Chapter 26

  “There she is, Cap’n,” Beckett said suddenly.

  Jonathon grabbed his spyglass and looked through it. The sirens had the right of it; it had been a little over two days, and now, there was a growing storm on the horizon. Jonathon marveled at what he saw. The storm’s edge seemed so distinct, and the clouds were so dark it looked as though a child had drawn them on the sky.

  “That certainly looks ominous,” he admitted after a moment of study.

  “Aye, it does, Cap’n,” Beckett said, worry thick in his voice. “And that’s not even mentionin’ the dragons. I fear we won’t even make it into the storm if we encounter one of them.”

  Jonathon patted the man on his shoulder reassuringly. “You heard the sirens, ‘the storm is wide and the dragons few.’ All we need is a careful course and a steady hand. And I can’t think of a hand steadier than your own or a course more careful than one you plot. Believe in yourself as I do, Beckett, and we’ll see our way safely through this storm.”

  Jonathon thought he saw the same flicker of quiet resignation he had seen the other day. If he felt it though, he didn’t say, instead, he took a deep breath and said, “Aye, Cap’n. I’ll be sure to stay alert.”

  “Good man,” he said. “About how far away would you say we are?”

  “I’d give it another hour before we breach her edges,” Beckett said.

  Jonathon turned to the main deck. “Alright men, the storm looms on the horizon. We’ve about an hour before we make contact with her, but we must be wary of sea dragons. Our navigator will sail us through safely, but I don’t want to hear a lick from any of ye, unless ye spot a dragon that we don’t. The less noise made, the less chance we’ll have of bein’ noticed. So stay sharp and stay quiet. Aye?”

  “Aye!” the crew answered, a collective murmur against the growing howl of the wind.

  As they continued to sail, Beckett, Jonathon, Cassandra, and assumedly every other man on deck worked as quietly as possible while keeping a sharp eye on the waters ahead. At one point, they spotted…something in the distance to the east, but whatever it was, it was too far away to tell if it was actually a sea dragon or just their imagination. Regardless, its distance meant it was probably too far to be of concern.

  The tempest grew closer and closer as the hour came to a close, the seas growing more and more unsteady. Finally, it hung in front of them like a large, impenetrable wall.

  Jonathon breathed a sigh of relief. “Looks like we may have made it past the sea dragons, Beckett. Good job. I knew you could do it.”

  Beckett bit his lip and said, “Aye, Cap’n. Though I really wish ye hadn’t just said that.”

  As the tides grew choppier, the deck flooded with more men and more shouting. Beckett and Jonathon gave orders while Cassandra and Dryden relayed any that went unheard.

  Just as they breached the storm’s outer rim, a deafening roar split the air, so loud it seemed to shake the ship itself.

  “Starboard bow!” a voice screamed, panic threading through the shout.

  Jonathon looked at what appeared to be a large serpent with a head far more terrifying than any snake he had ever seen. It loomed over their ship, its eyes, almost familiar, glowed orange with what felt like demonic energy, malice laced in every thought and movement the creature made. Dark, jagged scales that shimmered with shades of green, blue, and black covered its head and body. The scales on its head converged into long, spiked horns that pointed straight back from the creature’s face. The long, sinuous neck and body were adorned with sharp, ridged fins that ran along its spine. It opened its mouth to reveal rows upon rows of spear-like teeth. It roared again, the waves crashing against it as it sat, unfazed by the waves around it. It dashed towards them, and Jonathon had enough time to scream “Brace yourselves!” before the creature swooped down and grabbed three men off the bow of the ship. The accuracy and speed of its attack were incredible. In a matter of seconds, the beast had grabbed his men and sunk back beneath the waters without even a railing out of place. Fear gripped Jonathon as he saw how grave the beast they faced would be.

  “Battle stations, men!” he yelled, and the men began to fill their respective roles along the railings and at the cannons.

  As they continued to sail into the storm, the men stood, tensed and ready for the inevitable return of the creature. Suddenly, as quickly as it had disappeared, it reappeared off the port side of their ship and roared again.

  “Fire!” Jonathon yelled, and a volley of cannons fired from the ship.

  The sea exploded in foam and spray, and the dragon roared, twisting away from the onslaught and moving towards them. Just as it reached the edge of the ship, the men felt her tilt dangerously to her starboard side as she was pushed away from the beast. Jonathon heard the screams of some of the men who had not been able to steady themselves as they fell into the waters below.

