2. Chapter Two

"That ship isn"t technically sinking, captain," the quartermaster, Alaric Blackthorn, said, his voice raised over the gale. "I doubt anyone would be dying on it—"

"There are two," Captain Rahmi Abada corrected him, sliding his brown eyes from the ship back to his second-in-command, taking in the man"s dark blonde hair and the crooked patch he wore over his missing right eye. "You cannot sense them, but I can. Their souls call to me." He stepped away from the helm, his boots landing heavily against the planks, and approached the staircase leading to the deck below.

Despite the storm raging around them, the crew halted their work to turn their gazes up to him. Out of respect? Perhaps. Out of fear? That was far more likely. And he reveled in it.

Captain Rahmi Abada wasn"t just any captain who sailed the Aeglecian Seas; the jagged scar that ran down the center of his chest reminded him of that every day.

"Tether at her bow," Rahmi ordered over the winds, narrowing his eyes against the pelting rain. Thunder rumbled, closer than it had been only a few moments before. "Strip her of fresh water, rations, and anything of value you may find in the decks below." The crew jeered at that, their wicked smiles illuminated by the fork of lightning that flashed above them.

"And the ship"s ammunition, captain?" Alaric asked, tilting his head toward the ship, bobbing with the churning waves. "It seems she isn"t as keen on being taken as you seem to think she will be."

As if on cue, a boom echoed across the sea, the sound mixing with another crack of thunder. A cannonball fell short of The Mark of Malice"s port side, splashing into the rolling water. A flare of irritation heated Rahmi"s gut, and he turned his glare on the ship as though it was all that was needed to get them to stop. He knew the captain of that ship wouldn"t dare to fire on him if he knew who he was firing on.

It would only be considered a courtesy to let him know.

"Steer The Mark of Malice toward the bow," Rahmi repeated with an agitated sharpness. He wholly believed repetition was for captains who needed more control of their crew. He untied the cutlass strapped to his belt and caught the blade before it fell to the deck, pushing it into his quartermaster"s unexpecting arms. "I"ll meet you there."

"Captain, do you really—" Alaric began, fumbling to set down the cutlass with any semblance of dignity he believed Rahmi would accept, but Rahmi was already on the gunnel of his ship.

Rahmi placed a hand on the pommel of his dagger, the blade still sheathed on his other hip, and looked down into the water, rocking his ship. The waves blasted against the hull, and the wood creaked dangerously as though it threatened to give way at any moment. He knew it wouldn"t; he knew his ship better than anything else. With that thought, Rahmi leaped from the gunnel, diving into the depths of the sea.

The cold water shocked his system, tightening his skin and seizing the air left in his lungs. If he were a lesser man or even a mortal man, Rahmi would have surely drowned from the drop alone. But Rahmi wasn"t a lesser man or even a mortal man, and when he surfaced to take a breath, he locked his eyes on the merchant ship in the distance.

Rahmi ducked under the waves, the current tugging him one way and the next, but he kept an intense pace as he cut a path through the sea. The cannons blasted again; this time, he could smell the acrid scent of used gunpowder intermingling with the briny, charged air of the storm.

He made it to the merchant ship in a time that impressed even himself and grasped onto the rope ladder tethered to the side of the hull. Sticking one sodden boot into the first rung, he hauled himself upward. Water sluiced from his tunic and breeches, sliding into the already-flooded gaps of his boots. He took a moment to wipe his eyes before drawing the dagger from the sheath and sticking it between his teeth.

He didn"t know how quickly he would need to use it, but merchant captains were never eager to have their ships boarded. Or, so was Rahmi"s experience.

Rahmi scaled the side of the ship, his knuckles white under the pressure it took to grip the slick rope, and finally swung over the gunnel just a few moments later. The crew scrambled on the deck, men heaving their bodies against the strain of the lines to pull in the mainmast and mizzenmast sails against the roaring winds. They should have done that hours ago.

