Poseidon's Key

By Dawn Avalon

Hidden from a heady 17th century outside world,
who has forgotten even the existence of the ancient Olympian gods,
a small community of priests worships the Eternal Ruler
sea ​​god Poseidon. In their midst the Key to his existence;
his 5 year old daughter Layna.
Until one day disaster strikes and Poseidon's child
is kidnapped by pirates. Poseidon sends his dolphins to save her.
However, the girl disappears without a trace...

Years later, Layna now bears the name Eleanora, the pirates
however get back on her trail. For the daughter of Poseidon
there is only one choice; to hide aboard one of their ships.
And become ship's boy Aron Aele.


“Three captains, three ships will hunt her…
Who will be the first to find her?”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9781447823179

Book preview

Prologue

His own powerful body untouched by time and life, the sea god watched his last, dying descendant. As the ninety-year-old man took his last raspy breaths, the sea god felt stiffness in his own fingers, indicating that his time on Earth was also coming to an end. He scanned the dim, slightly musty room. After years at sea, this captain's home was the final resting place of his only child. Though nothing had been lacking in his life - the sea god had seen to that - his son had no other family. Any longing for romance had been squashed by an irresistible desire for the sea. In his last years, he had been cared for by a hired maid and a manservant. He had never known him as his father. Now, it would only be a matter of days and so Poseidon left, in search of the woman who would again be the key to his eternal existence.

Contrary to what most people believed; the kingdom of the sea god was not hidden in the inaccessible depths of the sea. Those who believed this had been misled by signs and tales specifically designed to lead them astray. In reality, it was located on a magical island of pink rocks and white beaches. There, hidden in the sand, was a treasure trove of pearls of every size and colour. Not to mention the caves filled with gold, silver, and precious stones. All of this would be offered to the woman who agreed to live on the island and bear his child, willingly or otherwise. For an entity who saw everything that happened on his oceans, it did not take long for a storm he had caused to lead him to the future mother of his yet-to-be-conceived child.

Tom! Even above the roar of the storm and the thundering of the waves, the young mother's cry of despair could be heard. The woman clung to the railing, her fearful gaze fixed on the struggling child in the waves. Why wasn't anyone doing anything! She couldn't swim. Around her, crew members of the English ship that had picked them up were running around, fighting against wind gusts that threatened to blow them overboard and unexpected waves that mercilessly swept over the deck.

Help him! she sobbed and sank to her knees. Help my little boy, she whispered. Crying, she reached her hand through the railing. Try to swim this way! she screamed at him. Thank God his Dutch father had taught him how to swim. Until suddenly. No! He went under! She couldn't see his blond head anymore. Oh, God... She was about to jump into the merciless waves herself when suddenly...

I will save your son, came a voice from the waves and she froze. The young mother shook her head, feeling sick. I'm losing my mind now that I've lost my son, she thought.

Do you want your son to live?

Yes! she cried out, despite her own doubts whether anyone was really speaking to her. Then, in amazement, she saw a giant, golden-brown, pearl-clad, half-naked man rise from the waves, her nine-year-old son unconscious in his powerful arms. Her lips parted in shock, she stared at the sea god. Everything, wind, waves, people, seemed frozen in time. She didn't dare move, or even breathe. Was her child really safe in the arms of this giant?

Your son will live... he spoke to her and the tears that had filled her eyes now rolled down her cheeks. In hesitant, shaking movements, she reached out her hands. Give me my son, she whispered.

... as long as you give your life for his.

My life? she stammered. A short, serious nod followed. Yes, I give you my life, she said. Please, give me my son. The woman only heard half of what he said. All she wanted was her child. Don't think lightly about what I'm asking of you, woman. You will never be able to return to your family... since you will bear my child.

Your child?

Poseidon looked at the Portuguese-Greek beauty and nodded. From now on, you will be my wife.

But I'm already married, she stammered, thinking of her Dutch husband. I'm Laynara van Rooyen. Van Rooyen is the name of my Dutch husband.

Not anymore, choose. Either for the life of this child... Or for the further childless existence with your current husband. Does he not care about his...  

Yes, she whispered. Jacob holds little Tom in his heart... My son will live with his father?