  He had no time to look for or save them, though, as he looked back at the sea dragon. Its head was trapped in between the jaws of a similar, yet much larger sea dragon. Its eyes shined with the same demonic orange energy, but its scales reflected much fierier shades of red, orange, and black. Its horns curled and twisted on its head, much longer than the one that was currently trying to free itself from the larger dragon’s grasp.

  “Dear gods!” Beckett screamed. “It’s just a pup!”

  “Let’s not waste this opportunity,” Jonathon shouted back. “Men, full sail! I don’t want to be around to face the victor!”

  The men set back to work adjusting the sails as needed, and slowly, the distance between the beasts and the ship grew greater and greater.

  “What do ye think made it attack one of its own?” Jonathon asked Beckett.

  “Likely it angered the larger one,” Beckett replied, straining against the storm. “Beasts like that are bound to be extremely territorial. Would also explain why the sirens said the dragons were few. If I were to guess, I’d say the smaller one wandered into the larger one's territory and paid the price.”

  “Well thank the gods for that!” Jonathon joked as they continued their fight against the increasing intensity of the storm.

  ~~

  It had been three days since they had first entered this storm. Three days of constant fighting, Jonathon thought as he sat on the edge of his bed in the cabin. After the first day, it had been decided that the crew would have to alternate at twelve-hour intervals if they were to have any hope of continuing their fight against the storm. Beckett, Ryden, and Dryden on one shift, Jonathon, Cass, and Naomi on the other. Normally, Jonathon would count himself lucky getting to share that time with Cass, but so far, he had been too exhausted by the end of each day to even think, and the days were spent in a constant state of panic and stress. And the further they sailed, the worse the weather got.

  “How much more time until we have to go back?” he muttered to Cass.

  “Not long enough,” she moaned back. “Gods, I’m sore!”

  “I feel as though I can barely move,” he said, mirroring her sentiment.

  “We should get up and move around some before we go back out. The last thing we need is for you to stiffen up at the helm when we need you,” she said, moaning as she sat up in bed.

  “How much more of this do you think we can take?” he asked her. “Could this ship really be out in this storm? How could it have survived this long? And how are we going to sail her with a minimal crew if we’re already stretched sailing Mother’s Myth as it is?”

  Cass remained quiet. He knew she agreed with him but didn’t want to make him feel guilty for leading them into this storm. Regardless of what he felt now, they had no choice but to continue sailing. Making him feel bad wouldn’t do anyone any good, and he knew she knew it.

  He leaned over and kissed her on the head as he stood up from the bed. “You’re a good woman, Cassandra Reeves. I love you.”

  She smiled at him and said, “I think you’re the only person who’s never made me wince at hearing my name.” She paused for a moment and stared at him, smiling before saying, “I love you too, Jon.”

  They both ate a quick breakfast from some of the food Jonathon had in his cabin and walked back out to the quarterdeck.

  As soon as they opened the doors, Jonathon could feel how much worse the winds had gotten. The waves crashed against them on either side, filling the air with a constant downfall of seawater in addition to the constant downpour of rain. Almost every rigging had three men pulling with all their might to keep under control, and Beckett looked as though he had been holding up a mountain all day.

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  “Ryden,” Jonathon called as they approached the helm, “take over while we talk to Beckett.”

  Beckett nodded and handed the helm over to Ryden, who immediately looked as though he was going to lose control of her at any second. They walked back to Jonathon’s cabin.

  As they closed the door, Beckett said, “Don’t worry, Cap’n, Ryden can handle ‘er. He struggles, but he hasn’t let ‘er go yet.”

  Jonathon nodded hesitantly, “If you say so. Any news during your shift?”

  Beckett shook his head. “No sir. Far as I can tell, this storm has no end. And it only keeps gettin’ worse. I wouldn’t be surprised if the only thing awaitin’ us at the end of this storm is the edge of the world. No map I’ve ever known has ever gone this far north. We’re sailin’ blind here, and I mean that literally. Our navigation’s useless. The piece can’t stay still long enough to get any sense of direction, and I can barely see a few hundred meters in front of us at any given time. All I can do is sail ‘er where I think is right and hope we’re not out here sailin’ in circles.”

