CHAPTER 21

The blue waves undulated gently as far as the eye could see. They reflected the sun in changing shimmers and did not seem threatening at all—which was the truth.

The dangers of the Western Ocean did not lie in its weather, which was altogether pleasant, but in its treacherous reefs and giant underwater beasts—serpents, krakens, shellfish and other abominations—that lurked just below the surface. Many atolls dotted these parts, appearing and disappearing with the tides, but they were only the tip of a vast hidden network that could sink a ship with one wrong choice of its navigator. The remains of these unfortunate vessels littered the seabed, swallowed by the coral and home to the fish.

A dark blur cut through that apparent serenity, carried by eight lightning-fast hooves. It ran straight south-westwards, parting the waters and followed by a large frothing spray. A twenty-foot-long sea serpent jumped out, eager for a bite, but the blur was already far away before the juggernaut’s jaws snapped shut.

“I ALWAYS THOUGHT THE SLEIPNIR WAS A LEGENDARY DEMON HORSE!?!?” Lucian had to shout to hear himself over the wind rushing past them.

“Slei is a donkey!” Sam’s shouted back. Her deep voice carried much more distinctly. Her amber eyes remained riveted to the only cloud above not drifting in the same direction as the rest of its brethren.

“I CAN SEE THAT!! THAT’S MY POINT!!” The inquisitor clung to the demon shirt, trying not to be thrown off Slei’s back. The beast had grown to the height of a mammoth, and his legs had each split into two. It would have made for quite a majestic sight—if he did not still very much look like a donkey. “WHAT DID COMMON SENSE EVER DO TO YOU, DEMON?! HAVE SOME RESPECT FOR LEGENDS!! ARE YOU TELLING ME SIGFRID THE BRAVE FOUGHT A GIANT DONKEY?!?!”

“What are you talking about?! If you have time to babble, think of a way to get to that cloud!”

“YOU’RE A POWERFUL DEMON!! CAN’T YOU FLY?!”

“If I could, I already would be!” Samael snapped back through gritted teeth.

This situation was infuriating her. Slei was actually faster than Sophia’s kidnappers, yet they remained out of reach, hiding as they were, high up in the sky. The two demons and the inquisitor even had to stop regularly not to outpace the pirates, while also allowing Slei to rest briefly on an atoll or a deserted island—numerous in the area. Running at top speed with two passengers was rapidly exhausting the beast, even with more of his true power unleashed. Samael had shifted back to her lighter human form, but that helped only so much.

Before that, the demon had tried jumping up from one of the higher islands they passed, but she could not reach even halfway up to the ship. A fire lance could have downed the flying vessel, but the risk of injuring Sophia was simply too great. The devil was at her wits’ end.

Another two hours passed in tensed silence—Samael staying focused on the tenuous feedback of her deal-bond, and Lucian not forthcoming with any brilliant idea. The sun was starting to set, and the waxing crescent moon was already visible in the darkening sky, when the pirate cloud stopped above a tall volcanic island and began its descent.

Finally! Samael fumed. She lowered her head and spoke in Slei’s hear, “Get us to that island. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Eeeh… haw…” the donkey weakly agreed.

“Good boy,” she praised, patting his neck. To the human behind her, she shouted, “I found their nest!”

Lucian leaned around her and narrowed his eyes ahead. “I see it!” He glanced up. “DO YOU THINK IT’S THEIR BASE, OR ARE THEY ONLY STOPPING FOR THE NIGHT?!”

Samael’s black lips hooked up in a vicious, hungry grin, and her eyes flashed red. “Only one way to find out!”

They reached their destination minutes later, a tribute to Slei’s efforts. The cloud had only just disappeared behind the relief.

There was not so much a shore to the island as there was a narrow ring of weedy rocks beaten by the waves circling around it. The sides of the dormant volcano were steep and towering, not unlike the cliff edges of Fair Isle. Near the top, vegetation held dirt on, but below, bad weather and landslides had left the slopes bare.

With a final tired bray, Slei collapsed onto the rocks. His body seemed to deflate, and his twin legs fused back together, leaving him as a common-looking donkey once more. Samael rubbed his head affectionately. “Thanks, buddy. You were awesome. I owe you one.”

“Eeh haaawww…”

She stared up at the near-cliff overlooking them.

