There were a thousand things to be done in a limited time frame. An entirely new crew of cursed beings were orienting themselves around my broken ship. A hostile choir of sirens were sizing them up, trying to decide if killing on principle was worth the effort. Notifications for each and every crewmember were swimming at the crest of my subconscious, just waiting to be recognized. Above those notifications came the notification about my new ship and everything about it. There also seemed to be some skill advancements thrown in there or good measure.
But I gave thought to none of that. They were inconsequential in the face of what was happening to my mind at that moment. No sooner was I notified about Davy Jones engaging my mental capacities – something I was powerless to resist since Jones literally held my sworn heart in his possession – than my mana pool dropped precipitously. It formed in a way completely foreign to me in a design complex enough I was lost nearly instantly.
It was still my mana being weaved, even if I wasn’t in control of it. I recognized when it had created something, and I knew when a different source of magic – a much larger source – reached out and met it.
Where my spellwork had centered, a head appeared. It had two great white eyes that filled half its face, thick gummy lips on a wide mouth, horns on the top of his head and shaggy hair floating in the water. The head swelled, growing in size until it was larger than I was, engorged with magic. Inky darkness began spewing from its lips.
As I tried to comprehend what manner of conjuring I’d been forced into, the wide mouth opened … then stretched back further and further, not stopping until it had opened a full 180 degrees. It released a cloud of black water reminiscent of an octopuses’ ink.
And out of that inky darkness stepped Davy Jones.
With a feat of magic, Jones had used me to create an anchor for some teleportation spell he had! I had no idea where Jones had been prior to this, but that kind of magic was something mages spent their lives trying to create!
Characteristically, Jones didn’t care for my astonishment.
“I set you on a simple task months ago, and you’ve finally finished it with the motliest assortment of degenerates I’ve ever seen!”
I was taken aback not only by his sudden appearance, but by his criticism. I’d spent my time carefully avoiding capture! Did he want his new servant to be caught immediately after he was created? Before I could figure out how to respond, the siren matriarch approached.
“Jones!” She hissed. “What are you doing in the shallows? You have been behaving oddly in recent years, meddling in surface affairs and encroaching where you do not belong …”
Jones waved a dismissive hand at the matriarch. “Begone, pest!”
To my utter shock the matriarch closed her fanged mouth and with a snarl turned and swam away! Her entire choir fled with her at speed. I’d fought with that matriarch twice now and gone through a great deal of trouble because of her, and Davy Jones just dismissed her! And she obeyed!
“Months of opportunity,” Jones said again. “And no growth worth speaking of! And where have you advanced your profession abilities? Hiding your nature? Spending time on land? Pitiful!”
Whatever humble, polite, respectful, obsequious (ok, maybe not that far) reply I was trying to come up with failed me at his reprimand. I was reminded of all the time I’d spent agonizing over my decision and future because of the vague guidelines and threats facing me. Some of that attitude seeped through the first words I greeted my master with.
“I found the best route I could to cover risks I couldn’t comprehend.”
Jones looked at me askance. “When you found yourself in my depths, you had just amassed hundreds of thousands of XP in a matter of hours. I give you a mission to establish yourself – a mission to get the bare minimum you need to utilize your class! – and after months have passed you not only hadn’t completed this simple task, you’d only accumulated a few thousand XP. A few thousand! I expected more from you!”
“Why?” I demanded, unable to stop myself. “I’d spent my whole life at sea and hadn’t yet gotten level 10; why would my one night of crazed battle – which I was lucky to survive – be your standard for my growth?”
“Because I gave you a goal! And I gave you the class to do what you never could have!”
“I had a vague goal and no idea of how my abilities worked! I still don’t know most of them. I also had the threat of the most powerful people in the world hunting me down if they found me.” Jones snorted and muttered something insulting about the power those rulers had. “So what did you expect me to do? Swim to the nearest ship and start slaughtering for XP?”
“I wouldn’t have been opposed to that.” He stepped towards my ship, some trick of magic or his curse allowing him to step through water however he wished. Even my curse only let me ‘anchor’ myself to the bottom, anything else required I be ‘adrift’ and swim. “You would have attracted more interest sooner, true, but you would have been more powerful than they could handle sooner than they could muster forces to fight you. Instead the only useful thing it seems you picked up was mental magic.”
