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Literature Text
October 8th, 1723- Constanta, Romania
Lightning broke the skyline as clashes of thunder trembled across the roaring sea, tossing a colossal ship that had been taking the path that the storm seemed to have derived from. The masts appeared to ascend into the dark gathering clouds themselves as their flags wafted through the sea air. Once the ship came closer into view, passed the obscuring clouds, the flags became perceptible, being dark and marked with the emblem of the ravenous sea thriving thieves of this time… pirates.
At the bow of the ship, standing resolutely with his head held high, stood Spectre Silverthorne, the captain of his beloved ship, the Diamond. Silverthorne, at the time, was one of the most feared pirates to ever roam the seas, with his band of brigands to raid the various towns and ports along the way. His name, Spectre, had been given to him by those he forayed… for Silverthorne and his men would emerge out of what appeared to be nowhere, pocket what they could and return it to the ship before anyone could perceive it. It was as if he were a ghost, blowing in from town to town and stripping them clean of their riches.
For all of Silverthorne’s life as a pirate, his days seemed to be lucrative, managing to steal what he needed and being able to annihilate all who came in his way. However, there was one mistake that Spectre made- one night in the town of Constanta, which was located on the shores of Romania, connected to the Black Sea. Since the Romanian province had been rich in ores such as silver and gold, Silverthorne took this into account and realized how much of an advantage this would be for him and his men. Sabotaging Constanta, Silverthorne led his men on a rampaging siege, pilfering as much of the desired loot as they could. However, it was Silverthorne’s final stop that cost him dearly.
Stepping down from the wooden ramp which lead onto his galleon, Spectre stared through the darkness which engulfed the shores of Constanta. Twilight had just reached the province, and already the land was shadowed by night. Briskly adjusting the collar to his trench coat, Spectre squinted his golden brown eyes slightly, the freshly falling snow wisping into his face, causing him to move the brim of his hat down over his eyes. It was much colder here than it had been in his homeland of Spain, but Spectre knew that Romania was to the far east of Europe, causing its winters to be much more harsh than many others. Glancing for a moment over his shoulder to his crew who began making preparations for when the ship would leave the harbor, Spectre proceeded into the town, hoping to come across some of the riches that were claimed to have been inherent in Romania.
The cobblestone streets of Constanta were familiar to Spectre as he traveled along, for Spain inherited the same pavement, coincidentally. Treading through the crowd of townsfolk which lined the corners of the streets, the pirate allowed his eyes to skim through what valuables may have been put to market. However, all that appeared to be at the vendors were nothing more than simple items such as foods and other products of daily usage. Gritting his teeth, Spectre shook his head with a dissatisfied grunt, the disappointment of not being able to come across the treasures he had planned on building within him. He was certain that Romania had been lucrative in such precious assets, however, he had come across nothing of the sort. Grinding his teeth together, Spectre managed to spot a dais not that far off from where he was standing, a small number of silk woven scarves arranged delicately across the wooden surface of the vendor. As Spectre stood before the booth, golden brown eyes gliding across each of the silken fabrics, the mercer grinned up at him, propping himself against the post which served as a provision for his stand.
“Such splendorous items they are, indeed. However, don’t you find them to be a bit out of your predilection?” he asked, Spectre’s gaze gradually passing up from the commodities and over to the man behind the cubicle.
“Just looking,” he murmured, Spanish accent causing the mercer to blink leisurely, knowing that the province of Spain was affluent with golden bullions, something that a much more pitiable nation such as Romania would love to get their hands on.
“Certainly a man such as yourself would have a lovely lass back home, no?” the mercer asked with a furtive smirk. “Assuredly she would admire such a delicacy as this.”
