They’d arranged the barrels into a circle on the main deck. Kane was now starting to think that perhaps there wasn’t a single actual damn chair on this ship.
Lucian unfurled a map over the makeshift table between them. He pinned down the four corners with two rubies, an old-looking compass, and his pocket watch, standing up and placing his hands on his hips.
It was getting dark out. However, Kane could tell that this type of “dark” wasn’t natural, at least by Earth standards. Of course, there was currently less light in the sky than there had been a couple of hours ago; however, while things had simply looked dull back then, now they actually looked gray. As if someone were dragging down a slider for the ambient lighting, gradually turning things black-and-white like old television.
Esau had lit the lanterns around them, his dark skin now a more ashen shade, while his fire was somehow as bright and bold as ever. His eyes danced over the map Lucian was flattening out with idle curiosity. Saul, who had joined them mere seconds ago, had immediately resumed sharpening his swords, the rhythmic scraping of the file already grating on Kane’s brain. And Tal looked absolutely beat, his eyes winking and head bobbing with sleepiness the way Kane’s used to during chem lectures.
For some reason, it was sort of comforting to realize that this crew seemed to always be sort of a mess. It wasn’t like he was stuck in the middle of an ocean of blood with a group of hypercompetent, hardened badasses that would strike him down if he said a word out of turn — these guys seemed more like a group of eclectic weirdos who were simultaneously also badasses. Definitely more his tempo.
He’d simply have to keep up.
Despite his surroundings and his peers, and despite the unusual cold that nipped at his skin in spite of the warm lanterns around them, the map was currently what disconcerted Kane the most. It wasn’t like Kane truly remembered what a typical world map looked like, but he knew for a fact that maps usually had land on them. Lucian’s map simply featured a circle shaded in the color red, only further deepened by the crimson lantern flames.
Lucian looked around at the group, the sly grin on his face accentuated by the dim lighting. “I know you guys are tired and hungry, so I’ll keep this short and sweet. First things first: we’ve finally got a heading.”
To Lucian, this seemed to be a big deal, his chest puffed out in pride, but it didn’t seem to get much a reaction out of the guys, save for Tal, who managed to wake himself up enough for a second to meet the captain’s eyes. “Are you serious?”
Lucian’s smile faded a small amount. “I mean… well, yes!” He basically slammed his index finger down into a spot in the map’s southwest corner.
Esau leaned forwards, hands on his knees. “What are you pointing at there, bud?”
The captain tapped the spot of red sea with his trimmed nail repeatedly. “This mass of land, right here, that popped up earlier today. As well as this little X that seems to handily tell us where we are.”
Tal and Esau met each other’s gazes. Esau proceeded to make the cuckoo gesture, and Tal lightly shoved him from across their makeshift desk setup with his power.
“Hate to break it to you, Luce,” Tal said to the captain, “but we aren’t seeing whatever it is you are. Either that, or you’ve finally gone nuts.”
Lucian’s eyes narrowed, rubbing the hair on his chin in thought. “Could be both, eh?”
But Kane wasn’t so quick to doubt him — perhaps because, given how little he truly remembered about how things worked, anything went. So he thought back to earlier today, to how Lucian had used the amulet to kill the kraken. Of course, he couldn’t understand the mechanics of what the hell had happened here, but he’d watched enough movies — probably — to have a guess spinning about in his mind over the past little while. “Is the map magic?” he asked.
Lucian paused, seemingly surprised that Kane had something to say about this. “Yeah, it is.”
Kane pressed further. “And I’m betting you’re the only one on the crew who knows how to use actual magic, right?”
The captain snapped his fingers as what Kane was implying clicked into place for him. “Yep, that must be it.” He peered down at the map, tilting his head side-to-side. “Seems like I’m the only one who can read it.”
Saul snorted suddenly, causing everyone to turn to him. He spoke as he continued to sharpen, not bothering to take his eyes off his weapon. “Of course.” Scrape. “I really did just think you were an idiot for keeping that blank sheet of paper on you.” Scrape. “Magical bullshit. It’s always magical bullshit down here.” Scrape.
Lucian responded near-instantly, as if he’d rehearsed it. “And I thought you were an idiot for trying to cut a hole through the deck for ‘faster transport between levels’ and twisting your ankle as you fell, but here we are. Just two idiots, am I right?”