The deeper magic that was mental magic was a powerful tool, and seemingly the only ones Jones cared about. “You know I wasn’t exactly a combative person when you took me on. I had some training to do!”
“Why?” Jones demanded. “Let your crew do your fighting, let your ship protect you. You could have done without the novice-level weapons skills it seems you spent so much time on.”
Well it’s not like I knew that! I was still very much in the dark. There was a limit to how much you could complain to powerful men, though. “What skills do I need to be effective? How do I deal with the people that are coming after me?”
Jones growled. “You want a leveling plan? Fine! I was gracious with your freedom but I’ll start pulling in your leash.” He held out his empty hand like he was gripping something and I stopped cold. I fought for a breath through the feeling of someone gripping my heart – the heart that Jones had taken when he’d given me my curse. “You will not advance your level so the experience from your enemies will be sweeter. You will avoid investing XP into that wreck of a ship you’ve claimed and instead focus on your abilities. And because you seem to have reverted to the courageous level of a guppy, you will not pass over opportunities to gain more XP, not even if it puts you in mortal peril! The sea is not a tame place, and you need to learn to gamble again as you ride the currents!”
I felt his commands imprinted on me on a deeper level than words. Davy Jones reached into his pocket, and the grip on my heart suddenly eased.
“As for your mission,” he said, pulling out an amulet. “There is an old friend of mine for days of yore. He is being hunted down. This amulet will lead you to his position. Find him, and deal with his pursuers. If you fail,” Jones stared me down, “then I will reel in every inch of freedom I have graced you with. You will serve on the Perdition until your soul wearies of life and you lose even the desire to hope for freedom again. I have made an investment in you, it is time it paid off!”
He looked at my ship with the cracked masts and broken lines. The crew had assembled around it, clinging to familiar structures as the hull bobbed on the surface, whacked down with every passing wave.
“I suppose a heavier investment is in order …”
Again he commandeered my mental capacities, this time something else flowed through. Jones looked through my ship’s interface like it was his own, manipulating it faster than I could think. His magic – or was he using his own XP through me? – caused the masts to snap back together like a broken bone being realigned. The lines shot through the water to have their ends meet again. The ship righted itself, staying just beneath the waves, my crew still clinging to it.
Jones began casting his teleportation spell again. “You wanted advice? Level up your leadership skill as much as you can. The level of your crew will be capped at your own level plus your leadership level. You can have level thirty fighters do your butcher work for you, but you need to be able to command them. Otherwise, they’ll be operating on your own level.” A fish head looking like a giant pike began to materialize below Jones. “Oh, and make the next ability you unlock be ‘domain’.” The squeeze on my heart was the physical reminder that his last command wasn’t just friendly advice.
The materialized giant fish head below Jones suddenly snapped its jaws around his body, engulfing him. Then the fine scales flaked away in a shimmer to show the bleached skeleton beneath – with no sign of Davy Jones.
The skull sank into the depths and I let it, taking a closer look at the amulet Jones had given me. It looked like a shamanistic medallion I’d expect to see on an orc, made of stylized bone. In the center in place of a gem or portrait was a single dark colored scale roughly the size of my palm. I put in on and instantly had the motivation to go north-west. That was nearly the whole ocean, but a bit of focus let me realize it was in the Median Ocean off the coast of Bandarn. A long journey … a long journey with a crew mostly made up of slaves and severely lacking in capable manpower. I also had to sail right past my old home of Antarus. It would be difficult.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
There were so many things I’d wanted over the past few months. I’d just gotten some of my answers, but I’d also had fears confirmed. My timely meeting with Jones may have seemed like an act of providence to save my life, but it was indeed a deal with the devil. If I could stay on Jones’ good side I would stay free with all the power he’d given me. If I couldn’t, I’d rue the day I had passed over death. And what were my odds of staying on Jones good side forever?
It didn’t matter what the odds were. I had an imprinted command to gamble and take mortal risks now. I’d play with the hand I was dealt.
