The Pirate and the Naiad

Chapter One 

The dryad flung himself at Raiya, hands outstretched as the dryad tried to grab him. Raiya dodged to the side, and the dryad’s fingers grazed Raiya’s shoulder as the dryad flew past. Water splashed as the dryad’s slender green body impacted with the wet ground.

Muscles taught, Raiya squatted, facing the dryad, ready for the next move. Breathing laboured, the dryad stumbled to his feet. He swayed slightly. Water and sludge dripped from his golden, orange, and red hair, sliding along his body.

He wore nothing but a skirt made of woven leaves and vines, soaked and badly damaged. Unlike the dryad, Raiya wore nothing, the norm for a naiad.

Lanterns around the cave provided the only flickering light. The muddy water in the cave reached their ankles. Yells and cries from the human spectators echoed around them, bouncing off the wall of the cave. The humans watched the battle, safe behind their metal fences.

Raiya despised every single one of them.

Stance wide, the dryad crouched, preparing for another lunge. Blood dripped from a cut on his left shoulder, mixing with the mud. He’d taken a lot of hits. Raiya could sense his pain. The dryad knew he was losing.

Of course, Raiya had an unfair advantage. They fought in water, and he was a naiad, a water nymph. Even if the water in the cave was shallow and dirty, he could still draw strength and energy from it. Dryads needed trees and sunlight. Who knew how long this dryad had been locked away in his cage or crate, away from the sun and trees?

The dryad took a step towards Raiya. Then another. Blood pounded in Raiya’s ears as his hands clenched. The dryad swung at his face. Raiya easily dodged. The dryad stumbled, and Raiya pounced. He threw a punch at the dryad, knocking him into the water. The dryad smashed into the ground, grunting in pain. The dryad tried to get to his feet, but Raiya jumped on top of him, pinning him with his body, shoving him underwater.

It was hard to imagine a time in his life when he had never had a fight. Where the dryads he knew had been friends and lovers.

That was years ago. Back when he’d been free.

Beneath him, to Raiya’s relief, the dryad didn’t struggle. He knew he’d lost. Raiya didn’t want to hurt the dryad more than he had. Raiya rose, victorious but dejected. The dryad pulled himself out of the sludge, spluttering.

The yelling increased. Raiya felt no satisfaction at his victory. As he gazed at the defeated dryad, bile rose in his throat. He looked away.

He hadn’t wanted to fight the dryad. But if he didn’t win, it was punishment. Beating, starvation, or worse. His owner wouldn’t tolerate anything but a win. And if Raiya showed any mercy to his opponent, he knew his owner would make him pay for it tenfold. He had enough scars to prove it.

Raiya walked away from the dryad. Two men entered to take the dryad away, giving Raiya a wide berth. He wondered how many fights the dryad had lost. He hoped it wasn’t a lot. Owners didn’t tolerate too many losses. He pushed that thought away. There was no place here for regret or mercy.

Raiya gazed at the crowd of humans. He sneered. This was their fault. They were the ones who paid money to watch Raiya and the other nymphs beat one another half to death. It was because of the humans that he had been taken from his home. From his family. They were the reason he had been beaten, whipped, and forced to fight those with whom he had no conflict.

He had no desire to fight dryads or naiads or oreads or any other nymphs. But he wanted to fight the humans, wanted to beat them to within an inch of their lives. His eyes sought out his owner in the crowd. Raiya gritted his teeth.

What he wouldn’t give to spend time with his owner in the pit. No chains, cages, or bars protecting the human. No weapons or men to defend him. Just Raiya and his owner. Raiya would tear the man apart. Limb from limb. He would show that man no mercy.

Then Raiya would be free. He could go back home. Back to Lake Clearwater. To his parents and brother.

His owner sat in the crowd, unaware or uncaring of Raiya’s hatred, a pleased smile stretched across his thin lips, as if he had been the one to win the fight. His dark-brown eyes, shrewd and calculating, watched Raiya.

Raiya’s hands clenched.

