Mary

Asta crumples on the deck, growing smaller and paler until he’s a boy, the harpoon sticking out from his belly, comically oversized like a flagpole. I fall to my knees next to him, listening to his breathing.

“Asta.” I shake him, rolling him onto his back. He groans, eyes fluttering open. His shirt around the harpoon is dark red, cloths in tatters. Wrapping my hands around the shaft, I rip it free. Asta clamps his jaw, hands curling into fists at his sides.

All around and below us are fighting men. Rover’s sword gleams red in the sun and smoke. Isabeth sweeps in circles like a dancer, killing soldiers in their dozens with a wave of her hands. Piper makes upward jerking motions, scarlet crystals bursting from the deck, impaling enemies.

“Asta.” I say again. I pull him against my chest, hugging him. He’s frailer then he looks, ribs and elbows digging into my body. I find purchase on his knees and shoulders, hoisting him up into my arms.

“Here, girlie!” I spin around to see a sailor with a lime green sash standing at the railing, cutlass raised above his head, a wicked grin smeared all over his dirty face. I backpedal and fall over, dropping Asta on the deck. He lets out a muffled cry, rolling over onto his stomach.

“Your father will pay handsomely for you, betcha’.” He comes closer, tilting his head to one side. There’s a nasty, purple ripple of scar tissue on one side of his head, cutting into the outer edge of his right eye, turning it a milky swirl.

“Like hell he will.” I spit, crab walking backwards away from him.

“Mercenaries. Ugly things, don’t yer think?” The man goes down in a spray of scarlet, a red stained blade cleaving his torso in two. I gasp, looking up.

Rover stands there, wiping an already dirty cloth up the length of his sword, smoke leaking out from his pipe in a wispy tendril. He shoots a look at Asta’s form with his single ice green eye.

“Be a good little Drake, and get our friend here to the infirmity. Meet me in me cabin when yer’re done.” He turns and walks away, boots thudding on the stairs as he descends. Groaning, I climb to my feet. Asta’s curled up on his side, one hand clasped in a fist around something on his chest. I scoop him up, following the path Rover made in his wake. Isabeth stands panting near the port railing, bent over at the waist. Piper undoes his work, putting the crystals he grew back into the ship. Unsure where the infirmity is, I head over to Piper.

“Do you know where the infirmity is?” I ask, readjusting my hold on Asta. Piper looks between me and the boy in my arms.

“I can take him. Almost done here. Rover wants to ‘alk with you.” I hand him Asta. Piper grunts, hefting Asta up.

“Thanks.” I say, waving at him over my shoulder. I’ve only been to Rover’s cabin once, but I knew where it was: at the stern of the ship.

I knock on the door three times with my knuckles, waiting. The door swings open, Rover sticking his head out like a harpy perched on a cliff face.

“Come in. We need to talk.” He says, whisking back into the room. I follow him, unnecessary fear working its way into me. Rover’s cabin hasn’t changed much, the only alteration being the massive bubbling cauldron in front of his desk.

“What is that for?” I blurt, skidding around it.

“Ah, that. I think you could call it a scientific theory.” Rover says, tapping his chin with one finger.

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“A hypothesis, you mean.” I correct him.

“A hypo-what?”

“An educated guess. You’re trying to figure something out through trial and error.” I peer into the cauldron. It’s filled with yellow-white broth, brown lumps floating on its surface.

“If you’re wondering what’s in it, I figured you would be able to help me with it.” Rover hands me a wooden stick with a flat disk attached to one end. I take it and put it into Rover’s mystery potion, startled by how thick it is.

“You into alchemy?”

“Gods, no.” Rover makes a gagging sound, tongue poking out of his mouth.

“Let me guess, the last alchemist you met, you strangled him.” I pause to roll my sleeves up to my elbows.

“Close. I put a decent-sized dent in his skull. He made such the strangest sound when I did it.” Rover grunts. He places his hat on his desk, turning his back to the sliding glass door behind his desk.

