The Pirate, The Princess and The Assassin

First Port

If she never stepped foot on land ever again, Keisha would not be upset. She loved being in open ocean with the sea breeze on her cheeks and in her sails. As a child she had never understood it – The Call. The Moun were of the sea. They were all born on the moving island of Zile where they would forever be connected to the rolling waves. But some would experience The Call of The Ocean – a desperate, intrinsic need to be out on the treacherous water, to sail and explore and discover. A call so deep one could feel it down to each cell. Keisha had The Call when she was sixteen. She had always loved the ocean, but it was only once it had Called to her that she realised how much it loved her. It had gifted her with her ship – Rèv – a ship gifted only to those worthy by The Goddess of The Water – La Sirene – to wield her creatures. Though she had never explored this further, Keisha knew she had a deeper connection to the sea than the others on her ship. It was something she kept hidden away deep within herself – a secret she shared with no one but her best friend. A best friend that was currently harassing her to leave the ship at their first port. Keisha knew it was ridiculous and irrational to not want to leave her ship for even a moment, but she could not help the protectiveness over her most prized possession, her home.

“It will be fine,” Cahira urged as she pushed Keisha towards the ramp, “Calaeb will be here the entire time and he loves this ship almost as much as you. He won’t let anything happen to it. Handlare Port awaits!”

“Oh, Hira, calm down,” Keish waved her hand but allowed her friend to guide her down the ramp. Of all the ports across all the continents, Keisha liked this one the most. Handlare was the largest port in the small country of Plats. The country was well known for their new inventions and technology in the underground market. Keisha had a connection that could get his hands on inventions that made sailing easier and another connection for trinkets she would buy for Cahira. The small port was always bustling with people, so it was easy for the two females to get lost in the crowd.

~

Cahira found she was not upset that she would never set foot in Land again. The Handlare port was the exact opposite to Kriegerin – so full of life and joy – that it made her remember what it was like to be alive. She split off from Keisha, who needed to see a vendor on the other side of the market, and wondered into a metalworks store.

“Good morning,” an elderly faerie popped up from behind the counter. He had a round, comforting face with many wrinkles indicating his centuries, if not millennia, long life, “What can I help you with?”

“Just looking,” Cahira smiled over her shoulder as she browsed the shelves. There were small trinkets and weapons and intricate pieces of jewellery. Everything was so beautiful it made Cahira want to buy it all and just have it on display.

The scent of pine filled her nose and Cahira was immediately on high alert. To anyone else, the smell of pine may have been nice, comforting even, but Cahira had the vilest gift – to smell when death is near. It usually meant someone was going to die but occasionally Death himself would visit her.

‘Beautiful necklace,’ he whispered to her. Death was beautiful in his fae form. His shaggy ivory hair and deep brown eyes would make any female swoon. It had made her swoon once, but then she got to know him. That was all the immunity she needed to his charms.

“If you take this old male, I will not speak to you for the next ten years,” she said as a greeting though she relaxed. She could feel his wisps of Nothingness curling around her feet while they climbed up her legs. Death enjoyed playing with The Nothingness when he was in his fae form. The Nothingness was something he had gifted to Cahira. It was indescribable – a cloud or fog of sorts that was neither light nor dark, not something but not nothing. The Nothingness could be harmless, but it could cause hallucinations to anyone it surrounded. The hallucinations were of the being's most feared death. The scene would play out until it killed the mind – without the mind, there is no being. Cahira rarely used the hallucinations anymore because the threat of The Nothingness was enough to instil fear in her opposition. Infamous – she had become infamous because of these gifts, because of his favour. There was a time she had resented him for it, and maybe a small part of her always would. He had been her only companion for so long that the resentment faded, and love took its place.

“If I did take him,” Death ran his fingers over an intricate sculpture, “You would not last a week without speaking to me.”

“You have an inflated sense of importance,” she shot him an amused look.

“Well, I am Death.” She met his eyes, that irritatingly handsome smirk gracing his face.

“This one,” Death lifted a bracelet from the display to place in her hand. Upon closer examination it was magnificent. The band was made of delicate gold flowers, each petal set with small pieces of sapphire.

“Sapphire?” she glared at him, “Sapphire is the favoured stone of the Gi God of music, truth and healing.”

