Chapter One
They’d been drawn by the flare she’d sent up; a flower of green that burned in the sky. A common call to all who sailed these waters. It was the human thing to do, to change your course to aid others. Something she’d seen over and over in her years of travelling the shipping lanes. They’d come to help, they’d come to salvage, they’d come because they didn’t want to risk their own calls ignored should they be in need. But sometimes the call was heeded too late and the open ocean triumphed over those that dared try and claim dominion over it.
Like those who’d crewed the low riding dhow that had recently gone to the depths. It had sunk quickly, and now nothing remained save a few barrels, a piece of mast with a torn orange sail that rippled mournfully on the waves, and her.
She lay sprawled on a makeshift raft, sodden cloak shielding her body from the eyes of her would-be rescuers, waiting for the familiar thwap of lines being thrown down the sides of the ship.
This new ship was a galleon, a triple masted beast of yellowed wood and garish red paintwork, etched with sigils that told the tales of its home port and allegiances. Tales that Karis could not read nor cared to do so.
The wash of the vessel rocked her tiny float, forcing her to strengthen her grip on the damp wood to keep her position stable. It wouldn’t do to scare them before they got close. Not when she’d gone to so much trouble to attract their attention in the first place.
It wasn’t until the first reached out to her, speaking soft words of encouragement, that she looked up at him. Dark eyes full of scorn, she threw the cloak off revealing herself to the human fools who had made the mistake of sailing through her hunting grounds.
The pale green tint to her skin glittered as the sun reached the drops of water that trickled down her. Her legs were scaled with fins in a deeper green, while her body was covered in swirling tattoos and scars. From her hip hung a pair of curved blades on a rope belt of silver, and at her ears hung the jewelled fish hooks that marked her as leader of the clan.
As the man gaped at her, she smiled, then from her lips rose one clear note and the waters erupted with the leaping shapes of her brothers and sisters as they climbed the ship’s sides and launched their attack.
Karis’s rescuer stretched his hand to the cutlass at his side but she was faster, slicing his throat with one of her blades and moving on to the next target without pause. She cut her way through them with an ease borne of long experience and so advanced to the decks above where all about a battle raged.
The humans wielded cutlass and pistol, her people choosing speed and knives, disdaining the enchantments of their siren-call in favour of something a little more challenging.
Her clan gave no quarter, despatching one slow footed human after another until the only life remaining on board the ship were Selkin.
‘Load up,’ Karis ordered, and her people raced to the holds, ripping through cabins and securing every item of value they could lay claim to.
Some they packed into the ship’s long boats: the rich cloths and other luxuries that would spoil in their native water were bounty destined for Alaya, the Ghost Queen.
What treasures were left were stuffed into fine-woven nets and hurled over the side until she was satisfied they had reaped all they could. Then, as her clan swam to a safe distance, she prowled through the ship, looking for something to light the few remaining barrels of gunpowder that were left in its dark hold.
Fire was not a thing she was comfortable with and the human devices that sparked it to life were enough to turn her usually deft hands clumsy. But leaving a crewless ship to float on the waters, where other humans could find it and puzzle over its mysteries, held danger to her people. Too often did the human mind resolve such mysteries as being Selkin wrought, and, as much as she hated to allow the humans any competence, some of their hunters had skill enough to cause damage to the clans during a cull.
It was in the Captain’s cabin that she found what she sought. She gingerly reached up to the rusted hook to lift down the flickering oil lamp, and at arm’s length, carried it carefully to the trailing fuse she’d set.
Then in a swift movement, she kicked the lamp over and ran. She dived into the bloody water and swam deep and far before the explosions ripped through the woodwork and sent the ship beneath the waves.
*
The sails of the Wraith shone silver in the moonlight, the ship silent as silk as it sliced through the waters of Esklin Bay. Her captain, tall, dark and beautiful, ever the romantic pirate captain of many a tavern tale, stood at the helm. Wind ruffled her hair, the stars shone in her eyes and thoughts of treasure settled into her heart.
She called herself Molly Reilly. A name borrowed from a song she’d heard a long time ago. She didn’t remember the singer, save that he had a poor excuse for a voice, but the tune had stuck in her brain to such measure that she was prone to humming it when she led her ship in battle.
It had been nearly a week since they’d last raided – a profitable haul, by all accounts, and one that she was sure her crew would be content with. At least for a few days before their blood demanded more piracy.
The Wraith was filled with fresh gunpowder and cloth, spices and wine, gold and silver, with the smaller gems and jewellery evenly distributed rather than risk the gradual diminishment from over-eager hands. She had new recruits that were well into their training and as for the rest of the world, why it could go maroon itself.
Ellie Jackson, first mate and bon viveur of long-standing, came up to the wheel. ‘All quiet below decks, Cap’n.’
‘Good to know, Ellie.’
‘Begging your pardon, Cap’n,’ said Ellie, still hovering at her shoulder, ‘but the crew were wondering when we’d be returning to the Islands? They’ve a hankering for Salport.’
‘Soon,’ Molly promised. ‘I’ve a mind to have a quick sail across the Talin Reaches before we turn for home.’
