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But my dreams feel different. The air feels heavy and oppressive, all the wind sucked away, and the heavens above seem frightening in their scope. In the dream it’s like we are just a ship in a bottle, watched over by some mythical overlord who decides when we live and when we die.
Then the first hit happens just as it did in real life. That horrible thud that still echoes through my brain on days where I’ve had too much sun and ale and too much time to think. The strike shakes the entire ship and while most of my crew didn’t know what it was, I knew. I knew what it was and why it was here and what it wanted to do.
It was one of the Kraken.
Which meant the sea witch was here too.
She wanted the book, the one that belonged to my wife, Venla.
I just wanted to grieve and hold on to the one piece I had of her left.
But while the dream always starts the same, with that blasted thud and that god-awful heaviness and the dread that follows, it doesn’t always end the same.
Tonight I am helpless in the dream, knowing it’s not real and yet knowing it’s already happened, and I watch, I watch as the tentacle flops over the side of the ship, watch as it reaches for Hilla, and I scream. So fucking loud that my throat feels torn out.
“Hilla!” My voice envelopes the thick air and she turns to look at me, big blue eyes, a smudge of chocolate on her cheek from the treat I had given her just minutes before.
I’m lucky this time that I don’t wake up screaming. The crew has gotten used to it over the years, but I haven’t. You don’t get used to something like this.
I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. My heart is on a rampage in my chest, my body reliving the trauma. I take in long deep breaths until my heart calms, then I sit up in my bed.
It takes a moment for the dream to fade and for memories of last night to come into my mind. I welcome it, welcome my past being buried by the present.
Theprinceand theprincess. What good fortune that was to stumble upon that Danish ship just before we set out across the Pacific. The Spanish galleons leaving Manilla and heading across the Pacific were leaving in convoys now to prevent attacks from theNightwind, much like the merchant ships had to do when they crossed the Atlantic. For as unstoppable and powerful as my crew and ship are, we are not enough to take on a fleet, especially one that’s on the watch for us.
Or at least, we aren’t that powerful yet. There are rumors about a mermaid kept in a glass tank on board the skeleton crew’s ghost ship. It was enough for me to chart course for Los Pintados and Nan Madol—the famous “Reef City”—for their ship is always bound to return there.
But now with the hostages on board, there’s at least a little reward for when we reach New Spain, in case our detour isn’t as rewarding as some may think. I only hope that when the crew were jettisoned overboard with the message for the king, they actually survive long enough to deliver it.
Perhaps you should have let them all survive.
But thoughts like that never do me any good. I’ve had too many regrets in my past, I don’t let myself entertain them anymore. Yes, I could have let them all survive, but the truth is that killing is part of my nature, no different than a jaguar in the jungle. People never want to admit to themselves that they’re bad, wicked, made in the devil’s image, not god’s. Everybody on this green and blue earth thinks they’re perfect, and that’s no way to live. I think there’s a bit of peace given to you when you accept who and what you are.
Like the princess. I don’t know her from Eve, she’s but a stranger and comes from the stock of people I abhor the most, the ones in charge of society. Yet there’s something about her nature that appeals to me. Perhaps it’s that she struck me in the face, or that she cursed openly, or doesn’t seem all that concerned about the prince. All of these moments showed me who she really was and she wasn’t afraid to show it.
With thoughts of her on my mind, I get up, my cock at a stand. Naturally it wasn’t just her attitude that warmed me to her, but how damn desirable she looked in that wet gown. With her long black hair, wild and free from the hair pinnings, full tits and gleaming blue eyes, she looked like she belonged to the darkness, like a goddess of some forgotten religion.
I don’t have time this morning to do anything about the stiffness of my cock. Instead I look out the clear section of the stained-glass window of my chambers. Dawn is breaking and the night watch will be ending soon, and it looks like they’ve kept the ship going at a steady clip. Judging by the land to starboard, we should be through the San Bernardino Strait by late afternoon. After that, we can breathe a little easier. It’s not unusual for navy ships to be lurking in the island coves, but once we hit the Pacific we should be clear of them.
My heart beats faster at the thought of the open ocean, the unyielding horizon and the freedom it represents. If it were up to me, we’d never make landfall at all. But though I am captain of this ship, this ship is a democracy and most of the crew get a little funny when they haven’t seen land for a while. It’s my job above all else to keep them healthy and happy.
I get dressed and do a quick wash in the freshwater basin before heading out. I should go up top first and check in with the night watch before it ends but I’m curious to see how my prisoners are. I can hear the ones down in the hold from here, moaning and crying and begging for release, but I have no interest in them at the moment. Instead, I head down a level to the gun deck and to the cell where the royal couple is kept.
I open the door to their cabin and brace myself, expecting to be hit with flying excrement or something of the sort. That’s happened a few times before when I’ve taken a special interest in a prisoner and kept them behind bars here.
Instead, I find the lovers on opposite ends of the cell. The princess is sitting on the floor, her hair in her face and looking down, the prince is leaning against the bars with a pitiful look on his face.
“I demand you to release me!” the prince says the moment he locks eyes with me, gripping the bars of the cell until his knuckles turn white. “By order of King Frederick, IV, of the Danish Realm! I am Prince Aerik, and you have no right taking me hostage.”
“And yet here you are,” I say to him. “I’d ask how you slept but judging by your foul mood and complete lack of gratitude for not being killed on sight, I’m going to assume it wasn’t well.”
I glance down at the princess, eager to see if she has a rebuttal. But the woman I see before me is completely different than the one I met last night. She doesn’t even raise her head to look at me and, if anything, she seems to be cowering. Perhaps she suddenly remembered I am to be feared. Either that or she’s in shock.
“And what say you, Princess?” I walk to the cell, keeping out of reach enough just in case the prince decides to do something stupid. Knowing me I’d end up killing him, and I really don’t want to ruin a good thing. “You’re awfully quiet this morning. Could barely get you to shut up last night.”
At that Aerik turns to look at her, giving her a cold look. “Yes, that is an issue with her.”
Finally she raises her head to look at him, fire in her eyes. Her hair moves back just enough for me to glimpse purple bruises along her cheekbone and edge of her eye. I know I was rough with her last night but I’d never hit a woman. It might be expected, especially among pirates, but I find it to be rather a sloppy and inelegant show of violence.
