Sailing Magic: An Order of the Pen Press Anthology

By Sarah Rodecker and Helena S. George

Ships are a timeless symbol of adventure, promising individuals the opportunity to explore worlds unknown. Sailing Magic features ten exciting stories that will take you on fantastical journeys to lands you've never seen before!

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Order of the Pen Press L.L.C
• Release date: May 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223465911

Book preview

Heir of the Silver Throne: © 2024 Morgan J. Manns

The Phantom: © 2024 H. L. Davis

The Man Who Caught a Falling Star: © 2024 D. T. Powell

The Gilded Horizon: © 2024 Heather Griffin

The Princess from the Sea: © 2024 Elizabeth D. Marie

Questing Hall: © 2024 Helena Š. George

Outcasts of the Addan: © 2024 Denica McCall

Bard for Hire: Will Travel: © 2024 Sarah Rodecker

Blue Sails: © 2024 Claire Tucker

Luck of the Emerald Venture: © 2024 Elizabeth Anne Myrick

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design by Just Venture Arts

ISBN: 9798884655300 (KDP Paperback)

First Edition

Heir of the Silver Throne by Morgan J. Manns

The ship’s crew erupted into a collective whoop as the captain hammered a tap into the barrel.

Let the ale flow, men! Tonight, we celebrate!

Tin mugs clinked as frothy ale overflowed their rims. The deck glistened as each man attempted to catch his share of the liquid gold.

Amidst the uproarious laughter, Fin observed from the quarterdeck above. He felt no inclination to indulge in the moonlit drink with his fellow crewmembers. Recent events had left his stomach whirling enough as it was.

Stormy memories flashed before his eyes. Golden nets ensnaring a water beast once thought uncatchable. Over twenty men, himself included, surrounded the lone creature to overpower it. Guttural screams and slashing claws. A triumph, one he should have been proud to be a part of. So, why wasn’t he?

He shook his head, pushing the uncomfortable memories away. It didn’t matter how he felt. The hardest part was over. Home was, quite literally, on the horizon. 

Tucking his hands into his coat pockets, he drew a deep breath, savoring the cool ocean breeze. He swore he could smell the faint smell of woodsmoke and pine coming from the distant shoreline—the unmistakable smell of home. 

Tomorrow, the tides would rise and the bustling city docks would open. He could hear the triumphant cheers of the city people now as they displayed their prized catch to all who gathered. He swallowed hard. Not everyone present would be happy with what they’d done. 

Below, the crew members erupted into a shared sea shanty. The lively tune should have raised his spirits but instead drove him deeper into his ache for home. He longed to hear his wife singing lullabies to his sweet girls. 

Leaning against the ship’s railing, he wiped away fatigue with a weathered hand. He tried to anchor his thoughts on what had driven him onto this ship in the first place. It certainly wasn’t the lure of promised fame. 

He sighed and withdrew the sea glass pendant from under his tunic—a gift from his wife. Smoothing each colorful shard secured into the center opal, he reminded himself that he only wanted enough coin to ensure his family’s comfort for years to come, and a chance to help his people understand their enemy. The cargo secured below deck promised the fulfillment of his aspirations without doubt.

He tucked the pendant back under his shirt. Tomorrow, Fin planned to collect his share of the bounty from the Lord of the Seasalt Isle and head to his cottage outside the town. Perhaps first he’d buy his daughters gifts from the market—new ribbons and sweet bread. New earrings for his wife. He imagined their smiles and found himself wearing one himself.

Yet, doubt laced his thoughts and Fin’s face turned into a worried frown. How would his wife, Sahila, receive him? Hopefully, when she saw the gold he’d have, she’d forget the harsh words they’d exchanged before he left. 

Their heated argument haunted him with every league he’d ventured into forbidden waters. She hadn’t wanted him to leave, saying they could get by with what they had, him working as a fisherman. But, he knew he had to do something. 

The creatures of the Black Sea were encroaching on their cove, driving away the fish. When a brave captain and his crew promised to find a way to bring one of the beasts back for the Lord Draugr to study, Fin volunteered his hand. If they succeeded, he thought, perhaps his daughters would live in a world without fear of the darkened waters. Understanding their enemy might carve a way for their defeat. Maybe his wife would let their daughters play on the beach if she knew it was safe for them. 

