’m technically in control of it. By the time the man who holds her papers discovers that I’ve commandeered her, they’ll never be able to catch me, anyway. I hope.
She may not be much to look at, but I knew from the moment I saw her that she was a Navian Schooner — one of the fastest ships still in existence. If that bounty hunter thought his night was going badly, he’s about to find out that his day isn’t going to be much better. I’m now in possession of both whatever the hell the pixie-girl stole from him and the ship he left moored and unmanned in the harbor like a doofus.
I’m not about to reveal that to the girl, yet though. Some bits of knowledge are best kept close to the vest. Right now, I’m not running the risk of unfurling the sails on this bad boy and blowing up my secrets since they’re undoubtedly emblazoned with the unmistakable sigil of the Navian militia. For the moment, I’ve got the upper hand because until she figures out otherwise, she believes that I’m a man with power. And I’m going to use that to my advantage. Narrowing my eyes at her, I straighten my back, staring down my nose at her like I know what the hell I’m doing. “So the way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can either call your career as a thief over and join my crew…”
I tug one of the leather strips from around my wrist and gather half of the loose ends of my hair up in my hand, securing the frayed material around it so that only a few strands still dangle in my field of vision. Then I point over my shoulder with my thumb and raise one eyebrow. “...or you can accept my final offer of me allowing you to swim back to shore. But you’d better make your decision quickly because I’m not a patient man, and the Kraken doesn’t sleep past dawn.”
I push past her, and she bristles as our arms brush, the corners of her lips dropping into a frown. I’m not bullshitting about the Kraken, and she knows it. Granted, she probably wasn’t aware until just now that that’s the creature that was stirring up the currents with us in the water after we jumped off the cliff, but I kept that bit of information to myself. While she’s obviously from the Isles, she’s also obviously not a deep sea swimmer, and there was no reason to send her into a panic.
The Kraken is not a nocturnal animal, and unless she physically kicked it or one of its tentacles, the creature wouldn’t have even bothered with her. She could’ve made it to shore easily before it crawled out of its murky depths to hunt. But then she would’ve had the Navian and his minions to deal with. She still will if she abandons ship. With the sun’s rays now penetrating into the depths of the sea, the Kraken’ll be awakening soon, too, which means we’re about to have company one way or another…
She crosses her arms over her chest and huffs, grinding out words that’re hatefully invoked but that speak to my soul in a way I can’t explain. “Show it to me.”
Blinking, I stop untying the rope that’s keeping the anchor’s weight hoisted in the air and stare at her for a moment. The coils are snaked around one of my wrists with the excess bits of rope scattered about my feet. I chuckle for a moment as I step on the ends of the rope and narrow my eyes at her. “Those can be dangerous words in this kind of world, but regardless of your intention, I must ask you for two things, first. Your name and for you to clarify what you mean...”
She motions to my tunic and gives me another dirty look. “The name’s Nova… and you know exactly what I’m talking about, here, Kingsman…”
Shrugging, I play it cool. Of course I know what she’s talking about. Admitting I have her parcel tucked away inside my tunic removes the sliver of doubt that’s playing peek-a-boo in the cerulean of her eyes. The uncertainty can be used to my advantage, so I double-down and decide to play a game of distraction to keep her guessing.
“There’s more than one thing you could be talking about. I don’t know about you, but to be honest, I’ve had enough excitement for this early morning hour. Now, you’ve a decision to make. If you’re staying aboard, grab a rope, because this ship won’t sail hers
elf. I’m only one man. Unless you’re planning on taking your chances with the Navian, who by now knows that one of his prized pets is dead… and will be out for bloodthirsty revenge…”
The girl glares at me and snatches one of the ropes out of my hands unexpectedly. I wince as the fibers drag along my palm, burning me where the Kingsman leather doesn’t cover my skin. I didn’t think it was possible, but I’m even more intrigued by this girl than I was before. She glowers at me and tugs hard on the rope. I realize about two seconds too late which rope she brazingly plucked out of my grasp — the one keeping the sails bound together. I groan as I glance up, and the mainsail unfurls in the breeze, flapping proudly as the blue and gold of the Navian sigil is set on display for all to see.
The muscles across my shoulders tighten as her gaze shoots straight to the damn sail that waves in the wind like a fucking beacon. She cuts her eyes at me accusingly, then angles her entire body to face me in a defensive stance that says she’s ready to fight. I was hoping to at least make it to open water before she realized—
“This isn’t your boat… is it?”
I roll my shoulders innocently, trying to relieve some of the tension that’s built up in them as I keep my own stance prepared to defend myself if necessary. She may not be big, but I’ve no doubts that she’s a hell of a fighter. She wouldn’t be alive if she wasn’t. The weak ones don’t survive out here. The domes may allow for the pampered princesses to thrive, but the Lost Isles are for the asskickers… and I’m in no mood to have mine handed to me at the moment. I’ve got a boat to steal and a capable thief onboard.
“Define what you mean by ‘my boat.’ “
I flash air quotation marks in the air at her with what I hope is a charming smile, but it doesn’t look like she’s buying it. I point to the tri-colored dinghy that’s moored to a rock a few hundred feet offshore, bobbing in the morning waves. The poor boat looks like she’s gonna roll over and play dead in the surf at any moment.
“Once we get this old girl out to sea, she’ll definitely be my boat. But if you’d rather, we can tempt fate in that one...”
Her eyes narrow to slits as she tugs hard on the rope in her hand. The rigging holding the sail swings around, catching the brunt of the wind and billowing the sail out. The boat lurches forward as she loses control of the rope. I grunt, because the damn anchor’s still dropped. She’s gonna cause this boat to be ripped in half… then we’re both going to be at the mercy of the Navians… or the Kraken, whichever gets to us first.
