Page 67 of Found at Sea
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Kellan
The three days spent on the island were three days too many. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy the time to relax. It was more the fact that I wished to get as far away as possible from the seer. The two times I’d gone to her for guidance had left me feeling odd afterward—on edge and slightly paranoid.
I supposed that was part of the price for using blood magic.
“Good to go, Cap’n?” Kris asked once all the men were back on board.
“Aye. Set sail.”
The natives had been kind and given us supplies; more fresh water, fruits, vegetables, and meats that we’d salted to keep fresh. Not all islands were as friendly as that one, and we’d certainly visited the ones that weren’t: coming across people who snarled at us and told us we weren’t welcome. But not there.
The natives knew of the seer who dwelled in the cave miles from their village, and maybe they chose kindness as a way to battle the dark forces that surrounded areas of the island. A balance of sorts.
Fletcher had told me more about the legend ofRan’s road, and how it was located in the northern seas. The journey would take months, so we’d be stopping in other towns along the way to replenish supplies. I’d plotted out our voyage on the map, and if everything went according to plan, we’d sail for nearly two weeks before reaching another island to rest for a day or so before continuing on our way.
With my auburn haired beauty on the brain, I searched for him.
He stood with Alek on the main deck, looking adorable as ever. His hair was a little longer, and as the gust of warm wind picked up, it blew his bangs into his face. He wore a simple white shirt and black pants, but a gleam of silver caught my eye, and I smiled when I saw he was still wearing the finch necklace.
When I noticed him and Alek staring up at Tig—who hung from the center mast—my curiosity was piqued.
Tig spoke to them and gestured to the ropes before grabbing one and swinging down. I wondered what he was telling them. The answer became clear as Tig then looked to Fletcher and motioned to the post.
Fletcher grinned as he took hold of one of the ropes and lifted his foot to start the climb upward.
I clenched my jaw, not approving in the slightest of what they were doing. Being a rigger was not easy work. You had to be surefooted and agile. Not clumsy like Fletcher.
Alek was grinning ear to ear until he looked at me. His eyes widened before he focused back on his friend. He moved closer to the mast, and I was certain he’d do everything in his power to catch Fletcher if the smaller man came tumbling down.
Sure enough, that’s what happened.
Fletcher shrieked once he’d climbed a few feet in the air, and Alek leapt forward, catching Fletcher on his chest and sending both of them to the deck. I was just about to run down there when I heard them laughing. Tig laughed too, but bent to check on Fletcher and make sure he was okay.
“Ya need to stick to singin’ songs, lad!” Tig exclaimed before pulling Fletcher to his feet. “You’ll meet Davy Jones too soon if ya keep that up.”
Only when I saw Fletcher wasn’t injured did I allow myself to breathe and take hold of the helm.
“The men are talking,” Dax said after coming to stand beside me on the upper deck. The wind blew, catching the sails and moving us forward. “Some think you mad.”
“Let them think what they will,” I said, guiding the ship away from the mountains of rock jutting from the water. “If they think me mad, then they will follow my command out of fear. And the ones who are content will follow me out of loyalty.”
“What of the ones who are neither afraid nor loyal?”
I moved a steely gaze to him. “You are speaking of a mutiny.”
“Aye,” he said without an ounce of trepidation. “It’s been too long since we raided. Since we made some coin. Many of the men are questioning your command and are beginning to doubt your leadership. They know you are searching for something, and have been searching for quite some time, but they believe you’ve lost touch with our ways and become soft.”
I didn’t miss how he looked down at Fletcher when saying the words.
Although I did not allow it to surface in my expression, I felt as if an anchor had dropped in my stomach.
I’d taken care of my men. Knowing how too long at sea could mess with the mind, I was sure to port at least once every few weeks so that the men could rest and indulge themselves with wenches. In Stonebridge, the men had raided a few nearby homes, so it wasn’t as if it’d been completely uneventful.
Piracy was not constantly raiding villages anyway. It was to sail where we wished when we wished it, to go on adventures, and to experience the world in ways most men never would.
Being a pirate was to be free.