He stepped to the railing, letting his gaze drift over the horizon. Warm lantern light dotted the villages along the distant coast. One of those flickering glows belonged to his family. Their little cottage overlooked the sea on that very shoreline. He’d built it with his own hands a decade ago.

More than a few sea shanties later, the shuffle of boots behind him made him turn. One of his crewmates stumbled toward him, ale slopping over his long black and grey beard.

Fin’s mouth curved into an amused grin. Jeosh, what are you doing up here? Shouldn’t you be down celebrating with the rest of the crew?

The man hiccupped as he approached. Drank too much, Fin. I’m next in line to guard and I’m in no con...co...condition. Can you take ov’r? He extended a chained key, swaying as he did so.

Fin swallowed hard, thinking of the creature they had imprisoned below. I’m not sure I’m qualified to watch it, he admitted, shying away from the gilded key. It’s dangerous and—

Jeosh chuckled. Ah, you don’t have to worry. Out of the water, she’s hardly a threat. And with this, she can’t influence ya. When he held out the key again, Fin knew he wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

Fin pressed his lips together and accepted. Placing the chain around his neck, overlapping with the pendant, he said, I’ll head there straight away.

Jeosh smiled and held his cup out in a cheering gesture. I owe ya, Fin

FIN HESITATED ON THE bottom rung. The belly of the hull was quiet, a stark contrast from the celebrations above. He held out his lantern as his eyes swept the dimly lit space. Taking a steadying breath, he cautiously approached the cells, the weight of the key upon his chest reminding him of his responsibility.

He avoided looking too closely at the locked bars, afraid of what they held within. No noise from the creature greeted him. Settling into a canvas chair near the secured desk on the wall, he sighed. Hopefully, it was sleeping.

Fin set down his lantern and flipped open the log book on the desk, his hand trembling as he wrote his name in red ink. The color reminded him too much of blood. He swallowed down his fear. Seeing as he was the new keeper of the key, it had to be recorded.

Movement behind the bars had his hands flying to the key around his neck, fearful he had already lost it. 

With the key firmly in his grasp, he turned. The locked cage was shadowed, the lantern light only reaching the first few feet. What the light did illuminate, made him suck in a tight breath. It was the mermaid—and she was awake. 

A long trail of dark raven-colored hair cascaded across the floor. His eyes followed the strands. They led to golden eyes flickering in the lantern light. Eyes that were staring directly at him. He tightened his grip on the key.

Something was different about the girl. Leaning toward the cell, holding his lantern forward like a ward against evil, he observed the mermaid closer.

She resembled half of the beast they’d battled the day before. Her face was still angular, her ears stretching upward into tips. But only a few scales lingered upon her neck and shoulders. Nothing like the scaled armor she adorned in the water. He glanced at her hands, searching for her claws. Instead, webbing lined delicate human-like fingers. And her tail—her most distinguishing feature—was simply gone, replaced by frail, pale legs.

What are you staring at, human? Her voice was sharp, echoing off the walls in a piercing rhythm.

Fin’s eyes widened. The cloth gag had fallen below her neck and she had found a way to free her hands. He pressed his hands against his ears. She must not sing! 

Fin remembered the key around his neck and lowered his hands. Right. She couldn’t influence him with this magical item touching his skin. You...You speak the common tongue? Surprisingly perfect, with just a hint of an accent. That was unexpected. He had assumed they only had their own barbaric language. She didn’t offer a response, only huddling in on herself, glaring with those sharp golden eyes.

She didn’t appear dangerous in this form—just a small girl locked in a cell. But he knew better. These creatures wielded magic, dark and dangerous. They could sing a sailor to their demise as easily as they could slash with claws. With the key around his neck, however, she couldn’t do much. It served as much of a lock as a ward against magic. The lord of their isle had infused it himself for this very purpose. 

Mermaids out of the water were weakened. As she was now, she probably couldn’t do much more than any other trained warrior. Just a fraction of the power she possessed in the ocean. 

But there was no way he’d go into the cage to replace the bonds. He wasn’t a fighter. He was a fisherman.

He scratched his head. The creature, in a strange way, reminded him of his oldest daughter, Min. Same dark black hair, piercing eyes. 

As the mermaid lowered her head onto her knees, resigned, his heart panged with unexpected guilt. It seemed barbaric to lock a girl in a cage, even one as wicked as her.

