The Pirate (Captains & Cannons Book 1)

by Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  Smoke and wisps of flame filled the air as crew ran in all directions shouting, screaming, and fighting something out in the waters. Two cannons roared, their blasts thumping heavily against his chest and leaving a ringing in his ears. The scent of gunpowder assaulted his nose, and an acrid taste hung all around.

  A tentacle as thick as Ethan was wide came up and over the rails. Two more followed. They smashed carriages, snapped lines, and grabbed sailors who tried in vain to fight them off.

  “Oh god, this can’t be happening,” Ethan said, eyes wide as he backed away. He glanced left and right, hoping to find something, anything, that would see him to safety, but it was hard to see much of anything in the midst of all the chaos other than the broken ship he was on and the monster that was attacking it.

  Pistols fired, and then a mast snapped. It crashed through the center of the deck, rocking the boat hard to port and sending Ethan tumbling. As he picked himself up, a new shout came, one that put the fear of God into Ethan.

  “Fire in the magazine!”

  Ethan ran as fast he could, his feet pounding the deck as he made for the railing. Two steps away from them, he launched himself into the air.

  Cool, salty wind kissed his face as he sailed overboard, and then a monstrous explosion filled his ears. Debris flew in all directions, some of it wood, some of it crew. Ethan tried to pretend he didn’t see the latter. He sucked in a deep breath right before he hit the sea. When he popped back to the surface, he swam as hard as he could until his arms and legs turned to jelly.

  At that point, he’d thankfully put a few hundred yards between the battle and himself. Well, what was left of the battle. The sloop he was on had been reduced to nothing but large floating, burning chunks of wood that were surrounded by lots and lots of smaller chunks of wood. The monster, whatever it was, couldn’t be seen anywhere, but since Ethan could see some survivors hanging onto driftwood, he hoped that meant the creature wasn’t interested in snacking on anyone else, or at least, not him.

  “Okay, Ethan, you got this. There’s no need to panic,” he said, using what was left of his strength to swim over to a few floating planks of wood. “We’ll just get somewhere safe and figure out what to do.”

  Off in the distance, Ethan spied a shoreline of what hopefully was an island big enough that it meant people had settled there. Friendly people. People who didn’t hang newcomers for fun or play games with ravenous sea monsters. He didn’t know what he’d do if that turned out to be the case, but since his only options were either staying adrift in a monster-infested sea or making for shore regardless of what was there, his decision was easy.

  At least the sun was out, so he wouldn’t have to explore wherever he was in the dark.

  After an hour of kicking on his makeshift raft and realizing that no, this wasn’t a bizarre nightmare, he saw a coastal city not too far from where he was headed. This renewed his hope. After another hour, he made it into the harbor.

  To be fair, calling it a harbor was being generous. The place wasn’t much of a city either. Sure, it had a number of wood buildings, but each one of them barely looked like they could weather a strong sneeze, let alone any sort of storm. The wood they were constructed from appeared old and worn, and it looked like the the architect who’d built them had earned his degree from the back of a whiskey label. Not a single one stood upright. They all twisted and hunched in one direction or another. The worn-out roofs, which were missing more shingles than they had, were only the icing on the cake.

  That said, the place did have a few noticeable attributes that kept Ethan’s spirits from sinking completely. First, he could see several men and women walking the cobblestone streets, most with a drink in hand, all looking happy—aside from a few that appeared to be haggling over something at a vendor table. Second, several cannon emplacements had been built. Not only had they been built, but they were currently being manned, and since those who were stationed at each one hadn’t raised the alarm or flat out sent a hail of grapeshot in his direction, he figured they might turn out to be helpful. Third, and most important, as he floated toward the harbor’s sole pier, his eyes met those of a woman he hoped could help him out.