Yes.

Then... then let my son live. My life is for him. 

Chief Navigator Franklin Drake stared at the spot where the beautiful woman had just been standing. A wave must have taken her, he thought to himself. Her young son lay unconscious at the rail of the ship. He wrapped a blanket around the child's shoulders and held him close for a moment. He himself had a son of the same age back home in Britain. At that moment, the boy opened his eyes. Mother? fear was evident in his young voice as he looked around.

Your mother has drowned, Drake said, expressing his sad suspicions. Come... It's safer downstairs for you.

What will happen to me now?

You can stay with me and my family until I find a way to get you back to your father... I have a son your age... You can be good friends, even though our countries are not currently on the best of terms.

Thank you, Mr. Drake the child replied politely. His blue eyes were fixed on the waves that had taken his mother from him. It would be months before he could personally tell his father the news of his mother's death, he knew. Perhaps even longer. How likely was it that this English officer would actually return him to his father. Reading the doubts on the child's face, Drake knelt down in front of him and took him by the arms. My wife has a Dutch father, he began to explain. Occasionally, she has contact with a younger sister of her father... If you can keep this secret for me, I will definitely be able to get you home again.

With his blue eyes wide with wonder, the child quickly nodded. Yes, sir, he said rapidly.

A few months later…

In Franklin Drake's thoughts, the face of his father-in-law formed, twisted in grief for the loss of his wife. The mother that his wife had never known. But now his own heart was torn by the sight of his wife's emaciated face. This time it was his own face that was twisted in grief. Only her eyes reminded him of the beauty of her once exotic looks. Though at the moment they held only an echo of the colour and strength that they once radiated. For a moment, Drake tried to recall the history of his father-in-law and his wife…

… Thirty years ago, his father-in-law, the Dutchman Willem Ruyters, had stood at the deathbed of his Javanese princess. Had she looked at him with feverish eyes until her inner flame went out? Had Willem Ruyters loved the mother as much as he loved their daughter?

After the death of his Javanese wife, when the princely family wanted to take his baby, Ruyters fled Java.

In New Amsterdam, he built a new life with his second wife, a fiery beauty from Italy. The woman, unable to bear children herself, had raised Ruyters' daughter as her own.

However, that same year, a war broke out between France and Spain. Captain Willem Ruyters was urgently recalled to the Republic of the Seven United Netherlands. It was not until the year the Treaty of Munster was signed, marking the end of the Eighty Years' War, that he saw his daughter again.

Only to die unexpectedly that same year. Willem's daughter Melanie Ruyters was just twelve, Franklin reminded himself. Four years later, he himself, Franklin Drake, would first meet her. How typical of him to fall in love with a Dutch-Indonesian beauty as a British officer while a war broke out between England and the Republic. Yet he had taken her to London two years later to start a family. How proud he had been four years later when his beautiful son Christopher was born. His gaze briefly turned to the eight-year-old boy who was looking at his sick mother with trembling lips. He had the same dark curls as his mother. Yet his skin had remained lighter. It seemed more sun-coloured like his own. Franklin found his son's grey-green eyes particularly special, which according to his wife, he had inherited from her Dutch father.

Her lips moved. Franklin leaned forward, immediately feeling a hand on his shoulder that prevented him from getting too close. He wanted to whisper how much he loved her and that he was with her, but the lump in his throat seemed to paralyze his tongue.

Christopher, she managed to say with her last strength. Her once melodious voice was nothing more than a whistling crack. The man followed her gaze to the brave little boy standing at the foot of the bed, he swallowed. I promise to protect him, he said, looking intently at his sick wife.

I'm sorry, she whispered with her last breath. A single tear rolled out of her eye and slowly into her ear. She had joined the nearly one hundred thousand victims claimed by the plague epidemic in just a few days of fighting. Her eyes were now empty. She was gone. He couldn't move. 

He tried, but none of his limbs responded. His wife was dead and his heart squeezed tightly. How could this happen?

We have to go, Drake, spoke his good friend James in a subdued tone. Franklin looked at the somewhat stocky man and nodded. They had been friends since they were seven years old. His eyes drifted back to his son, who still stood motionless at the foot of his mother's bed.