  A chill ran through Jonathon. ‘Sailing in circles?’ He hadn’t even considered that. The idea of being stuck in a never-ending loop of sailing until they either crashed or starved brought a very sudden, very real sense of dread that enveloped him.

  As if sensing his thoughts, Cass placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, Jon, we won’t let that happen. I’ll have some of the boys move the piece into your cabin during our shift. Maybe it’ll be calm enough inside to get a read on it.”

  Beckett smiled at the two, happy to finally see them accept their feelings after so long denying them, and spoke up, “Aye, sir. I wouldn’t necessarily say we are sailin’ in circles, ‘twas just a fear I had.”

  Jonathon nodded and said, “Thank you, Beckett. Go get your men, send mine up, and get some rest.”

  “Aye, sir,” he said and left the room.

  “Don’t worry, Jonathon, we’re not sailing in circles,” Cassandra said before they exited the room. “We all believe in you.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he said absentmindedly.

  ~~

  “Helm, hard to starboard!” Cassandra yelled from the main deck. She turned to the men, “Lean left, lads!”

  Jonathon gritted his teeth, wrestling with the wheel. The ship groaned, but obeyed, turning just in time to avoid a massive wave. He felt as though the storm wanted to drown them all, just to spite their presence.

  He heard a snap and loud rumble as he looked up to see one of the cannons that had been tied down roll across the deck, its line snapped. A man yelled as the cannon crushed him between it and the railing before breaking the railing and sending the two crashing into the waters below. He heard more screams from his men.

  “Cass, what’s goin’ on down there?” he strained out.

  Cass made her way over to where the man had fallen and talked to some of the men who had screamed. She made her way back within hearing range and yelled, “The men claim something grabbed the man who fell overboard. They couldn’t say what, though.”

  Great, Jonathon thought, that’s the last thing we need right now. It didn’t matter if the threat was real or a result of hysteria, its presence was not good for the crew’s morale. “Tell the men to steer clear of the railings and never mind what’s in the water. Tell them to focus on keeping us out of it.”

  “Aye, sir,” she said.

  The tempest continued to rage and grow as the hours crept by. Jonathon heard a snap and saw one of the riggings up top flail loose in the wind. The men who had been holding onto it scrambled up from the deck and rushed to grab the spare rope from one of the nearby stations they had set up. The men began climbing the ratlines on the starboard side to get up to replace the rope. As they reached the top, a large wave pushed the ship and tilted her hard to starboard. He heard screams and looked just in time to see one of the men fall from the top of the ratline.

  He watched as the man fell to the water’s surface. Before he could reach the surface, however, two creatures dove out from underneath the turmoil in opposite directions at the man. One grabbed the man at his torso, the other at his waist. Jonathon felt as though he could hear the snapping and popping of bones and flesh even from where he was as the man was torn in two.

  As the man’s blood hit the water, the creatures were thrown into a frenzy, and they began jumping back and forth in the water. With horror, Jonathon recognized them. They were sirens. At least, they had been sirens. Jonathon wasn’t sure what they were now. Their beautiful, colorful hair looked coarse, brittle, and muddy, and their tails were a dull brown. What Jonathon could see of their faces appeared as though they had been contorted into a monstrous visage, their teeth sharp, and their eyes glowing a vibrant orange that was visible even in the storm’s low visibility.

  “The maelstrom twists with wicked force. It warps our song and skews our course.” The sirens’ warning played in his head, and he realized now what they meant. He began to think of the other things they had said and felt his dread shift to despair as he considered the possibility that he had led his crew to certain death.

  As these thoughts played in his head, lightning traced a long path beyond what Jonathon could now see was the tempest’s eye. A chill ran through his spine as he watched a legend come alive. Thunder split the sky as if to accent this discovery, and Jonathon saw the outline of a large galleon floating peacefully amidst the center of the storm.

  The galleon’s ghostly form flickered out of sight as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving Jonathon breathless. His heart pounded against the storm’s roar, his fear eclipsed by a fierce resolve. This was no illusion–the legend was real, and he would claim it!

  As if sensing his will, the tempest grew stronger still. Naomi ran up the companionway to Jonathon’s side. She gripped the railing, her voice cutting through the storm’s fury. “Captain, we must turn back! The demon ship is real, and my grandmother's warnings were not just tales–they were truths! If we press on, it will twist us as it twists this storm and all the creatures in it. You cannot continue!” Jonathon barely glanced at her, his jaw set. To him, the warnings were nothing more than old fears clinging to the past. The Spectre was his, and nothing would sway him now.