My crew was waiting for me on the ship. I had expected to deal with a barrage of questions and demands as soon as I was in range, but they were all silent. I felt the weight of their unasked questions like a palpable force.
Either from habit or because they craved the familiar amidst recent changes, they stood on the deck. I swam just above the gunwale, giving me the illusion of levitating above them all. I’d want to break them of the mentality that the deck of the ship was their ground – the increased maneuverability I found while sailing submerged was incredibly useful – but for now the idea that they were looking up to me as their new leader seemed advantageous.
“Bring the slaves up on deck,” I told Burdette. “This concerns them too.”
The former captain balked. “Domenic, I think you and I should talk before …”
“Have them brought up, Burdette. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re out of your depth here. I’ll address you with the rest of the crew.”
Burdette and I hadn’t gotten along and I needed to show that our relationship had drastically changed. But I did respect the man’s skills, and wanted his support. I thought I could give him something to sweeten the deal, but I wouldn’t be pulled aside by him now like I had to give advance notice before I could take charge. That would undermine my new authority.
It took several long minutes for the slaves to be brought up on deck. Burdette had given the order for them to be accounted for as they came up, which I approved of. While everyone was getting into place, I tried looking through the most important of my notifications.
Death's Consort (Cursed)
Ship Class
Carrack
Captain
Domenic Seaborn
Ship Durability
34,000/34,000
Ship level
2
Cursed Status:
Voice of the Crew
From Nothing
Blood Payment
Ship alterations:
Speed
Maneuverability
Handling
Durability
Modifications:
Repairs
Effects
Relationships
…
Jones had restored the full durability of my ship. I mentally tipped my hat to him in thanks. I might not feel like he was a generous man but I was glad I wouldn’t be dragging my masts along.
And I had three cursed statuses! It seemed my time serving on the ship before claiming it payed off.
The ships history and your experience with it have an effect on the nature of the ship’s curse. Cursed status has been set as: Voice of the Crew, From Nothing, and Blood Payment
Voice of the Crew: the commander of this ship sacrificed himself in order to give a voice to the lowliest of its occupants. That principle has been integrated into the essence of the ship, making this the primary cursed status.
This is a variable status.
Status effect: Based upon crew morale and attitude, imparts a weak trait within the ships sphere of influence.
As the primary cursed status of this ship; ‘weak’ trait upgraded to ‘moderate’ in strength.
There was no knowing what this would bring. I had a feeling that it would bite me in the rear as often as it would be an asset. Say the crew was in a fighting spirit before a battle, would we get buffs to our attributes? If the crew was scared of battle, would it be the opposite?
From Nothing: the commander of this ship began as a deck hand. Now he rules as Captain. Within the ship’s sphere of influence, higher level enemies suffer penalties to attributes equivalent to 3 levels.
This was a straight forward benefit! On human enemies, that would be the equivalent of 9 attribute points, or 1 from each attribute. That meant each enemy would have a bit less health, stamina, mana … it didn’t level the playing field against enemies way above me, but it did mitigate it a bit. Especially since I no longer had a choice about increasing my own level.
Blood Payment: the commander of this ship spilled his blood upon its decks. The ship remembers and demands compensation. Bleed effects within the ships’ sphere of influence are worsened and harder to staunch.
The last effect scared me a bit before I considered the implications. Then it scared me a bit more. I wouldn’t be against having my enemies suffer from a consistent damage over time effect, but it was a brutal way to do it. There was also the matter that it didn’t specify only my enemies suffering from it – would everyday shipboard injuries for my own crew become life-threatening matters?
On the whole, the thing that just wouldn’t get out of my brain was the name change: from the Consort to Death’s Consort. It wasn’t the first ominous name change to a ship I’d raised, but each one had been unsettling in its implications. Was I courting with death now? Was it just a suitably sinister upgrade from a frivolous title?
It didn’t matter. The slaves had been mustered on deck and Burdette approached me with the count, as a junior officer should. He had already taken muster of the crew and had that information for me. Zamari was not the only member of the crew we’d lost in the siren’s surprise attack, but all the slaves were present.
