Cutlass
Authors: Ashley Nixon
Tags: #fantasy, #young adult, #Pirate, #Barren Reed, #Larkin Lee
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Summary: A young pirate seeks revenge for the murder of his father, only to be swept up in a battle to save the Orient.
ISBN: 978-0-9911323-0-0 (paperback)
978-0-9911323-1-7 (e-book)
Copyright © 2014 Ashley Nixon
Book design by Regina Wamba of Mae I Design
Chapter Art designed by Ashli Amador
Edited by Jena O’Connor
All right reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Chapter Four – Setting the Stage
Chapter Six – Jonathon Kingsley
Chapter Seven – Lights & Lungs
Chapter Eleven - Constellations
Chapter Eighteen – The Assassin
Chapter Twenty-Two – The Lyric
Chapter Twenty-Three – The Past
Chapter Twenty-Four – The Cape
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Graveyard
“A ship has dispatched from the harbor,” said Leaf.
Barren had seen the white sails seconds before the Elf spoke. It had been two weeks since anyone left the coast of Maris. Barren watched the ship carefully from their position among the Cliffs. It was bigger than the
Kendrick
, but nothing he hadn’t taken on before. The ship entered the Cliffs, and slowly began its tedious navigation toward clearer sea.
The problem with Maris was the route one had to navigate in order to get to and from the island. A set of giant rocks emerged from the Orient’s waters and cradled the coast. Any ship that passed through them had to maneuver carefully, otherwise the hull might strike something, and the ship would sink.
“Let’s set out—we’ll intercept them just ahead,” said Barren.
With his crew already in position, they prepared to attack. Barren wondered what the ship carried—what was so important that they would break their embargo?
Barren watched as the tall, reddish brown rocks passed. In his location at the head of the ship, he could reach out and brush them with his hand. Barren looked back at his helmsman, Sam Taylor. His eyes were set on their target, and he kept his hands on the spindles of the wheel. One wrong move left or right, and they would be immobile. Barren trusted Sam’s skills—he had expertly steered them through this dangerous area multiple times. In fact, of the twenty-five ships they had targeted for attack, twenty-three of them had successfully been intercepted.
Because of this, Barren was known as a terror. Mostly, he thrived on humiliating those who sailed out to meet him. Sometimes, the fight would turn bloody and that was when Barren’s reputation as a murderer spread across Mariana. Barren never wanted to be known as having killed anyone, other than his father’s murderer. Indeed, he dreaded when crews did not surrender easily to him because the fight that followed always ended with casualties.
It was a pity Barren had to resort to this. He would prefer sailing the open waters of the Orient to navigating the claustrophobic Cliffs, but he had a duty to avenge his father’s death. In fact, all of this was for one purpose—to draw his brother, William, the Ambassador of Maris, from the safety of his home and force him to face punishment for his crimes. It would be so much more than a simple duel. Despite the fact that Barren’s attacks ruptured trade in Maris, and made many starve, William refused to meet him. It must be comforting to the people of Maris, Barren thought, that even their Ambassador would not sacrifice his life to help those he’d sworn to protect.
“Slack the sails,” Barren ordered. “Drop the anchor.”
The twins, Datherious and Natherious, did as instructed, dropping the white sails from their holds. Barren heard them fill with wind. With Leaf’s help, Seamus dropped anchor. Barren removed his jacket and the guns from their holsters. Last, he pulled his daggers from his boots, then yanked them off one-by-one.
“Are you sure you want to board first?” asked Leaf. “Remember what happened last time?”
Barren smirked. The Elf was worried about him. Though he was Barren’s best friend, he often acted like his father, and he could be both encouraging and critical.
“It was just a flesh wound, Leaf. Nothing you can’t fix.”
The Elf was also a healer, which was lucky for Barren, as his body seemed to attract all types of wounds from all types of weapons. He had the scars to prove it.
Leaf rolled his eyes. “You are never one for the easy route.”
“There’s no fun in firing a cannon at their mast. What’s fun is to see the surprise on their faces when I board their ship.”
“It’s fun for an eighteen-year-old, but not so entertaining for a one-hundred year old Elf.”
Barren shrugged. “My ship, my rules.”
“If you want to keep your ship, you’ll get going—they’ve spotted us.” The Elf’s gaze was narrowed upon their target. Barren turned and climbed up on the rail of the ship. Holding tight to his daggers, and not looking back at his crew, he dove into the Orient. The water felt fresh and clean against his heated skin, and he moved beneath the surface with speed. He knew if he surfaced before reaching the enemy ship, they would spot him and kill him. Growing up around water had given him many skills; perhaps the best of these was his ability to hold his breath for longer than a few minutes.
Barren surfaced near the hull of the enemy ship. He paused, looking back. He could see his own ship between the tall walls of the Cliffs, its sails standing out against the brightness of the red rock and azure water. The ship itself wasn’t an easy target, but it didn’t need to be. If this cargo ship managed to release its cannons, they would likely bury his vessel beneath rubble and dust.
Barren dove one last time beneath the water of the Orient, and broke the surface on the opposite side of the ship. The hull was wooden, and though the slats were too close for water to slip through, they were perfect for a knife. Barren raised his dagger, and inserted one knife into the slats, lifting himself out of the water. Placing the other knife higher up, he stabbed the blade through another crack and then began his climb to the deck. Once he was at the top of the railing, he paused to listen.
“Ready! Aim! Fi—”
Barren scrambled to pull himself over the rail. The thud of his feet caused the man releasing the command to pause, and Barren’s voice rose in the silence that followed.
“I would reconsider if I were you.”
Barren watched as a man dressed in a red coat and black pants turned to face him. He was about as tall as Barren, but not as young. He had curly, graying hair, and gray eyes. His features were hard, and a snarl crossed his lips when he saw the young captain of the
Kendrick
.
“Tell your men to stand down,” Barren ordered.
No one moved to listen, and Barren suspected they did not imagine him to be the notorious Barren Reed. He probably didn’t look the part of the murderer he was professed to be—after all, he was only eighteen.
“You’re one man with two knives, what can you do against all of us?” asked the man standing beside the captain. Barren guessed this was his quartermaster. The other men standing on deck bristled in agreement.
There was always one man who gave the rest hope. Barren twisted his daggers in his hands and smiled. “How do you know I am alone?”
In answer, an arrow whizzed past Barren and into the shoulder of the man who had raised the challenge. He screamed and writhed in pain. In response, the rest of the crew scrambled away from him, even the captain, fearing another arrow. All eyes shifted to Barren’s ship, whose great sails now urged it toward their own.
“When one has the skill of an Elf aboard his vessel, he is never alone,” Barren said, a dangerous smirk upon his lips. He leveled his eyes with the captain’s. “Now, tell your men to stand down.”