  She sat at the edge of the dock, dressed in black leather, with tattoos all across her left arm. A large toucan—red and black of all colors—sat perched on her shoulder, eying him with suspicion. One of her hands had nothing but a slew of rings on its fingers, while the other clutched a large green bottle. Her hazel eyes regarded him with amusement from beneath her wide-brimmed hat, and she flashed a smile that looked as if it could capture any man’s heart or break it just the same. She’d probably done both.

  “Shame about your ship,” she said. “It looked like a beauty from here, but at least you made it off alive. That’s something.”

  “Yeah, thanks, but it wasn’t mine,” Ethan replied as he kicked his way closer.

  “Even better.”

  Ethan brought himself to where some weathered thick rope hung from the docks, only a half pace away from where she was seated. He reached up and grabbed it, but before he could hoist himself up, she angled her foot and pressed her boot against his head. “No one’s allowed on my docks without my permission.”

  “Your docks?”

  The woman nodded and then nodded to the cutlass attached to her hip. “They’re my docks, unless, of course, you can convince me otherwise.”

  Too tired for manners, but not enough to be completely crass, Ethan sighed. “Can I come aboard? I’m cold, wet, and just want a place to dry.”

  “Depends,” she said. “Who are you?”

  “Ethan,” he replied.

  “And why are you here, Ethan?” she said, still keeping her boot on his head. “Everyone with half a brain knows not to come here on anything less than a fourth-rate ship-of-the-line on account of Myriden.”

  “Myriden?”

  “The monster who attacked you,” she clarified. “Now, answer my question. Why are you here?”

  “Hell if I know,” he said. “Look, my fingers are going numb. Mind letting me up, or is this a lick-your-boot kind of thing?”

  The woman smirked. “No, it’s not. Not yet, at least. Why don’t you start by telling me where you came from, and we’ll go from there?”

  Ethan muttered a few curses and huffed. “Fine. Whatever. All I know is that I was in my living room one minute, and the next—”

  The woman straightened. “Living room?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said. I was there and—”

  “You’re from outside?” she asked, interrupting yet again. Her boot lifted from his head, and her eyes looked at him with pity. “I mean, you’re from where there are cars and computers and jets and rock bands?”

  “Yes…”

  “Welcome to Bartigua,” she said. “Hope you at least got to enjoy the fair before coming here.”

  The woman then shifted in place before reaching down and offering him a hand. Once Ethan took it, she yanked him up with a grunt. He took a moment to shake himself dry and wring the water out of his blue shirt, but he soon realized it was pointless. “Hang on a second. How did you know about the fair?”

  “That’s where Madam Nataliya finds her ‘contestants,’” she replied. She then folded her arms over her chest and snorted with disgust. “Someone should force her to play.”

  “I’m sorry, what’s this about?”

  “Nothing. Forget it,” she said, shaking her head. The woman then extended her hand. “I’m Zoey, by the way. Used to live in Montana. Nice to meet you.”

  Ethan warily shook it. “Ethan, from North Carolina.”

  “I love North Carolina. Great peaches there.”

  “That’s Georgia.”

  “Oh,” she said with a hint of sadness. That sadness disappeared as her eyes lit up. “I guess I love Georgia, then. Don’t suppose somehow you brought a peach with you here?”

  “No. How would I?”

  Zoey shrugged. “How would I know? I don’t even kn
ow how getting here works, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try. God, I’d make out with a sea hag for a nice juicy peach right now. There’s not a single one in the whole land. Can you believe it?”

  Ethan shook his head, not because he was answering her question, but because he was trying to shake the image of this young beauty in the deep throes of passion with a toothless old crone from his mind.

  “You seem like you’re a little lost here,” she went on.

  “Understatement of the year,” he said. “Any chance you’re willing to help me out a little?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “How would you feel about a quid pro quo, Ethan?” she asked with a beaming smile.

  “Never was one for calamari,” he replied. “But I could go for a nice burger.”

  Her brow dropped. “Are you serious?”

  Ethan looked around, and realizing that they probably didn’t have burgers in pirate land, he amended his statement. “I could do stew. That’s got to be a thing here. Or chicken? Surely there’s at least chicken.”