Kane chuckled lightheartedly, turning to Saul. “Did you really—”
The tip of the scimitar’s blade was an inch from Kane’s cheek now. He hadn’t even heard Saul move, and the motion had all but been a blur in his peripheral vision. “I’m telling you, I’m onto something,” Saul growled. “I wasn’t just trying to cut a hole through the fucking floor. I’m not an idiot.” He lowered his blade, and Kane exhaled, relieved.
“Mhm. For sure.” Lucian cracked his knuckles, opting to move on. “Anyways… Seems that I’ve used enough magic by now to be able to actually use this map. Who knows, maybe there’s more stuff on board that has magical requirements I’m yet to unlock.” He traced along the paper’s yellow edges with his index. “I can’t see it all — I’m guessing it fills out once you actually travel to a location. Either way, we’ve just broached the southwest corner of the realm, and something tells me that what we’re looking for is towards the center.” He traced his finger inwards, tapping once once he reached the very middle.
Tal rubbed at his eyes. “Like Dante’s Inferno?”
“Hm. Perhaps.” Lucian crossed his arms, sitting back and looking self-satisfied. “I don’t know, I can just feel the magic telling me that’s the way we need to go. Just like the magic tells Saul to cut holes through floors.”
Kane had been in the midst of blinking, eyes down on the map, when three things occurred at that moment.
First of all, Saul raised his scimitar towards Lucian in a similar manner to earlier, but with considerably more force, as if going for a clean slice. Secondly, Lucian drew his rapier, slamming its edge into the massive sword with immense speed and more power than should even be possible for an object of its size. And thirdly, Saul’s scimitar went flying out of his hand, now a deadly airborne projectile and a threat to the skies themselves, arcing and cresting and falling and colliding with the ship’s rusty bell by the stern stairs.
The bell resounded like a gong, causing the others to flinch or clap hands over their ears, and the edge of Lucian’s rapier pressed slightly into Saul’s cheek. “You dare draw a sword on your captain?” He sounded mock-incredulous, looked self-satisfied, and still emanated undertones of a very real, very dangerous threat.
Saul didn’t falter as the rapier drew blood, trickling down his cheek. “Get off your damn high horse, kid. Stop… stop cosplaying as some 1800s pirate captain. We’re just five bastards stuck on a hunk of wood, and we’re all gonna die sooner or later. Stop acting like you know what you’re doing.” He knocked the rapier away with his palm and pushed to his feet, marching away to retrieve his sword.
Silence reigned supreme for a short while, save for the wind rustling the ship’s black sails. Lucian holstered his sword in one smooth motion, while Tal removed his hands from his ears now that the bell had finally stopped ringing.
Kane didn’t feel like it was the time, but he couldn’t help himself; he leaned in to Esau. “What’s cosplay—?”
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Esau raised a finger to Kane’s mouth. His eyes were still glued to the map. “So, cap, you’re telling me we’re gonna see land soon?”
Lucian nodded, unfazed by the previous interaction, as if he didn’t just draw blood from a man. “Based on how fast the X symbol seems to be moving, I’d give it a day.”
Esau’s eyes went wide, as if he were about to celebrate, but Kane waved his hands in front of him to get their attention. “Wait, wait, hold on a damn second here. You guys are telling me you’ve been sailing without a destination this whole time?”
Lucian and Esau averted their gazes and sheepishly scratched their necks and heads. But Tal looked Kane straight in the eyes and asked, “Did you really expect better from us?”
Kane raised his palms, shrugging. “I mean… um… yeah, no.” He threw them down, utterly defeated. Perhaps they’re not quite badasses. Perhaps skilled individuals.
He’d taken some time to try and piece together what exactly was happening on this ship, given the crew seemed rather reticent to provide a simple explanation. The five of them had evidently died (perhaps? Kane didn’t quite remember dying) and arrived in this hell-like landscape. Assuming Lucian had arrived first, he’d somehow managed ship himself — unless there were others before him, but that was a whole other ballgame. In any case, it made sense for them to not truly know where they were. However, the thought of them sailing in circles for months without an actual plan of action just seemed… distressing.