Spectre reached a hand out and stroked the sleek surface of one of the scarves, his mind engulfed in copious thoughts before he sighed, poking down into his pocket, dropping a few golden doubloons before the mercer, the hawker’s eyes broadening as he leered in appeal. Although the myths of Romania containing substantial amounts of ores were true, the townsfolk lived a life of dearth, and any bit of proceeds they could acquire were consequential. Swiftly dropping the doubloons into his own pocket, the mercer motioned to the scarves on the tabletop, Spectre snatching up a cerulean hued one, bowing his head to the merchant.
“Adios…,” he murmured before folding the scarf trimly, placing it within the pouch at his side, the mercantile nodding his head to him appreciatively.
“Thank you, good sir.”
Just as Spectre was about to continue on his way through the township, a nearby conversation caught his attention, causing him to pryingly listen in to what was being conferred. It was a man in about his mid-twenties who stood and did the majority of the speaking, his shoulder length raven hair drawn back in a tie, stray bangs still finding their way into his face, nevertheless. His attire was well trimmed and contained an affluent gothic quintessence to the design, indicating that he was distinctly from a wealthy family.
His name was Vladimir Drake, a nobleman, heir to the Romanian throne since his late father had passed due to a brutal murder. Ever since then, Drake had given his all trying to uncover the secrets which shrouded his father’s death, and he had stopped at nothing to do so. He carried the same facial features as the others in his line as well- straight black hair and amethyst blue eyes with a long facial structure. The man to which he was conversing with, however, was nothing unique, blending into the crowd of townsfolk just as the next passerby. It had been the well debonair man who had caught Spectre’s full awareness; for he indubitably had a sufficient amount of priceless riches at hand.
“Aye, but if they truly were composed of pure Egyptian gold and silver,” the man which effortlessly intermingled among the others conversed meekly, “you know what price men would pay for such trinkets?”
“I understand that…,” the affluent man didn’t appear to be taken by the statement all that much, just continued to stare down at the ground, mixed thoughts surely buzzing through his head like a swarm of angry wasps on a summer’s afternoon.
“For Egyptian gold and silver do not come easy. You and I both know well that ships can’t voyage into Egypt like they use to, therefore those delicacies are worth more than any other bullion of gold or silver here, Drake,” the townsman spoke once more, causing the other to bluntly try to oppose with his opinion.
“Yes, but-”
“Why, if you were to sell those trinkets,” the townsman’s eyes broadened as he grinned up at the one called “Drake” inquisitively, “they could earn you enough money to feed your family for at least three generations.”
Spectre’s eyes glinted in golden embers of his voracity stricken lust as a sinister smirk slipped swiftly across his light rose tinted lips. Just the thought of such splendor caused his adrenalin to boil, the hunger of his greed thundering within him and racing through his veins. For he knew that the life he lived was in paucity, and with the extra earnings from such a charm, he would be able to keep his family fed, clothed, and sheltered for the rest of their lives.
“As much as they’re worth, I do believe that their unnatural power is far more valuable yet,” Drake replied to the man, this time keeping his composure, tautly trying to prove his point. “For with them, you shall basically become an all powerful ruler if you had wanted; controlling the gates to the afterlife…the hall of judgment will be no more for you, no matter how sinful a soul.”
Reaching down into the pouch at his side, Drake vigilantly withdrew a glistening entity, the golden surface gleaming for but a moment’s time, Spectre’s dissipated eyes widening at the sight. Within Drake’s grasp, an amulet dangled from its chain, the charm swaying from side to side leisurely. It was plain to see that it had been hewed into the shape of a scarab, the body compiled of pure Egyptian gold. Narrowing his greed filled eyes, Spectre allowed his chin to raise up for a moment with a snort, watching charily as Drake slipped the scarabs back into his side bag, bidding farewell to the man on the street. As Drake began to advance through the marketplace, Spectre tagged along close behind, managing to slip up beside him, banging into him with a grunt. Drake blinked leisurely before Spectre bowed his head, tilting his hat over his eyes and continuing on his way.
“Lo siento, señor,” he murmured, Drake jeering as he rolled his eyes, spatting with a groan.
