The Girl
Penny had wished her name to be anything but what they called her. She would have preferred Penny Patches, for the fabric sewn into the knees of her breeches. Penny Playtime for the youthful jests she always started. Penny the Pirate, which was what she called herself.
Anything but Penny Pickpockets.
At least, as a girl of eleven, she wasn't going to be Penny Pink Pussy, or something else disgusting, like some of the men called Missy and Mel, for at least she had some use other than being a girl.
When she was taken, she didn't even really know enough to realize what was happening. It all happened so fast, and she had been so young, that when the Old Man covered her eyes and sang her that song of the sea, she hadn't even known how bad her life had turned, or what she'd have to live through as a new orphan at five.
Since, that man, Old Haggon, had died of a burst belly from bad shellfish. That was when she truly understood, when there was no one left aboard their ship kind enough to nurture her youth, still only seven, and started learning the ways of the men she shared her floating home with.
After some time, she had proven useful at ports and in meets, taking what needed to be taken, her round brown eyes too innocent to suspect anything of, and with every success, she just cemented her moniker deeper. Penny the Pickpocket. After years, they dropped "the" and it was as much of her name as Penny.
It had been hours since the battle. Sergel and Devenay were the first she saw die. She wouldn't miss either much, though there was still a gruesomeness to the hidden dagger that shot up from the demon boy's hands to end them, spilling their blood like dark wine, their lives ending horribly painfully for boys only four or five years older than she. She felt her own neck when she saw theirs bleed, feeling as if it could be hers next, and snuck under the floorboards of the main deck into the rafters beneath to hide.
Artem took his place in the cage on the Slaver's ship. It was a smart move once he knew they'd lose, fastening his shackles to only one hand, keeping the other in place but unlocked. It was a wonder one of the men had actually checked. He was so large, she thought none of the more common looking ones would have the balls to, other than the young boy she saw jabbing at men's throats like a scorpion under brush. That boy had balls enough for most of them.
But a wiser darker man caught it, closed them, and left him locked like an exotic token to trade.
Missy and Mel had ducked and covered themselves behind a row of barrels and were lucky they weren't trampled to death. When they were brought down to the belly of the Slaver's ship, she waited in the rafters above, hidden, before slinking down to talk to them, waiting until all the other men had left, all but the fat Septon. But he was the Slavers' man, not her crew's, so she had a mind to cut his throat to keep him from talking.
"Make a sound and I'll feed you to 'im," she snarled in her scariest sounding voice, pointing to Artem in the cage. She was not large enough to fear, but with enough attitude, she'd found she was sometimes fierce enough to be respected, at least by the weaker willed men. This one stayed as quiet as a shadow.
"Go now," Artem said from the cage. "Hide and see what you can hear. When things settle down, make your way back and keep an eye and ear open for the key to free me." She slithered through the beams like a sewing thread, making her way to a crease where she could peer out onto the lamplit deck. The victors bustled about it, crossing the ship she and her mates were under to their beast of a warship that somehow still snuck up on them. Penny was not involved none in how the ship was run, but whoever was in charge of watching out was shit at it.
As the crowd of them made their way, a tall one turned to look at the men as they passed. After examining a few, he shouted, "Hold on, you two," grabbing a man with each of his hands by their shoulders.
"Aw, c'mon Eddy," the skinnier one replied in a moan, shrugging. "Don't tell me I'm on watch."
"Queen's orders. You and the Oaf," the tall one replied.
"She did not," the fatter one said.
"No, she didn't mention you by name. She said, 'Find the first two you see without a drop of blood and send them down. Seems to me you're as fresh as two flowers in spring."
"Look 'ere," the skinnier one said, pointing to his elbow. "I've a stain right here."
"That's old, Tom. Nice try. Shove off. Get on with it. The night's yours. Two'll be by in the morning. Theirs is the shift I'd hate more."
"We'll be lucky if any are up to take it," the skinnier one said.
"So, we're stuck here for that one too, then?" the fatter one asked.
"Hope for the Queen's grace and prepare for the crew's incompetence," the tall one proclaimed as if it were a deep wisdom. "When drink's involved, the lot of 'em are more likely to pass out on the deck. They might wake with the sun in the morning. Some of 'em might even love to sulk down here in the dark, dozing off until their heads aren't as heavy. You'll be fine. Just don't lose the key. Her grace doesn't want a repeat of that one time."
