Isla Cassius was not on any map, and she lay well outside of the shipping lanes. Ships cut through the calm waters between the continents of Kronos and Tychon on a weekly basis, sometimes more often. The pirate lair was days south of the southernmost trade route and was unknown to almost everyone. The Dren’s Revenge followed the Wind Star into the protected harbor where they were greeted as conquering heroes by the other pirate crews.

“The Erastos and the Victis be in port,” Skye said to the others along the rail.

“No prizes,” Pippin mused.

“First blood goes to us,” Sergi replied.

“The quarterdeck,” Skye said, nodding toward the Victus. Red and the brothers looked where she pointed.

“Goat men,” Sergi said just loud enough for the four of them to hear. Just like our ship, they have goat men for captain and officers.”

“The Erastos too. There seems to be a class system onboard, and we are the lower class,” Red said. They all nodded in agreement. “Let’s have a drink when we dock, I wanna look around some.”

There wasn’t an actual dock, so eight at a time, the crew were allowed to board tenders and row to shore. The island's shore was made of fine sand, which quickly gave way to light jungle. Towards the center of the island, there was a large keep, a stone structure that was three stories tall and had dozens of rooms. The rest of the island had dozens of thatch-covered huts that served as living quarters for the crew members. Skiffs were running out to the captured ship, unloading and bringing goods ashore. Hundreds of people were bustling around, carrying on various tasks.

Red and Skye walked together, followed by the twins and Wanjala. There were no roads yet, maybe they would be built someday, but for now, everyone walked between buildings to get to wherever they were going. They found a large open air hut that was used as a pub for the sailors and took stools at the bar.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.

“Whiskey, the best you have,” Red said. “All around.”

“It’ll cost you a pretty penny for top shelf,” he said, looking at the crew members.

“We’re the crew of the Dren’s Revenge. We brought in the first prize to this organization, we spilled the first blood and took the first lives. You’ll give us your best and be thank‘in us as you do it.”

“You lot captured that fat ship out there?” He squinted to see the ship at anchor. The freighter was being swarmed by dockworkers, unloading its wares and loading them into larger skiffs. “Aye, that’s quality work gentlemen, lady.” He tipped his try corner cap and proceeded to pour them liquor from a tall black bottle that was dusty and tied with a golden rope. Skye put the shot glass to her nose and wrinkled it at the pungent scent.

“Ya might find that a bit strong miss,” the bartender chuckled. “It’s a man’s drink.”

She looked at him with a dangerous glare, then downed the shot. She then downed the other four shots in rapid succession. Properly chastised, the bartender gave her a two-finger tip of the cap and refilled all five glasses.

“Captain was the first off the ship,” Sergi said after downing his shot.

“Him and the others. They have no desire to celebrate this victory with the likes of us,” Pippin said before downing his shot.

“Are you saying, the captain doesn’t want to mix with his crew?” Wanjala asked.

“We are as beneath him as ants are beneath us. I heard they made for the keep and are holed up there with the rest of the Mavit Tomar captains,” Skye said. “They refuse to mix and yet somehow, they hold all the leadership positions. A dozen raiding ships, and everyone helmed by a goat-head.” The words burned in her mouth more than the whiskey.

“We’ve been out to sea, what say you bartender?” Red asked the man behind the bar.

“It’s pretty common knowledge here on the island. Don’t talk to the goats, don’t bother them for anything short of an emergency, and for the god’s sake, don’t get in their way.” He poured himself a shot of the good stuff and downed it. “In a community of equals, some are more equal than others.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“When I joined this crew, Captain Kloyta was already in charge, and I was just glad to get out of Hadon where there is a sizable price on my head. It never occurred to me to ask where the ship and supplies came from. Now I want to know.”

“It is supposed to be a big secret, so of course everyone knows that the royal family in the Mavit Tovar country of Warfield is funding all twelve ship. Your ship, the Dren’s Revenge, refers to the royal family. Their king or Tsar, whatever they called him… was dragged into the street and hung. Not for attacking us humans, but for attacking us and losing.”

“No one likes a loser,” Skye mused.

“I’ve been a loser my whole life.”

“You’re not a loser Red. You are the fiercest fighter in the crew, and you got me!”

“I win the battles, but I lose the wars.” They all nodded, sympathizing.