“You once enjoyed music,” he reminded. The earnest, caring look on his face made her chest tighten. She had once enjoyed music. She had enjoyed it before Death had ruined it – ruined everything. Now she only allowed herself the pleasure of music when she was too drunk to think about where she had learnt to love it.

“Do you never tire of me?” Cahira placed the bracelet back and turned to walk down the narrow isle. She was not short by any means, but Death was tall, tall enough that Cahira had to tilt her head to look him in the eyes. He had a soft smile as he looked down at her while they walked.

“I could never tire of you, Wildflower.”

She hated the name he had adopted when the crew had. When Death said it, it held something she could not quite place. As she turned her head, something caught her eye making her halt abruptly. Death almost walked straight into her.

Cahira brushed her fingers over the cold metal of a revolver. Guns of any kind were banned from all continents in an attempt to keep peace. The gun powder was rare and the metal work so intricate that few still existed. Cahira was taught how to shoot them before they were banned four hundred years ago. The machine was a steady weight as she lifted it. Its twin was quickly grasped by her other hand as she carried them to the main desk. The old male looked fondly at the revolvers she placed before him.

“I made these almost five hundred years ago before they were banned, of course.” He traced the intricate detailing on the side. “They are not loaded. I cannot sell you the bullets.”

“I do not need you too,” she informed him. She had other connections that could get her bullets. Not that she would use them. Firing a loaded gun could have her beheaded in many countries. The old male took the gold she laid on the table and counted each piece carefully. When he looked up at her, his face paled, mouth left agape.

Cahira knew that look – Death was standing beside her. She knew that without the male’s look because she could feel The Nothingness around her shoulders like a draped arm. She never understood why Death did not just touch her.

“And this,” Death placed the bracelet on the counter – the gold flower one with sapphires, “A gift for my mistress.”

Cahira rolled her eyes. Death enjoyed this – he found great pleasure in the games he played. The old male placed the bracelet around her wrist while she watched in fascination as the claps began to glow. The metal warmed as it welded together by nothing but the fae’s power.

“Thank you,” Cahira pulled the revolvers towards her as she dug in her purse for more gold.

“No,” the male flustered, “Consider it a gift.”

Cahira caught Death’s simple nod. He infuriated her with his abuse of power. The bracelet was worth at least three gold coins but the male had gifted it to her in the hopes of keeping Death from his doorstep. Cahira glared at him as they walked from the shop onto the busy street.

“You are angry,” he said matter-of-factly. Death seemed so out of place in the sunlight – his hair too dark and skin too pale. It was as if his black clothing gobbled up the light. What a sight the two of them must make – a fitting juxtaposition of dark and ominous Death against the wildflower of Cahira with her caramel-brown hair and mushroom print dress.

“I am angry,” she seethed, “You make me angry. That was an abuse of power and totally unnecessary.”

“I didn’t have any gold on me. How else was I supposed to get you that bracelet?” Death smirked at her.

“I’m done talking to you now.” Cahira started to walk down the street, but he kept pace with her while the crowd parted like they were carrying the plague. The paths met in a round cobblestoned area. There was a guitarist playing off to the side. The music ricochet off the building walls and filled the space with the melody to an old Tìr tale.

“Dance with me?” Death cut in front of her with his Nothingness shaped in a hand held out.

“No,” Cahira shook her head and kept walking.

“You used to enjoy dancing,” he pressed on.

“I have not enjoyed dancing in four hundred and twenty-five years. Just because you ruined dancing for me does not mean you can fix it – no matter how many times you try.”

“Cahira,” Death started but Cahira swung her bag of revolvers at him which made the fae figure dissipate into wispy clouds. Which left her standing alone, surrounded by people and music, with a hollow feeling in her chest and a head full of memories. She had enjoyed music – she had loved it with her entire being. Her mother had been a musician, had taught Cahira how to play the fiddle, how to sing and dance to the rhythm of any melody. But when death had waltzed into their home as Cahira turned seventeen to claim her as his, the music had stopped. Her parents had kicked her out, abandoned and disowned her. They would not invite Death into their home. For years she could not listen to any form of music – not instruments or singing or even humming – without crying over the family she had lost. Death had ruined many things for her, but music was the one she resented him for the most. And the one he attempted to right the most.

Cahira marched straight back to the ship. Keisha was right – getting off the ship was a bad idea.