Jerebel

By R.A. Bristow

Gerard has never known love. Raised in isolation and regarded with fear and disgust, he turned to the sea for solace and found refuge in piracy. After a mysterious encounter leaves Gerard dying from a malignant illness, his only hope for salvation is Xantho, an ancient healer, who might sooner kill him than save him.
But after one look into his eyes, she promises to restore him.
Gerard soon realizes that Xantho is more than she seems and an unlikely bond blossoms between them that neither have the will to break. A bond that is tested when they are pitted against a demon’s ambitions to release a powerful evil that threatens to consume their world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.A. Bristow
• Release date: Jan 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310957048

R.A. Bristow

R.A. Bristow was introduced to books by her father, and began reading to him when she was four years old. She hasn't put a book down since. She is a day dreamer by nature, with laughter in her soul, the most ecclectic assortment of friends in her heart and considers herself undeniably blessed.

Book preview

Jerebel

by

R.A. Bristow

Prologue

He was close now, so very close.

He could see the wide trail where the fallen king had dragged his body over the ground, desperate to escape. The air was heavy with the king’s putrid scent mingling with the decaying leaves, his body already having surrendered to the evil that had taken root in him, while his soul fought on.

The Priestess was sure this king was the one.

She wanted the king brought before her, and her servant did as he was bid. He had stalked these ancient woods in search of the king, each moment bringing him closer to his sickly prey. He had considerable admiration for the king for getting as far as he did. Despite how feeble the king must be, his strength of spirit took him much farther then he should have been able to go.

A worthy adversary, the hunter thought, his black lips parting in a sinister smile.

Pity that there would be no fight, no glorious battle. Just a man lying face first in the mud with hardly enough energy to breathe, let alone fight.

A keeling wail broke through the forest off to his left, stopping him mid-stride.

He frowned and headed off in the direction of the scream when strange new smell suddenly struck him. Under the aromas of the forest, it was sharp and had a hot sort of odor, like lightning striking. It burned his nose and made his skin prickle with unease.

Natural magic.

He snarled and hurried his pace. The woods were dark here, the trees so close together that almost no sunlight could peek through. He was glad for it. The sun irritated his skin and darkness was a much better cloak if one wanted to remain unseen. His eyes were keener in the shadows than they were in the light anyhow. He moved quickly, his legs strong and sure, never faltering.

Whatever creature was here would be no match for him; he was sure of it. His fangs lengthened and he could already taste blood on his tongue.

The song was what stopped him. He jerked to a stop the moment it began. It made his blood run as cold as the Northern rivers. It wasn’t so much the melody as it was the words that gave him pause. The melody he didn’t recognize, but the words… the words he knew.

They weren’t in a tongue used in these lands anymore.

Not since the First Tribulation. So how in the Shades was he hearing them now? He felt the air change. The rest of the world seemed to go completely still as a ripple of power rolled through him, making his heart stutter. There was a slight shuddering in the earth as the song continued unbroken and another verse trembled in the air.

He started running again, cursing under his breath, but he knew it was too late. He knew what he was going to find ahead. Still the Priestess would want to know. He had to be sure.

But one thing he already knew for certain: he had lost the king.

Chapter One

Familiar dark corners…

I am taking my leave of you this morning and seeking my fortunes outside of this house, never to return or remind you of my existence.

Gerard’s mother dropped her spoon into her porridge, the tinkling silverware the only sound in the dining room as his family stared at him. The weight of all their eyes at once kept him frozen in place, making Gerard uncertain of how to proceed.

He had wanted to storm in, announce his departure, and storm right back out, without a second thought for them. Instead, his tone was polite while his hands shook behind his back.

What has come over you this morning Gerard, that you would address us with such idiocies at this hour? his mother said to him, her chin still tucked down and her voice cold and shrill. Why have you come to address us at all, were the words she left unsaid, but he heard them all the same. Why have you reminded us—reminded me—that you are still among us?

I only thought it courteous to bid you goodbye. I admit, it is absurd of me to think so when my absence would be neither noted or regretted, he said flatly.

His mother did not respond, but her mouth tightened, her lips pursed together in an unbecoming cinch. Gerard’s siblings continued to gape at him. His father cleared his throat and forced a light smile that didn’t meet his eyes.

Now, my dear, I think that Gerard only wanted a moment of time with us. I believe that today is the anniversary of his arrival into this world, he said to Gerard’s shock. He hadn’t expected his father to remember the day of his birth, although he supposed it was a terrible burden to them, so perhaps it was a day that they would never forget.

Gerard was the firstborn son to his parents and second oldest of his siblings. He was, by all legal rights, the heir to his father’s estate. He should have been a source of great pride to them, but as it was, he only received scorn if he received anything at all.