As usual, Red was the first one over the side. Like the Doreh berserkers of old, he threw himself at the defending sailors. The first ship they had taken was full of terrified men who knew that this day was their last. The men they faced now were not so meek. Word had undoubtedly gotten out that a pack of sea wolves stalked the waterways, and crews were now preparing to repel boarders. He attacked with his hand axes, only to have his strikes fended off by swords. The last crew had few real weapons. At a glance, he could see that each man carried steel.

Red was as wide as any two men, so it made sense that two men at a time would face off against him. He was a skilled and experienced fighter, but their swords had a much longer reach, and there were two of them. He found himself hopelessly on the defensive. They were relentless, not allowing Red to fight back and pushing him back to the edge of the deck. From the corner of his eye, he saw a small fishing net, maybe a dozen feet on each side, fly over him and land on the two men. They were covered like flies in a web, unable to lift or move their arms. He immediately chopped at them; his axe buried in the crowns of their skulls. Two fierce fighters cut down like sheep at the slaughterhouse. Looking over his shoulder after his grim work was done, he saw Skye smile at him. What a woman, he thought.

The short loss of focus allowed another fighter to step over his murdered comrades and stab the Doreh in his side. The blade did not pierce him deeply, but the pain was immense, and his blood flowed like water. Dropping one of his axes, he held the wound with his left hand while continuing to fight with his right. He savagely attacked the man, towering over the sailor and hammering away at his upturned sword. He swung a dozen times before kicking him and then taking off his hand with a quick slash. He finished the man as a scream caught his attention.

“I need some help over here!” Skye yelled over the clanging of steel on steel, and the sound of men dying.

Red saw her at the bow of their target ship, holding her thin saber out with two men walking her down. He pushed a man out of the way, then another and another. When there was a clear path, he could see that she was favoring her right arm and holding her sword in her left. Her bright white blouse was soaked in blood. Rearing back, he launched his hand axe with all of his strength. The heavy blade and long wooden handle rotated madly through the air till it connected with the back of one of her attackers. The man jerked upwards, as the steel blade sank deep in his lung.

“Bout time!” she yelled as she skewered her other attacker who got distracted by his partner’s demise. Her thin sword tip opened the front of his throat, exposing it to the warm salt air.

“I think the words you were searching for are ‘thank you’.”

He grunted as a young sailor, still in his late teens, stabbed him in the side. He grabbed the boy up by the front of his shirt and with great effort, hefted him over the rail and into the ocean. Now with two bleeding wounds, he surveyed the progress of the raid. Their best fighters were at the front, attempting to stop the pirates from boarding. Once past them, the rest of the crew was made up of regular sailors, no one who was very proficient with weapons. They were starting to clean up, the men from Kronos were cutting through the second-tier defenders handily, and Sergi was out front leading them across the deck. Several men lay dead, no one that he was friends with, but still they were in his crew. This battle was far costlier than the first, where none on their side perished. Pippin lay in a heap off to the side and everyone bore the wounds of a battle hard fought.

They had won the battle, and another ship would be claimed as a prize. Looking for the surgeon, his gaze drifted across their ship. Up on the poop deck, the captain and his first mate watched the proceedings dispassionately. All he could think was, with a few more skilled swords at his back, they would not have lost so many of their own. He might not have two wounds to attend to.

“Where’s their captain,” he said to no one in particular.

“Dead.” Sergi was checking out Pippin, “He stabbed me brother in the back, so I cut off his hands, then his head. The crusty old pirate looked sorrowful. “Men, help me get me brother back onboard the ‘Revenge’,” he said to a handful of dark-haired men from one of the northern Kronos countries.

“Why bother,” the captain said, finally deciding to join the raid. “His wounds are severe. He’ll not last the hour; that is, if he’s even still alive now.”

“He’s a member of the crew. He fought hard for the ships we’ve taken,” Sky spoke for all of them.

“Very well, if you must; but when he dies, I’ll not have his rotting corps on my ship. Burial at sea,” he said before pushing past to explore their spoils.

“Heartless bastard,” Red said, not bothering to whisper.

“You’ll watch your tongue sailor!” Nerin admonished. “Your value in battle doesn’t give you license to be insubordinate!”

“And that rope on your collar doesn’t give you the right to speak down to me.” Even bleeding, he was a tall and imposing figure. “A lot of things can happen when a ship is at sea. People fall overboard, all the time. To the best of my knowledge, goats na be good swimmers.” His look was menacing and could be construed as nothing short of a threat. Gritting his teeth, Nerin bustled off to tell the captain how he had been disrespected.