"Bare sails!" a man shouted, his body braced against the helm. "I said bare sails, men!"

Rahmi heaved a sigh and took the dagger from between his teeth while glancing around the deck again. The captain, or whom he assumed was the captain, was young. Rahmi had known the men were too inexperienced to realize that pulling the sails down amid the storm was futile, and the captain"s smooth face merely confirmed it.

"She"s coming in at full speed!" a sailor announced a few feet to Rahmi"s left, drawing his attention away from the captain at the helm. "Sir, reload the cannons?"

"Aye, reload the cannons, you idiot!" another man shot back. From the whistle around his neck, Rahmi considered the man to be the bo"sun, or the petty officer who oversaw the sailors working the deck. "What are you standing there for? Are you afraid of your skirts getting wet?"

The bo"sun couldn"t possibly be talking to Rahmi like that. He glanced around to see if the man had been speaking to someone else. "Me?" Rahmi finally responded, raising his brows as he pointed to himself. "Are you speaking to me?"

"Who else would I be speaking to, you fucking pool of bilge water?" His snarl was evident, even over the crack of thunder and the third boom from the cannons below. The ship rocked to the side, sending the bo"sun stumbling. Rahmi stayed sure-footed, a move that only seemed to stoke the man"s anger further. "Man the ropes or be locked in the brig with the other ladies!" the bo"sun barked as soon as he regained his balance.

Rahmi shook his head, pressing his lips into a playful line. "I won"t be doing that, but thank you for the opportunity. Where may I find your captain?"

"You will take a line," the bo"sun said as he took a menacing step forward, "or you will be keelhauled for insubordination as soon as this storm passes."

Rahmi"s return smile was lethal. And he knew it, too, from the way the bo"sun"s face slackened at the sight of it. "You will tell me where your captain is," he said slowly, running a finger over the sharp edge of his dagger. "Or you will find this shoved into a very inconvenient place of my choosing."

The bo"sun started, brows meeting in the middle as he took a small step back. His eyes trailed Rahmi"s face before landing on the black markings covering his arms. Finally, recognition flashed over the bo"sun"s features. "You"re— you"re— Specter?" The last word came out as a squeak, almost drowned out by a roar of wind that caught the sails. Yells of shock and pain emanated from the crew as the ropes pulled, ripping at their hands.

"The captain previously known as The Specter has retired from his duties," Rahmi said, still running his pointer finger over the blade. "I won"t ask again. Where is your captain?"

The bo"sun"s muscular body grew rigid, puffing his chest out in a way that Rahmi felt was meant to be a show of force. "If you want to get to the captain, sir, you"ll have to get through me first."

Rahmi stifled the instinct to roll his eyes. "Very well." He closed the distance between himself and the bo"sun in a flash, slicing the dagger through the air. It caught at the column of the bo"sun"s throat, and blood began to spurt, melding with the rain and seawater that stained his tunic.

The bo"sun grappled at his open neck as though he could seal it back together if he pressed hard enough before falling with a loud thunk to the deck. Rahmi sniffed, wiping the rain from the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. It was too bad. He could have used the man aboard his ship.

The ship rocked again, and the river of blood coming from the bo"sun"s body rerouted, now trailing to the nearest crew member"s boot. Rahmi watched as the man glanced down briefly before looking back at the rope between his hands. He did a comical double-take to stare down at the blood gathering near the sole of his shoe. With a slow glide that almost made Rahmi chuckle, the sailor followed the trail of blood with his eyes, where his stare landed on Rahmi"s boots, climbed up his breeches, and finally locked on the dagger still dripping crimson on the deck.

"Spec—" the sailor began to shout, but his voice dropped to a garble when a cutlass punched through his neck. Alaric withdrew the blade in the next moment, severing the man"s head from the rest of his body.

Rahmi clicked his tongue against his teeth as his crew streamed onto the merchant ship, swinging on ropes and clambering over the gap using narrow planks connecting one gunnel to the other. "That"s a shame. I rather liked the look of him, too."