We have to go, Chris, he said to the boy. The little guy didn't look up. Christopher, his father tried again. Your mother is not here anymore. Unable to understand wat this meant, the little boy looked up at him. Why was his mother not here anymore? He could still see her lying on her bed, couldn't he? Could still touch her? You have to be very brave now, he heard his father telling him. Remember how brave Tom was?

Christopher thought back to the blonde boy who had stayed with them for almost nine weeks. From day one, they had been the best of friends. Tom's mother had drowned while on board his father's ship. He couldn't save her either. As he looked up at the man, Christopher saw the pain of his own heart reflected in his face. Will she come back?

No. He put his hand on the boy's neck and pushed him out of the bedroom. Father and son took one last look at the deceased woman - James covered her with a sheet - before Franklin closed the door behind them. They then snuck out of the old officer's house through the back. It was dark and foggy outside, couldn't be better. Franklin Drake stopped and put his hand on James' arm. Curious, he looked back.

How are we going to leave? he whispered. The ports are closed. They're patrolling everywhere, he expressed his concerns further. His friend smiled mysteriously and said, There's a Frenchman... His ship is anchored a mile off the coast... We're rowing to it in a small boat with five others. Trust me. You and your son will leave this march of death tonight.

On the other side of the world, Laynara's gaze was fixed on the image that the magical pool was showing. At that moment, she was surrounded by the priests of Poseidon's priesthood, who still worshiped the sea god Poseidon daily.

Occasionally, her face twisted in a grimace as a tormenting pain seemed to break her delicate body. Still, she couldn't take her eyes off her now ten-year-old son. An already grown boy, with a serious look in his eyes. Tom, she said his name in her mind, my dearest son... I love you so much...

Laynara, the eldest priest, Marquan, drew her attention. You must push now. With a wild look in her eyes, the woman looked up at him. Her face pale and sweaty.

Let me have five minutes alone, she barely managed to say. But, my lady.

Go! As High Priestess, a title that Poseidon had personally granted her after their fertile night together, she knew that the others had to obey her. Laynara waited until the last person had left her private room. Her eyes wandered along the white and pink walls of the dripping cave where she would give birth to Poseidon's child. Four torches were sticking out of the walls. To her, they were unnecessary as the microorganisms on the walls provided almost magical lighting. This magical space where she now found herself, however, had been a forced choice of the priests to house her.

The real cave system of this island, an unimaginable space according to the old priest Marquan, was closed off to the priests. Even the image of Poseidon had not been worshiped after the last collapse, a generation ago. Only the first of the four magical pools was still accessible. Here, next to the magical pool, white furs had been laid out for her to lie on.

Where are you? She now moved her whole head back and forth, looking for the sea god who had claimed her. I bear your child! Where are you?

Here. The sea god knelt next to her.

My child will know who her father is, she panted, looking at him with deadly seriousness. A new pain tormented her. Promise me... This child will receive your mark. This child will be more than just your key to your fleshly existence. The woman fought to get the words out.

Only in ancient times... the sea god began.

No, she interrupted him and then groaned. Promise me... This child will truly be a child of Poseidon.

I promise. I will give her my mark. Relief appeared for a few seconds on her face, after which she was again overcome by a pain. Marquan, she screamed. Help me.

The next day, late in the afternoon, the old Marquan placed the newly born child next to her under the furs, where he had to lay her arms around the child. She no longer had the strength to do so herself. She's so beautiful, she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. She is, whispered the old man, a lump in his throat. Let me see her arm, she whispered. There on the top of her forearm was the two-centimeter-wide mark of Poseidon. The golden trident. Name her Layna, she whispered and passed away.

1

With only a backpack and some ducats, the young Christopher Drake boarded Captain Lex Sheppard's ship five years later. It was a 138-foot transport ship, or 39.5 meters. As a second officer, Christopher had earned the right to his own cabin. What looked like a closet with a bed in it, he thought to himself after opening the rickety door. But it was his closet and his bed! The boy quickly put his things down and turned around. 

Who are you? An old, bony man with fluttering white hair and two teeth stood menacingly in front of him. Christopher Drake, sir, he replied smoothly. I am the new second officer.