“Don’t blame us for your mistake of believing in us, Kane.” Lucian barked it like a command, rolling up the map and his pocket watch and tucking them into his cloak and pants pocket respectively. “Speaking of mistakes, we haven’t given Kane a formal welcome yet.”
Tal placed his face in his hands. “We’ve never given anyone a formal welcome,” he muttered.
“That’s why we’re starting now,” Lucian stated, as if it were obvious. He stood straight up and extended a hand towards Kane. Kane noted he was no longer wearing the glove he’d handled the amulet with. “Welcome aboard the Marauder, the finest — and only — ship on these cursed waters. And let’s get this straight, it’s called the Marauder.”
Kane only got to wonder why he had to clarify for half a second before Tal spoke up. “No one calls it that, Luce. Keep dreaming,” Tal said with a light tone, despite looking done with Lucian entirely. “The ship is called the Truant, Kane.”
Esau shook his head. “I like mine the best,” he said with an earnest smile, as if he were just happy to participate. “I’ve named it the Tawsupp.”
Kane raised a confused brow. “And why did you call it that?”
“Because we can’t decide. So it’s a toss-up.”
Kane had to raise a hand to hide his grin at the cheesy pun. “The no-destination part was a surprise and a blow to your collective reputation, but this part, this I expected.” The crew members were all obviously too proud to concede to one another. But if there were no other ships on this sea — which seemed to be the case — then it made sense for their inability to agree on the simple stuff to not have caused too many problems just yet. When the only goal was survival, most groups could manage no matter how much they bickered.
Lucian’s own grin from earlier wavered, so he chose to swiftly plow forwards before losing momentum. “I’m sure you’ve caught whispers of it, but my name’s Luciano. That part doesn’t get uselessly debated over. You can call me Lucian.” He outstretched a hand towards Kane.
After a moment of hesitation — did he want to accept the introduction? — Kane took the man’s hand firmly and shook. The man had immense strength, or perhaps he was squeezing just to intimidate or win some exchange. Kane squeezed back. “Not ‘Captain’ Lucian?”
“Nah, you’d have to buy me dinner first.” He released, shaking his head. “This here is Tal. First mate, my right hand man. The guy you owe your life.”
His eyes narrowed. “You did thank Tal for saving your life, didn’t you?”
The memory hit Kane like a pebble in the back of the cranium. He remembered how serious Lucian had seemed about it back then. Unfortunately, Kane hadn’t thanked Tal, since he’d been preoccupied with the grave chest and the kraken and all. Just minor hiccups, obviously.
So he lied. “Of course I did.”
Tal looked him up and down, his eyelids droopy, but he didn’t miss a beat. “And I told him not to worry about it.”
Kane mentally thanked Tal, noting that he owed him one for playing along. The guy seemed to be a real one.
It seemed to be enough for Lucian, who moved on briskly. “I’m sure you’re acquainted with Esau. On the Marauder, we split all the labor up the best we can. We do whatever’s efficient, so at the moment — and hopefully forever — Esau’s the chef.” He looked up to the sails overhead in thought. “I wonder how we ever survived without him.”
Esau elbowed Kane in the rib cage, a little too hard for his liking. “Told you so.”
“And I don’t know if you’ve really gotten a chance to speak with Saul yet,” Lucian continued. “He’s got a bit of a temper, but since he’s an asshole, we make him do all the things we don’t want to, so it all works out.”
Kane frowned. “Wouldn’t that just make him hate you more?”
“Exactly! It’s a positive feedback loop, and it’s even funnier that way.” He paused. “And unironically, I think hatred strengthens his power. Go figure.”
“Plus, he loves fighting,” Tal added, drowsiness gradually returning to his expression now that they were really just chatting. “It’s the one thing that really makes him happy here. Cutting things up keeps him occupied and distracted from cutting us up.”
“Fair enough, fair enough.” Kane wasn’t truly concerned about Saul’s nature, though — he had a question he wanted answered, despite being scared of what he might hear in response. “Well, my name’s Kane… like a walking stick but with a K.” He turned to Lucian. “You know, I’m still curious as to how you knew my name before I ever introduced myself.”
Kane held Lucian’s gaze, imploring him for a reasonable, not creepy answer. However, the man simply shrugged. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”
“You’re hardly a magician,” Tal said.