“About Asta.” I say, sweat dripping down my back for many reasons. Some of them really stupid.

“What about him?” Rover shrugs off his navy blue overcoat, dropping it in a pile around his boot and peg leg.

“How- how did he get all his scars?” I ask, readjusting my grip on the wooden spoon. Rover’s silence stretches on for a while. Finally he opens his mouth.

“I’ll let him tell you. Though you might have a hard time getting it out of him.” Under his coat, Rover has nothing on his top but a red silk tank, leaving his olive arms bare. I feel my cheeks warming. Adverting my eyes, I study the artwork of his peg leg. It’s carved from a Drake tooth, ivory white with tiny flecks of pale gray in spiral patterns around it. He catches me eyeing it, a grin catches at the corner of his mouth.

“How’d you lose it?” I ask.

“An extremely nasty combination of a Drake and a Ladian cannon.” Rover says, leaning over to rub his knee. We talk for hours, until I feel my eyelids drooping and a strange soreness creeping into my bones.

Someone knocks on the door in four fast repressions. We both jump, Rover’s hand grabbing his sword, drawing it half-way out of its scabbard.

“Sorry to ’isturb you, sir.” The pirate on the other side says.

“You startled me. Come in.” Rover says, regaining his composure. The door swings in, with the pirate Crank carrying a bundle of rags on the other side. Rover stands back, letting the pirate in, closing the door behind him with a heavy thud. Crank goes to the middle of the room and drops the rags on the floor with a grunt, massaging his left bicep. Rover comes over and pokes Crank’s bundle with his boot, one brow raised.

“How’d it go?”

“Terrible. Poor thing wouldn’t stop screaming. Had to knock ’im unconscious.” Crank says, showing Rover bloodied knuckles. Rover clicks his tongue in his mouth loudly, hands on his hips. I stop stirring, curious. Rover kicks the rag pile over, and it makes a whimpering noise. I blink, confused. Leaning over the cauldron, I put the spoon down and move to a better spot to watch.

“What the?” I squat down next to the side where the noise came from, prodding it. The sound of someone inhaling sharply follows.

“Uh, uh, uh. Might want to step back.” Rover gestures to Crank, who cracks his knuckles the way a torturer does right before they beat someone to a pulp. Crank wraps his left arm around the rags, revealing a face covered in bruises and blood, complete with dreadlocks of black hair. I get yanked to my feet, a whole new wave of disgust for Rover crashing into my gut. Crank hefts the person up, preventing them from toppling over with his arm around their neck.

“Who?” I demand. The person groans then coughs, hacking blood.

“I told you to let go.” They- no, he- says weakly. Rover grins like a maniac, going behind his desk.

“So pleased you could join us today, Asta.” He says, opening one of the drawers with a loud scrapping sound. He takes out a coiled rope, pinching one end between his thumb and forefinger.

“Go to hell.” Asta moans, pawing at Crank’s grip around his neck. His wrists are shackled, blood trickling down his arms in thin rivulets.

“I already did, boy. I guess the god of death doesn’t like snacks that taste of sea salt.” Rover says, flicking his wrist. The coil comes undone, turning into a braided leather whip. Asta’s eyes widen, his breathing becoming hitched.

“What are you doing?” I demand. Asta grunts, trembling. His clothes are ripped and full of holes, barely hiding his bruised, blood-covered form.

“Putting him in his place, little Drake.” Rover gives the whip a lazy twirl. Asta flinches, jerking his head to the right. The pirate captain places his left hand under Asta’s jaw, lifting his head and exposing his throat.

“Now then, shall we-” Asta jerks his head forward fast as a snake, sinking his teeth into Rover’s hand. Rover lets out a string of curses, back pedaling. Crank drops the writhing boy on the wood floor with a painful-sounding thud, stepping around him to assist his captain.

“Put him in the brig.” Rover hisses, cradling his injured hand to his belly. Crank nods, bottom lip wobbling.

“Now!” Rover barks, shooting daggers out of his eye. Crank nods once, drags Asta to his feet, and leaves.