Queen of the Pirates: A Short Story from the World of TBC

She stood on the prow, watching her kingdom with an amber glare.

Reilynn Morris leaned against the wood, feeling the sting of salt against her face as the wind filled the sails and the ship surged forward.

Her gaze rested on the cloud of gray in the distance, shrouding her prey in a futile cloak.

“Starboard!” She shouted, her call ringing far above the sound of the steam engine or the crews adjusting the sails. “Change the flag! Turn the coals!”

The waves churned by in foams of froth-white as the crew followed her command. Black steam shot into the air from the funnels, powering the motor. The Ravenlock creaked as she picked up speed and chased after her sister ship.

Reilynn kept her eyes on the target steamer, preparing to signal her crew again. Captain Morris kept the ship straight and steady from the wheel, one hand on the steam lever in case they needed extra speed.

The closer they got to the ship, the more she heard them. The slaves. The wails of pain and grief, all sung in children’s voices.

Children. Her gloved hands fisted, peeling splinters from the railing. Children. Little ones. Innocent ones.

Not so innocent for long. Her blood chilled at the sickening thoughts, the memories. She forced herself to look at the waves, at the horizon, at the target. Focus. Focus. Focus.

The waves were fair and the wind was good. May was always excellent sailing weather– perfect for hunting on days like today.

But May always brought more ships like this. Slave ships. Dark ships. Not to mention the memories.

She hated May.

“Ease the speed!” She barked, whirling around towards the crew. “We don’t want to ram the ship in two and splinter the whole lot!”

The sailors nodded, checking ropes and adjusting vents. She leaned across the prow again, scowling.

Not much longer now. She fingered the hilt of her saber, eyeing the slave ship. The gray-striped flag that flickered against the Andwenian crest labeled it a prison ship– half the slaves would be convicts. And the other half? Children. It was always children.

And then they were upon it. The ship turned and pulled up to the slave steamer like a snake gliding up to warmth, the crew of the steamer fooled by the fake flag.

“Harpoons!” She shouted. The last syllable of the word ended with the metal hooks flying through the air.

The slave steamer’s crew shouted, falling into disarray as they scrambled for weapons. The two ships pulled so close together, their wood pressed.

Reilynn drew her saber and took a rope. Within a heartbeat, she was airborne.

She landed with a thump on the deck of the slave steamer, finding herself face-to-face with a foe holding a blaster. Before he had a chance to fire the bullets of concentrated energy, she lopped off his hand with her saber, leaving him screaming.

Find the captain. She leaped up the steps to the poop deck, dispatching a second sailor who almost shot her comrade clean through. The slave steamers always had high-tech weapons, but she found their weaknesses. The reflective surfaces of the thin metal armor her crew wore bested their technology and lack of protection.

She swung up to the wheel and found a man trying to crouch behind a barrel. Ah. A yellow-bellied captain. Not the most fun to fight, but easy to defeat. Ease was always best when it came to slave ships.

She seized him by the arm and yanked him upward, enjoying his frightened expression when she pinned him to the wall with a flick of her wrists. The daggers stuck in his blue sleeves, burying deep into the wood. She strode forward, tickling his throat with the point of her saber.

“Call the order for surrender.”

The man’s gaze hardened. Hm. So he had more guile than she thought.

She pricked the skin, drawing crimson. “Call. The. Order.”

He clenched his jaw, saying nothing.

He glared at her, and for a minute, she stumbled, a thousand memories shooting her like arrows. She could take a glare– had stared many a man down before.

But the glare of the man her real father had sold her to was one she could never forget.

“Saunders.” She spat the name, a sour taste filling her mouth.

“The little gold-eyed girl.” The slave-steamer captain looked over her with predatory glee. “I see you’ve grown into that little wet rat I bought ten years ago. Right this very day, I believe.”

Her heart pounded, the daggers of words striking her to the core. Ten years… slave girl… pain… no way out…

No. She clutched her sword, forcing herself away. No. She was not that little girl. She was Reilynn Morris, queen of the seas.

And this codfish was going to learn that.

“You belong to me, Reilynn.” The captain hissed. “I paid your father’s debt for you.”

“You paid for me in silver and gold.” She drew her saber, lifting it to his chin. “But I’m buying my freedom through your blood.”

She rammed him through the throat.

Reilynn turned, wiping crimson from her dagger, and saw the rest of the crew were already subdued. She waved to her comrades, and they found the porthole where hell lay in the belly of the ship.

Faces of children blinked up at them, startled by the light. Reilynn descended, cutting the bonds of the first child she saw, a little girl no more than eight, sobbing.

“Hush, little one. You’re safe now.” She smoothed the curls from the girl’s face, seeing scars. She knew those scars, how long they would take to heal.

The child sniffed. “S-safe?”

“Yes. No one will ever hurt you again.” She meant every single word.

The little girl cried, hugging Reilynn tight, and the pirate queen closed her eyes.

May was an awful, terrible month.

But the moments like this made it a little bit brighter.