Ah... I didn't even know we had an old one... Bill Watson is the navigator of the Black Widow... I don't think he'll let a kid like you near his helm.

Then he doesn't know Christopher Drake yet, came a familiar voice. Delighted, Christopher turned to a now grown and healthy blonde Dutch boy. Tom! he exclaimed. The two friends shook hands, followed by a pat on the shoulders. What are you doing here?

Wait a minute... Hey, old man... That's not how you treat new crew members, now Tom scolded the old man. The grumpy man mumbled something unintelligible and shuffled away. There, now we can talk properly... How are you? And your father?

My father passed away a few years ago... Visible shock on Tom's face. I'm sorry. He was a good man. Christopher nodded. 

We fled London shortly after you left, due to the plague... Unfortunately, my father couldn't return to the navy because of it... And here I am now.

A seaman... just like me.

Yes, the boy grinned. Indeed, a seaman... I need to report to the captain, Tom... See you later?

Sure... There aren't that many places to hide on a ship like this.

With a step and a leap, Christopher made his way to the aft deck where the captain's cabin was. He was bursting with pride and energy and hoped that the captain of this ship could see that they had a real asset in him. The boy intended to head straight for the captain's cabin until his gaze suddenly fell on the enormous body blocking the entrance. Baffled, Christopher looked up at the giant Norwegian. A Viking, he thought for a few seconds, but then shook his head.

Let him pass, Mags, came the voice from the captain's cabin. Without a word, the giant stepped a meter to the side and let him pass. The giant didn't fail to give him a warning frown as he passed. Already sufficiently impressed by the man, the boy looked one last time at him before he closed the finely crafted door behind him. Something that almost relieved him, although he realized at the same time that the door wouldn't stop the Norwegian if he wanted to come in. Alright, he thought. Breathe in, breathe out. Sheppard mustn't think I'm a wimp. It's so dim in here... And where is... Oh... There. At the head of a long oak table sat the captain of the Black Widow, Lex Sheppard. The man had an unsympathetic face with a crooked hawk nose and thin lips. His oval head was bald and his teeth filled with gold. Lex was how Christopher had imagined a pirate captain since childhood, menacing. The scars on his body revealed a bloody history, but no one knew the man's nationality or who and where he had served before. The boy had to make an effort not to stare at the white edges on the man's arms and neck. 

So, you served under François L'Olonnais and under Thomas Tew. Your name, Drake... related to?

Yes, Captain... He was one of my ancestors.

Well, that's quite something. The man folded his thin fingers together and looked at him thoughtfully. How old are you now?

Fourteen, Captain.

And your father took you on board at the age of eight... So, you have six years of experience as a ship's boy behind you... And handling a helm?

My father was Chief Navigator, Captain, under L’Olonnais.

I know... Bill Watson is my Chief Navigator, if you will... But he likes his rum a little too much... That's why I decided to take on a second navigator. When he's sleeping off his drunkenness, I expect you to take over as helmsman. Do you understand?

Yes, Captain.

Good. You can go. The man then waved his hand. Was this it? the boy wondered hesitantly and waited for a moment. 

Are you still here?

No, Captain, Christopher responded promptly and stormed out. He looked uncertainly at the giant Norwegian who again looked at him with disapproval. What do you want? he growled.

Nothing, sir... I uh.

Chris, up here! Tom called to him from the aft deck of the

mizzenmast. I'm coming! he replied quickly and climbed the deck in a hurry. A short while later he sat next to his blonde friend in the netting.

It's good to see you again, Tom, the young Drake spoke sincerely expressing his gratitude. How did you end up here? Wasn't your father a wealthy farmer?

Yes... He still is.

Oh... And what does he think of your career choice?

The blonde boy shrugged. I tried working on a Dutch cargo ship for a while... But it didn't really suit me.

Why not? The boy really wanted to know.

Too disciplined. And I usually had tasks below deck, and you know I have to see the waves...

I hear you... I'll introduce myself to the chief navigator. And he got ready to climb back down. Tom, however, put his hand on young Drake's shoulder. Don't bother. Watson is still sleeping off his boozing. He won't be coherent until the afternoon.