Lucian was examining the slope as well. “We need to find a way inside the caldera.” His gaze moved from the signs of old landslide down to the narrow, uneven and slippery path they could take around the island, which would very likely disappear with the high tide. “There must be a way in somewhere. These pirates were a problem long before the recent oddities. If this is their base of operation, there should be a channel for their normal ships. We can use it to infiltrate. Though it’ll probably be guarded.” His grip tightened around the demonic bone he held. The bells chimed lightly.

“No need.” Sounds of ripping clothes announced Samael was shifting out of her human form. The courageous last few seams finally surrendered with one last sad tearing noise. This left the demon in nothing but rags that barely covered her modesty. She turned around and crouched, presenting her back to the inquisitor. “Get on.”

Lucian glanced at her then quickly away, muttering something about demons and shamelessness. Samael swished her tail impatiently. The spiked tip hit a boulder, which cracked and sank into the sea. “Get on,” she growled, warningly, “or I throw you up there.” She would do it, too. And Lucian seemed to know it. He finally complied, though he never stopped grumbling discontentedly.

As soon as his arms wrapped around her neck, Samael jumped up and started scaling the cliff face like a giant and furious gecko. She did not bother looking for holds, simply driving her claws into the stone and throwing herself upwards. In no time, she vaulted the edge and dropped to a crouch on top of it. Lucian slipped off her back, pale and holding a hand to his mouth.

The devil ignored him. She crept forwards to stare at the landscape that spread before her.

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The island was shaped like a bowl, holding a large lake in the middle. As Lucian had guessed, a waterway linked the lake to the outside ocean, a canyon so very narrow it looked like no more than a thin crack in the rock wall. It made the entrance easy to miss for any passing ship that did not know of it. A good hideout, judged Samael. She also spotted low buildings on the lake end of the canyon, probably to defend against any invader who made it inside.

However, what interested her most was the fortified settlement built on the lakeshore, directly opposite the canyon—and especially the white ship hovering low above it. Her bond with Sophia was pointing straight at it, less and less occluded the closer she got, and compelling her forwards.

She gave the town layout barely more than a glance. Stone houses clustered together. Disorganised narrow streets. A grey outside wall, tall and thick by human standards, but only deserving of her contempt. A handful of ships moored in front of the main gates, bearing black flags. The one element of note was a stocky stone manor at the apex of the town, surrounded by its own defensive wall. Even then, Samael only cared about the building because the flying ship had stopped above it.

“So it is their base.” Lucian came kneeling beside her. The smell of vomit hung faintly around him, but the demon disdained to comment. “This is worse than we thought. I can’t believe they have an entire town!”

“Soon, they will only have ash and rubbles,” Samael voice thundered with dark promise. She stood, ready to march into the pirates’ home and burn it to the ground.

“Wait!” Lucian grabbed her sleeve, but he quickly let go when she glared at him. “There could be captives inside! Or children, even.” He shook his head. “No, given the size of the place, there definitely are some children. Criminals wouldn’t care about contraception. You can’t just go and rampage mindlessly! This is too big for just us. We found their base. We should wait for reinforcement.” He bit his lower lip and fiddled nervously with his breast pocket—as if checking for something inside.

Samael could feel a slow energy pulse coming from that pocket, but she did not care enough to ask. Her priestess was right there, and she had wasted enough time. “No,” she said. “Do whatever you want. I’m going to get Sophia. Anyone who stands in my way dies. I don’t care about the rest.” And without waiting for an answer, she leapt down the slope. The annoying human who only knew how to complain about every little thing could find his own way down.

“WAIT!! YOU CAN’T JUST… stupid demon… plan…” His voice quickly dwindled to just a distant murmur in the wind, and Samael was not listening anymore. Her entire focus was on her prey: the town and the ship. She rapidly picked up speed, her upper body lowered nearly to the ground, and her tail stretched behind her, providing a counterweight.

Her claws barely touched the ground as she ran. She ducked into a grove and weaved through the trees without slowing down, losing sight of her objective but not once deviating from the shortest path. A feral grin crept on her face. Her suppressed hunger broke free and roared with glee.

Despite the circumstances, it felt exhilarating to be on the hunt again. It felt good. It felt right.

She only hoped this prey would be a little less disappointing than the last.

* * *

Cyril stood just inside the Devil Cove’s town gates, sweating in his dirty sailor uniform. It had been days since he last washed it, and even he was starting to smell it. Yet, he wondered if it was worth doing any laundry when everyone and everything around him stank even worse.

