Page 6 of Daughter of the Dark Sea

Heavy, royal-blue drapes shrouded the room in darkness, blanketing the rear cracked windows. Sweat, damp, and something else lingered, permeating the air. Kora wrinkled her nose, peering around the thick edge of the door. Darkness moulded itself around large chunky furniture, bolted to the floor.

Finlay hauled himself onto the thin panel of decking and stepped forward, motioning to let him pass, and he nudged the door ajar. Was he being protective? Brown-nosing the captain on his first voyage? Smart lad. Light sliced through the room, revealing a four-poster bed to the right and a desk to the left. A large chest, covered in rubies in the centre, sparkled, casting a red starry sky on the low-beamed ceiling.

“Bingo!”

Kora strode towards it, shouldering past Finlay.

“Wait!”

he whispered harshly.

Silence smothered them and the sounds of her crew grew distant. She reached for the beckoning ruby chest, treasure dancing in her vision, but a dark bumpy shape in the corner snagged her attention. She halted, turning to inspect the lump at the base of the bed.

“Captain!”

Finlay cried in warning.

Kora stumbled as a figure sprang from the exquisite gold covers. Finlay leapt between them, broadsword drawn in his shaky hands as the pirate lunged. She staggered back in surprise, knocking into the desk, papers and trinkets that littered it flying onto the floor.

“Stop where ye are!”

the pirate bellowed. A mottled, grey unruly beard, tied with blue string, framed a darkly tanned, chapped face. His eyes were the deepest brown, matching his slicked hair covered with a dark blue bandana.

Finlay swiped wildly with his marred heavy blade as the pirate attempted to shove him away. The pirate yelled, dodging the attack, drawing his cutlass sword and aiming for Finlay’s frantically heaving chest.

“Get out of me way, lad.”

His long coat and breeches matched the royal-blue sails of Demon Sea Siren, with a thick, black leather belt and a silver buckle, to sheath his even larger cutlass sword. Kora eyed it cautiously. It was wide, curving to a sharp point, capable of slicing through an arm, or leg . . . or two. Three more males emerged from underneath the bed, covered in dust, debris, and blood. So, that was the stench. Their venomous glares fixated on Finlay and his trembling sword.

Filthy pirates.

Kora’s blood boiled anew with hatred, and she spared a glance at the desk. A thick, silver envelope knife glinted at her. Its handle, with an intricate vine pattern woven around it, captured her gaze.

“I suppose you’re the captain.”

Kora shuffled forward, obscuring the desk behind her.

“Captain James Cannon.”

His deep, rough voice bounced through the quarters as he lifted his curved blade level with Finlay’s throat, a threat poised on his weather-beaten face.

“Quite the spectacle. You must’ve fired enough cannons to kill a kraken,”

she smirked, lips tugged into a lazy smile.

“Captain Kora Cadell, at your service.”

She bowed low and mockingly, and as she straightened, her hand swiftly stroked the surface of the desk in a casual caress.

Krakens were common legend amongst pirates. A mythical creature capable of capsizing the largest of vessels in minutes. Consuming sailors and chomping through boats with rows of pointed teeth, their tentacles dragging them to the crushing depths of the ocean. Shame they were only myths. She could do with a kraken in her artillery.

Cannon’s face flashed at the mention of her name and he shook his head.

“Aye, we know of ye,”

he snapped, glowering at her insult. His pirate comrades crept out at the edges of the quarters, closing the space between Kora, Finlay, and Cannon.

“Attacking us is pointless,”

she addressed his crew, glaring at them individually.

“Four of you against my ship of sailors.”

“We don’t see no crew,”

one to the right sneered.

She refused to look towards the open-door entrance. Had the boats already departed back to Hell’s Serpent? They wouldn’t leave her. Blake wouldn’t leave her. She inhaled deeply, repeating the thought over.

A blood-soaked pirate advanced. His white shirt clung to his bony frame, revealing a wound in his side. Blood trickled from his busted lips, and he spat on the floor, his saliva traced with speckles of red.

“You may come on board with us,”

Kora said slowly, edging closer to Finlay, his sword still raised at their captain.

“We won’t harm you.”

“Lies!”

White Shirt snarled as he limped closer.

“Ye murder our kind for sport!”

“Aye,”

Cannon repeated.

“It’ll be ye that’ll be coming with us. Enough of this bloodshed.”

“You’re the liars. We’re not going anywhere with you!”

Finlay’s voice rose, grimacing as he violently trembled. Kora stilled. He wouldn’t make the kill. It was plain as day on his face.