Nevertheless, the chief navigator was currently in the captain's cabin. You're sure this is the boy, he asked, expelling a rum-scented breath. The bald captain looked at his companion, a man with a slight overweight, and greasy brown hair.

You were there when Madame Gael told us about the boy.

Princely blood leads us to the island... How do you know he's a prince?

Because forty years ago, Willem Ruyters, a captain of the West Indian Company, kidnapped a princess from the island of Java. From the rich branch of the family, I might add. Our handsome Christopher is her grandson.

I don't trust him.

You don't have to trust him... As long as he leads us to the Island.

And what are you going to tell him to convince him?

The truth. 

Christopher Drake soon found out that Bill Watson was a rough man in his thirties who cared more about his bottle of rum than keeping the ship on course. Almost every night, the boy was forced to recalculate the course they were sailing, using his own compass and octant. It often took him half the night to correct the ship's course. The young Drake was surprised that the captain let his navigator continue in this way. Although the boy had quickly found his place among the crew, he had not yet formed an opinion about his new captain. The wiry man rarely came out of his cabin, so he was surprised when the captain summoned him after six months at sea. Can I do something for you, Captain? The handsome boy was always polite and the unattractive man smiled to himself. You're almost too polite for a pirate, Drake... Sit down, rum? Christopher shook his head briefly. Fine... In the past six months, I've been closely following your actions on board this ship, he began. You get along well with the crew, as I expected." He paused and waited for a response from the boy. 

Thank you, Captain, said the boy quickly, when he realized. And you're smart... You've learned, I mean. Can read and write?

Yes, Captain, the boy responded hesitantly. Why is he asking me that? the boy wondered to himself. For a long time, Sheppard stared silently at the boy, his gaze narrowing. Anonymity is a strength and a weakness that you must use as a captain of a pirate ship depending on the situation, he suddenly broke the tense silence. On one hand, to instill fear in people... On the other hand, to mislead the Royal Navy of any nation... If people know too much about you, they can use it against you at any time... Therefore, never reveal too much about yourself. 

Yes, Captain, the boy replied, though he did not understand what his ominous captain truly wanted to convey.

My trust in my crew, in you, reaches so far that if you ever betray me, I will personally keelhaul you... Do you understand, young Drake? he spoke with a clear warning in his voice. Christopher swallowed. Yes, Captain.

Good. I want you to do something for me... Though I realize that this request is quite infamous. That's why I will first give you trust and tell you something that the rest of the crew doesn't know. The captain's gaze narrowed again as he looked at the boy. Christopher patiently waited for the man to continue.

Bill and I were picked up from an orphanage in Havana by Jan Reyning, a Danish pirate. When he died, Bill and I went our separate ways. He tried it as a farm labourer... And I looked for a new captain. A Dutchman, though everyone called him Rock the Brazilian. Have you ever heard of him? Christopher swallowed. He had certainly heard of this man. He was unusually cruel and impulsive and he hated Spaniards above all else.

I only know the stories, the boy replied as neutrally as possible. He did not know to what extent his own captain hated or admired The Brazilian.

Well, if they are cruel, believe them. At the end of every month that I served under him, he gave me a scar on my body. Something to remind me of him, he always said... I sailed under him for four years until I was washed overboard by a merciful wave. You're a good-looking boy, Drake. At that moment, the boy's heart stopped beating. Unconsciously, he stepped back. Sheppard saw it. Relax. I have no ambition to emulate my previous captain... I expect you to keep this story to yourself... Can I trust you in this, Second navigator Drake? His own integrity was sufficient to convincingly answer Yes, Captain. 

And now... Do you trust me? Visible shock on the face of the boy. He couldn't help it. This was a question he asked himself daily, and after all these months, he still couldn't answer it.

Be honest.

Christopher looked at his captain, swallowed, hesitated. 

I don't want to offend you, Captain... But I can't give an answer yet. Sheppard nodded slowly, moving his thin lips in and out.

A lie will offend me more... But it makes me doubt telling you more...

… For the past ten years, he had gathered all the information he could about the Island. It had become more than a wish to find this place. He could almost smell it... taste it. If Bill Watson had been able to make sense of all the clues... But that was also the reason why he had hired the young Drake, among others, on the recommendation of the old fortune-teller Madame Gael of Port Royal. As he looked at the boy, he pulled out of his drawer a roll of three parchment and a number of unclear sketches. He laid his collection on the table for Christopher to see.

