Page 17 of Siren's Treasure

Salty air filled Raggon’s lungs as he took solid form once more, his boots finding purchase on sun-warmed stones near the vessel’s stern. Circe’s flag with the crimson boar waved proudly in the brisk wind. Maddox’s pride and joy was a masterwork of shipbuilding—her wooden rails gleamed with fresh varnish; her brass fittings caught the sunlight like captured stars.

On the quarterdeck, he spotted a familiar figure: the Duke, bound, though his aristocratic jaw tilted proudly. Even after all these years, the man still carried himself like the warrior who had saved them from Circe’s first attack.

Taking a deep breath, Raggon shifted to the main deck, studying the crew as he materialized from the spray of his magic. Maddox had assembled an impressive collection of cutthroats and veterans—weathered sailors who knew their business, judging by their swagger and the precision of their knots.

Yes, he couldn’t thank Maddox enough for gathering such a fine crew, and for providing what might be the sweetest vessel Raggon had ever had the privilege of commandeering.

A shadow fell across him as a mountain of a man blocked his way, tribal tattoos snaking up his bare arms and a whip hanging low on his hip. “Who are you?” the pirate demanded. His bloodthirsty sneer showed how he bullied all his men to submission.

“Your new captain,” Raggon answered. To the side, others moved in on him—twelve men within striking distance, three with pistols, two near the rigging.

The tattooed giant’s whip sliced through the air. The whip cracked where Raggon had stood. Raggon reappeared behind a red-bearded pirate with twin pistols. His fingers closed around the first pistol’s grip even as its owner reached for it. Raggon shifted again, taking the weapon with him, and materialized on the starboard rail where a burly sailor tried to take his head off with a boarding axe. The stolen pistol fired. The man stumbled back, crimson spreading across his chest. The axe crashed against the deck.

Two pirates rushed him from opposite directions, their cutlasses gleaming. Raggon waited until the last possible moment, then became seafoam once more. Their blades met with a metallic shriek where he had been, and he reappeared behind them. A swift kick sent one stumbling into his companion, and both pitched over the rail with startled cries.

The tattooed giant bellowed and charged, but Raggon flowed around him like smoke through fingers. He snatched the second pistol from the belt of the man he’d dubbed Red-beard, and in the same fluid motion, fired point-blank at a sailor coming at him with a knife. The blade clattered uselessly to the deck.

Bodies splashed into the wine-dark sea as he cleared the deck with ruthless efficiency. The tattooed giant, now alone, raised his whip again—but Raggon materialized beside him, plucking the weapon from his meaty fingers as easily as confiscating one of his brother’s inventions. The giant’s eyes widened as Raggon tested the whip’s weight in his hand.

“I believe this makes you my bosun,” Raggon said with a dangerous,generoussmile. The giant’s face went pale beneath his tattoos as he took a hasty step backward. “Unless you’d prefer to join your friends for a swim?”

The man shook his head, eyes wide.

Raggon swung around on his heel to face the remaining crew. Blood dripped from his dagger. “Does anyone else care to object?”

The officers stepped back, hands raised in surrender. Loyalty, as Maddox would soon learn, had to be earned, not bought. Shifting through the air one final time, Raggon retrieved a key from an officer’s belt to free his old friend.

Morris let out a grunt as Raggon jabbed the keys into the lock of his manacles. “Did you have to bloody the whole deck, Your Majesty?”

The manacles clattered to the deck with the clash of ringing metal. “Quit your complaining,” Raggon said, the royal title still jarring to his ears though he’d better accustom himself to it now that his secret was out. The days of anonymity were over. “I got us a ride out of here, didn’t I?”

The Duke rubbed his wrists with grim satisfaction. “I will release the others.” His voice carried the same steady authority it had when Raggon was a boy.

“Wait—I have to know,” Raggon grabbed his arm, his heart thudding uncomfortably. Maddox had bragged of using Tobias as his hostage, but if he had lied… “Where is my brother?”

The Duke pointed to a lanky figure near the forecastle. He was alive!

But Raggon’s triumph at taking the ship shattered the moment he saw his brother’s neck. The Typhon’s Kiss—that same fusion of dark iron and sea steel that had bound Raggon’s wrists—circled Tobia’s throat like a lover’s cruel promise.

His breath caught as he recognized the intricate wave patterns, the deadly weaving of the two enchanted metals that pulsed under the light. For a moment, he was back in that dungeon, feeling the magic drain from his body. “No,” he whispered, theword dropping from his lips with the heaviness of a stone. “No, no, no.”

On Tobias’s shoulder, Sterling ruffled his feathers anxiously, pecking at the metallic collar as if sensing its master’s distress.

Raggon reached his brother’s throat with trembling hands—there would be a seam where the sea steel and dark iron connected. Yes, there it was! He found it.

He had hope… but no time. In the distance, Circe’s beasts were already advancing across the wharf, their misshapen forms weaving in that strange, eerie formation.

“Set sail!” Raggon bellowed. Maddox’s vessel was a three-masted barquentine and perfect for speed. Her wooden deck planks, though scarred from battle, were solid. He noticed the hardened faces of those who hadn’t been in his original crew. They watched him with suspicion, and despite how he’d handily took down their leaders, they still reeked of rebellion.

Thinking quickly, he gave them a deal that the greedy tyrant Maddox wouldn’t: “All treasure we find will be divided equally amongst the crew.” The men’s faces registered surprise. He doubted Maddox ever offered such incentive. “Those who don’t like my terms, pick up your sword and deliver your complaints.”

None did.

“Weigh anchor!” Raggon commanded. The deck came alive with movement as the crew blessedly sprang into action, manning the capstan, heaving the anchor from the harbor bottom. They had to work fast! The relentless march of Circe’s monsters would end with her soldiers dropping into the sea once the platform ended and swimming with a zombie like persistence to reach their prey—nothing would stop them. “Loose the fore-topsail! Get those sheets trimmed!”

Men swarmed up the ratlines to unfurl the sails. The heavy canvas snapped taut in the freshening breeze.

He hurried back to Tobias as Sterling squawked and pecked at the Typhon’s Kiss. “Dead man’s chains! Dead man’s chains.”

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