Cannon barked a husky laugh.

“Lad, ye’ll be at the bottom of the ocean in Davy Jones’ Locker. We want the lass.”

He motioned the wicked blade to Kora, its end nicking her throat.

They wanted her alive, and they didn’t intend to send her to the Locker with Finlay. How . . . confusing. Pirates were murderous thieves, and nothing more. Finlay blanched at the mention of the Locker, and something protective surged within her.

“No,”

Kora placed her hand on Finlay’s shoulder in comfort.

“He won’t be.”

With a hard warning squeeze, she dragged Finlay away from Cannon and flung the envelope knife with precision. It shot through the air, embedding into Cannon’s right shoulder, forcing him back onto the golden bed with a painful yell. His cutlass sword scattered across the floor and Kora leapt, her hands scrambling before the limping, white-shirt pirate could snatch it first.

Drawing herself onto her knees, she clutched the sword, its hilt too big to grapple. Damn it! The white-shirt pirate clasped her shoulders, shoving her onto her back before she could draw the weapon up in defence. Her head smacked against the polished floor, pain exploding behind her eyes, and stars danced in her vision. Her ears rang, drowning out Finlay’s cries for help.

Finlay.

She’d be gods-damned if she’d let the pirates win. Move, move now!

“It’s to the Locker with ye now, lad.”

White Shirt hauled Finlay up by the lapel of his dark jerkin. The bandage around his head unravelled, his blood matting his hair.

“N-no, please!”

his voice wavered.

Kora pushed to her feet, the room swaying, and violently drove the cutlass blade through White Shirt’s lower back, gutting him. He released Finlay with a shocked splutter, blood dripping from his mouth as Finlay tumbled to the floor with a sickening thud.

“Not before I send you to the Locker,”

Kora snarled viciously in his ear.

She plunged the magnificent blade in deeper, all the way to its silver, decorated hilt, pouring all her revenge, hatred, and distaste into the strike until she withdrew it with a horrifying, killing twist. Blood splattered across her jerkin and face and the pirate collapsed in a bloody heap, his guts tumbling out of his stomach.

Finlay gasped, placing a shaking hand over his gaped mouth, blood spraying over him in a decorative crimson streak. The remaining two pirates froze, warily eyeing their crewmate crumpled at Kora’s feet as she gripped Cannon’s sword, dripping with blood. Finlay scrambled to his feet next to her, clutching his clean broadsword, panting with shock. Poor lad.

“Stop!”

Cannon yelled, raising a red-stained hand. He’d propped himself against the wooden pillar of the four-poster bed, his bandana removed, staunching the wound soaking into his long blue coat.

“Kora,”

Cannon’s tone was familiar, but her lips curled hearing her name rolling off a pirate’s foul tongue.

“We’ve been lookin’ for ye for a long time.”

Desperation flashed in his eyes.

“Well, it’s not every day you catch a pirate-hunter.”

Kora twirled Cannon’s cutlass sword in her hand, aiming at his chest. He released a frustrated sigh that turned into a low, wheezing chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Ye have no idea who ye are, do ye lass?”

He bravely squared up to his own blade, the lethal tip brushing apart his torn shirt to his exposed heart.

“I’m Captain Cadell,”

Kora said each word slowly and offered her most feral smile. Finlay inhaled sharply as a tall dark shadow prowled behind Cannon.

“No, cildbah.”

The roughness in Cannon’s voice softened. Kora’s stomach flipped at the old language, her skin crawling at the affectionate term for kid. How did a pirate know the language of the ancients? It originated from the old world, Devania, before the empire united the islands, creating Azaria.

“Who ye really are.”

He edged closer, the razor-sharp tip pressing into his skin enough to draw a thin line of blood.

“This wasn’t meant to be ye life. Ye need to come with me. I need to take ye to them. Show ye the truth, where they stole—”

Blake charged in from the light of the sun, barrelling into Cannon, the force pushing Cannon onto his own sword, and it tore through his chest as easily as ripping bread. Cannon smiled sadly at Kora as the life faded from his eyes.

He was dead instantly.

She dropped the sword in shock, Cannon’s hot blood staining her hands, and her crew barged into the quarters, forcing the remaining two pirates to their knees, shackling their wrists with thick, iron cuffs.

“Captain?”

Blake appeared before her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.

“Kora . . . look at me.”

She blinked up at him dazedly.

“He knew. About me,”

she whispered. Blake peered at Cannon’s body, shifting to Finlay beside her. Realisation flooded his face and he gently squeezed her shoulders.