He began to turn back toward his chair, intent on ignoring her. She was a beast. Nothing more, nothing less. He had to remember that. But as he turned his gaze back to her, he realized the mermaid was indeed, shivering.

He made a quick decision, grasping a woolen blanket from one of the men’s bunks across the hull. He shoved it through the bars toward her. It landed in a heap at her feet.

She bared her teeth and hissed at him. He winced, realizing she might not understand what a blanket was—they wouldn’t need such a thing in the ocean depths. It’s for warmth, he gestured. Wrap it around yourself.

The creature hissed again and pushed it away with a sharp kick of her foot.

Fin’s cheeks burned with embarrassment at the refusal. Fine. Suit yourself, beast. 

She bared her teeth. I’m the beast? Foolish man, you know nothing.

Anger rose in Fin, and he crossed his arms. You enter our waters, steal our fish. Any boat near your kind is doomed. If your kind aren’t the beasts, then I hate to see what is.

She raised her neck, glaring intensely. "You humans are destroying our waters. Look at how much your people take. The fish flee to us for protection. She jabbed a finger toward him. If you want to see a beast, look at your reflection."

Fin swallowed, mulling over the creature’s words. She was lying, of course, but it echoed something his wife had said before he left. Her voice rang loudly in his memories. Maybe we have ourselves to blame for igniting the mermaid’s wrath.

He thumbed the gold ring on his left hand. My wife... She believes this. His thoughts drifted. She thinks the fish are scarce because the fishermen are taking too many, not because of the mermaids expanding their territory.

He didn’t know why he was even talking to this creature. Nothing good could come from this conversation. She likely only knew how to lie. 

She chuckled—a sharp, lethal sound. A wise human? That’s rare. She looked at the ceiling of her cell, thoughtful. Your mate sounds intelligent. Does she also know about the sacred land your people stole from us?

He laughed. Stole? We stole from you? All these creatures did was steal. Sailors, ships, fish. They were greedy beyond measure.

She stood, wobbling on thin legs. More of her scales were disappearing by the minute. Her ears softening around the edges. Placing her hands on the cage around her, she grasped each rung, stepping closer to him. He held his breath, wondering what she was doing. Her black hair draped over her body, dragging across the floor like strands of seaweed.

Fin rose from his chair, taking a step back, feeling for the key around his neck. It was still there. He breathed out, not daring to take his eyes away from the mermaid.

She made her way to the front of the cage, standing taller, regarding him with those slitted eyes.

"That isle you humans build your houses upon. It used to be our home. My ancestors used to walk around on these, she gestured to her legs. Until that sorcerer of yours cursed us to the ocean forever. She bared her teeth again, setting Fin’s heart racing. Our kind welcomed him to our shores, and he betrayed us, all to take the Isle for himself!"

Could what the mermaid said be true? Do you have any proof of what you claim? Fin finally asked.

She readjusted her fingers along the bars and leaned into them, face pressed against the steel. With one webbed finger, she beckoned him closer.

At first, he disregarded her with a turn of his head. But curiosity got the better of him. With careful movements, he brought himself in front of her. She started to whisper something. He leaned forward, trying to catch her words.

Just as he caught her peeling her lips back in a snarl, he backed up. She lunged at him. Her body slammed against the bars and with a growl, her hand swung wildly, raking along his throat. He winced, yelling out as pain lashed through him where she left gashes.

Heartbeat thundered in his ears, and he backed up, holding his wound. He brought his hand away, seeing blood. She’d left shallow cuts, nothing lethal. The betrayal still stung. 

Withdrawing into the shadows, a wicked grin stretched across her angular face.

Beast, Fin said, anger lacing his words.

Can’t blame me for trying, she snapped.

As the lantern flickered along the cell walls, he slumped into his chair.

A few minutes later, she spoke again. This time her words carried easily toward him. Melodic and soft. You want proof? The isle’s manor is built above our sacred burial tombs. He believes he’s sealed all of the entrances, but there still lies one he does not know about. If you enter, you will see our culture written across the walls of the dead.

When Fin said nothing, she once again fell into silence. After a while, she shuffled into the darkest corner of her shrouded cell, taking the blanket he’d thrown toward her earlier. With awkward movements, she picked it up and wrapped it around herself.

Thank you for this, she said, unexpectedly.

He stared, blinking with a mixture of thoughts. 

Watching her measured breathing, Fin regarded her words, questioning everything he ever knew to be true. He wasn’t sure he could trust such a mysterious creature, let alone one who just tried to kill him. 