He had been born disfigured and hideous; his skin was sallow like fermented milk with a bulbous nose that looked like a handful of clay that someone squeezed and mutilated in their grip before sticking it on his face. His lips were puffy and such a bright shade of red that they might have been mistaken for being rouged. He had a thick brow that jutted over dark eyes.

His eyes were perhaps his only appealing feature. They were a deep brown that was nearly as black as his pupils, and they gazed out now from his ugly mask of a face with the utmost yearning.

Gerard’s heart tightened, and he wished that he could hate the pairs of eyes that bore into him, his mother’s especially. Still, there was nothing more he truly wanted other than for them to love him. If his own family couldn’t love him, how could he expect anyone else to?

In his mind, he begged for them to ask him to stay for breakfast, to give him a reason to remain there. Instead, they gawked at him like his being there, their own son, their own brother, was entirely absurd.

I have only wanted a moment of time with you my whole life, he said, his voice as hollow as his chest. "And I was denied even the smallest kindness from all of you. I know what I am to you. How can I be anything other than keenly aware that I am a disgrace to you?

Today, I am old enough to set out into the world on my own. So rejoice in my leaving if you will, or continue to pretend that I do not exist. In either case, it is no longer my concern that you will not love me. Gerard bowed gracefully and went to leave the room without another word when his father spoke.

Gerard! Wait.

Gerard was surprised, but he paused and turned to face him. Beside his father, Gerard’s eldest sister, Vivienne, was still staring at him. She was a lovelier version of their mother, with delicate features and skin as creamy white as fresh milk. Her dark hair had been pulled up into a low chignon, and her pale blue gown made her look like a porcelain doll. Gerard could count on one hand how many times he had actually seen her.

She was crying.

You will need some money for your journey, his father said, rising from the table. Gerard couldn’t take his eyes from the girl who he had never shared words with, but who sat at the table softly weeping. He wanted to ask her why she wept.

Was it for him, or was it from relief that he was leaving?

His father stepped in front of him, blocking his view from the weeping Vivienne. Placing a heavy coin purse into Gerard’s large hands, his father sighed.

I wish I had some advice to send you with, but I have none. I have never been very wise but know that I wish you the best. Better than the life I have made for you. Be happy. There was a significant pause that was followed with a quiet whisper of, My son.

Gerard stood before his father, a good few inches taller than the older man, weighing the money in his hand. He took one more glance at the family gathered around the table, all of them his blood, and all of them equal strangers to him. Even the dark haired sister, whose eyes still glistened with tears.

Gerard tipped the bag so that the coins cascaded to the rich carpeted floor, all the while staring at Vivienne, who when the last coin fell, lowered her head to her chest.

He left without looking back.

Fifteen years after leaving his home and taking to the seas, Captain Gerard found himself in a familiar dark corner of a seaside tavern with a bottle of rum and a heavy glass. He and his fellow pirates had docked here for the past week to gather some supplies and barter booty with the locals. At dawn they would return to open waters.

He sipped slowly at the cheap rum, lamenting his private stock of choice liquors, and felt it rolling down his throat leaving a fiery trail in its wake. Gerard poured himself another glass and reclined in his seat, watching his first mate, Reyton, charm a slinky blonde not too far away. She was laughing at something the comely young man whispered into her ear, her neck a graceful arc of pleasure at his soft words. He was drawing a lazy finger up her bare arm and the smile she gave him was coy as her eyes darkened.

Feeling a stab of jealousy, Gerard looked away from them and downed the rum, lifting his hand to the bar maid for another bottle. She brought it promptly and left the moment his coin touched her palm.

He didn’t even feel the sting of insult at her uneasiness anymore. He popped the cork and lifted the bottle for another swig.

May I join you?

Gerard looked up, startled to hear the feminine voice. When he glanced at the speaker, he lowered the bottle down slowly and drank her in instead.

A tall woman in a blue satin dress stood before him, leaning against a wooden post with one hand resting on her hip. She had black hair that tickled the top of her shoulders, along with almond brown eyes and skin the shade of dark rum. She was stunning, but there was something that made her seem more than just lovely, a power that could be felt tangibly radiating from her.

She was dangerous.

She smiled down at him, a smile that he had never evoked in a woman. It was an invitation that no woman had ever volunteered and coins could never purchase.

Are you so surprised to see me, Captain? she asked, eyes teasing from under her long lashes.

Was I supposed to be expecting you? he replied gruffly. He felt uneasy and wasn’t sure if it was because he was just nervous or if this striking vixen was a real threat to him.

She gave a husky chuckle, and her eyes flashed at him. Expecting me? Perhaps not. But I should say that you know me very well, although you’d never realize it.