With a bit more complaining, the two turned face and made their ways to the stairs that lead to the ship's lower decks. She couldn't tell, for it was hard to see clearly in the dark and through such a thin crease, but she thought she saw the taller one hand the key to the skinny one. It could have been earlier to the fat one, though.
Uggh. She wasn't sure, but they had it either way. Artem would know what to do.
Before long, the decks across from them became loud with laughter and drink. She could almost hear their words through the floorboards, climbing back to the belly of the ship. She hated when pirates celebrated their killings, even when she was among them. She didn't remember what it felt like to lose, but knew she had. Each night celebrated was a night she was reminded of what she had lost. What life could she have led if it wasn't for the pirates and their ravaging crew? She only wondered when they celebrated like this.
When she reached them, she whispered to the big guy, the men assigned still slowly making their way towards them above. "They sent two down here. The skinny one has the key, I think."
"You think?" he asked, his voice soft but brutal.
"It was hard to see. I'm mostly sure," she whispered. She looked down to see what was on the floor. "What of the mop and bucket?"
"Leave 'em. Stay quiet." His brusque demeanor hinted neither at cruelty or kindness. It was a dispassionate sternness. All he cared about was swift obedience. She obliged.
Then, she heard voices. Stupid ones, it sounded like, talking about nothing that was worth talking about.
"You did not, you liar! I wasn't as far from you as you think. It's not like we're all wearing masks. I saw you. You barely lifted your dagger."
"At least I ain't usin' the damn pins. I've me own steel," the other voice said, sounding more mumbled than the other.
"You're as good off with your dick in your hands, as small as it is, when you don't even lift the steel to use it." She didn't laugh at the one's joke even though she wanted to, but it was hard to keep crunched and crumbled in the corner of the ceiling the way she was behind where two rafters met, so she nearly gave herself away shuffling to find comfort.
"Two scullery maids, a fat septon, and a caged pit fighter," the mumbled voice said, changing the topic. "What were they all doing together?"
"It sounds like a bad joke," the other replied. "Hopefully they'll stay quiet enough we can sneak off a bit. I hate being on guard for all the fun."
"What fun? I never have any fun," the mumbled voice complained pitifully.
"That's 'cause you're a damn oaf, Harry. You wouldn't know fun if it hit you over the head with a belaying pin."
When they walked down the stairs, she seemed more at ease seeing them more clearly. They were not much more than boys themselves, older than Sergel and Devenay, but not by much. The one had a stupid look on his face, like he was stuck thinking about the answer to a hard question, his nose bulbous and long, his chin as thin and short as she. The other walked like he thought he was bigger than he actually was, though he looked wiry enough to carry his own weight. He had long dirty hair, and in the shadows, she could tell he smelled like a boy by the way his clothes stuck to his muddied skin.
They were gross.
"The fuck is this?" the skinnier one asked, picking up the mop from the ground.
"Coulda been left here from before or fell from the rafters when the boat was rocking."
Please don't look up here. Please don't find me so soon.
In her fear, Penny couldn't help but gasp a little, but caught her mouth with her hand. She hoped it was fast enough for the two stupids not to notice, but couldn't help feeling she was the stupid one.
"What was that?" the bigger one asked. Oh no. He heard me.
"Probably some big rat. The Ghiscari are known for them. They eat 'em when they've run out of everything else. The trick is to catch them. I say leave 'em be, but when the belly starts to growl, any meats better than none."
"It wasn't a rat, Tom," the bigger one said, as his eyes found her in the corner. They only ever needed to look up, which most people didn't. Not if you don't make a sound, you dummy. Fuck, if I would've just stayed quiet.
"Oh, look at this. Maybe it is a rat, just a rat of a different nature. Come on down, girl. We're not going to hurt you none," the skinnier one said, his yellow and gap-toothed smile scarier than the words he used.
Without a choice, she jumped down to the floor and rolled, gracefully enough to clear some distance between her and them, and picked up the bucket. As she rose quickly to her feet, she spun, catching the bigger one in his tiny chin and dropping him almost instantly. His flabby body buckled before it fell, walling off the mop from the skinnier one, and as he climbed over his partner, Penny snapped the handle over her thin thigh, giving her a sharp end to defend herself with.
He hesitated, holding a pin not much thicker than his arm, waving it half toward her and back as if to seem threatening. She circled him, keeping the point aimed at him to stave off an advance. As she circled, he countered, turning in the room until his back was to Artem.
