《Tales from the Sunset Kingdoms: The Demon's Sea》


 Chapter I

    A light breeze blew across the Demon¡¯s Sea. Despite the wind, the surface maintained a glassy appearance, ethereal looking from the light shining down from the cosmos. In the distance, a ship cut through the surface, her wake an abomination on the virgin ocean. Tonight was an anomaly, the Demon¡¯s Sea was usually wrought with storm. The ship drew closer, its sleek outline contrasting sharply behind the moon. Her oars dipped into the abyss, carrying her swiftly towards her fate.


    Onboard, two men paced nervously. Both were slim, one with jet black hair and a great billowing cloak with a faded knightly crest long forgotten emblazoned on it. His boots were worn and ragged: his tunic and trousers were plain and unadorned. His compatriot was finely dressed, a bright green cape dancing swiftly in the night air accompanied by teal garb. His hair was a pale blue, the color of ice against the sky. His eyes were matching, making them seem almost white. Gaudy jewelry covered every inch of him, two gold medallions on his neck, a ring on every finger, and diamond studs in his ears. He even wore rings in his eyebrows. His name was Quetzalcoatl Quinze, and despite his eccentric appearance, he was the most dangerous man on the Demon¡¯s Sea


    ¡°Garlan,¡± Quetzalcoatl looked at his shipmate, ¡°I thought you said the Summer Sea would be en route to Queensport by now.¡±


    ¡°She should be,¡± Garlan growled, his voice raspy due to a heinous scar wrapped around his neck. A Kamoran assassin had once tried to take his life, but only managed to mutilate his throat. ¡°I looked at the manifest myself captain, she¡¯s expected to be in Queensport in two days; perhaps she caught a storm?¡±


    ¡°Garlan, have we been on the same ship this past fortnight? What storm could she possibly have ran into?¡±


    The wind began to pick up, and as if on cue, small waves danced around the polished water.


    ¡°Well then, Quetza, maybe she was taken by someone else.¡±


    Quetza continued to pace the deck of his ship, the Mist Maid. He leaned on the starboard rail of his galley, looking at the crescent moon hanging in the night sky. Suddenly, sails emerged on the horizon, his prize approached.


    ¡°Garlan, get the men ready, my fortune is has arrived.¡± Quetzalcoatl ordered. Below decks fifty pirates waited in the cramped quarters. The galley was more than happy to accommodate salt pork and beer belowdecks, but fifty seasoned pirates packed tighter than a woman¡¯s corseted bosom. Quetza sent them below to give off the impression the Mist Maid was desolate. When the Summer Sea neared, Quetza and Garlan would scream for help, luring the trade cog to her doom.


    The wind continued to pick up, gusting now, sending seawater to lap against the bulwarks of the galley. What was once a beautiful mirror morphed into a kaleidoscope of water and foam and moonlight waltzed on the surface.


    The ship drew closer.


    ¡°Garlan, light two torches to signal the Summer Sea,¡± said Quetza.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Mmm¡±, came Garlan¡¯s grunt of acknowledgement. He fetched the torches and lit them with a flint, giving one to Quetza as he began to wave his frantically.


    The Summer Sea continued to bear down on the Mist Maid. ¡°Quetza, something isn¡¯t right,¡± Garlan said worriedly, ¡°look.¡± Quetza¡¯s experienced eyes raked the outline of what should have been the trade cog Summer Sea. Instead, he recognized the sleek shape of a war dromon, and the ocean wind carried the sound of rowing drums beating away in a rhythm suited for ramming.


    When the dromon was roughly 500 yards away the wind began to scream, causing the two men to lift a forearm over their eyes.


    ¡°Garlan, call the men out! She wants a fight!¡± Quetzalcoatl sprinted to the rudder, turning the Mist Maid to face her adversary. The two ships were now a scarce 200 yards apart. Quetza¡¯s pirates were erupting from the impossibly tight quarters, and a thick fog began to cover everything. Quetza couldn¡¯t see more than five feet in front of him.


    ¡°Garlan! Where the fuck is that--¡±


    All of the sudden a wave rocked the port side and something smashed into the Mist Maid. Quetza was knocked off of his feet, meeting the deck quicker than he would have liked to. There¡¯s no way she maneuvered to the side that fast, thought Quetza, no ship in the world can turn like that.


    Then the screams began. Quetza stumbled to his feet, cursed, and clutched his side. He was no doctor, but he knew at least a couple ribs were cracked. Quetza drew his scimitar, even that small action bringing extreme pain, and staggered to the main deck.


    He tripped over something again. This time he let out a howl. His ribs were on fire. Stooping down to peer through the fog he saw he tripped over half of one of his crew. The deck around him was slick with blood.


    Quetzalcoatl dragged himself to his feet with more curses spewing from his mouth. He was growing scared. ¡°Garlan, Garlan where are you!¡± Quetza bellowed. He had been in some hairy situations, but this one reeked of foul magic. The fog couldn¡¯t have been natural, and a ship shouldn¡¯t be able to move like his adversary did. Then, everything went silent. There were no more screams, no more movement. Quetza was leaned against the rail, gasping in pain, eyes scanning frantically.


