The Pirate (Captains & Cannons Book 1) Read online

  The Pirate

  Captains & Cannons

  Book I

  By

  Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  A Tiny Fox Press Book

  © 2020 Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by U.S.A. copyright law. For information address: Tiny Fox Press, North Port, FL.

  This is a work of fiction: Names, places, characters, and events are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover art by Bob Kehl

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020951256

  ISBN: 978-1-946501-35

  Tiny Fox Press and the book fox logo are all registered trademarks of Tiny Fox Press LLC

  Tiny Fox Press LLC

  North Port, Fl

  For Dad,

  You’d have liked this one

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: The Citadel

  Chapter Two: Lord Belmont

  Chapter Three: Escape

  Chapter Four: The Fair

  Chapter Five: Creation

  Chapter Six: The Police

  Chapter Seven: Welcome to Bartigua

  Chapter Eight: The Race

  Chapter Nine: Gear

  Chapter Ten: Maii

  Chapter Eleven: A Rough Night

  Chapter Twelve: Weynock

  Chapter Thirteen: The Ettin

  Chapter Fourteen: Smacked

  Chapter Fifteen: Round Two

  Chapter Sixteen: Thirty-One and a Bone

  Chapter Seventeen: Perks

  Chapter Eighteen: White Knight

  Chapter Nineteen: The Chase

  Chapter Twenty: The Secret

  Chapter Twenty-One: Dying

  Chapter Twenty-Two: An Old Friend

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Stitches

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Land-Ho!

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Interrogation

  Chapter Twenty-Six: The Bone Room

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Ritual

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Ruby

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Released

  Chapter Thirty: The Duel

  Chapter Thirty-One: End of the Line

  Chapter Thirty-Two: Fin

  The Crew

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  Chapter One

  The Citadel

  The frills below the spearhead gave the weapon a nice finishing touch. This was something Sammy would’ve appreciated immensely, had the spear not shot from the ground and skewered him completely through the chest only moments before.

  A few feet away, Zoey watched the life drain from him. Aside from her usual attire of dark breeches and an even darker linen shirt (the color of both helping to hide blood, as it was hard to be taken seriously as a dread corsair if people could see how many places you’d sprung a leak during a fight), she also wore a look of utter annoyance. It was a look she wore well, and sadly, had much practice with as of late.

  “Where in the eleven seas did you find these guys?” she asked.

  Stede, the grizzled leader of the expedition, shrugged as he ran an open hand over his bald head. “I don’t know. Here and there.”

  “You don’t know? Kraken spit. No wonder this has gone belly up.”

  “I know where, thank you,” he said with an edge to his tone as he crossed his arms over his black leather vest. “I meant I’d have to think about the specifics. You want to know about Sammy or everyone else?”

  “You can start with Sammy since he’s the corpse we’re staring at,” Zoey said. She brought up her cutlass and poked the recently deceased in the side. “Let’s hope he stays that way.”

  “Found Sammy in the tavern.”

  “Which?”

  “The tavern.”

  “The Salty Dog? The one that’s filled with fresh meat looking to be carried?”

  Stede nodded. “Only one I know of. Slim pickings, though, lately.”

  “That’s because they all end up like poor Sammy here and do something stupid, like step on a glowing portion of floor or a discolored tile and spring an obvious trap. I swear, no one respects hardcore anymore.”

  Zoey took a few deep breaths to calm herself, feeling her blood rising. While many people out there felt working under stressed conditions was far from ideal, Zoey took that to an entirely new level. One of her negative traits, The Hunger, was every bit as ominous as it sounded. When it grabbed her, she had to satiate her appetite, no matter where she was, lest she be wracked with tremendous pain and mental anguish. The more she was stressed, the hungrier she became. It could quickly send her into a downward spiral that had, on more than one occasion, only ended when someone died.

  She tried not to think about that last part. “What about the others?” Zoey asked, blowing out one last puff of air. “Where did you get the twins?”

  “Pete and Zachariah?”

  “No, those two were just brothers,” she said. “The twins were the ones crushed by the boulder right before we entered the catacombs.”

  “Oh. Where did we lose Pete and Zach then?”

  “Monkey spiders.”

  “Right, the monkey spiders,” Stede replied with a chuckle. “Found all four of them at the notice board, actually. They were putting up a sign. Privateers for hire, or something.”

  “What did you pay them?”

  “Six nabloons up front, plus the usual half share,” he said. “That’s a bargain, I reckon.”

  “How’s that?” Zoey asked. “They’re all dead.”

  “Exactly. For six nabloons, we nullified four traps.”

  “One trap and one surprise attack.”

  “Eh, close enough.”

  Zoey furrowed her brow. “Okay, new rule. If you want me to join up next time, you’re telling me who you’re bringing, what you’re paying them, and I get to approve each one. No more of this ‘Meet us where X marks the spot’ nonsense. God, I should’ve simply left the moment Rubio bought it.”

  “Come on, that’s not fair,” Stede said. “That troll had a killer ambush spot.”