She began to hum and his eyes became heavy.

FIRE!

Fin awoke with a start. Voices yelling above him, stomping across the wooden boards with haste. When had he fallen asleep? He stood, remembering where he was, holding his neck. A fire, here? Ship’s lumber burned fast. Everyone would be needed to help put it out. He turned toward the cell. But first he had to—

The door to the cell lay open, its occupant gone.

Fin paled and reached for the key around his neck. It too was gone, along with the pendant. He remembered how she lunged for him. She must have taken them then escaped as he slept. 

He glanced down to the book of key-keepers, seeing his fate written in red ink. They’d kill him if they found out he was the one supposed to be watching her. For a second, he debated destroying the book himself. He moved closer to pick up the tome, but halted, noticing something new. There, across the pages was a large scrawling message drawn out in red ink.

For your kindness, your life has been spared.

The blanket was in a heap on the table near the quill. On the top, his pendant. 

Fin, we have to go, now! It was Jeosh’s voice, considerably more sober than the last time he spoke to him. The man ran from the ladder, sprinting over to Fin in quick strides.

Fin tore his gaze away from the message. Jeosh’s eyes were frantic, wide-eyed with fear. Fin betrayed himself by looking at the open gate.

Jeosh followed his gaze. You fool, you let her escape! He looked into the empty cell, as if he might find her hidden in one of the dark corners.

I...I must have fallen asleep. Or she tricked me, maybe. He rubbed his throat and thought about when he got close to the bars. I don’t know—

Jeosh clenched his fists at his sides and Fin’s words died in his throat. Fin wondered if he’d gut him right here. He needed the bounty money as much as any of the men. Fin’s mistake was inexcusable. 

I said I owed you one. I guess this is it. He turned his head, not meeting Fin’s gaze.

Fin breathed a sigh of relief. Before Jeosh could change his mind, Fin clasped the man on the back and said, Thank you, friend.

Jeosh looked at him and nodded. Come on, we need you up there.

A few heartbeats later, the two sailors sprinted above deck. Fin secured the pendant around his neck. 

Bah, the fire’s spread too fast! Jeosh exclaimed. 

Sparks rained down. Fire from the billowing mast looked like a grand white bird with wings of fire. Smoke filled Fin’s lungs, and he brought his tunic up to cover his face to lessen the intensity of it. Time seemed to slow as he took in the scene. Everything was red with flame.

Jeosh’s voice broke him out of his trance. The ship is lost, get to the rowboats.

Wait! He clasped Jeosh’s shoulder, making him halt. What do you think caused the fire? The mermaid?

As far as anyone knows, some drunk could have knocked over a lantern. Doesn’t matter, we have to flee! he yelled. 

But the girl, she...

Forget about her! Jeosh coughed. "If we don’t get these boats in the water, we’re all dead. She’s dead to us."

Fin didn’t get another word in before the man ran to help a line of men hoist the pulleys into position.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he stood frozen watching everything unfold. He should run and help, but his limbs wouldn’t budge—

Without warning, a crash behind him made him spin. There, a large chunk of the mast tumbled down, impaling itself into the deck, taking at least half a dozen crew members down with it. Fin brought an arm up to shield himself from the falling debris. When the smoke cleared, he saw what was left of the crewmates. Their bodies were crushed, bent in awkward angles. He staggered backward, bile rising in his throat.

Then he noticed a hand reaching out from the burning rubble. Instinct took over. He sprinted, sliding across the deck on his knees. With a guttural yell, he placed his hands on the wood and pushed. It barely budged.

Soon, others surrounded him and he pushed again with renewed strength. The timber lifted, and a man was pulled out. The captain.

Sir! Fin held him as the man coughed raggedly, his chest heaving with each strained inhale. 

The ship...is lost. Save yourselves, men, and get that beast to land. He erupted into another fit of coughs.

Fear bolted up Fin’s spine as the men ran to heed the captain’s words. He watched as they ran through flame and smoke into the deck below. Jeosh was still helping lower the rowboats into the water, oblivious to Fin’s plight. Soon, everyone would know the creature was free. 

Fin. It was just him and the captain now. He looked down at the man’s ashen face. Get back to your girls. Leave me with my ship. He closed his eyes. You’ve done what you can.

THE CAPTAIN HAD DIED in his arms before he could even think about pulling