    As Quetza took another rattled breath, a figure emerged from the fog. ¡°Who,¡± Quetza took another painful breath, ¡°are you?¡±


    It didn¡¯t respond as it steadily pressed forward.


    Quetza squinted to discern features in the haze. There weren¡¯t many. It wore a black cloak and a grotesque mask in the likeness of a hog. It¡¯s boots were black as well, and polished; Quetza could almost see his reflection in them.


    ¡°No¡­ get away,¡± Quetza moaned, putting his sword in between him and the figure.


    It moved faster than anything Quetza had ever seen. Before he registered the sword screaming at him Quetza was reflexively putting his scimitar up to keep his head attached to his neck. Not losing an inch of balance from the block, the figure danced backwards and immediately rushed at Quetza again. This time the slash came for his stomach. Quetza adjusted his sword to block, but the force behind the slash was too powerful. Quetza¡¯s grip loosened from the shock waves travelling through the hilt like electricity and his heart sank as he heard a faint splash behind him.


    He knew he was dead. His only chance lay overboard. Quetza rolled backwards over the railing as the spectre rushed him.


    The injured captain almost made it. Quetza felt steel bite into his right shoulder, and before he could make a sound, the sea filled his lungs.

 Chapter II

    Quetzalcoatl Quinze woke up on the laying flat on his back, the all to familiar feeling of wood beneath him. Rocking in a rhythmic pattern with the cloudless sky above, there was only one place he could be: a ship¡¯s deck. He was just about done with them by this point. Seconds after regaining consciousness, pain washed throughout Quetza¡¯s body. His right side was on fire, his head hurt something terrible, and he had the most curious sensation coming from his right arm. He shut his eyes and cursed the sun beating down on him; cursed the ship he lay on, cursed the sea, the gods, his good for nothing parents. Quetzalcoatl Quinze cursed everything that came to memory, and then some. Suddenly a shrill shriek broke the string of profanity escaping the pirate¡¯s lips.


    ¡°Father! He¡¯s awake!¡± a shrill female voice called out. She sounded young. If it wasn¡¯t odd enough to have a woman on a ship, she was a kid to boot. It had been years since Quetza heard a woman¡¯s voice resonate off the wood of a vessel. After a brief pause some footsteps approached, slapping a lazy beat across the pine boards. Reluctantly opening his eyes, Quetza looked up at a gaunt, bearded face. The beard it wore told the stories of the seas it sailed: a black mess spotted with white, wild and unkempt. His eyes sat deeply in their sockets, and his mouth formed a thin scowl. It was one of those faces that you could not believed had ever felt youth.


    ¡°I know who you are,¡± the man spat.


    ¡°And I haven¡¯t a clue who you are,¡± Quetza replied casually, unaffected by the man¡¯s tone.


    ¡°Who I am is none of your business, pirate.¡± the way he said the word could only be described as poisonous.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re referring to one of the other men on this ship,¡± Quetza sat up and glanced around the boat, a tiny fishing craft, which he was the sole other human on board, ¡°it appears I¡¯m mistaken,¡± he finished. ¡°Unless, of course, you¡¯re referring to the girl,¡± he motioned to the skinny thing standing on the bow.


    ¡°I¡¯m not one for japes, pirate.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m not one for false accusations, fisher,¡± retorted Quetza, in the same lazy tone.


    ¡°It matters not, pirate, now tell me, how did the famed Quetzalcoatl Quinze lose his sword arm?¡±


    Automatically, Quetza looked down. Where once used to be an arm was now only a poorly dressed stump. He could feel his heart racing, and if he had eaten anything recently, it would have surely come up. Clenching his eyes, Quetza was taken back to the last night he had memory of. He remembered escaping that creature by throwing himself overboard. He remembered hitting the water. He remembered the biting of steel, rending his right arm at the shoulder. This was too much.


    ¡°Where is my crew?¡± choked Quetza, ¡°and how do you know who I am?¡± his voice suddenly lacking confidence.


    ¡°Your¡¯s was the only worthless soul I pulled from the sea. And anyone who sails this sea knows who you are, pirate. There is only one man on the Demon¡¯s Sea with your queer hair and eyes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s cute, fisher, I¡¯m glad you took the time to examine my eyes. Did you know it is because of these eyes and hair that hundreds of maidens all along the Sunset Kingdom¡¯s have offered me up their cherries?¡± Quetza asked, grinning while shooting a glance meant to provoke at the girl on the bow. Arm or no arm, quick retorts were in Quetza¡¯s blood. He liked to think of it as a coping mechanism, helping him deal with a pirate¡¯s life on the waves, but really Quetzalcoatl Quinze just didn¡¯t know how to keep his mouth shut. With his bravado filled comment out of the way, Quetza regained his legendary confidence. Looking at his easy going face, you would not think he was a man who had just found out he lost a ship, a crew, and an appendage.