Over the past few weeks, he had revelled in his newfound freedom from the stringent discipline of his former captain. He had gloated over the fool, who used to make his life miserable but now slept with the fishes, while Cyril drunk himself into a stupor and wenched as he pleased.

Today, though, reeking like sewage, hungover and bored out of his mind, the young pirate puzzled if maybe a little disciple might have been good once in a while.

“Ah! Three fauns! Pay up, Bill!” At a nearby table propped against the guardhouse, Fergus flipped his cards. He reclined victoriously in his chair, crossing his hairy goat legs.

“You scum! You cheated!” His opponent—a bald guy Cyril only now learned was named Bill—slammed his losing hand on the table.

“You got proof, mate?” The actual faun smirked and stroked his short goatee.

“You’re a faun! Your wily kind always cheats!”

“Then why do you keep playing with me then?”

“Fuck you!” the other snarled.

“I’ll pass. You’re not exactly my type,” Fergus guffawed and turned towards the gates. “But maybe the rookie will take you up? What you say, Cyril?! Fancy some buggering?!” he called out laughing.

The young man shot a warry look at the two card players. “Guys. We’re supposed to guard the gates.”

The gambling pair gave pause and shared a glance. Then both burst out laughing.

“Bwahaha! You know it’s just a bogus job, right?” Fergus wiped tears from his eyes.

“The cheatin’ goat’s right!” the bald man snorted, his previous hostility seemingly forgotten. “Even if anyone found this place, the lookouts in the canyon would raise the alarm long before we had to raise even a finger. Why don’t you just relax, rookie? Come here. Play a game. It’s all in good fun.”

But the predatory glint in Bill’s eyes belied his words, and Fergus’ smile looked equally malicious. Their stares almost appeared to gleam evilly in the dimming evening light.

A shiver ran down Cyril’s spine. He was suddenly very uncomfortable in the two men’s presence. He shook his head. “No. I think I’ll stay here.” And he reclined obstinately against the gate, his hand resting nervously on the cutlass at his waist.

“Suit yourself.” The faun shrugged. Bill snickered, and the pair returned to their card game, once more ignoring the young man.

Sighing, Cyril looked at the reddening sky. Red like blood, he thought.

Had he made a mistake by betraying his old crew and throwing his lot with Slashtoe’s pirates? The thought stayed in his mind for a heartbeat before being shoved aside by a wave of derision. No. Of course not. After all, here he was, alive, freer than he had ever been, and soon-to-be rich– no, filthy rich. He knew it. He just knew it. His nights and daydreams were filled with the coins, gold, jewels, luxuries, alcohol and women he would soon own—their images as real and tempting as if he only had to reach out to take them.

He knew it was only a matter of time before he swam in treasures.

Meanwhile, his former crewmates swam at the bottom of the sea, bloated in a wet grave, poor, and nibbled by barracudas.

Cyril would not end like them. He had seen the things the veteran pirates could do. As soon as he had his initiation ceremony, he too would be stronger, faster, and possessing more endurance than any mortal man. Who’s laughing now, uh, Captain? Who’s a useless runt now?

BOOM

He never felt the blown-off gate crash into him. When he came to his senses, he was under the burning, broken panel, disoriented and in pain. He heard a terrorising roar, followed by horrible screams that sounded vaguely like Bill and Fergus. Filled with panic, he crawled frantically out of the wreckage. He pushed shattered planks away and cried out when the flames licked his hands.

Finally, he was out—and his pants were on fire. “Shitshitshitshit!!” Cyril rolled in the dirt, patting his clothes to extinguish them. Just as he succeeded, a shadow fell on him, and he helplessly looked up.

A monster blocked out the setting sun, a sharp horned silhouette against the red sky, blacker than the night itself, and looming over Cyril like a Sin Lord risen out of Tartarus. Gleaming ruby eyes looked into his, and the young pirate felt a vice tighten around his heart. Tears streaked down his dirty cheeks. His eyes hurt as if they had been replaced by hot coals.

“Sinner, you have sinned one too many times.”

The voice roared and echoed like an inferno at the bottom of a well. It spoke in a language Cyril had never heard, but somehow understood. And he knew its condemnation was true. He knew it to his core—as undeniable as the sun rising in the east. That knowledge broke him. Terrified out of his mind, he whimpered incoherently, clawed at his eyes, and lost control of his bowels.

That unpleasant warmth spreading in his loins was the last thing Cyril ever felt before his entire body seemed to erupt into flames from the inside out, then all he knew was pain. And he screamed as his damned soul burned.

* * * * *