Alaric wiped the blood from his cutlass on the back of the headless man"s tunic. "Were those the two souls that called us to this ship?" he asked, pointing his cutlass toward the bo"sun at Rahmi"s feet. "Because you could have said something before I killed him."

"Don"t be ridiculous, Alaric. Did he look like he was dying before you stuck your blade into him?"

"What are you waiting for then?" Alaric asked in a haughty tone that would not have been acceptable from any other member of his crew.

This time, Rahmi did roll his eyes. "Patience." He paused to step over the bo"sun"s body; the blood slowed from rushing to trickling. "Wasn"t it you that was just saying the last few weeks had been—what was the phrase you used again? Bloody fucking boring?"

Alaric bristled. "I just thought we would have more work after taking over from The Phantom Night."

"And here we are," Rahmi retorted, sweeping his hands around the ship"s deck. "Work. Go on, have some fun. I will speak with the captain, and then I"ll find the men I"m looking for. They"re somewhere below deck, I"m sure of it."

Alaric"s single blue eye gleamed as he turned on the toes of his boots and clunked back toward the bow. He shoved his cutlass into the back of another merchant crewmember, who started in shock before falling to his knees. Rahmi shook his head again before navigating through the battle that had broken out, making a quick line toward the stairs that led to the helm.

Rahmi was slow to climb them, mostly because he needed to fight through the men defending the stern deck but also because his knee tweaked something awful from flinging himself off The Mark of Malice. He would consider looking at it later, though he suspected it would already be healed before the thought crossed his mind again. He reached the top of the stairs, threading along the deck to the other side of the wheel, and halted in his tracks when he lowered his gaze…

…To find the ship"s captain huddled in a weeping mess against the helm.

"Come now," Rahmi said, wiping his dark hair from his brow before pulling the captain to his feet. He took a moment to dust the shoulders of the man"s jacket, managing only to flick water from the front of it. "We die on our feet if we"re going to man a ship, even one that may be for merchants. Show me a brave face before I gut you— that"s a sabie."

The captain"s tanned face lifted in recognition of the word, though his nervous gulp still worked his Adam"s apple. "S-sabie. That"s a word I haven"t heard in quite some time."

"You know it?" Rahmi was surprised. Sabie was a word in his native tongue that meant boy or lad in the common language used on the continent. He only met a few people who came from his part of the world. "Where are you from, captain?"

"Not a captain," the man responded through chattering teeth. "He— he fell ill not three days ago. I"ve been helping to man the helm ever since." He swallowed again. "Sha"Hadra. I"m from Sha"Hadra."

Rahmi considered him for a long minute. Sha"Hadra was the largest non-port city on the continent and was only half a day"s walk from the village he grew up in. Of course, it had been nearly three hundred years since he set foot in a part of the world that wasn"t a port. Most people born in Sha"Hadra didn"t leave Sha"Hadra, preferring the radiance of the sun and the baking desert heat to the volatile weather that blanketed the coast. He sheathed his dagger, and the man visibly relaxed.

"What"s your name, sabie?"

"K—Karim," he managed to stutter out as another resounding clap of thunder shuddered Rahmi"s bones. "My name is Karim."

"What brings you to the sea, Karim?"

Karim flicked his gaze behind Rahmi, where Rahmi assumed a crew member had clambered up the stairs. "I—I wanted to find something different."

"And did you?" Rahmi asked with an amused smirk, chuckles sounding behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, unsurprised to see two of his men, Penley Byron and Tennant Bane, standing behind him. He turned back to Karim, who continued to watch the men warily. "Find something different?"

"I— I don"t wish to say," Karim answered with a shake of his head that sent water droplets in every direction. "You"ll kill me if I do."

"I"ll kill you if you don"t," Rahmi reasoned with ease, placing a confident hand on the pommel of his dagger. Penley and Tennant chuckled again, and Karim turned an unsettling shade of green. "But, you"ve intrigued me enough that you have a better chance if you just tell me."

