Terrin flung his eyelids open and immediately expelled lukewarm seawater from his lungs. Once he was done, he rolled over onto his back to look at the ceiling and promptly regretted it. He groaned as misery flooded through his body, instantly waking him from his forced slumber. He tried to push himself up and remembered his thumb was broken with an agonized scream. Terrin looked down at his crippled hand and found it bandaged, his wrists smeared with a pungent ointment. He didn’t know quite what to think about it, so he dismissed his tended injuries and tried to sit up again, using his elbows to prop himself. He groaned, feeling his aches, bruises, cuts, and injuries voice their complaints. His head throbbed in time to his heartbeat. It took him a second to register his own thoughts.
Where am I? How did I get here?
He gazed around and saw he was sitting on the hardwood floor of a cabin. The floor was rocking softly, indicating he was still on a ship. The walls were much finer than the slaving boat, and lanterns hung down from the ceiling to light the windowless room. Four light green hammocks swung from hooks on the walls and posts set in the ground, securing them enough to hold a grown man. They were in pairs of two, like hammock bunk beds.
Terrin shivered and rubbed the goose bumps on his arms. He had acquired a change of clothes in his sleep. He was dressed in a lightweight black shirt that kept him warmer than his previous shirt, but it still wasn’t keeping him warm enough in the chilled room with his damp skin.
“Nice ta see yer finally awake, lad,” an accented voice chirped behind him.
Terrin turned slowly, trying not to aggravate the lashes on his back. A man was sitting cross-legged on the floor behind him, a friendly smile on his lips. He seemed to be in his early twenties, with a head full of curly red hair and dancing hazel eyes. Freckles splashed across his cheeks and nose in splotches, standing out over his light skin. Terrin’s best guess was he was from the coastal kingdom Reagn or close to the borders of the Land of Snow in Amora if his pigment was anything to go by.
Then again, I’m from that area, and look how I turned out, Terrin mused.
The man had fine muscles, a sunburn, and a rough speech pattern, indicating he was a sailor.
“Yer lungs were filled with water, so I gave ya some good ol’ mouth ta mouth. Afta that, ya coughed it right up!” He grinned, and Terrin grimaced. “Then ya laid there, moanin’. All I could understand was sumthin’ ’bout snow. Did’ja dream of ah blizzard, laddie?”
Terrin flushed and looked at his hands. The last thing he wanted to do was tell this man his life story. “Where am I?”
The redhead grinned. He had obviously been waiting for Terrin to ask.
“Yer onna pirate ship. Tha Dwarf is ’er name. Me and me shipmates are tha liberators of tha sea,” he said proudly, thumping his chest. “We make it our job ta plunder slave ships and take their food, ammo, and ‘cargo,’ whether that be the livin’ slaves or tha merchandise. Then we fill up tha ship and slip away.”
Terrin felt instant relief but knew he should contain his excitement. He was no longer in danger of dying in a mine, but pirates were a small step up in the grand scheme of things.
“Actually, we were only plunderin’ for food this time. We didn’t even know this fella was cartin’ ammo or slaves. Yer too scrawny to be part of his meaty crew, though, so we realized he musta collected a few saps along tha way.”
Terrin knew he should keep his guard up, but the redhead seemed nice enough, and he didn’t seem to be in immediate danger. After all, they did bandage his wounds and get him new clothing. Suddenly, he realized what the change of clothes meant and started feeling for his pockets.
“There was a rock in my pocket. Where did it go?” he asked frantically.
The redhead’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Yer clothes are over there in the corner, but why is a rock so important?”
Terrin crawled over to the pile of dirty blood-soaked rags and searched through them until he found Elurra’s rock. He sighed in relief and pocketed it. The man gave him a strange look.
“Come on. It’s time fer dinna in the captain’s mess. Time fer ya ta meet the crew.”
He stood up and opened the door to reveal a well-kept hallway. The redhead turned right and headed for a ladder. After a second’s hesitation, Terrin realized he didn’t have much choice, and dinner did sound appealing, so he followed.