I growl at her and push past her, yanking a knife out of my boot and diving across the deck. I land in a clumsy roll next to the rope securing the anchor to the boat. Guess it’s gonna have to stay at the bottom of the sea, because I don’t have the time or the manpower to wiggle it free of the seafloor and haul it on-board. I slice through the fibers and the weight that was suspended in the air over me plummets to the deck, narrowly missing my head. It crashes into the wooden planking, splintering several of them as the bulky sandbag comes to a rest besides me.
“Duck!”
She throws her hands on her hips and gives me the dirtiest look. Thankfully does listen to me, ducking out of the way of the lower part of the sail rigging just as it swings through the air. It misses the back of her head by a couple inches. She flattens herself against the deck as I leap to my feet and grab hold of it. My boots barely gain enough traction to get control of the wildly swinging pole to which the sail is mounted. I gather up the rope and throw it to her, pointing to the nearest tie down and yell, “Tie the freaking thing down, or it’s going to knock us both clear off the damn boat!”
Thankfully, she’s not as resistant to this order as she has been to every other one I’ve barked at her and does what I demanded. I must admit that from here, her knot doesn’t look half-bad, either. So, the little thief’s got some experience on a boat, too, from the looks of things.
I stand up and dust myself off, tilting my head to the side with a smirk. “Well, well… aren’t you just full of surprises?”
She turns on me, wagging a finger in my direction as she marches across the deck. Her bare feet stomp against the polished wood as she practically spits fire. “I’m full of surprises? Better than being full of shit…”
I nod because she has a point, but I’m not going to let her get the upper hand on me. Shrugging my shoulders, I motion around us as I walk past her and climb the six steps up to the upper deck where the wheel of the ship is located. I glance over my shoulder at her as I grab hold of it and adjust it just slightly so that the sail catches the wind at an angle, pulling us away from the harbor. I keep my voice calm and as matter-of-fact as I can manage, because she isn’t wrong. I am full of shit.
“About what?”
She stomps up the steps, leaning against the railing beside me as she crosses her arms over her chest. She motions around us with a frown. “Last time I checked, a Kingsman would rather die than sail under the Navian sigil…”
I lick my lips slowly, choosing my words carefully. “Firstly, it wasn’t my idea to unfurl the sail, so I wasn’t planning on sailing under it. Personally, I find everything the Navians stand for to be abhorrent, antiquated, and barbaric. So, as you see, sailing under their sigil was your idea. I’d planned to row out of here, so as not to draw attention to the fact that I’m stealing their flagship…”
She blinks at me rapidly, realization dawning on her face. Her mouth drops open as she glances back to shore. I follow her gaze. Just as I suspected, the massive scene that unleashing the sails caused has notified the Navians onshore that their main boat is no longer anchored in the harbor where they left it. And they’re panicking. They're diving into their shoreboats by the handfuls and rapidly rowing as fast as they can in the hopes of catching us before we hit open water.
I clear my throat as I unfasten the leather straps that crisscross back and forth over my chest, letting the heavyweight jacket drop to the deck behind me. I breathe a sigh of relief to be out of that hideous garb as well. “Secondly… you should be more wary of pigeonholing a man’s alliances based on what he wears. A few strips of leather bound around my body and you’re ready to make assumptions. I am not aligned to any of the tribes, for I am nobody and nobody is mine. “
She gasps as I recite the nomad’s creed. Well, at least that bit of introductions is out of the way. I turn my back to her, and I know she’s caught a glimpse of the tattoo that covers my back when she sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth. The tunic I’m wearing obscures most of it. But anyone with sharp eyes, and who knows what they’re looking at, would recognize the runic prayer that outlines it.
Not that you could read it without seeing the whole thing, but her startled reaction lets me know that she recognizes the symbols. They’re old, very old. Older than the tribes, and the virus that nearly decimated mankind. They’re older than the oldest human that still breathes on this Earth, from a time when men worshipped the gods…
She steps across the small distance between us. I can feel her fingertips tracing the solitary, faded rune that’s etched into my skin away from the rest of my chosen design. Her voice is small, and her defiance is gone as she murmurs, “I’ve seen this before, but it’s rare. Why would you purposefully mark yourself with a symbol like this?”
Her touch is almost painful as the pads of her fingers outline it, but I can’t seem to pull away from her. I shake my head slowly, my voice softened as I reply, “I didn’t. I was born with it. My mother tried to burn it off when I was four, and though the skin around it was blackened and charred, the rune remained untouched. Every inch of my shoulder scarred, but the rune remained intact. And so she abandoned me to the desert, where I was picked up by a tribe of Nomads, who raised me as one of their own until they could no longer. I was... am, dangerous… I left the tribe when I fourteen because I feared I couldn’t control myself, and despite the precautions they tried to put in place, I couldn’t put the other Nomads at risk...”
She presses her palm a
gainst the rune on my back, and for a moment, the entire world stops moving, but she quickly jerks her hand away from it. “Define dangerous…”
I turn and peer down at her, my heart thundering rapidly against my chest as her gaze jerks up to meet mine. “You know the legend of the Viking warriors who would succumb to a bloodthirsty rage and go on a killing spree where very little could survive their violent, uncontrollable fury?”
She nods slowly, licking her lips as she rests her hand on my shoulder. “They were the chosen warriors of Odin and called Berserkers. They were said to go Berserk for unknown reasons. Almost like Odin himself could just flip a switch to turn them into unstoppable killing machines. They were weaponized humans used to turn the tides of war… but they’re legends, Drake...”