“It’s a work in progress,” he joked. “But that’s not important right now. Kane, listen, there’s one last thing I need to go over, and it’s very important.” He straightened his posture and his cloak, and all of a sudden his demeanor shifted. His smile disappeared, and his tricorne cast a shadow over his eyes, as if he’d tilted his head to intentionally cause a trick of the light.
“There are very few rules on my ship. But they’re absolutely necessary to keep things running smoothly, you know? To keep us all alive. So if they’re broken — and they haven’t been so far — someone just might stop being alive, if you catch my drift.”
His words were dry and jocular as usual, but his tone was dead serious, which hadn’t really been the case since his threat during their initial meeting. Kane didn’t really want to take the man seriously right now, but something about how the dispositions of the others had also changed when Lucian’s had ensured Kane kept his mouth shut for now.
Lucian raised his index finger. “Rule One — Whether we like it or not, whether we’ve chosen to be or not, we’re a crew. We may not enjoy each other’s company, but as far as we can tell, we’re literally in Hell, so like it or not, we’ll simply have to do. We all make decisions together, we all pitch in, and thus, we all survive. So don’t be a prick.”
Another finger raised. “Rule Two — First come first serve. This mostly has to do with loot — sometimes we find, oh, I don’t know, tons of gold and magical artifacts and stuff, nothing crazy. Tal was the one to find that grave chest from earlier, and he decided to split it with the crew. Ultimately, it was up to him. If there’s a dispute concerning monetary agreements and recompense, I can settle it.” He smiled wide and dangerously and mirthlessly, the hilt of his rapier glinting in the dim red light of the lanterns.
A third finger. “And, last of all, Rule Three — If you try to desert, like you were considering earlier, Tal will drag you back on board crying and screaming, and I will personally gut you like a fish by my own hand.”
In the background — which Kane somehow hadn’t noticed until now — Saul was scraping the file down his sword by the ship’s wheel, the noise constant and steady and heavy like a heartbeat. The scarlet fire of nearby lanterns lit up Lucian’s face, no nonsense, no brevity, nothing, as Kane let the gravity of Lucian’s edict settle into his gut.
If Lucian truly was serious about this, and adhered tightly to his own rules, then his behavior from when they’d first met made far more sense. This was no-nonsense, at least in his eyes. Additionally, given what Kane had seen earlier from this man, it would be wise not to break these rules. Not that he had a reason to yet.
Some small part of Kane felt that perhaps, Lucian was enforcing “Rule Three” because whatever was out there, in the Sea and throughout the rest of the realm, was far, far worse than whatever he could encounter on board. Because he could never willingly consign anyone to such a fate.
“Oh, and four — don’t whistle before sunrise,” Lucian urged, placing a hand on his temple. “Please. It annoys everyone, it’s bad luck, and I’ll make you walk the plank for it. Ha! Just kidding! We don’t have a plank. Yet.”
No one said anything; not that there was much to say to that. The red lights continued to flicker over the still scene. Esau and Tal had their gazes averted, not sheepishly but rather like they genuinely didn’t feel like getting involved. But Kane simply looked at the captain funny, not willing to indulge his peculiar, tone-deaf joke.
Lucian cleared his throat. His silly, charming demeanor had returned, in a manner that was very hypnotized-sleeper-agent, Jekyll-and-Hyde-esque. Essentially, too odd to be even remotely natural. “Tough crowd, but hey, I’m a magician with parchment and with jewelry, not with my words. Now, back to the subject of dinner, the one I know you were so eager to broach — Esau?”
Esau broke out of his sullen trance and mock-saluted, not missing a beat. “On it, cap.” He got to his feet and made his way into the ship.
Kane took a moment to take a look around himself. Saul, of course, was still sharpening his scimitar on the stern, in a world of his own, while Tal was actually on the threshold of sleep, sitting hunched on the barrel, eyes shut, gently snoring and all.
But Lucian didn’t move an inch. A strong gust of wind caused goosebumps to raise over Kane’s arms, and that was when Kane realized, it was just the two of them now.
He held Kane’s gaze, inspecting it, analyzing it, as if he’d find their way out of this hellscape in his eyes.
“You’re a strong man, Kane. I can see that much.” He crossed his arms, hazel irises twinkling in the red lighting. “But a warning: I’ve found that, in life and in death, strong doesn’t always cut it.”