I want you to use this to calculate a course to Isla Incognita, Sheppard suddenly said plainly.

Isla Incognita? But that's just a myth! The boy exclaimed spontaneously. Lex laughed a little scornfully and shook his head. I know you haven't decided if you can trust me or not... But you've been in this business for so long... Nothing is truly a myth... Especially not an island in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle... Trust me on that!

There is no island- A gesture from the captain silenced the boy. The reason why no one knows that there is an island there, is because the whole area is cursed. Cursed by Poseidon himself. Tell me what you know about Isla Incognita.

Nothing, honestly. My father told me a story once that there are people living there who deny the True God. People who still worship the old gods from ancient times.

The True God. Do you believe in Him?

I don't know... Is that important?

If it were, then you made the wrong career choice... because men like us... He laughed... Let's say we won't be eating rice pudding with golden spoons.

I don't think it's that simple, muttered the boy. Christopher startled when he saw his captain frown. Sorry, Captain. I meant nothing by it.

The religions of my crew do not interest me... I want you to trust my knowledge... No, my knowing about the existence of this island and calculate a course for me.

For a week, Christopher Drake sat together with his best friend Tom van Rooyen bent over the parchment and sketches on the deck of the Aft castle. Several times he was heard cursing and grumbling as he shook his head in frustration and threw a newly drawn sea chart overboard. Until finally, after a spontaneous insight from his Dutch friend, he calculated the course to Isla Incognita, the island where the Temple Order of Light and Truth was hidden.

2

The little girl looked at the white shells next to her feet in the water. She followed the ebb and flow of the salty water for a while. Further out in the deep, some dolphins were swimming, she knew. Eternally vigilant.

Not too far, Layna, called the old priest Marquan from the beginning of the beach. He was still about thirty meters away from her. Nohoo, called the little girl somewhat defiantly back. She was not walking too far into the water. Although she did not quite understand why the old man was so upset. She could swim after all. Now at only ten meters away, the wiry, sun-tanned man sank into the warm sand. His eyes followed the actions of the toddler with fondness. The girl was a spitting image of her mother, their former high priestess. The same mocha-colored skin, the sleek dark brown almost black hair and the almond-shaped eyes. Although Laynara's eyes were brown and not like the little Layna's jade green.

The eyes of Poseidon, whispered the old man to himself.

Meanwhile, the toddler had walked further into the water to the place where the dolphins could come to her. Conscious of her vulnerability, the animals swam cautiously around her and let her small hands pet them.

I wish I could swim as far as you, just like you, she told them. She sadly placed her cheek on the forehead of one of the dolphins. The sea beckoned irresistibly to the child in a glitter and colour display that only her eyes could perceive. Carefully she looked at the old priest. His eyes were not on her, she saw. Taking a quick step further into the sea, the water already reached her shoulders! Excitement took hold of the little girl. First one foot off the ground, then the second... She was floating! Layna spread her arms and let herself drift in the waves. The two dolphins stayed with her constantly, she noticed. It gave her such a wonderful feeling of freedom. She felt like one with the waves!

Layna! her name suddenly sounded from the distance. Even panic could be heard in the voice. Curious, the little girl turned towards the sound and saw that she had drifted completely away! Any other child would have panicked, but Layna only smiled. That old man worries too much, she said to the dolphins, who made confirming sounds. She grabbed the dorsal fin of one of the dolphins and let herself be brought back closer to the shore. The old Marquan was already waist deep in the waves, she saw. As soon as they were close enough, he lifted her out of the water.

Thank you, friends, she called out to the dolphins and waved to them. In response, the animals rose out of the water and moved away on their powerful tail fins. When the animals had disappeared, the girl looked up at the stern wrinkles of her mentor.

I know the sea calls to you, Layna... But promise me you won't drift away again. There was more concern than anger in his voice, she heard. I always come back, don't I? she asked in a small voice.

I know... But the sea is not always friendly... Oh... the sun is setting again, he said with his gaze on the setting sun. We have to go. The old man walked