  “First, he was under a bridge, where they always are,” Zoey replied. “And second, that was Becca.”

  “Rubio was our voodoo doctor?”

  “Yes. The one who couldn’t be bothered to read the instructions and turned himself into a pygmy-piggy-pegasus when his polymorph backfired.”

  “He did make a cute pig.”

  Zoey, against every fiber in her body, couldn’t help but crack a smile. Stede wasn’t wrong on that. The tiny, adorable little pink pig with a small horn coming out of his forehead and feathery wings would’ve made the perfect companion to cheer up any long sea voyage. Teaching it to ram enemies with its horn would’ve been handy, too. It was just too bad that hydra had shown up right after and treated itself to some pre-processed bacon.

  “Regardless,” she said. “They’re dead, and I might not have much of a soul left here, but I’ve got some. I don’t like the idea of suckering people to their untimely demise.”

  “No one put a pistol to their head.”

  Zoey raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, I put a pistol to Marcus’s head, but that was only because I caught him cheating at Karnöffel.” When Zoey didn’t approve, or even say another word, Stede went on. “Look at it this way, more share for us.”

  “If we s
urvive.”

  “Well, yeah, if we survive,” he said. “Split between the three of us, you’ll have a good chunk for that new ship you’re wanting.”

  At that point in the conversation, Isabel, the third and final surviving member of the party showed up. She came from a side hall, strutting brazenly to such a degree that Zoey couldn’t believe she hadn’t been the one to set off the three dozen traps or ambushes they’d had to deal with. The reason why, Zoey knew, was all the luck points she’d invested in, plus the Good Fortune and Flirter with Death talents. Then there was the Bribe Grimmy perk that let her reroll any fatal damage or effect, not to mention the Gambler’s Luck buff she always had on that let her make another two rerolls a day. Essentially, the woman had to be killed three times in a row for her to actually go down. Maybe more.

  But one would never know all of that simply by looking at her. Isabel had wavy raven hair under a red band that vainly tried to keep it all tamed. Large gold earrings hung three on each ear, and she wore as many rings as she had fingers. The wealth she flaunted beckoned any foolish highwayman to make a try for her, but the double pistols tucked into her waistband and the cutlass that hung from her hip kept the more astute observers away. What she looked like, in short, was someone who didn’t need luck at all, but as Isabel was always fond of saying, she’d rather be lucky than good.

  Though Zoey couldn’t deny such a strategy had kept the woman alive thus far, not to mention enriched, she hated such an attitude. Sure, it was good at keeping her own skin intact, but often at the expense of everyone else.

  “Finally pried those silver scarabs loose,” Isabel said in an accented, refined voice that belied her lawless look. “And you two wanted to pass them up.” She stopped when her dark eyes saw Sammy. She cocked her head, smirked, and held out an open hand, palm up. “Pay up.”

  Stede grinned and slowly walked over to her. “I’m afraid my coin purse is empty. Can I work it off?”

  “Mm-hm, and work you shall,” she replied. Isabel wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. She kissed him lightly a couple of times, at which point Stede pushed her up against the wall and kissed her neck as his hands found their way inside her clothes.

  Zoey cleared her throat.

  They kept at it, and a few seconds later, Isabel had her hand going for the inside of his pants.

  Zoey cleared her throat again, and when they still ignored her, Zoey spoke. Loudly. “Alright. I don’t care if you two are newlyweds. Get a room at the inn,” she said. A couple of groans and a lot of necking later, she huffed. “Or don’t. I don’t care. I’m getting that gem with or without you.”

  “Stupid nympho trait,” Zoey muttered, wishing she’d realized they both had it before she undertook this adventure. She’d barely pivoted on her heels when she heard the pair split apart. Stede said something, but she didn’t pay it much heed since it was more complaint than anything else.

  They followed the damp stone hall for another twenty yards, all the while taking care to avoid all the blatantly obvious tiles designed to skewer, smash, crush, fry, curse, and ruin the day of any hapless intruder who happened upon them. At that point, they reached a spiral staircase that, according to Stede’s map (which had ended up being little more than a hastily drawn sketch based on tavern whispers from a drunkard), would take them up and into the throne room of an abandoned citadel.

  And if the rumors of rumors were true—and so far, they certainly looked like they might be—the recently deceased necromancer who had once occupied this fortress had said throne room adorned in precious gems and priceless artifacts accumulated over the years, all ripe for the taking.

  Assuming one could get to it without alerting the guards, that is—undead minions numbering in the hundreds, foul and deadly, with only one purpose left in this world: to protect their former master’s estate.

  Zoey was about to do what she did best, Sneak and scout ahead, when the hairs across her body stood on end. Without thinking, she grabbed Isabel, fearing the woman might decide to take the stairs before her.

  “What?” Isabel asked, sounding both irritated and wary.

  “Trap,” Zoey answered, directing the woman’s eyes not to the irregular stones that formed the dungeon floor, but to a single glyph faintly inscribed in the threshold between them and the stairs, about ankle high.