‘Well and good, Cap’n. I’ll let the crew know.’
‘I appreciate it, Ellie. And I’m bound there’s a lad in Salport who’ll be fair pleased to see you too.’
‘Aye, Cap’n.’ Ellie said, a lustful smile creeping onto her face. ‘My Jack will doubtless be pining for me.’
A familiar retching sound reached their ears and both glanced to the port side where one of the new crew was bent over the rail, wind spraying his offerings back into his face.
‘Has no one taught him yet?’ Molly asked.
‘I’ve already had words,’ Ellie said with a grin. ‘I’ll just go remind the lad again, shall I?’
*
They made the Reaches by sunset of the next day and as the sun sank back into the waters of the world, Molly marked a target on the horizon. With a hungry grin and a song on her lips she spun the wheel and turned the ship to its new course.
Their target had the look of a messenger ship out of Teriol, built for greater speed than the heavier bulk of a Gethine gunship. All the better, she decided. She hated when they were too good at fighting back, it always cost her in repairs to her Wraith.
‘Load the cannons with chain shot,’ she ordered. With luck, this would be quick. Just knock out their masts and wipe up whoever was foolish enough to play hero.
‘Fire!’ Molly yelled, her ship’s cannons exploding into action only seconds before those of the opposing ship. In the dimming light, the sky turned grey and as the smoke cleared she surveyed the damage from the first volley.
They’d scored hits on the deck and sides, but not a shot had marked the enemy’s masts. She’d have to talk to Ellie about setting the crew to better target practice.
A swaggering shape leapt to the rail of the opposing ship, his hand gripping a line for balance. ‘So you think to take the Endurance, do ya?’
‘Fire!’ was her only response, glad to note that again her cannons were the faster.
As the smoke dissipated, lines were thrown from each ship and Molly was all set to lead the charge when the Wraith’s mizzen mast toppled to the deck with a horrific crash. She cursed a string of colourful invective, calling into the question the heritage of both her crew and that of the Endurance’s.
‘Take the bastards!’ she screeched. ‘No quarter!’
Gunpowder bloomed in the skies and the sound of screams filled the air. The Endurance’s captain dared land his feet on her ship and she leapt after him to render appropriate punishment. He was a bulky man of deep earned muscles, and swung hard with his blade when he met her.
She countered, dancing around him with sword and knife that sliced and blocked and drew blood from a dozen different places on his sunburned skin before she ducked under his guard to get close for the finishing strike.
He used his weight to throw her back onto the mast, near choking her with a well placed elbow but Molly Reilly would not be lost so easy. A flick of her foot and a blade emerged from the toe of her boot, a blade that sliced at the shin of the captain holding her, buying the time to gain better ground.
Around her it was hard to tell which side was winning, as crew jumped from ship to ship, swinging off ropes and launching themselves from rigging.
With a snarl, she grabbed a fallen sword and lunged at the enemy captain, who stumbled backwards from the wound, but as she lunged for his heart, she felt a sharp pain in her side. She looked up to see Ellie standing by her, an evil look on her face. ‘Ellie?’
‘Captain.’ Ellie said, pulling another knife and stabbing her again. ‘I believe it’s time for a change of command.’
Molly fell over the side, landing in water strewn with bodies and the splintered fragments wrenched from her ship by the Endurance’s cannons. She grabbed the nearest float and summoning what breath was left to her, opened her mouth and screamed a line of jagged notes into the wind.
*
The wind carried the scream across the waters, bringing it to the ears of the dancing Selkin as they celebrated their recent victory over the humans.
To their ears it was a bitter song, one of rage and distress that pierced their revels and brought them to silence.
They looked to Karis for a response. How could she not recognise the patterns of the song that shattered into discordant notes and washed against all their minds? Her eyes flared with irritation. It wasn’t her problem. She had others things to occupy herself with. What did she care for a silly human loving traitor who couldn’t keep herself out of trouble?
‘Karis…?’ Her younger sister Terys was the first to voice what the others were not wanting to.
‘I hear it,’ she said.
‘Shouldn’t we…?’
They all watched her, waiting for the storm to hit. She closed her eyes and swallowed the words she would have said. A captain lived or died by the goodwill of her clan and her clan wanted this dealt with.
She gathered up some half a dozen and set the rest of the clan to guard the floating boats of treasure. ‘I want them all there when I get back,’ she ordered.
*
They swam hard and fast, tracking the echoes on the water until they found the place where the sound was strongest. Disturbed silt clouded the water and the faint taste of blood still lingered.
Karis swam up quickly, breaking through to the smoke tainted air. She scanned the water surface and swiftly found the shape of a human floating on wreckage.
Wary of a trap, she ordered her clan mates to circle around then with senses on high alert she approached.
Her sister, so long from the clan, was barely breathing. At least so far as Karis could judge such things for human kind. But life still lingered in her sister’s body, despite the gaping wounds that trailed blood into the ocean.
‘Can she be saved?’ young Terys asked.
‘Of course she can be saved,’ Karis’s answer tripped off her tongue without thought. ‘The Ghost Queen will be able to tend to her. Hurry before that frail human shell she wears leaks all its blood away.’