    ¡°Shut it pirate, lest I return you to the waves. What happened to your arm?¡± Sighing, Quetza decided to entertain the man¡¯s fancy.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know fisher, my ship was attacked, and a man in a strange mask almost took my life. I had thought I escaped unscathed, but I guess not.¡±


    ¡°What was the likeness of the mask, pirate? Was it an animal?¡± The old man suddenly seemed interested in Quetza¡¯s story. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°It was indeed, fisher. It was a hog, or pig, or something of the sort. Why does that matter?¡±


    ¡°It matters, pirate, because the last time I was in Gold Harbor there was a deranged man spinning a similar tale. He claimed the ship darkened the sky and brought a storm with it, and within seconds the entire crew had been butchered by monsters wearing masks in the visage of animals.¡± Quetza did not want to believe the fisherman, but something told him it could not have been coincidence.


    ¡°So what, is there a cursed ship prowling the Demon¡¯s Sea? You and I have been sailing these waters long enough to know that these things are just fish-wive¡¯s tales.¡±


    The old man gave Quetza one more look, and proceeded to re-occupy himself with a net.


    Quetzalcoatl Quinze remained on the deck, and drifted into a restless sleep filled with dreams of ghost ships and strange men in masks and his missing arm.


    When he awoke, it was night. The old man and the girl lay asleep a few feet away from Quetza. He struggled to his feet, gasping with pain. Somehow his ribs hurt more than the stump where his arm used to reside. He stumbled to the bow and propped himself against one of the rails.


    The Demon¡¯s Sea was beautiful on a calm night. An uncountable amount of stars gleamed in the sky, and the moon turned a portion of the sea into quicksilver. A gentle breeze blew across the ocean, and for a moment Quetzalcoatl Quinze was at peace.


    The old man approached without a sound, and stood next to Quetza, staring out onto the horizon with him. They stood like that for a few minutes before Quetza broke the silence.


    ¡°Is the girl your daughter?¡±


    ¡°Of sorts,¡± the man replied. ¡°Her parents were killed in a storm and I took her in. She helps me out on the boat.¡±


    ¡°That was noble of you,¡± said Quetza.


    ¡°And what would Quetzalcoatl Quinze know about nobleness?¡± the man gave Quetza a look of disgust.


    All Quetza could do was laugh and stare out into the sea. After a few more minutes he asked another question. ¡°Where are we headed, anyway?¡±


    ¡°We?¡± replied the man, giving Quetza a strange look.


    ¡°Well, it appears to me that we¡¯re on the same boat, I can¡¯t really stray too far from you.¡± Quetza continued to stare into the horizon, he was beginning to make out the first tendrils of morning.


    ¡°I¡¯m heading for Queensport, we¡¯re no more than a day away,¡± the man explained.


    ¡°Going to collect my bounty, fisher? The Admiralty there will pay a handsome sum for my handsome head.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a fisherman, not a bounty hunter, pirate. Besides, I¡¯m no fool. You made a name for yourself by the sword. You¡¯re in a bad state, pirate, but you could still take my life if threatened¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Very well then, humble fisherman, to Queensport it is.¡±


    Perfect, thought Quetza. He knew just the right person for the predicament he was in, and she happened to reside in Queensport. He was also of no small renown there, as evidenced by his bounty. With any luck, he¡¯d be able to put a crew together, obtain a ship, and be out on the sea again within the month.


    The next afternoon the small fishing boat navigated the Queen¡¯s Teeth, a natural reef protecting Queen¡¯s Harbor, which lay in the city of Queensport. Quetza was no good with history, but he imagined whichever Queen the city and her surroundings were named after must have been extremely noteworthy. As they reached the docks, which Quetza assumed were named the Queen¡¯s Docks, he smiled, and got up to depart.


    ¡°By the way fisher, what is your name, so I may repay you when I regain my fortune,¡± he said as he left.


    ¡°I would not want your ill-gotten wealth, pirate,¡± spat out the old man.


    ¡°If not for you, take it for the girl, so she may lead a better life than sailing the Demon¡¯s Sea.¡± The old man thought about it for a few minutes before replying.


    ¡°My name is Roddam, from Saverston.¡±


    ¡°Saverston? Aren¡¯t you a bit far from home?¡± Quetza knew Saverston as a castle-town on Berrius, the large continent that the Demon¡¯s Sea touched to the north. Queenstown was a port of Incho-Gladius, the smaller southern continent they were presently on. Incho-Gladius may have been smaller, but was far greater populated, with many various cities and cultures, Queenstown was the least jarring for most Northerners, as it was founded as a trade outpost by Northern traders. From Queenstown spread a number of trade cities all along the western coast, which would eventually become known as the Sunset Kingdoms. Farther inland, following the Winding Water, the river that bisects Incho-Gladius, there are cities strange and unknown to most travellers. Quetza himself, although spending most of his life in Incho-Gladius, had not even been to most of these towns.


    The fisher did not respond, but got out of his craft and passed Quetza, little girl in tow. She glanced back at him, smiling.


    ¡°I¡¯ll pay you back Roddam, I swear it!¡± Quetza called to him.


    The old man did not respond, continuing to walk away. Quetza imagined he was thinking that a pirates word meant nothing, or something of the sort.