She smoothed her hands slowly down her dress, lingering over the curve of her hips, obviously aware of Gerard’s eyes following the trail of her fingers, and looked at the empty chair across from him. You never answered me, Captain. Am I welcome to sit with you or not?

Sit if you’d like.

She surprised him when she sat down in a fluid motion, never taking her eyes from his and took a long, slow swallow from his bottle of rum, her mouth lingering over the rim. He was shocked that she was speaking to him at all. The idea that she would want to share his company had him questioning whether she was a real woman and not a drunken illusion.

Do you often sit alone? she asked, passing the bottle back to him. Her silky voice had an accent that Gerard could not place.

He took a swig from the bottle and could taste her mouth on the rim, a dark spicy fruit that made his skin flush with heat. Where are you from? he asked in his rough rasp, ignoring her question. He leaned forward, as much as to hear her through the din of the bar as to breathe in her perfume.

She laughed, and it was deep and sweet, a husky sound that sent shivers down his spine. I am from no place that you’ve been, pirate. But if you should like to get further acquainted with my country, I would be happy to give you a taste to take with you on the open seas.

She smiled again, her dark red lips peeling back to display her shining white teeth. Gerard studied her for a moment, wondering how such a magnificent creature should choose him from all the men sitting here, especially considering his gruesome appearance.

Perhaps that is why she chose him, figuring that with his looks he might pay more than another man would for a chance to feel the satin of her skin. Still, he doubted her intentions. A woman with all her teeth, rich flawless skin, and all her real hair could not possibly be a tavern whore. So the question remained. Why had she chosen him?

It didn’t take Gerard long to decide that it hardly mattered. Never again would he have the chance to feel the embrace of a woman, paid for or no. She was mysterious and that made her all the more alluring. He would give his soul for a chance to feel her underneath him, to pretend for a night that a woman wanted him.

I should like to have that taste you promised, but my gold will only take me so far. He threw a hefty coin purse on the table and met her eyes evenly. Gold could easily be replaced. This graceful figure was a unique find. Dangerous or no.

She picked up the purse and weighed it, her brows arched in amusement. Hmm, quite a sum in here, sir. Another woman might count herself honored to be of such monetary worth, she smirked. But I don’t believe I asked for payment in return for my company, Captain Gerard. I think we both know that I am not a woman of… trade.

How do you know me?

Rumor was that the infamous Sea Ogre had made port, she said, running her fingers suggestively over the rum bottle. Gerard’s mouth went dry as he watched her. I was informed that you are he. Is this not so?

He gave a bitter laugh. And you thought that you should see for yourself my ugliness?

Her eyes narrowed, but not with anger. I thought I should see for myself the fierce pirate that has escaped the clutches of naval guards throughout Kovya, stolen an empress’s ship and could easily be the richest man in the realm. How many men, handsome or otherwise, can say the same?

If you are not seeking payment, then what is it that you seek, woman?

Her smile was sinful as she stood up and crossed over to him. With a heavy plunk she dropped the purse into his lap and leaned over so that he could admire her breasts that were barely stuffed into her tight bodice. With a soft satiny hand, she cupped his face and looked wistful, The things this face was meant for… such a shame no one has ever really seen you, Gerard. Beyond this ugly mask of scars and deformity you are so much more than is credited to you. I promise not to make their mistake. Come with me, and I will show you what I seek.

Her eyes flickered to his and he was trapped in their depths. They were almost as black as his own eyes. With her so close, his thoughts became muffled. The constant warning he had felt since her arrival was still churning his stomach, but another form of restlessness overcame him. Lust glazed his eyes and made his hands tremble. He stood up and was mildly shocked to realize that she was only a few inches shorter than his six and a half feet.

Who are you?

She slid her arms around his neck and nuzzled his mashed lump of a nose with hers, her lips fragments of an inch away from his, so that when she whispered he felt her hot breath on his mouth. Shall we go find out?

He was afraid to touch her, thinking that he must be passed out drunk and alone in his room and this was all a sensual dream. But then she pulled away and took his hand in hers. She led him through the crowded tavern and up the stairs to the rooms above.

Gerard could barely breathe.

Was this truly happening? Could another person look on him without disgust and fear? When they reached the room, the woman hastened to light the oil lamp. Gerard shut and locked the door, still waiting to wake up or for her to change her mind. He hesitated, his hand still on the lock.

Something wasn’t right. But could he really refuse her? When he turned back to look at her, she was already removing her satin dress and his reservations vanished completely.

The dress slipped to the floor in a shiny puddle of sapphire allowing him to see all her bare perfection underneath and his heart stopped in his chest. She smiled and ran her hands over the smooth, warm flesh that he was aching to touch.