  Naomi gripped Jonathon’s arm, desperation in her eyes. “You do not understand, Captain! This ship is not just haunted–it is evil! You do not take it, it takes you!”

  He pried her fingers off him, his gaze set. “Then let it try.”

  The Banshee’s pleas fell on deaf ears. Jonathon’s resolve was true. He turned to point the bow in the direction he had seen The Spectre and screamed, “Men, ye’ve seen ‘er now! The ocean’s fury has tested us, but we stand unbroken! The Spectre isn’t just a ghost–it’s our path to glory, our chance to carve our names into legend! The Jaws of Hell won’t hold us back. We’ve faced worse, and no storm, no curse, will keep us from our prize!”

  His eyes locked on where he had seen the flicker of hope, completely oblivious to the fear that consumed Naomi’s eyes.

  Their struggle continued, and slowly, Jonathon began to make out a form in the distance. “Cass,” he called out, “all hands! Wake the rest of the crew and tell them we approach The Spectre!”

  “Aye, sir,” she cried and disappeared below deck.

  By the time the rest of the crew made their way back on deck, the outline of The Spectre was clear for everyone to see. From this distance, Jonathon could also see the tempest’s eye that protected the ship. It was unimaginably small given the size of the storm around it, just large enough to house the ghostly galleon.

  “Avast!” Jonathon called, his voice hoarse but strong. “All hands, prepare to take The Spectre!”

  A cry erupted from his crew as they crept ever closer to their target. Ropes and grappling hooks were thrown out from every available crewmate. Slowly, they pulled themselves in closer to The Spectre. The ship’s size dwarfed Mother’s Myth. Even with her larger than average build, The Spectre was still likely twice as tall as she was. The main deck alone stood a good ten feet higher than theirs. The men began throwing grappling hooks attached to rope ladders. The ship still rocked with the force of the waves, but miraculously, they never came close to crashing into the larger vessel. As the crew gathered around to board the ship, the men paused and looked to Jonathon. He felt someone tap his shoulder and turned to see Beckett behind him. “I’ve got the helm, Cap’n. Go get yer ghost.”

  Jonathon smiled and handed over the helm to the man. He ran into his cabin to grab the piece and ran down to the main deck. The men cheered as he approached the first ladder. He looked over his crew. Ryden, Dryden, Naomi, and Cass all stood at their own ladders, fighting against the raging winds but ready to follow him onto the ship. Naomi looked uneasy, continuously glancing back to Ryden next to her. He stopped and faced the crew. “Lads, you know what this means to me, and I know what it means for ye all to ‘ave stuck with me throughout all o’ this. Unfortunately, I’ll need some of you to stay back with Beckett and secure the ship.” A groan swept through the crowd as the men began fervently debating who had to stay behind and continue fighting the sea. He walked to Cass. “Cass, I need you to stay behind as well.”

  A look of surprise crossed her face, “Captain, are you sure? This is a momentous occasion for you and the crew, shouldn’t I be there?”

  It wasn’t often that Cassie questioned his orders in front of the men, but when she did, Jonathon knew it was always out of genuine concern. He smiled. “You’re right, it is a momentous occasion. One which we will be sure to celebrate fully when we sail out of this storm, but when I take control of The Spectre, Mother’s Myth is going to need a new captain. And it wouldn’t do for that new captain to be aboard another ship, now would it?”

  Cassandra’s eyes brightened, and she smiled at Jonathon’s gift. It was standard practice for the quartermaster to be given the old ship should the captain take another, but it didn’t always happen. Given the ship’s meaning to Jonathon, Cass likely expected this to be one of the times it didn’t happen.

  “Thank you, Captain,” she said and kissed him straight on the lips. The crowd erupted with hoots and cheers, and the ship rocked as Jonathon felt a sense of joy at sharing his happiness with Cassandra with the crew. She pulled back and said, “I’ll be waiting here until you give the order to disengage.”

  Jonathon nodded and looked back to the men that would be boarding with him. He was sure he had never seen them more excited or expectant than they were at this moment.

  “Take her boys!” he yelled and began the climb to the top of The Spectre’s main deck.