“Take the prisoners to Hell,”

Blake ordered the crew. He winked at the prisoners, their fury mirrored on their grimy faces.

“We’ll meet you there. I need to speak to the captain,”

he added, clearly dismissing Finlay.

The sailor stiffened at Blake’s dismissal, and looked to his captain for confirmation, but Kora’s gaze was firmly fixated on Cannon’s body, disbelief consuming her. Cannon knew about her past . . . and now he was dead. Did he know the pirates who had attacked her, stealing her life away? Was that where he was going to take her? Were they trying to finish off the job? Was she somehow . . . a loose end?

Finlay touched her forearm in comfort and reluctantly left, grimly glancing at the bloodshed coating the quarters.

Once the crew dragged the pirates kicking and screaming to the boats, Blake released a sigh and wrapped his arms around Kora, crushing her to his chest. He buried his face into her hair, inhaling deeply. His petrichor and leather scent washed over her, and she closed the remaining space, their bodies colliding.

Gods, he smelt good.

“You silly woman,”

he muttered.

“We had no idea where you were.”

Kora’s arms tightened before she released Blake, taking a step back with a shaky exhale. His expression was tight, his body tense.

“Don’t tell me you were worried.”

Kora let out a small laugh, smothering her unease. Blake’s mouth firmly stayed in a disapproving line.

“I’m fine!”

She smiled and twirled around. He raised an eyebrow, jaw twitching as his eyes roamed over her stained clothing.

“It’s not my blood,”

she added.

“What happened?”

His voice lowered as he caught sight of the gutted pirate by the desk. Kora filled Blake in, right up to the point of Cannon beginning to reveal information of her past. A shudder crept down her spine. A pirate knew intimate secrets about her. Blake listened thoughtfully with his arms crossed as he surveyed the quarters.

“He knew, Blake,”

Kora matched his lowered tone.

“How does a pirate know I have no memory of my life?”

He grasped her hands, leading her away from the bodies towards the far edge of the desk. His rough, calloused thumb stroking her palm, whilst his other hand brushed the flaking, dried blood off her cheek.

“Only a select few know the truth,”

he said firmly.

“Someone must’ve been feeding them information. Did he say why they were after you?”

His hand settled on her right shoulder, his thumb caressing her throat.

Kora shook her head. If only Blake had waited a little longer, Cannon might have spilled more secrets. Drawers lined the mahogany desk and she pulled on the latches, the wood screeching as she rifled through the desk’s contents. Blake mirrored her movements, his brows shooting up into his hairline in surprise as he opened a drawer near the bottom.

“Did you find something?”

He shook his head.

“If you mean something like this.”

He revealed a pipe, its end dusted with purple powder. Black soot stained the edges, coating the simple brown woodwork.

“I’m not surprised, I’d need to be high to be a pirate,”

Kora scoffed at the alkaloid pipe.

“Being a killer takes its toll on the soul. He probably smoked iridweed every day.”

Blake snickered, placing the pipe on the top of the desk.

“Actually,”

he picked it back up.

“probably best to leave this here. Erick will only blame me if he finds iridweed powder on the ship.”

He placed it back in the drawer, slamming it shut, and she winced at his reaction.

It was a mystery where the drug was being funnelled from, or where it was grown, and no one knew what plant it resulted from, only that it spread through pirate vessels like wildfire. The empire didn’t care, as long as it didn’t reach their lands.

She flipped through multiple drawers as Blake shifted to the ruby chest, inspecting it.

What in the—

Every drawer was clean, aside from the pipe and a small bag of silvers. Not even a ledger, or a weapon. Gods, not even a crumb of a sea biscuit. Kora collected the blood-stained papers on the floor. Was that . . . poetry? Who was this pirate captain?

Frustration boiled beneath her skin, and she peered at Blake by the beautifully crafted chest. Intricately woven rubies of various sizes and cuts covered the gold, the lid fastened shut with a golden, heart-shaped lock.

“Have you ever seen so many rubies before?”

She joined Blake, grasping the lock, turning it over.

“No,”

he mused.

“nor ones this . . . exquisite.”

He shuffled to her right and rifled through Cannon’s still body. “Aha!”

He retrieved a dual-pronged golden key from Cannon’s inner breast pocket. A twisted heart-shaped bow, with a solid ruby held in its centre—and it was coated in Cannon’s blood. Kora paled as Blake unlocked the chest, wiping the blood absentmindedly on his jerkin. The chest lid creaked open and she peered inside, eager to see what treasures would be hidden in a pirate captain’s quarters.