Gerard, she purred, come and know what has been denied you.

It was almost dawn before the pirate’s appetite was slaked, and he had fallen asleep. The woman smiled as she pulled on her dress and admitted that her appetite had equaled his. The ugly pirate captain had been a voracious lover, almost equal in fervor to her Prince. It had been a long while since she had enjoyed such a simple coupling without her usual additives to the act. She had been surprised to find herself so satisfied after what she might usually consider a frugal pleasure.

She picked up his coin purse from the floor where his trousers had dropped and set it beside him on the bed table, another reminder that this night was not bought and paid for.

Not with gold anyway.

The tavern was dark and empty now. There was a rustling in the kitchen from the bakers who were just starting their day, but no one saw her leave. Outside, a man was waiting for her, leaning against the wall smoking a long pipe with her cloak over his arm.

When he saw her, he mutely handed her the cloak, and she lifted it up over her hair and hid her features under its shadow. They moved through the dark narrow streets toward the harbor. The air was cold, but she wasn’t aware of it. Her blood was still pulsing from her passions with the pirate.

A muffled cough to her left gave her pause. She looked and saw a street urchin huddled under rags in the alley. She stopped and the man at her side paused as well.

My lady? he said in a hushed voice.

Did you hear word from Nolan? she asked, her eyes still on the little child shivering in the darkness.

Yes, my lady. He is still in Vence doing the Snake’s will.

Tell him that he is to immediately set sail and come south. I have business for him here.

Yes, my lady, the man said.

Leave me, she commanded with a smile. I may be a while yet, and I want Nolan informed as quickly as possible.

He bowed and retreated into the darkness, making haste toward the harbor. She walked into the alley and knelt beside the pathetic urchin who was coughing bitterly in its sleep. She thought the child was a boy, but it was hard to tell. The face was dirty and the hair long and matted, but the features, small and innocent, could have belonged to either sex.

The child opened up his eyes when he heard her approach, two shining marbles of blue in that grimy face. He nearly screamed in fright, but she shook her head with a finger to her lips and held out a flask of honeyed wine to him that had been tucked inside her cloak.

Drink this, she cooed to him. It shall warm your bones and ease that tickle in your throat.

He snatched it from her and drank in greedy gulps, and the suspicion in his eyes waned as the wine bloomed hot in his belly.

See? Isn’t that better? she said, her smile kind.

Thank ye, Miss, the boy said in his small voice. His face was hollow from hunger, his lips cracked from thirst, and his eyes far older than his years from his life on the streets. His eyes still regarded her with apprehension, but he was also in awe of her beauty.

Such a dear little thing you are, my pet. How pretty you would look after some hot water and clean clothes, she remarked.

I can’t get no clothes or hot water, Miss, the urchin said, guzzling more of the wine, and sniffling as snot dripped from one nostril.

No, no, she said. You are right. You will die soon on these streets. I’d say in a week or so.

His eyes widened, and he started to cry, his tears making clean tracks down his cheeks. His skepticism was swallowed by fear; she could smell his terror like salted fish in her nose, and her blood raced faster. I no want to die, Miss. Please help me, Miss!

Help you, my pet? she said, smoothing his gritty hair back. If only I could. No matter of clean clothes or hot water will cure you of that horrid cough. You are beyond saving.

Please, Miss! Please!

Well… I suppose that there is something I could do.

Oh thank ye, Miss! Thank ye! he cried out in relief.

No, no, my pet, she said, her smile widening. She could hear his heart start to pound hard in his little chest, thundering against his frail ribs when he saw her front teeth lengthen and sharpen. I wouldn’t thank me just yet.

The next morning, Captain Gerard woke up alone, which he knew before he opened his eyes. He sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He could still smell the mysterious woman’s perfume lingering on the sheets, dark and rich, like musk and spices.

The night had been a blur of skin and heat accompanied by a pleasure that Gerard had assumed he would never know from a woman’s touch. The coin purse he had tossed over last night sat on the bed table.

He reached over and felt the weight. By his estimate, she hadn’t taken one coin. A woman’s wailing sob came echoing up through the floors. It was what had awakened him in the first place. He grunted in annoyance and ran a hand over his face. What she could be so upset about at this hour, he had no idea, but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end with each fresh cry that shot up through the floor.

Reyton burst into the room with a knowing grin. His shirt was half open, exposing his bare chest, and his blue eyes were bright with mischief. Gerard had recruited his first mate two years ago from the naval company of Trislan and the young man had quickly risen in the ranks of his crew. Reyton had been drawn more to the life of piracy where he had his fill of danger, women and drink than the rigid one of an officer within Treslan navy.