  “Quid pro quo,” she repeated. “A favor for a favor.”

  “Oooh, right,” Ethan said. He bit his lower lip as an uneasy feeling washed over him. He wasn’t that much of a moron, he knew. Why the hell did he think that had anything to do with calamari?

  “Is something the matter?” she asked.

  Ethan nodded as his gaze drifted downward. “That wasn’t right. I mean, I know that phrase. I did graduate middle school. High school, even.”

  “Oh boy,” she said, taking in a sharp breath of air.

  “What?”

  “You probably didn’t invest too much in intelligence, did you?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “When you rolled your character, back at the fair.”

  “Um, sure I did,” he said, completely making up the answer on the fly. Truthfully, he couldn’t remember the details at this point, but what the hell did they matter? He’d always been one to appreciate the gray matter. Hadn’t he? “When did I roll again?”

  The woman shook her head. “The questions Madam Nataliya asked, remember those? Your answers dictate who you are and what you get while in game.”

  “They do?”

  “Yeah. They do. God, I have no idea how you’re going to win this,” she said with a laugh.

  “Why’s that?”

  Zoey raised an eyebrow and gave him an incredulous look. “You don’t even know who you’re playing against, do you?”

  “Of course, I do,” Ethan replied. “Death. Duh. I did meet him before I got sucked in here.”

  “Oh, right,” she said. “Had to sign the contract. Forgot about that. But I’ve got twenty shillings that says you didn’t even read it.”

  “Um, no,” Ethan said, cringing. “Should I have?”

  Zoey laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, genius. You should have.”

  “It’s a fair game, though, right? I’ll make it work.”

  “Fair? Ha! Is that what he told you?”

  Ethan shook his head. “Yes, but it was on the contract. It said this was a fair game.”

  The woman shook her head. “Cripes, you’re not going to last a day here.”

  “Why?”

  “Of course, it’s a fair game!”

  Ethan stared at her blankly.

  “A game from the fair!” Zoey said, her face full of irritation. “What else would you call it?”

  “Oh. Oh, god.”

  The harshness in her face fell to sympathy. “Exactly. They’re not exactly known for being rigged in the player’s favor, are they?”

  “Uh, no,” Ethan said, now having flashbacks to his paltry attempt at winning a stuffed animal.

  The woman sighed heavily. “Sorry. I know this sucks, and I know I just dumped a lot on you. I’m just tired of seeing people come here and die. I hope you’re playing for a good prize, at least.”

  “My dog,” Ethan said.

  To his surprise, she seemed impressed. “Must be some dog.”

  “She is.”

  “So how does this work, exactly?” Ethan asked. “I mean, we’re sucked into a game or something, right? Like in that movie… Gah! What was it called? With the rhinos and jungle and whatnot? Gemini? Jumanga? Mangione? Damnit. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. You know what I mean. All I have to do is to beat Death at whatever.”

  “Yeah, well, that whatever was in your contract, which you didn’t read. I doubt anyone is just going to run up to you and tell you what to do,” she said. “Although…”

  “Although what?” he asked as her voice trailed.

  “A small, new building popped up not too long ago,” she said. “A shack, really. Didn’t think much of it, but it could be your starting room. Maybe whatever gear you’ll get there will point you in the right direction.”

  “See? Everything is coming together already,” Ethan said, saying such a thing to try and boost his dwindling morale. “I’ll have Death defeated in no time.”

  The woman smiled, but it looked forced. “Good. That’s a great attitude to have. Try not to lose it, but don’t let it get to your head. That’s when people get stupid, which is usually followed by getting dead.”

  “Why would I lose it?”

  “You might when things get bad.”

  “Getting attacked by Myriden wasn’t bad enough? Cripes, I about had a heart attack when he shot out of the water.”

  “Oh, there’s plenty worse than Myriden in the open seas.”