Karim dropped a hand to his front pocket, protectively placing his palm over the opening. The movement seemed instinctual, and its oddness drew Rahmi"s attention. He slid his fingers down the dagger"s hilt, unsheathing it in the next breath. He settled the blade at Karim"s throat, pressing the sharp edge into his flesh. Karim"s eyes widened, but his hand only pressed more firmly to the front pocket.

Interesting. This would be fun to figure out.

"What"s in your pocket, sailor?" Rahmi asked with a determined raise of his brow. Karim began to tremble, his shoulders shaking nearly uncontrollably as his green face turned ashen. "Remove your hand, sabie, or I will remove it for you." Karim"s fear washed over Rahmi, and the man"s wavering indecision forced Rahmi"s expression into one that was tension-filled and strained. If there was something he hated more than anything else, it was indecision.

Karim hesitated at the new look but only long enough for Rahmi to move the dagger from the sailor"s throat to his wrist.

"I"ve heard having your hand cut off is quite painful," Rahmi said in a voice that should have been used to comment on the weather. "But if you"re willing to try it and let me know how it feels—"

Karim removed his hand from his pocket, letting it drop to his side.

"I"m impressed by your fortitude. Though I certainly was looking forward to our little experiment." Rahmi reached into Karim"s front pocket and felt the edge of a thick piece of folded parchment. He began to pull it out, careful not to rip the sodden corners, when something solid clattered to the wooden planks at their feet.

Rahmi bent down to retrieve a copper coin, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger to hold in the air between them. Karim closed his eyes as he exhaled a long, defeated breath, one that wasn"t lost on Rahmi.

"Now, where did you find this?" Rahmi asked, focusing his eyes on the coin. The detailing was old, and the copper used to make it even older. It wasn"t engraved with a language he had seen in the last three hundred years.

Karim remained quiet, but Rahmi had already moved onto the parchment, gently unfolding it. The corners of the parchment flapped in the wind, and the rain pelted the smeared ink into a further blur, but he could tell by the outlines and the markings that the document was a map. Hundreds of blobs spanned the parchment, blobs that, at one time, may have been islands. In the corner, barely visible amidst the smudges of black ink, was the word Luminaria.

"Luminaria?" Rahmi asked, pinning Karim with a stare. "What"s a Luminaria?" Karim was still silent, his shoulders sagging even further. The hand gripping the dagger shot upward, grasping Karim"s cheeks and forcing his gaze. "That question was expecting an answer, and I would like one. Now."

A tremor rocked Karim"s body as the ship dipped to one side, a wave crashing onto the quarterdeck below. "It— it"s a map."

"Yes, I can see it"s a map," Rahmi replied impatiently, gripping Karim"s cheeks tighter. "What I want to know is what the map leads to."

Karim gulped for a third time, and his gaze slid toward the ship"s side as though assessing whether it would be worth throwing himself over. Rahmi"s smile turned wolfish.

"I don"t think so. Penley, Tennant," Rahmi snapped to the two men still at his back. They stepped forward, flanking each side of him. Karim seemed to pale even further. "Take him to the brig." Rahmi unclenched his fist from around Karim"s cheeks, and Karim flexed his jaw, lifting his hand to rub the sore spots where Rahmi"s fingers had been. "Let me know when he"s willing to speak freely."

"Wait, wait—" Karim yelped as Penley and Tennant took him under the arms and began to drag him toward the stairs. "I can talk. I can talk! Wait!"

Another rush of fear crested over Karim"s face. But a second emotion moved like a shadow along with it, twisting underneath the fear as though attempting to stay hidden. That was one Rahmi knew well: guilt. It was nearly silent, riding like a deadly on the same wave.

Fascinating. Rahmi was eager to take the time to learn more about that.

But first, he needed to find his two souls and, quite possibly, pick a few more up on the way.