Gerard also suspected that like himself, Reyton had also been escaping the life at home as much as the one in the navy. He had always been very secretive about his family and from what Gerard could tell, Reyton wanted to keep it that way.

Aha! There he is, the hero of the hour, the man after my own heart, the irresistible sea beast himself! He pulled a stool from the corner and sat on it across from the blushing captain.

Shut up, you ass, he snapped at the young sailor.

Oh please, Gerard, old man, you must tell me. Did she taste as delectable as she looked?

Redy…

Was her skin as soft as I imagined it to be?

Redy...

Was her kiss as incredible as—

Gerard kicked the stool out from under him. It was you that sent her to me then?

Reyton chuckled and shook his head while he got up and shoved a hand through his tangled blonde hair. I’m sorry, sir, but if that angelic creature had approached me first, she would have been warming my bed last night and not yours.

Another sharp wail came from downstairs.

"Light be damned! What is that woman going on about?" Gerard demanded.

Reyton shuddered, and his young face turned grave. Nasty business. Found a body in the alley this morning, or what was left of it. Blood and guts everywhere. They’re saying it was a rabid dog that made a meal of an orphan. He swallowed hard and shook his head. I’ve never seen a dog eat like that before though.

Gerard’s hairs were now so stiff on the back of his neck it felt like tiny needles pricking into his skin. Come, Redy. We must assemble the men. I want to be off this rock and back out to sea before noon.

Reyton nodded and crossed the room quickly. Before he shut the door, he paused and inquired, Are you sure you don’t want to stay and see if that minx finds you again?

Gerard pulled his chin in toward his neck and looked up at Reyton through thick lashes. Before noon, he repeated, his tone heavy with the threat of punishment if any more comments were made.

His first mate smirked and went forth to carry out his orders.

It wasn’t until a few days later that Gerard confessed to Redy that he had begun to feel strange. The symptoms were slight at first. He would get lingering headaches that lasted for many hours. Rum and sleep helped at first, but they were hardly cures. When he woke, he found clumps of hair on his pillow. He lost his appetite as the days went on, refusing even spirits. Then neither food nor drink would stay in his stomach, even when he was forced to eat. Reyton insisted that he see a healer at the next port.

Gerard, this is serious. You are not only frightening the crew who all assume it’s contagious, but… the young pirate paused, not wanting to say it out loud, but you could die.

Why should you care if I die?

Reyton opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of anything to say. He blinked in confusion, unsure of his motivation to help the ailing man, but aware that it was there regardless. He carried a certain amount of respect and even fondness for the cantankerous Captain, but there had always been something off-putting about him too that went beyond his ugliness.

The Captain seemed unfazed and continued in a quiet calm voice, We all die. There is no stopping it, Redy. It feels as if… the light in my soul is burning out, like covering a candle with a jar. I am just sputtering out. I don’t even know if I can call it dying.

Gerard shook with violent tremors, even in his sleep and as the days passed his large frame shrank as sickness transformed him from an ogre of the sea to a brittle living corpse. His head was bald, his sallow skin burned with constant fever, and his eyes were bloodshot with pain. He slept for long periods of time; he went days without waking.

After a month of force-feeding and long episodes of sleep with no sign of improvement, Reyton and the others met to discuss what steps should be taken.

Let us seek de aid of Xantho, Henrí, a small dark-skinned man with large golden eyes had finally said. Or else lose ‘im. We canna’ do much fah ‘im na’ mah. Xantho, she be de only one tah save de Captain.

Xantho? another crewman spat. Why should we stretch our necks so far for the bastard? Taking him to a healer is one thing. Taking him to Xantho is to approach death’s door ourselves.

Aye, Craug’s right, a rower agreed. Who’s he to us that we should risk our lives for him?

He’s our Captain, Reyton said coldly. And without him, you’d still be a slave tasting the sting of a whip at that fat empress bitch’s whim. Perhaps you’d prefer to lick her toes again like the dog she treated you as?

The rower scowled and Henrí smiled. Redy is right. All of us owe de Captain what we have. Widout ‘im we’d be—

Cabin boys, slaves. And condemned prisoners, Reyton interrupted. Gerard has given us a chance to become princes of the sea. He is our leader, and we would do well to remember that.

But Xantho? Craug argued. You know what they says about her, Redy.

The first mate smiled and shook his head. I’ve heard the ridiculous rumors, Craug. She bathes in blood, and she is so ugly that a man’s heart will burst with one look at her face. She can command the powers of the earth and lives in a wood haunted by elven ghosts who devour men’s souls. Reyton rolled his eyes. I’m no longer a child terrified of nursery tales.

If you don’t believe that she’s dangerous like they say, why do you believe that she can heal the Captain? another asked from the shadows. Reyton recognized Nicholi, the ship’s best archer, his plain face marked with skepticism.