  Ethan sighed. “Of course, there is.”

  “I should also point out, Myriden’s the baby brother of sea monsters since he’s basically a tiny kraken. Or maybe that makes him a distant cousin? I’m not really sure if those things have a family tree like we do.”

  The woman chuckled, and a small grin flashed across her face. “I mean, can you see that thing having sex? Or on its back in stirrups of the OB/GYN getting ready to shoot out a kid? Then again, he’s probably straight out of your typical hentai cartoon, right? Maybe it does like getting laid after all.”

  “I can’t believe you’re joking after I nearly became its snack.”

  “Don’t worry, if you live long enough, you’ll have some pretty dark humor, too. Either that or you lose all your sanity. I’ve seen that happen as well. Just don’t go screwing all the whores.”

  “Why not?” Ethan asked. Not that he had the immediate desire to, but it was a game, after all. Maybe he’d pick up some weird side quest or something.

  Zoey threw up her hands in disbelief and gestured around them. “Look where we are. We’re not exactly in the golden age of medicine. Whoever made this place also decided to include little things like disease, especially the STD kind.”

  Ethan grimaced. “Ew.”

  Zoey laughed and shook her head. “You don’t even know. There’s stuff out there that’ll completely rot your little man in under an hour. Like seriously rot it right off. Won’t even have a stub.”

  Ethan traded his grimace for nausea and couldn’t help but tighten his legs together. “I take it you’ve seen a lot.”

  “More than you’ll hopefully ever know,” she said. “But don’t worry. If you need to get your rocks off, there are ways to do it. Just got to be smart, is all. Having some holy water nearby probably wouldn’t hurt, you know, to freshen up.”

  “Not on my bucket list at the moment, but holy water, got it,” Ethan said.

  Zoey nodded. “Now then, back to my deal, because that’s what we really need to concentrate on. Work first. Play later.”

  “The squid pro go?”

  “Quid pro quo,” she corrected.

  “Right.”

  “You help me get one little bitty gem, and I’ll help you win whatever contest you’ve got going with Death here. How does that sound?”

  Though Ethan appreciated having some help right off the bat, he was savvy enough to know a deal that was too good to be true when he came across it. “What’s t
he catch?”

  “No catch.”

  Ethan tilted his head to the side. “I’m not that dumb.”

  “Fine,” Zoey said with a huff. “The catch is the gem is in an amulet tucked away in a fortress crawling with monsters, and we’ve got to hurry to nab it before someone else does. You can help with that, right? It’ll be the easiest half share you’ve ever earned.”

  “A half? Why not a whole?”

  “You’re lucky you’re getting that,” she said. “It’s not like I’m not helping you on top of that, not to mention keeping you alive in the process.”

  “I still say I should get a whole share.”

  “Half or nothing,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “Take it or leave it.”

  Ethan turned the offer over several times in his mind. He wanted to leave, but enough of him had the feeling that if he did, he’d be making a big mistake. So he opted for a more middle-of-the-road compromise. “Tell you what,” he said. “How about you help me get my starting gear, and once I know what I’ve got, we’ll take it from there?”

  Zoey extended her hand. “Deal.”

  Chapter Eight

  The Race

  Zoey led Ethan through the dilapidated buildings—and godawful smells—of shantytown. She was quiet for the most part, though would mutter the occasional curse when she had to bat away the hands of a would-be pickpocket. The dirt road they followed curved to the west before running up a small hill. It looked as if it would run into a small market area, but they never got that far, which was too bad, Ethan thought, as something delicious in the air wafted down from it and into his nose.

  Thoughts of delectable food, however, vanished the moment she pulled him down a narrow alley that probably had more diseases in it than all of medieval Europe. At least, that’s what the putrid odor of it said.

  “Try not to touch anything,” Zoey said.

  “I’m trying not to even think about touching anything,” Ethan said, gagging. “What died back here?”

  “That guy,” she replied as she pointed to a skeleton slumped against the wall.