Page 71 of Blood of Dragons

Weeks passed, and we didn’t speak.

I wondered if we would ever speak again.

My life remained bleak and unremarkable, repeating the same thing every day, making no friends in the village, and keeping to myself. Some of the women tried to speak with me, asked other members of the crew about my availability, but I rejected every advance that came my way—rudely.

I had no desire for human companionship at all, physical or otherwise. My body was alive, but my soul had died that day, so I didn’t feel the desires I used to feel. I felt no desire for the flesh, for intimacy, for friendship—nothing.

I sat in the tavern alone, tucked in the corner with my dinner and my tankard beside me, thinking about the final conversation I’d had with Khazmuda. I wondered where he was, if he hated me, if I should apologize. But I also knew he was better off without me, that I was an anchor that locked the ship in place.

A horn sounded—a horn I’d never heard before.

I looked up from my fish stew, the fish I’d probably caught myself, and watched everyone else in the tavern look just as worried. After a moment of shock, they set down their tankards and utensils and headed for the front door. The bar maiden tossed her towel aside and left the empty tankards on the counter.

I followed them out, seeing other people outside their homes on the street. They all faced the dock at the ocean, seeing something I couldn’t. I moved forward through the crowd to get a better look—and saw a fleet of black galleons.

Pirates.

The first galleon had already docked in the harbor, and in the darkness, I could see silhouettes disembarking down the ladder and landing on the pier.

I didn’t have my sword, so there was nothing I could do. Even if I did have it, I was outnumbered by a hundred to one.

They came closer, the firelight from the torches illuminating the faces of hearty men with tanned skin like mine. In the lead was the captain, wearing a fancy leather coat adorned with gold buttons and velvet cuffs. He wore a captain’s hat, a hole in the bill like a sword had been aimed at his eye but missed. He surveyed all the villagers who had come out to stare. “Good evening, lads and lasses, I’m Captain Blackstorm.” He surveyed us all, a man close to my age, maybe a few years older. “My crew and I just need a couple provisions, and we’ll be on our way.” He made a gesture to the pirates behind him. “Lost a few good ships and men out to sea. You know how it goes.”

The men started entering homes and the tavern, taking whatever they wanted without opposition.

The village was a small fishing community. There was no leadership and no military—so there was nothing that could be done to stop them. They raided the pantries and took all the food they could carry. They took clothes too, any essential that could be useful. The only things they didn’t take were cannonballs and weapons, because we had none.

“Now, I just need a couple able-bodied men, and we’ll be on our way.” Captain Blackstorm surveyed everyone in line. “You.” He pointed at a man who was a few years older than me.

One of the crew grabbed him by the arm and yanked him forward.

Captain Blackstorm walked down the line. “You.” He indicated a young man, one who had barely arrived at adulthood.

One of the pirates moved to grab him.

“No, that’s my son.” A man, probably his father, emerged. “You can’t take him.”

The pirate pulled out a blade and pressed it to his throat. “He’s ours now, old man.” Then he shoved him back.

The son looked back at his father as he was dragged to join the crew.

Captain Blackstorm picked a few more people. “Alright, we’ll be on our way.”

He must not have seen me, a trick of the torchlight and where I stood, because he would have picked me otherwise. I was a better candidate than most of the men they’d picked.

“Please.” The father moved forward again. “He’s just a boy.”

Captain Blackstorm looked at him again and smiled. “He’s mine now, old man.” The crew marched the prisoners away toward the ship.

The boy continued to look back over his shoulder, like he expected his father to do something.

I wasn’t sure why I did it. There was no deliberation in my mind, just a spontaneous act. My feet carried me forward, and I broke the rank of the crowd and emerged into the open. “Let the boy go—and take me instead.”

There was a collective gasp from the villagers behind me.

Captain Blackstorm slowly turned around and looked at me, his head tilted and his eyebrows furrowed. “Perhaps chivalry isn’t dead after all.” His boots shone in the firelight, and the hilt of his sword glimmered. He took his time coming back to me, sizing me up.

“I’m a fisherman, so I already know how to sail.”