She charged, and as the man stepped back, a shackled arm reached out, wrapping the chain with just enough slack on it around the skinnier one's neck. Once Artem had a hold of him, it was over. He had reached his hands out of the space in the bars, extending one of his arms fully, roping the man in with the chain like some kind of metal whip, yanking his body into the bars, and twisting the chain behind his neck to strangle him. As his face turned black in the dark, Artem ordered her, "Finish the bigger one. We don't need anyone alerting the ones up there."
Holding the pointed handle, she looked down with pity on the tubby deck hand. She was him, in a sense, and it could be her on the other end of the stick. What am I supposed to do? She thought as she felt for the boy and wished to spare him. Turn and kill the big guy? Fat chance of that working, and for what: to join this crew of shit holes? They're probably worse than us.
Her pity turned to guilt when she felt herself decide to do it. She had little choice, but it was still her hands holding the weapon. She raised it.
She couldn't push it down. As she searched for a soft spot, she thought they were all soft. Which would hurt least? Which is easiest to push into? Which will he die the fastest?
"Do it." Artem said, coldly.
"I can't."
"Do it or it'll be you."
He had the truth of it. Now, after killing one of them, it was kill or be killed. No longer would their hosts keep them captive. Whatever they did next, it was life or death now. Even for the girls.
Penny closed her eyes and pushed. She had lined up the stick to plunge into the bottom of his neck in the pit where it meets the chest, but it slid and went into the skin under his jaw, waking him and causing him to wheeze blood gurgled attempts at screams. She shied away, releasing the stick and falling back to her ass, as the slumped chinless boy died horribly in front of her. Artem didn't move a muscle to help finish it, as the folded body scrambled around the ground, trying to remove the mop handle. She'd pushed it far enough to stay, but not far enough to keep him from struggling.
"I'm sorry, ser," she said in shame. She had wished to do well in this, and felt she had failed everyone around her.
"Nonsense. He is dead and you're alive. With life comes the chance to live. But hurry. Take the edge of this and peel their ropes away. We'll need them freed," as the boy finished his struggle, Artem pulled the stick out from his neck and handed it back to her, gesturing to Missy and Mel.
"And what of him?" Penny asked, pointing to the curled fat body of the other captive man on the floor.
"Leave him. He doesn't seem he wishes to continue." Through all of it, the only movement she saw from the fourth captive was his curled body trembling. As she turned to the girls, she heard the fatter boy's last breath. It seemed peaceful. Though she wished she'd made it quicker, at least it was over. For her and him.
()
The plan seemed easy enough. With all the drinking and noise, there would be little resistance if they all just remained unseen. There was enough cover for the smaller ones, her Missy and Mel, but for big Artem, Penny was a bit more worried. Missy and Mel were sharp enough to outwit most, but she couldn't tell how scared they were. If they were as scared as she was, even they could still slip. Even if they were half as scared as Penny was they could. None of it would be easy. Especially for her.
Penny didn't fear any part of her job until the end, really, but she'd rather the scary part be first so she could get it over with. When everything easy was before the scary thing, it just made everything scary, because she knew what was coming. What was next.
It was easy enough to sneak up to the upper deck unseen. She knew she could do that, even if she had to take the stairs, now, that the floor boards were bent too low to sneak under. There wasn't many aboard the boat they were all kept in, but there were still enough to be scared of. Enough that when she first looked out from above the top of the stairs, she couldn't keep her body from shaking like a sail in a storm.
Once she'd found herself behind the first barrel, crouched down into herself as two idiots walked past her unawares, she relaxed a bit. But that was only until she reached the big boat. Her heart began to flutter. She felt close. She climbed into it thinking only of what she'd have to do next. What might be the last thing she ever did.
Finding the fire was easy. Even though they decided to use the two middle boats for the food and drink, there were enough lamps she could use, but she wanted to wait a bit. She couldn't even think of an excuse in her head, so she was just waiting until she had to do it, but the more she waited, the more she risked the others fates, and if anything, she didn't want to be craven and cause them to fail. If they made it away, they'd be better off than they'd ever been. At least Artem didn't want to fuck them. He only cared for money, and he'd pay them for whatever they made. Maybe it would be enough to start over with them somewhere, like Lorath, or the 'Stones.