Gold. So much gold.

A rare metal in these lands. The chest was filled to the brim with wealth from Demon Sea Siren’s plunders. Trinkets and jewels from both Aldara and Talmon, and even dark stones from the far-off marshlands of Otrovia.

“Oh . . . my,”

Kora whispered in awe. Blake audibly swallowed as he picked up a gleaming silver goblet hidden amongst the gold. Its stem and bowl were lined with swirling moonstones and pearls.

“Galen,”

Kora observed. These riches and treasures had come from Galen.

“But why is it in a ruby chest? That’s the witches’ stone.”

The witches kept to themselves in the Shannara Territory, threatening any who dared to enter. The empire had secured a treaty with them during the Galenite War, ensuring neither party could disturb the other.

“This isn’t a coincidence, if the wenches are involved,”

Blake grunted. He could never call them witches, referring to them instead as wenches, because of their savage nature. They roamed through the remaining pieces, picking out anything that remotely resembled the mysteriously misted island of Galen.

“What should we do with this? We can’t give our crew bounty from Galen.”

Kora’s head pounded at the thought of amending the ledgers over this. She’d certainly be caught if her ledgers indicated Galen wealth. The empire would leap to check her plunder records and discover a year of missing treasures. Blake assembled a third of the treasure containing the Galenite moonstone in a pile on the floor, and ripped golden fabric from the bed to conceal it in.

“We’ll hide this. We need to show it to Erick when we return. He’ll know what to do.”

He tied the craftily made knapsack into a knot, hiding the silver treasure inside. Kora curtly nodded and went to close the lid of the chest when something dark and glimmering caught her eye.

She gingerly picked up the trinket and studied it. A talisman necklace, with a thin, dark-steel chain and a delicate oval-shaped pendant. Like a teardrop, with a hollow centre. Individual, spiralled columns intricately connected around the pendant, and light glinted off the midnight-blue hue, stark against the rubied chest. A small smile formed on Kora’s lips as she traced the curves and spirals. It reminded her of the dark depths of the ocean.

“Take it,”

Blake studied her, and she blushed.

“You never keep anything for yourself.”

Kora shook her head. It could go to one of the crew. They needed it more than she did, and could sell it to feed their family for a few weeks. He strode over and gently took her wrist, unfurling her fingers.

“If you won’t take it for yourself,”

he placed it over her head, his green eyes glinting.

“then please, do me the honour of accepting it as a gift.”

The metal cooled her flushed neck as it settled on her pimpled skin, and the metal teardrop nestled comfortably between her breasts.

“Well, if you insist,”

Kora smiled.

Her breath caught at the intensity of his green-eyed gaze against the red hue from the glittering, ruby chest. She nibbled her lower lip and Blake’s stare snagged from where the talisman lay snug on her chest, to her pert lips. His hands glided from the chain to her throat, gently stroking her flushed skin, up to her jaw, tracing her lips.

His mouth swiftly followed as he tugged Kora into a passionate kiss, his stubble tickling her skin. One hand cupped her jaw whilst the other pressed against the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. Her hands ravaged the obsidian lengths of his hair, making him moan. His lips parted, inviting her in, and her tongue flicked out, savouring the taste of him.

It’d been too long. Hot, tiring days out at sea together, unable to touch yet always in proximity. It’d been torture for her, and stealing moments like this stirred a fire deep within her core. Their passion burned in the shadows, filled with secret glances, light kisses, and subtle caresses. Romance was forbidden between officers, yet their hearts longed for each other. Not to mention Erick’s insistence on separating them, stating Blake was dangerous, and would get Kora into trouble.

It only spurred her on, and a defiant ember sizzled between her legs. “Blake,”

she groaned his name against his mouth and a visible shiver ran through him.

“We can’t . . . not now . . . not here.”

She reluctantly pulled away, her hands resting on his sculpted chest, and his heart pounded underneath her fingertips. She pointed at the two bodies and he sighed with frustration.

“My timing is never great.”

He rested his forehead against hers.

“Soon, my asterya.”

Kora rolled her eyes at Blake’s infuriating nickname for her from the old language. His shining star. Despite its disappearance, a few words from the old world of Devania had survived history.

“Let’s head back before the crew suspect something. I don’t want them getting any ideas about us.”

“I’ll give them something to be suspicious about tonight,”

he whispered against her ear, and her toes curled in her boots at the dangerous promise. It was her lucky day, indeed.