  Stede grimaced. “That was close. What kind is it?”

  Zoey knelt and examined it as best she could while staying far, far away. The rune had been etched long ago, and physically identifying it proved difficult. The power emanating from around it, however, felt weak. “Hex with one charge left, I think.”

  “You think?”

  Zoey stood and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, I think,” she said. “You’re more than welcome to come take a look and offer your expert opinion, though. Oh, wait, you don’t know a damn thing about traps, do you?”

  Stede frowned and huffed. “Can you tell us anything else about it?”

  Zoey let the situation diffuse on its own by not adding to the fire. “Only that it’s Voodoo.”

  “Everything is Voodoo,” Isabel said after a few muttered curses. “I miss the days when treasure was buried under six feet of dirt, and the most you had to deal with were scallywags trying to beat you to it. Can you counter it?”

  Zoey shook her head. “No. Rubio maybe, but he’s—”

  “—a pygmy-piggy-unicorn,” Stede finished. “Or was.”

  “Right.”

  “What about a sacrificial lamb?” Isabel asked.

  Zoey grinned. “Are you volunteering?”

  “No, but Sammy is.”

  Zoey glanced over her shoulder to where their former party member lay. His body was upright, more or less, but it had slid down the shaft about a foot. Blood still oozed from the giant wounds in his chest and back. When Zoey had first come to this world, such a sight would’ve made her stomach churn, but after seeing countless friends and foes mashed, shot, roasted, and gibbed—some in the most hilarious of ways—all she saw was a potential tool. “Worth a shot,” she said. “I bet he’s still fresh enough to trigger whatever magic is here.”

  “Good enough for me,” Stede said. “Help me bring him over.”

  Isabel held up her hands and shook her head. “I’m not touching that.”

  Zoey rolled her eyes. “Shocker.”

  “Shut it.”

  Zoey ignored her and went to help Stede. Together, and with a great deal of effort, they freed the corpse formerly known as Sammy from the impaling device. At that point, they slung his arms across their backs and carefully brought him over to the threshold.

  “How does this work? Just toss him through?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Zoey said.

  “You sure nothing bad will happen?”

  Zoey shook her head with a laugh. “I never said that.”

  Stede grunted and shook his head. “Fine. Whatever. On three. Ready?”

  “Yup.”

  “One. Two. Three.”

  With a great heave, the two tossed the body through the threshold. The rune flared a dazzling purple as Sammy tumbled through. Wisps of putrid smoke rose from his skin, and his body twitched. At first, Zoey figured it was simply his muscles going into spasm from whatever unholy energy raced through him. But all that changed when Sammy rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up.

  Stede inched back. “Sammy?”

  As a reply, Sammy snarled and drew his sword.

  “Oh, that can’t be good,” Zoey said, pulling her black-powder pistol from her waistband.

  Isabel followed suit, pulling both of her pistols free as well, but she didn’t waste any time before firing. The shots hit Sammy square in the face, and when he didn’t drop, Isabel cursed. “That really can’t be good.”

  Chapter Two

  Lord Belmont

  Sammy lunged.

  Zoey caught the blade on the strong part of her cutlass, easily trapping the attack against her handguard and def
lecting it harmlessly to the side. She followed up with a counterattack of her own, flicking her wrist first to send Sammy’s sword flying to the side. Though he was wide open when she swung, and though she struck him directly across the collarbone, the attack did little other than produce a vicious gash across his body.

  And when you’re fighting the undead, vicious is all relative. Now that she thought about it, it was probably more of a tickling gash for the monster she was facing than anything else.

  “Maybe he’s not that fast,” Stede said, edging away.

  “He seems pretty fast to me,” Zoey replied.

  “Yeah, well, you keep him busy,” he replied as he tried to dart around the reanimated corpse.

  Sammy, however, was having none of that. He growled and jumped back with an agility that belied his broken, clearly dead frame and issued a wicked backhand that nearly took Stede’s head from his shoulders.

  “Cripes,” Isabel said as she fumbled with her shot and powder to reload her pistols. “Keep him busy so I can blow his head off.”

  Sammy attacked again, forcing Stede to retreat, lest he be skewered like a pig on a spit. This left him open to a counterattack from Zoey, which she took advantage of. She hopped to the side, putting her directly behind him in order to maximize her backstab critical hits, and she stabbed for all she was worth.

  The point of her cutlass drove through the back of Sammy’s head and went all the way through so that the sword jutted out of his left eye. It ceased Sammy’s attack on Stede, but much to Zoey’s dismay, it didn’t kill him. Well, kill him again. All it seemed to accomplish was to redirect his attention from Stede to Zoey.

  Had she been the type built for deflecting and absorbing large amounts of damage, this would’ve been fine. A well-placed taunt, be it verbal or physical, had saved many a party in a dungeon or on a raid, numerous times. Garnering unwanted attention for someone less stout as she was, however, often had the opposite effect.

  Sammy whipped around with such speed and power, Zoey lost the grip on her weapon. He swung his blade through the air, and the tip sliced through her left shoulder.