“…Spaniards…”
Turning in the opposite direction that Spectre had headed, Drake ventured back through the township to where he had initially planned on retreating to. Sneering as he gazed from the corner of his eyes, Spectre tossed the scarab charm up and down, tucking it within his own side pouch before shuffling hastily on his way. He knew that Drake hadn’t taken it into account that his item had been pilfered from out from underneath his nose, which gave the brigand a clear cut start on his way before the heir would realize what had happened and come ferreting after him. Journeying on his way back towards the quay, Spectre kept watch over his shoulder, just in case the beneficiary had discovered the scarab missing, and began hunting him down.
About a half hour passed as Captain Silverthorne continued on, the moderate breeze wisping through the trees, blowing the raven bangs of the skipper from side to side. It was obvious it had grown colder now, a few snowflakes descending from the midnight violet skies above, beginning to cover the earth beneath in a slender white sheet. His boots left steady imprints within the feeble powder which lined the cobblestone pathways, wind sending more of the delicate flakes to whip against his face, each new icy fleck stinging his cheeks. Drawing the brim of his hat over his eyes, Spectre adjusted the collar to his trench coat to his liking, shuffling through the vacant streets alone.
It was now well passed eleven thirty, the midnight hour creeping upon the old Romanian town, shadows dancing through the alleyways and across the old avenues and in between fencing and property which seemed to stretch for miles without end. While most of the edifices were located within the local town area where he had previously been, farther out towards the docks was bare, rarely even a soul to be found. Rounding a corner, Spectre warily kept caution as something moved before him, causing him to jerk for a moment’s time, only to realize that it hadn’t been anything to be frightened of.
An ebony coated stallion stood before him, wintry gusts wisping from his nostrils as he stared into the captain’s goldenrod eyes, ears twitching up and down gradually. Releasing a sigh, Spectre placed a palm on the horse’s muzzle, running his fingertips along the surface before smirking.
“Trueno,” he whispered gently before removing his hand from the horse, “I see Emilio sent you to find me ‘eh?”
The horse’s ears convulsed once more to that statement, Spectre chuckling before taking the reins into his grasp, beginning to lead Trueno away, a sudden shrill demand causing him to abruptly stop. The voice was familiar, and by the sound of it, Spectre knew that he was soon to be in a dilemma.
“Damn! Had I been paying more attention this never would have happened,” Spectre swallowed hard before increasing the tautness upon the reins. “I don’t care what your opinion is… help me find him. And when you do, bring him to me alive. I wouldn’t want to miss the scoundrel’s well deserved execution.”
Watching as shadows began to head his way, Spectre swiftly mounted Trueno, giving a few forcible jolts into his sides, the horse making his way down the cobblestone road towards the harbor at a mild pace. It was only when the hoof beats of another well built horse crept in on him that Spectre gave the reins a flick from side to side, Trueno’s hooves pounding the ground beneath him. Glancing over his shoulder, Spectre cringed when he made out the figure atop the trailing horse- it clearly being Drake. Cursing aloud, Spectre once more drove his feet into Trueno’s sides, the stallion nickering as he weaved in and out of streets, hoping to lose the pursuing one.
Trueno’s body had been sleek and well built for speed, with thin legs and fragile fostered ankles; therefore having given Spectre an undemanding time escaping from many of the towns he had plundered with his crew. He truly was a horse bred of the Spanish and Italian blood. Drake’s stallion, however, was bulkier and had a copious mane and thicker leg structure. Hair also sprouted from above his hooves, indicating that the way he had been bred was for the colder climates. Nonetheless, such a build on him problematically slowed him down.
Trueno bounded overtop a small picket fence which lie in between two dwellings, Drake’s stallion nickering and rearing up aggrievedly, Drake growling as he watched in distress as Spectre fled from the scene into a thick patch of fog that had been forming over the town. Gritting his teeth together firmly, Drake gave a sharp blow into the side of his stallion causing it to canter through the streets and into the murkiness as the captain had.
