Chapter 3 Alaric
CHAPTER THREE
ALARIC
“All hands on deck!” Destin bellowed over the rumble of thunder.
I stood at the helm, one hand on the wheel, eyes locked on the storm swelling ahead. It didn’t look terrible… yet. But I’d weathered too many tempests to trust a quiet sky or calm waters.
The sea turned without warning. And when she turned, she didn’t care who crossed her path.
As the men scrambled to their positions, I caught sight of the twins, pale and white-knuckled, peering over the edge of the deck.
“Below deck,” I said flatly.
They turned, startled, those hollowed eyes filled with terror.
“Stay down. Don’t come back up unless I say.”
They didn’t argue. Just nodded and vanished, boots pounding toward the hatch.
“Captain,” Thatcher called, climbing the steps toward me, soaked to the bone but steady as ever. “Corallure’s not far. If we cut southwest and hold course, we’ll beat the worst of it to port.”
He was only the same age as me. Young, but he never guessed. Thatcher did math like he was born for it. If he said we had it in us to get through it, we probably could.
“Good,” I said, eyes still on the sky. “Hold to it.”
Lightning split the clouds overhead. In the electric lighting, I thought I saw the shape of a whale tail in the distance, sinking slowly beneath the sea. It looked strangely more white than other whale tails I’d ever seen in my life. I rubbed my eyes. Was I imagining things?
Focus, Alaric.
Rain sheeted across the deck, and the panic among the men moved like a wave.
Not shouting. Not chaos. Just that sharp, quiet tension when every sailor knew the sea was about to test them.
“Steady, boys,” I said, not even a shred of fear in my heart. “We’re close.”
And just like that… we moved on.
The silence was so loud, my heart beat in my ears like cannons and gunpowder. It was a sensation I wasn’t used to, and one I did not welcome. The sails of my beloved ship, the Crimson Wake, hung in shreds. Every part of the ship ached and groaned, beaten and defeated from the storm.
It would take at least a week in Corallure to get her back into top shape.
All of the men moved like walking corpses, having done everything to fight the storm and keep the ship from turning over or getting caught off course.
The rain and the waves ripped through every seam, and every heart.
Lilo and Niko had since returned to the deck, their movements restless.
It was nearing midnight, and since passing the storm, it was eerily quiet, as if the waves were too tired to make noise.
I looked overboard to find the full moon reflected.
“Thatcher!” I called, and the bright blonde came running.
“Yes sir?”
“How close are we?”
“Not too far. We should see the lighthouse any minute now, Captain.”
I squinted ahead of us, knowing that somewhere… in that midst of darkness, there was an island, home to King Halstead and Queen Charlotte and their two sons, Crown Prince Damien and Prince Elias… the same prince that was married to Sereth but walked away from her years ago.
“Alaric!”
I frowned and turned to Destin. He only used my first name, as opposed to “Captain” or “Sir,” when he was really worried about something. The storm was over. What could he possibly be worried about now? A hole in the brig? Did we lose someone overboard? Everyone had been accounted for…
“What now?”
“Alaric, someone’s following us.”
I frowned and looked behind the ship.
Pitch blackness. “How can you tell?”
“They’ve snuffed their lights but I caught sight of them just a few minutes ago.”
“Merchants?” I asked.
“It’s too dark to see any coat of arms… or anything, really,” Destin said. “But I have a bad feeling about it.”
I stared into the darkness, rubbed my chin, and nodded. “Me too.”
I heard of Corallure ships patrolling their seas like hungry vultures. Whaling was illegal for miles off their shores.
Their whale supply was incredible. If we could hunt here, we’d never have to go to far off remote seas.
The Corallure King paid handsome sums to anyone who caught illegal whalers and brought them to him. So merchants would often patrol the shores, hoping to catch illegal hunters.
But we’re not whaling. Furthermore, it was the dead of night…
I suddenly turned to Destin. “Do you hear that?”
“What?” He listened.
Water lapped onto the sides of another ship, brushing its wooden planks, teasing us like a shark circling its prey.
“Look.” I frowned as a dark silhouette emerged from the starboard stern. It was sleek, lean, and closing fast. “That’s no pirate nor merchant,” I said.
It was too well-kept.
The boards were stained to perfection.
The bow had a well-carved mermaid, unmarred by time at sea.
Every inch of the ship was decorated with filigree and gold foil.
This ship belonged to royalty.
And then I saw it: the orange sun flag of Corallure Kingdom. What were they doing out here at this hour? And with no lights?