“How did’ja end up drowin’? Tha only reason yer alive right now is ’cause I flipped over me lifeboat by accident,” the sailor said, twiddling his thumbs in embarrassment.
“Well, I was already chained to the deck as punishment, and they left me there when we entered the mist. A blast right under me during your attack threw me over the side of the boat,” Terrin replied, looking down at his injuries. The redhead cracked a smile.
“Made ya tha canary, did they? Were ya impressed with our Devil’s Breath?”
Terrin shrugged passively. “I don’t know anything about Devil’s Breath, but it was impressive enough to scare the slavers, so I suppose it must have been good.”
The redhead tilted his head curiously. “What did’ja do to get chained up on tha main deck?”
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
Terrin felt embarrassed and reached to rub the back of his head, only to realize his thumb was in no condition to fulfill this childish habit.
“I tried to escape during that freak storm.”
The man doubled over laughing. “That explains tha stripes on yer back, alright. Ya must be mad. Only a loon would try ta escape durin’ a storm. What were ya gonna do, swim?” He laughed even harder at his own joke, shook his head, and resumed walking. “Swim,” he muttered, chuckling.
Terrin blushed as stared at his feet and bashfully followed the pirate.
“Rowan? Is that kid up yet?” a gravelly voice echoed down the ladder.
Rowan yelled back up, “Yea, ’e’s up now. We’re comin’ ta eat.”
He gestured toward the ladder and started up. Terrin made a move to follow, then realized getting up the rungs would be difficult without a working thumb. With his good arm, he grabbed a rung and hoisted himself up two steps, then he moved his good hand again and repeated the process until his head popped up above the deck. The fog was long gone, and the sky was dark. The stars above glittered like tiny holes poked in a dark fabric. Rowan pointed toward the cabin on the upper deck of the ship. The two men entered a well-lit room and found a feast. Eleven people sat around the table, all male.
“Ah, our elusive third guest,” a black man with dark eyes and a long, wiry beard at the head of the table exclaimed.
“I’m surprised Rowan didn’t accidentally kill ’em,” a younger man with a full beard and a broad frame added before taking a hefty swig from his flask. He was sitting beside the black man.
“Tha brunette joker is tha first mate, Ahren,” Rowan informed Terrin.
Ahren tipped his glass at Terrin. “Howdy,” he said before draining the rest of his flask.
“Tha head of tha table is Blade, tha capt’in.”
Blade grunted without as much as a glance up. Rowan pointed to the figure to the right of Ahren, who was sleeping on his plate.
“That’s Snore. He neva would tell us his name, so we named ’em for ’is most notable quality.” Snore made a noise that resembled a horse snorting, and Terrin tried not to chuckle.
“This ’ere is Jon, our doctor. He’s tha one that patched ya up.”
Jon was a large man with a thick beard and a bald scalp. He smiled widely at Terrin.
“I’m glad to see yer feelin’ better. Does yer hand hurt too much?” he inquired.
Terrin shook his head and smiled back. Rowan turned to the other side of the table. He gestured to a young boy with light brown hair and large chocolate brown eyes, and then to another older, dark-skinned boy with striking features. Terrin swore he had seen them somewhere before.
“These ’ere are tha otha captives on that ship we ransacked, whose names are?” Rowan asked, raising an eyebrow in their direction.
“Tristen,” the dopey-eyed boy supplied.
“Yestin,” filled in the other.
“Across from ’em is Curth and Drake, tha twins. Good luck tellin’ em apart; none of us can.” The twins were remarkably similar, but mostly because they were both bald and had the same eye color.
“Beside ’em is Pronn. He’s ah expert lookout.” The skinny, dark-haired man gave Terrin a nod. “And nexta him is Monkey. That’s his nickname, anyhow. He loves ta climb tha shrouds.” When Terrin gave him a questioning look, he explained, “Tha rope ladders on tha side of the masts.”
Monkey had long dreadlocks matted with strands of beads. He gave Terrin a big black-toothed grin. Someone let out an explosive sneeze, which caused everyone to turn to look at the last person sitting at the table.