Reyton shrugged. We’ve seen every healer this half of the world, every crone in every village and all of them are dumbfounded. The worst that could happen is that Xantho can’t help him either.

Xantho is not of dis wuhld, Henrí insisted. She will be able ta cuh ‘im if dere ah any dat can.

It’s settled, Reyton said, slapping his hands on the table. Set the course for the witch of Loordes.

And pray to whatever gods you hold that Redy is right and the worst that happens is she says no, Craug said, hocking another puddle of phlegm to the floor. Else we will all die with the Captain.

Long elegant fingers drummed across the satin clad knee of the woman. She was lounging on a high-backed wooden chair across from a small table where a board game was laid out.

You did well in Vence, she said to her companion. The Snake was very pleased with the blood spilt there, but I have another task for you. One of much greater importance. You heard that the Sea Ogre isn’t faring so well these days?

Glowing yellow eyes regarded her, before they returned to the board. How unfortunate for him. He must be in a great deal of pain.

The woman smiled, Undoubtedly. In fact, so great is his need that he is on his way to Xantho, the woman said leaning over to move her game piece. Her tone was casual, but the way her eyes flared at the name of Xantho betrayed her hatred. She flexed her long fingers over the game, and her beautiful face contorted with rage. Her playful attitude had quickly morphed into a more violent mood.

She got in my way once before. I will not have it again. Are we understood?

Perfectly, her companion growled, and she saw the smooth, length of his fangs behind his lips. You will have your Captain within a fortnight.

She smiled wide, revealing white, wet fangs of her own. Oh I do hope so, my pet. I do hope so.

Chapter Two

Words of mist and shadow…

Behind a long desk made of dark wood that was covered with an assortment of notes and maps, Reyton nursed a brandy in Gerard’s quarters and admired the window of stained glass behind him that portrayed a siren scene. The sun was beginning to set and its orange light illuminated the tableau of sailors being lured to their doom brilliantly. Redy wondered if there wasn’t a sort of irony to the mosaic and the course he’d set for the crew now.

Was Xantho their doom, or their salvation?

They were two days away from the black shores of Loordes now. The Captain was barely conscious, and it seemed that he was also a bit delusional. When he would wake it was as if he were still held hostage by his dreams, or nightmares, as they must have been, given the look on his face. His cheeks were gaunt and his eyes were bloodshot pits of black. Reyton was afraid that the fierce Captain was going to die before they could get him to Xantho.

Redy.

Reyton turned sharply and saw Henrí in the doorway. His dark brow was damp with sweat, and he refused to meet Redy’s eyes. Henrí?

Henrí hesitated and looked down at his shuffling feet. Reyton felt a sudden chill of fear, and it was as if he had shards of broken glass in his belly. He narrowed his eyes in frustration.

"What is it, Henrí? Don’t stand there dancing around. I don’t think that my nerves can handle any more strain."

Dere is a ship dat belongs to de Snake upon us.

Reyton set his thick glass of brandy hard on the desk. What?

De flag on de mast beahs de seal of Sepán.

Reyton cursed and Henrí added, And anodah dat beahs de sigil of Aradria.

Why would that demon bitch be after us?

I do nah know. Do you suppohse de Prince is on it? Henrí’s quivering voice betrayed his fear.

Reyton shook his head, trying to grasp what was happening. Who else? He cursed bitterly and thrust himself out of his chair. This was much worse than any of the scenarios that had entered his thoughts when he’d first seen Henrí standing there. Nolan, the Goblin Prince, wasn’t a foe that he wanted to face now. Night was almost upon them and grem eyes saw in the shadows like hawks saw in the daylight. The men were tired and edgy and in no condition for a battle, but Reyton saw no other choice. They couldn’t outrun them.

Prepare the men for battle, he said, as surprised as Henrí at how calm he sounded.

Redy? Henrí swallowed. Redy, we cannah fight!

Reyton turned his back on the shaking pirate and studied the glass window. We must fight. We either win or die. The consequences of being taken prisoner are far worse than death. Prepare the men.

Redy–

Prepare them!

Henrí nodded and left without another word. The Sepán was the symbol of Aradria, a she-demon that had reigned for years on a blackened island covered with venomous reptiles and grems. Most of what was known about her was whispered legend and perhaps only half of what was said was true. She was a priestess of the god Sepán, a large serpent that ruled in the fiery bowels of the earth. She devoured souls of men and drank their blood. At her side was the Goblin Prince Nolan, intelligent and fierce as a warrior and ruthless and predatory as an animal.