Trueno slowed to a gradual walking pace, all becoming silent as it had been earlier that night. The thin layer of mist danced around Trueno’s hooves as he strode forward, ears resting back against his head as Spectre kept a close watch for anyone to sneak up and ambush them. Nevertheless, the once still atmosphere was suddenly shattered by the firing of gunshots in the near distance. Grinding his teeth together as he winced, Spectre started Trueno back into a galloping velocity once more, feeling a few bullets wisp passed him.
“Mierda!” he hollered as he felt a shell brush against him, taking a piece of his trench coat’s sleeve with it.
As a few more projectiles flew at him, Spectre yelped once one became embedded into his arm, clinging to the reins the best he could, Trueno beginning to grow exhausted from the pursue he had been put on. Just as Spectre was about to pull back and head into another fog patch, an additional bullet struck, this time hitting Trueno. The stallion bleated as he collapsed forward, Silverthorne toppling off of him with a grimace, pain shooting up throughout his right arm with the impact with the ground. Cringing as the pounding of hoof beats drew nearer, Spectre got onto his feet and hurried into the fog as he had planned, leaving Trueno to expire on the cold cobblestone streets.
Slipping into an old graveyard, Spectre crouched down behind a tombstone, the fog shrouding him from the sight of any passerby at the moment. Breathing heavily, he pressed his fingertips to his wound, watching as the blood bubbled and stained his coat’s sleeve, along with his fingertips. Resting his head against the headstone with a twinge of agony, Spectre listened off in the distance as the hoof beats entered the cemetery, the fog veiling the seeker as well as it had the captain.
“I know you’re out there!” Drake’s voice carried out among the tombstones, bouncing off one and being sent to another. “Why don’t we just make this easy for the both of us and you return what you filched from me, you bastard!?”
Spectre’s golden eyes glinted through the darkness as he breathed heavily through his nose, nostrils flailing as he tightened the mashing of his teeth. His voracity had overpowered him once more, to the point where now it meant more to him than life itself. Clutching his side bag firmly, Spectre could feel the scarab within, he grunting before slipping through the mist, and down to the wharf where his galleon and crew had been waiting.
The sea was rough beneath the ship as Spectre and his crew drew the sails open, some of the icy snowflakes beating against them as the wind increased. Gazing around himself in a slight panic, Spectre began to feel insecure, as if something were skulking in upon them. Wincing as he reached into his side bag, the captain removed a handkerchief and forcefully secured it around his arm where the bullet had entered. Wincing as the stinging pain shot through him once more, Spectre finally drowned the aching away with sweeter thoughts of his return home. Resting upon the bench located on the side of his vessel, the captain’s eyelids began to grow heavy, the mixture of pleasing notions and twinging agony casting him off into a deep slumber.
The ship rocked from side to side upon the waves, snowfall ceasing as all became silent upon the sea. A patch of fog lie ahead in the near distance, but it was nothing that the crew hadn’t come across before. The mist appeared to thicken as the Diamond entered within, nothing but the specters of the deep drifting across the surface of the water. The sails flapped gradually as the choppy current beat against the side of the craft, all else remaining still. However, the once tranquil sailing was presently shattered, as the resonance of cannons could be heard being fired, followed by the appearance of another ship out of the fog.
Spectre’s golden brown eyes flew open suddenly as the ship jarred, he swiftly getting onto his feet and heading to the bow of the vessel, cocking his pistol once he was there, awaiting whatever threat had come upon them. Just as all once more became stagnant, Spectre grunted, feeling insecure, before yet again his ship jolted, the rival craft thumping against the side of his own. Glancing around for a solution as he was about to fire, Spectre was suddenly clouted down by something heavy, his gaze becoming weak as he felt the collar of his trench coat being tugged upward, followed by his body’s hoisting. Blinking his eyes a few times to clear the ambiguity from them, Spectre gaped slightly as a pair of amethyst blue eyes glared back down into his own.