“And last but not least, Plague. Tha one patient Jon can’t seem ta cure.”
Plague wiped his nose and sniffled. Shaggy hair covered his eyes and most of his face. He sneezed again before uttering, “Hi there.”
“’Parently there’s ’posed ta be twenty more of ’em on this ship, but they’re all in Incari, collectin’ recruits and supplies ’fore winter. I’ve neva met ’em, but I bet ya they’re great fellas. Normally, we all eat in tha mess, but it’s so empty, so we started eatin’ in ’ere ’cause it’s cozier,” Rowan babbled. His chatter earned a glare from Blade.
“Shut up and sit down, Rowan, or ya ain’t gettin’ nutin to eat,” Blade growled.
Rowan kept smiling and gestured to the chair beside Tristen.
“Blade always got ah chip on ’is shoulda. Don’t let it get ta ya,” he hissed under his breath before sitting down across the table.
As soon as they sat, everyone started lumping food onto their plates like ravaging wolves. Terrin dug in, realizing he could finally quench the new and ever-present hunger that had appeared with his debut into adulthood. Someone poured him a glass of unidentified alcohol, and he cautiously tried a taste. He thought it was disgusting but sipped it anyway because he’d never been allowed to drink. Rowan proved he was the most talkative and chipper person at the table within a few minutes of the meal.
“Would any of ya like ta hear tha tale of tha dwarfs?” Rowan asked, addressing the three guests at the table. They all nodded, but everyone else moaned or groaned apart from Snore, who didn’t even stir. Ahren stuck carrots in his ears.
“Tha dwarfs was once all slaves,” he began.
“He jus’ likes this story ’cause ’e jus’ ’eard it ’imself,” Blade grumbled as he tore into a roll.
Terrin had to admire anyone who could figure out how to drop that many sounds in one sentence.
“I look up to y’all, ’cause I neva woulda been that brave,” Rowan argued as he gave the cranky captain a large smile. “Anyway, all tha sailors on this ship had been taken from far ’n wide ’n forced ta work in one of tha various islands ta gatha ore. It was gruesome work. Ev’ry day, they labored from dawn till dusk. Then, they started talkin’, ’cause they all worked near each other, see. There were ten of ’em originally. Blade was tha first to mention escape. It was on all their minds, but there was guards ev’rywere. Then, one day, a merchant ship pulled inta port. They invited all them slavers ta join ’em in tha main hall for a drink. Even the guards on duty went. Tha idiot who had to watch their cabin didn’t even lock tha door correctly. Ev’ryone escaped, and they went through and picked tha locks ta all tha slave houses. They all slipped away and were freed at their home ports. Some of tha original escape artists met togetha afta droppin’ ev’ryone else off ’n decided to become pirates and sail this ship around, liberatin’ slaves. A few left eventually, but for the most part, they’re all ’ere, and they’re always lookin’ for recruits.” He spread his arms wide, a broad invitation.
Tristen breathed something that sounded like, “I want to be one of you,” but no one else heard him as Rowan started chattering away again. Suddenly, the captain slammed the hilt of his crude-looking knife into the table, silencing him.
“Ya neva let me tell my part of tha story,” Blade rumbled with a glower at his crewman.
Rowan paled a bit and muttered, “Oh, I’m awful sorry, Blade.”
All the older pirates looked at him condescendingly—except for Ahren, who pulled a carrot out of his ear and ate it. Blade glared a bit longer to make sure he got his point across, then turned to Terrin, Tristen, and Yestin.
“That dark night so long ago, I had no experience with leadership or sailin’. How did I free ’em, ya ask? How did I lead a revolution? ’Cause I ’ave a special charm that gives me tha luck of a Guardian. It’s from tha royal family of tha Land of Snow themselves. That’s why I’m capt’in,” he said. His voice was just above a whisper as he proudly displayed his lucky trinket. Terrin felt a stone settle in his stomach when he saw the bracelet around the captain’s wrist.
It was identical to Elurra’s.