Reyton wasn’t a pious man. His family had been deeply rooted in the dark church of Darian, where piety consisted of sexual perversions and blood rituals. He had never known of Elo, the god who Henrí worshipped, until becoming a member of Gerard’s crew. The dark native from Andyler taught him about Elo, the Eternal Light, but it wasn’t until now that Reyton prayed to the god, as Henrí had shown him.

Elo, Creator of all things, wicked and righteous, evil and just: please let the Captain reach Xantho in time. Elo, be with the crew of the Asayo. Protect us from the evil creatures that we will most certainly be meeting, and if it is written, let us live.

The Asayo was once an empress’s ship. The wood was a light, creamy color tinted with grey ash. Her sails were not white but a dark blue with constellations embroidered on them. The brigs were filled with food and booty and the quarters had been built for the entourage of royalty.

The Sea Ogre had seized the Asayo from the Empress Toinette of Fellring as she sailed to visit her aunt for the summer. Gerard intercepted her and relieved the Empress of her fine silks and gold. He had spared most of her crew, those that surrendered, and of course her own pampered self was quite intact and unharmed when he left her on old vessel. Upon reaching her aunt, a rather exaggerated version of the tale was circulated about the brave Empress who was attacked by the cruel and ugly Sea Ogre.

Now the Asayo was about to be set upon again, and her new assailants would not be so kind. The crew was busy preparing for battle of the darkest nature. The cannons were being loaded; men were gathering weapons and sending their prayers to Elo, or to whichever god they held dear, that they might be spared from slaughter, or worse, capture.

Reyton stood by the helmsman, a stout man named Harmouth and shouted out over the din of the men, I know what all of you are thinking right now!

The men quieted and gazed up at him.

You’re thinking, please not another lofty speech from Redy.

Some of the men gave nervous chuckles. The others waited in grim silence.

Reyton continued, There is no escaping that ship. There is nowhere to run and no place to hide. We have no choice but to fight that demon whore and her hordes. And fight we will! To the death! Because what comes after capture by that sadistic demon will be worse than death.

The silence of the crew was such that only the waves could be heard slapping against the ship. Reyton put his hands on the banister and met the men, his friends, in the eye.

"Our Captain has chosen us for the Asayo because we are not common men. Those grems have fought and killed soldiers. They have fought and killed merchants. They have killed women and children and tradesmen. But they haven’t fought the likes of us. We are PIRATES!"

A chorus of yells went up from the men. Adrenaline, fear, and excitement were building and it gave Reyton a wild glint in his eye and an eerie enthusiasm for the battle that would soon break.

We are scavengers of the sea, ruthless mercenaries. We rule these waters! We don’t fight like soldiers or merchants. We fight like rabid wolves! And no matter what comes off that boat, we will stand our ground and we will send those fiends to the cursed fires of their maker!

The men cheered and brandished their rough steel swords and clashed them together in the air. Reyton took in the menacing ship on the horizon and saw the flag with the fanged Sepán flying against the orange sky. The sun was about to slip under the horizon and its last rays of light were kissing the sea.

Reyton forced a haughty grin, but his gaze was wary as he watched the grem vessel approach. He would most likely die tonight, and his vanity protested that no one would ever know of his heroism.

Aboard the Blüveldur, the Goblin Prince Nolan stood at the helm watching the pirates scramble like frightened rats on the decks. The Priestess had made her orders clear. Get the Captain, alive. Kill all the others. The Prince licked his black lips in hungry anticipation. He would feast well tonight, as would his grem crew.

The Prince was much larger than a man, but not the largest of his grems, standing at almost seven feet tall. He wore loose black pants, leaving his chest bare, with black leather boots. He had retained the marks of every hurt he’d endured since his creation, which had been some thousands of years ago.

He had grey skin with a soft leathery texture and no hair whatsoever. Three short black horns grew out of his broad forehead, the one in the middle a little longer than the outer two. The tips of his ears were sharpened into hard black points and above his bulbous yellow snake eyes, were brows made from gnarled horns that were like frozen black flames.

Nolan surveyed the Asayo critically and sniffed the air. It was already drenched with the acrid scent of fear.

My orders, my lord? a soft voice said to his right. A willowy woman stood straight as a steel rod next to him. She came to his shoulder, and wore a heavy black cloak that hid her features, but he could still see the ivory column of her neck.

Mathilda, he said to her just as quietly, we should be able to handle these men just fine. I think that we could do without your expertise for the moment. The storms you sent ahead were perfect to stall them. But these grems need to feed, and I can’t have you drowning our dinner.

No, my Prince.

The grems were snarling amongst themselves and slobbering to get a view of the ship of hot-blooded bodies. The grems came in a variety of shapes and sizes, some were the size of a bird or a small cat and others were as big as bears.