A short man stood next to Raiya’s owner, leaning down and speaking in his ear. Even though his owner wasn’t looking at the man, Raiya could tell he was listening intently. Suddenly, his owner turned towards the man and reached out his hand. They shook.

Raiya had just been sold.

Chapter Two

“You will be released unharmed,” Captain Silas Tivera said to the crew of the merchant ship. They sat huddled on the deck, under the watchful eyes of the Naiad’s Revenge’s crew. “But be warned, if I find you have been working for the Order again”—he paused, gaze travelling over the men—“we will not be so merciful.”

With a final look, he strode away across the deck of the ship. Silas wasn’t too worried about the merchant crew causing trouble. They hadn’t put up any fight when the Naiad’s Revenge had borne down on them. They’d flown their white flag, throwing themselves on the pirates’ mercy.

But that was to be expected by a crew hired to transport cargo for the Order. They weren’t paid enough to fight pirates and risk their lives. He made his way across the deck. Ceto, his first mate and one of the naiads in his crew, followed closely on his heels.

Ducking his head, Silas entered the captain’s quarters of the merchant ship. A musty smell filled his nostrils.

“Not particularly tidy, was he?” Ceto said.

Silas grunted in response.

Empty bottles lay strewn by an unmade bed. Clothing, dirty plates, and other possessions had been haphazardly placed throughout the room, but Silas’s attention was on the desk and the papers piled across it. Pages and pages of documents. He stepped closer. Far too much to look through now. Several empty bottles sat on the table.

He picked up one page on the top of the pile and skimmed the words. A report on their food stocks. He set the paper down, picked up a heavy leather-bound book, and opened it. The captain’s log. A strange brown mark stained the paper. He flicked through some of the other pages. Dates missing. Records half-finished. Sentences appearing to end prematurely. More brown stains.

He shook his head and set the book down. He looked at the loose pages, rifling through them. There seemed to be no order to them. I’ll be up late tonight trying to sort through it all. Perhaps interrogating the captain and crew before letting them go would provide more information. He bit back a sigh.

Several days ago, Silas had received information from one of his sources that the Order had hired a merchant ship to transport goods. Immediately he and his crew had set off to intercept. Now he needed to know why the Order had hired this merchant ship.

For years, Silas had fought against the Order, trying to disrupt their plans. It was his life’s goal to stop them any way he could. But of late, it seemed like their tactics had changed, and he felt like he was always a step behind. Like he was always scrambling to keep up with them. He just needed more information so he could get ahead of them.

“Pack up all these letters and place them in my quarters,” Silas said to Ceto. “I’ll go through them later.”

“Aye, Captain,” Ceto said, surveying the papers. “Anything in particular you are looking for?” He picked up a piece and frowned. Like most naiads, Ceto had never learned to read growing up. He had been doing so now, with the assistance of Levrith, one of the human sailors in the crew.

“Just anything about the Order.”

Growing up in the backwaters, Silas had heard of the Order, back when it was still a fledgling organisation confined within the Kingdom of Nebern. He’d met travelling members from time to time. But they hadn’t made much of an impression. They’d preached about some sort of order to the world and following the path of the Holy Flame, but those in his village hadn’t paid them much attention. Neither had he.

That had all changed when he and many in his village fell horribly ill. He’d lain in bed, barely able to move as death crept steadily through the village. A sorcerer from the Order had come into his home. Healed him. She’d made him believe the Order was a force for good. How naive he’d been.

“We need to stop them,” Silas said.

“And we will.” Ceto’s face was set in determination. Unlike many, Ceto knew the truth of the Order’s power. Whilst they pretended their healing powers came from following the path of the Holy Flame, it was a lie. Their powers came from draining nymphs of their energy and using it to power their magic. Simple as that. Ceto knew that first-hand.

Silas clapped Ceto on the shoulder and squeezed. He started to walk towards the door, leaving Ceto to his task, but at the last minute, he paused and began to rifle through the pages on the desk, hoping something would jump out at him.

For several moments, he searched as Ceto began to create piles of the documents. Silas froze—a letter, and stamped on the bottom of the page was a golden flame. The mark of the Order.