Before I could shout orders, the ship turned broadside.
“Brace for impact!” The firing of cannons drowned my words.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
There was no time to react.
Wood splintered the air.
Fire erupted.
Oil spilled from barrels left on the deck.
The Crimson Wake lurched and shuddered under the impact. Several of my men were sprawled out, injured from the first cannons. Blood hit the deck before wood or oil.
My ears rang from the noise, but I was already moving and shouting orders. Grappling hooks clanged against the gunwale, and ropes flew.
My insides tightened.
They’re coming for us.
Figures in dark coats swung across the ravine, their boots landing on the deck with hard thuds. And that’s when I knew: these truly were not merchants or pirates.
They were assassins. The men with dark coats wore bandannas over their noses and mouths to mask their identities, and they carried swords, immediately inflicting death to any in their path. I did a quick glance around to find the twins.
Nowhere in sight. Hopefully they stayed below deck.
“Boarders!” I exclaimed. “To arms! Repel them!”
Chaos ensued. Steel clashed against steel. Men screamed.
Fighting.
Cannons exploding.
A whoosh sounded in the air and suddenly, a lick of flames consumed the whale oil that spilled on the deck. And despite all the commotion, one assassin fixed his attention on me.
He was the tallest and leanest of the bunch, with a harpoon strapped to his back.
My expression hardened. We’ve met before.
And then I was running towards him, sword drawn.
It was almost as if time reversed and an event from a few years ago resurfaced.
I had been young, but my future was promising.
I was quickly growing in esteem, power, and wealth, and I had just sealed a deal to own a fleet of old ships being sold by a retiring whaler.
It was then that this same assassin had tried to knife me while I walked alone at the port.
He would’ve succeeded had Destin and Thatcher not come to my aid.
I’d never learned the man’s name, nor his motives. But I did learn one thing: I had enemies, people who wanted me dead.
It didn’t matter to me who it was.
I had made many enemies on my path to owning this empire. People coveted my wealth, my power. I’d been cruel to many men, and many men walked away in bitterness and anger.
But this assassin… there was something about him that felt off.
Desperation.
Desperation clung to him like salt after a long voyage. Couldn’t explain it, but he moved like a man possessed by something.
Another cannon exploded, and the ship made a cracking sound while tipping dangerously starboard. It was the sound and movement that meant only one thing: the ship was sinking.
We can still salvage it, I thought. If Corallure was close enough, the men could board the damage. We could drag her to port and get the repairs it needed…
The assassin started towards me, but then something caught his attention.
He froze.
It was then I noticed the twins standing by the hatch that led below deck, their faces white with fear. The ship lurched to the side again, and I grasped the railing, not giving it a second thought.
I made a promise to deliver them safely to Corallure.
The man had already started making his way towards them. Why? I leaped off the helm and blocked him, our swords clashing.
More cannons fired. The stench of burning whale oil filled the air, and it finally lit.
“Get out of here!” I yelled at the kids.
Now that I was on deck, it was like being enveloped in a battlefield.
Wounded and dead sailors were strewn across the deck. My heart fell. How many men had died tonight? They’d weathered the storm, but not this… this was cold-blooded murder….
An aching sense of dread tugged at me, reminding me I was responsible for their deaths. This was my crew. These were my men.
“Thatcher!” I yelled as I fought off the assassin. “Get us on course!”
And my navigator ran to the helm.
“Get the captain!” said another assassin.
The first blade came for my throat.
I ducked, twisted, and drove my shoulder into the attacker’s gut, hearing the grunt of surprise as he staggered back. Two more closed in fast.
Black-clad, faces masked, eyes like glass. Assassins. Five of them.
My sword was already in hand. I slashed one across the thigh and elbowed another in the jaw hard enough to hear the crack. The fight turned savage, fast. One moved like a shadow behind me.
I pivoted just in time, parrying his curved blade with a clang that rattled my bones.
Too slow.
Pain flared white-hot at my side. The leader had slipped past my defenses and slashed me deep. The sting was ice and fire all at once, my ribs screaming with it.
I staggered but didn’t fall.
Blood soaked my shirt, warm and steady. I roared, lashed out, and knocked him back with the hilt of my blade.
Another lunged.
I spun, kicked him in the chest, and sent him sprawling. My vision blurred, but I kept fighting. I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop.
Another attacker, down.
Another, gone.
Only one remained, the tall desperate leader, circling like a wolf.