They were nocturnal creatures that feasted on flesh, preferably human flesh when they could get a hold of it, but grems were rarely seen off their island, Tulëkhaan, unless they were on an errand for Aradria. Only some grem breeds could swim efficiently, and the majority of them would drown in the water.

Nolan tilted his head in thought. He knew that the Captain was in a delicate state and that his capture must be smooth and gentle in order for the man to survive.

His horned brows narrowed, Actually Mathilda, perhaps you could be of some assistance. Zhan!

A burly cat-like grem approached on all fours. He was a head taller than Nolan when he stood on two legs, with the face of a lion, but in place of a rich soft mane, were sharp curved horns. Zhan was barely intelligible when he spoke, sounding more like he was growling than actually speaking. He was covered with coarse, muddy brown fur. A long tail twitched from behind him as he approached, and his yellow fangs hung over his black lower lip.

My Prince, he growled.

The Goblin Prince divulged his plan to Mathilda and Zhan quickly, and they both nodded. Mathilda approached the stern of the ship and threw back her black hood.

Her face was exposed to the cold, briny wind and it blew her long hair like a silvery banner over her shoulders. She was as pale as moonlight, her skin giving off a subtle blue hue and blonde hair so fair it was nearly white. She had the small, delicate features of a girl, and her eyes were light blue, rimmed with navy, like clouds lined with night.

She was looking up into the sky, her neck gracefully arched back in a pose of exultation. She took a deep breath of salty air and with a hungry smile broke out into a sweet trill. It was a song of mist and shadow that reverberated off the sea and enveloped the sailors. Mathilda's voice, high and pure, birthed the eerie melody, the song of her people, and the grem crew stilled.

All but Nolan, who smiled and boarded a longboat.

Mathilda’s eyes followed him while she continued to sing. Her pale lips formed the magic that was creating a mist over the water. The mist swirled into shapes that evaporated into the evening air, thickening over the water, already shrouding the grem ship. The wind picked up and was pulling the Asayo closer.

At last she proves some worth, the Prince muttered.

Reyton and his men heard the cold song from the enemy ship and felt fear turn the blood pumping hot in their veins to ice. The crew watched in horror as the mist thickened. Reyton ran down to the belly of the Asayo.

The grems are going to board. He swallowed and his voice was rough when he spoke to the grave-faced rowers. I will have men stationed by the portholes to fight them off, but I want you to prepare yourselves for hand-to-hand combat against these beasts.

He then raced back to the upper decks, and doing his best to remain steady, had the men spread along the railing; some went below to guard the rowers who were taking advantage of the Sepán ship’s pause and attempting to pull away.

Reyton stood at the stern of the ship, nervously tightening and loosening his grip on the hilt of his sword. The wind was filling their sails, but it was pushing them closer to their enemies, not farther away.

The cool, beautiful voice they heard on the wind belonged to a wraith. He had seen one once as a child. He and his mother had heard her dark song, as cold and ancient as Northern waters. Wraiths were servants of darkness; their pale bodies an irony to the blackness of their souls. His eyes stayed focused on the mists, waiting for the shadows to come alive.

Mathilda’s melody changed to slow the wind now that the human pirates were close to her beloved Prince and his gory crew of grems. The sky was getting darker by the minute and soon the pirates would be in total darkness.

She raised her arms and the thick mist hovering over the water lifted, so that the crew wouldn’t be able to see her ship, and very soon, not even the stars. Her mouth was moving faster, her trills sharp and smooth, like a deadly blade forged from ice. Her fog had now enveloped the ship. The pirates were going nowhere; they were sailing blind. She could smell their fear on the salty breeze and smiled wide, revealing sharp pointed teeth.

Reyton choked on the fog. It smothered him. Not only did it hinder his course of escape, it made him fearful, dubious, and exposed.

Elo, please help us.

He thought he heard something in the water down below. His eyes narrowed. Either a sea monster was also upon them, or the grems were in the water. He saw nothing but white fog, but his hands that were gripping the wooden railing, felt the shuddering of the boat as something began making its way up.

They’ve latched on! he yelled and brandished his sword. The men all roared, a mixture of challenge and hysteria and gathered tightly around the rails.

Reyton held his breath, waiting for his enemy to pounce over the banister. A brief frozen moment of silence elapsed before a huge drooling grem came growling over the railing. Its jaws were like that of a crocodile, with the stout horns of a rhino making a crown around its head. It was the color of a rotting log and at least a head taller than Reyton. It made a high-pitched screech as it shrieked death at him.

He charged the gruesome creature with a loud battle cry. The grem’s skin was thick and scaly, and it depended on its jaws and talons for weapons rather than a sword. It sank to all fours on the boat, moving with all the speed and grace of a large cat.

You are uglier than I expected, Reyton muttered as he dodged the