As I looked over my crew crowded on the deck – in two distinct groups – I wondered how to begin. How would I tell them exactly what had transpired, how I’d saved their lives and cursed them at the same time? Rather than start inanely, I furiously thought through the right way to give my speech. The crew began to shift uncomfortably under my silent gaze.
“You should all know by now the nature of what’s happened. Some time ago I was conscripted as Davy Jones’ lieutenant.” A few people groaned despite the rather obvious conclusion. “My geas is to his service. When the sirens attacked and the Consort sank, I made each of you and offer to cheat death. Each of you accepted, so now your service is to me!”
The reactions were varied. Some were despondent. Others clenched their fists in anger. The slaves seemed mostly confused, understanding only that I was claiming a position as their master.
“Don’t we get a choice?” Someone from the sailor’s side asked.
“You made your choice when you accepted my offer! I know how crummy it is to have a choice between death and a curse. It’s a devil’s bargain all around! But I don’t intend to be a devil for you. I require your service to complete the task I’ve been given from Jones. After that, I promise to release anyone who wants to go free.”
The sailors were shocked. They knew no one served Davy Jones and ever went free. Well, that would be my problem. I didn’t see a reason to become a tyrant because I was chaffing under the rule of one.
In the silence of the crew, one of the slaves spoke up. It was the leonid consort who’d failed to sell at the auction block in Dagat.
“Does that go for all of us?”
I met the suddenly hopeful eyes of the slaves. “That goes for all of you. You all may still have the hardest time, because I will require you learn to sail – and fast – but you will be free once we’re done. I’ll set you ashore where you wish.”
Burdette interrupted the jubilant gasps. “Domenic! These slaves have to be returned to their rightful owners!”
I looked at him dumbfounded by the idiocy of his statement. Was Burdette simply clinging to old habits? Was he seriously considering his reputation as a slave trader? Was my promise of freedom from an otherwise eternal sentence of servitude not enough for him?
As if understanding my unspoken points, Burdette’s mouth snapped shut, cutting off his next words. Or maybe my look was darker than I’d intended.
“There are no more ‘rightful owners.’ There is just me.” I addressed the whole crew again. “Above us one of the predictable and mighty storms of the Passive Ocean is getting worse. Soon our respite under the waves will end.” Several people jumped and looked up like they’d forgotten they were underwater. “We will ride the storm. It is terrible weather for an introduction to sailing, but calm seas do not make skilled sailors. If you do not have the seamanship skill now, I expect you to by the time the storm is over. If you do, I expect it will advance faster than you’ve ever seen it do before. I am the Captain of this ship now. Burdette will be my first mate. Mister Burdette!” I raised my voice clearly. “Arrange for the new crewmembers to fill sail stations under the command and supervision of an experienced crewmember. Our modicum of protection from the tempest here below will end in roughly half an hour. Then we ride the storm south!”
It took Burdette a moment to realize that the ‘new crewmembers’ were the former slaves. It took another moment more for him to process what I’d said about returning to the surface and the time limit I’d placed. “Yes … Captain.”
I nodded to him, and the next moment he was bellowing for all hands to man sail stations. I swam to the group of slaves. I’d gotten to know most of them, and had an idea where to put them. For many field laborers, strength was their primary stat. That made them worth two or three average men when hauling lines. I’d need them to fight against the power the storm would throw against us. They set to their assignments eagerly if cluelessly, and the other crewmen began to hammer them out into teams. Others were assigned to the yards to take in and let fall the sails as needed. Because they were completely green, I had them tied to their positions. After remembering that some of the crewmen didn’t have the skill levels to hold their own in the midst of a tempest, I gave parameters where all crewmembers would be strapped in. They might not drown if they were washed away, but if we couldn’t retrieve them in the storm they’d be lost after 24 hours away from the ship.
Burdette followed my instructions and gave effective commands. I gave us all a little more than my half-hour deadline, but my new first mate had everyone sorted not long after it. He kept glancing at me as though trying to see if I was the same person I’d been when he thought me nothing more than a mutinous crewman. We’d have a lot of work to do before we truly came to terms, but I had hope for him becoming my strongest asset on board. I took the helm myself and looked at the roiling sea above.
“Let fall the topgallant! Here we go!”