Who am I kidding? She thought, crouching behind the side of a chest of ropes, wearing the shadows like a cloak, her dark hair and eyes well hidden. They're all just as likely to sell me off as much as they are to split anything with me. Fuck them all. She almost decided not to do it. It was a pretty fucking boat, after all. And they followed some woman, believe it or not, all of them. She almost admired them.
But there was nothing she could do in her head to convince herself from what she was ordered. For all the things Penny was, she wasn't craven. Not now. Not never.
She crept to the stern of the ship, able to stay out of sight. No one was on the decks of the big boat, and it was so large, even if there were men, they'd have to be lucky to bump into her. Who would order men to guard a ship in the middle of the ocean in the middle of the night when everyone they thought was accounted for? Artem was right for the most part, until she heard a door open behind her.
"The fuck is that?" a gruff voice asked from behind her. "Iggy? Is that you?"
Her voice would never pass for a man's. Not never. So, she ran without taking as much of a moment to glance back at who he was or what he looked like.
"Hey. What the fuck are you running for?"
She grabbed a lamp and threw it at his feet, the oil spreading the flames as soon as the glass around the burning wick shattered. As she ran further back, she grabbed another from a perch, slamming it down into the deck as well. A shard nicked her breaking off, but she kept moving, knowing what was next and dreading it.
Another. Smash. Flames began to roar as she heard commotion from across the dark horizon coming from the other boats. A dark smoke began to spread as the fires behind her started to circle around her. As she reached the stern, her back against the rail, she threw one more lamp into the flames before facing the sea.
Even in the glowing orange light behind her, the water was as dark as the night, swaying choppy white peaks up and down, over and back, cresting and falling in a mesmerizing horror as far as the light showed her. There was a deeper darkness to the deep ocean. Anything her mind could think of swam beneath the hard black surface of the waves, below, her fate as much a mystery as it would be behind her.
Where the waves glared orange from the fire behind her, she focused her sight, staring hard into the moving water as if she could enter it without actually jumping from the ship.
Nothing had ever felt as terrifying as staring into that black and orange water, the rail beneath her wobbling feet too thin to waver on, the surface of the sea and the terrors hidden below all that she could see in front of her.
Somehow, she stepped a foot out, and when she began to fall, she felt her heart stop, and she shrieked as the darkness flew up at her, catching her with a frigid smack like she fell face first into solid ice. As she slipped down into the water, the burning boat above bright enough for her to see the ships bobbing near her, she couldn't help but feel as if something swam beneath her feet, just out of reach from bumping her. Her breath quickened to the point she couldn't help from drinking in the salty black chill with errant gasps for unused air, choking on the seawater as she struggled with the frozen cold of the ocean and the rocking waves so high it was hard to see the sky.
She was forced down by the weight of a swell, and once she was underwater, the stillness calmed her as much as the darkness forced her back up, the uneasiness of the unknown as ominously threatening as the hammering chop of the waves. She'd rather drown than be eaten, she thought, until she reached the surface of the water again, and as she gasped for a fresh breath, another smacking salted slam assaulted her face.
If she could make it to the other boat, the one attached to theirs, the little one on the other end, they'd pull her out to safety.
But she could barely survive the surface, and as she struggled to stay at the top of the water, she feared how far she might've drifted.
Darkness below and all around, the blazing galley as blinding as it was bright, her shivering body hard to move fast enough to keep from sinking, she thought Is this it? The End?
Another wave crashed and she gasped for breath as it forced her under. She wouldn't stop kicking, though, not while she still could.
But she didn't know how much longer her legs would keep moving.
It was cold.
So damn cold.
A/N
First of all, thank you for reading.
I would like to note that two major characters in this work should be attributed to the proper authors who inspired me. For Mogorro Mutis, an author by the same name began a work called "The Green Tome" about the same named explorer discovering Sothoryos. That author has since canned the work, urging me to continue on for him, which I am in spirit with the character and some of the aspects he included in his own work. The work was only three chapters, and the author Spainish speaking first (so some of his work was hard to fully understand for me via translation) so most of the character is still original to this story, but he is certainly paying homage to an idea from another.
In a similar vein, the character Veron Blacktyde is named in part (both in universe as a tribute as well as by this author in tribute to another) for the two characters Veron Greyjoy and Torgon Blacktyde in Belissarius55's A Tale of Two Dragons which also inspired this character somewhat. If the name seems familiar, its because Veron's in universe parents as well as I took it from that great Tale.
Thanks again as always and stay tuned for the next installment