Picking up the letter, he read aloud, “We expect that you will deliver these crates quickly and safely to Bremenn.” He frowned.

“Where is Bremenn?” Ceto asked.

“It’s nowhere of any consequence. Bremenn is not even a proper town or settlement. Just a fishing spot along the coast of the Kingdom of Nebern.” He paused. “But dryads live along the shoreline, and at least one pod of naiads is based there.”

“What do you think they’re up to there?”

“Nothing good.”

He reread the letter from beginning to end, but there was no more information.

“Captain,” Levrith called from outside the cabin. “You better come and see this.”

Silas placed the paper on the pile before striding from the cabin.

The humans and naiads of his crew moved around, stripping the merchant ship, carrying barrels, crates, and anything of worth back to their own vessel. Silas followed Levrith across the deck and down a ladder into the hold. Silas blinked, his eyes taking a couple of seconds to adjust. Crates and barrels filled the space, stacked on top of one another.

A single lantern, held by Ismey, a female naiad in his crew, provided the only light. The crew should have been busy at work. Instead, they all crowded near a cage at the back of the hold. When they noticed Silas, they stepped aside, allowing him to approach. Silas stepped closer and gazed at the body slumped next to the cage.

“Ismey, bring the lantern closer,” Silas said.

Ismey stepped up beside him, and the lantern light fell on a naiad. His short, lean, and toned body was naked and unmoving. Silas tried to determine if he stared at a corpse. He let out a breath at the faint rise and fall of the naiad’s chest. Still alive. But bruises darkened his blue skin, and scars, old and new, marked his flesh. Metal shackles wrapped around his wrists, connected with chains.

Silas’s anger choked him. Who knew how many days the naiad had been kept in this cage?

“We carried him out and tried to wake him, Captain,” Levrith said. “But one of their crew admitted to drugging his food to keep him sedated.” Silas heard the faint tremor in Levrith’s voice, the suppressed anger. “Apparently they didn’t know how much to give him. Seems they overdid it.”

The naiad’s eyes drifted open. Dark eyes, unfocused, stared at Silas.

“Don’t worry. You’re safe now,” Silas said softly in the nymph tongue. Over the years, Silas had made an effort to learn Nymphish, but still, the soft, fluid words felt clunky on his lips.

The naiad’s eyes closed.

Turning to Levrith, Silas asked, “Do you have the keys for his shackles?”

“Yes, Captain. From one of the crew.” Levrith stepped forward. The metal keys jangled as he held them out.

Silas took them and crouched, leaning forward. He slotted the key into the shackle around the creature’s left wrist. The naiad’s eyes flew open.

“It’s all right,” Silas said. “Everything will be all right.”

But before he could turn the key, the naiad launched at him, knocking him to the ground. Silas held up his hands, trying to push off the naiad. The naiad, still chained, knocked his hands aside. He bared his teeth in a snarl, his long dark hair hanging around his face, and his eyes burned into Silas, full of hatred. The naiad pulled his fists above his head and smashed them into Silas’s face.

Silas’s teeth chattered. Black dots flooded his vision.

A second later, he felt the bite of metal against his throat. Panic flooded his body as the air was cut from his lungs. Silas kicked as he fought desperately against the naiad straddling him. Suddenly, the naiad’s weight disappeared from on top of him. Scrambling to sit up, Silas watched as Levrith and several others in the crew wrestled the naiad to the ground.

Gasping, Silas looked on in shock as the naiad continued to kick and growl. It took three of the crew to pin him. The naiad’s chest rose and fell quickly. Then, without warning, his eyes closed, his body sagging beneath them.

“What happened?” Ismey said.

“Must be the drugs,” Levrith said breathlessly. “Sorry, Captain. They said he was a pit fighter. I should have mentioned.”

A laugh huffed out of Silas’s sore throat. “Well, if that is what he can do drugged and in chains, I’d like to see what he is truly capable of.” He stood. “Take him to the infirmary. Let Everett treat him.” He picked up the keys off the floor and stood, tossing them to Levrith. “Don’t take the shackles off for the time being. And keep an eye on him.”