“Where is the scarab?” the raspy voice asked, baring its teeth as Spectre tried to pull away, only feeling the grip increase on him. “I swear to you, I will let you go a free man if you hand it over.”
“Why do you need it so gravely?” Spectre managed to choke out, Drake grunting at that, the captain’s eyes clearly glinting with a voracious lust.
“My question is…why do you need it so gravely?”
Spectre didn’t answer that statement. It was partially from the fact that he couldn’t get it passed him to mention, but yet, another half of him wasn’t certain of what to say. Feeling a dagger get pressed firmly against his side, Spectre cringed, watching as Drake pushed his nose to the captain’s, not once removing his glance from the golden eyes before him.
“I’m giving you one last chance, Silverthorne…or so be it…”
Spectre felt something inside of him twinge, something that came on so summarily, that he couldn’t even react upon it. Reaching down into his side bag, Spectre removed the scarab, eyes passing to it gradually before glaring at Drake with distaste.
“If I can’t depart with it, neither can you…”
Drake watched in alarm as Spectre cast the charm overboard into the sea below, his ire building as he struck the captain across the face brashly, causing him to collapse onto the ground. Spitting out a wad of blood, Spectre choked once or twice, Drake once again tugging him to his feet, and forcing him against the mast. Pinning his shoulders against the flagstaff, the heir scowled, his once violet hued eyes churning into a pool of deep red, stare searing right through Spectre’s being.
“You’re a fool, Silverthorne…,” he snarled, “To pay for a loss as great as this, I swear to you I will not rest until the last one of your bloody line is buried beneath the ground…rotting away as they all should be. For when the first male is bred into life, the Silverthorne line shall come to an end.”
Drake hissed at Spectre viciously, the captain trying his hardest to struggle free, but the force Drake had put upon him made it impossible.
“I will return with my plans of purification one day…you’ll see… My father’s dreams will not plummet into nonexistence. For on the eve of the confinement of the first male, I will rise again, seeking him out. And when I find him, I shall finish what I have started here. For the Silverthorne blood can only run so far; and it shall end with the first born son.”
Flinching as he once more tried to resist Drake, Spectre watched in dread as a pair of elongated fangs grew from his canine teeth, pointed and glistening in the faint moonlight. Feeling his head get thrashed against the mast, the captain closed his eyes forcefully as the fangs were driven deep into his neck, the agony rushing through him like never before. Shoving the captain to the ground, Drake wiped the line of fresh blood from his lips, glaring down at Spectre as he panted in anguish, holding his neck as blood poured from his wounds. Once more hauling him to his feet, Drake took one final glimpse at the captain with a sour sneer.
“To hell with you…”
With that, Drake thrust Captain Silverthorne overboard into the choppy waves below, the water beginning to discolor itself a slightly red hue as the heir and his band vanished into the night without a trace. The Diamond quickly began to sink herself, what remained of the crew scurrying to find ways to save themselves before it was too late…
As Silverthorne’s vessel vanished beneath the waves below, all that happened that night seemed to disappear along with it. All evidence of what had happened lie safely at sea, beneath the waters of the deep. As Spectre fought to keep himself above the swells, he eventually grew exhausted, the amount of blood loss weakening him even more. As he finally gave in to his fate, he submerged beneath the waters, all within his side bag fleeing and scattering among the ocean floor. The scarf he had bought remained safely within, however, lining the inside of the pouch as if it had always belonged there. The only other item which sunk below alongside of the captain was a journal…a small leatherback journal which held all of Spectre’s deepest and darkest thoughts; the only evidence left to what had happened that night to the Silverthorne captain on his return from Constanta…
Lightning broke the skyline as clashes of thunder trembled across the roaring sea, tossing a colossal ship that had been taking the path that the storm seemed to have derived from. The masts appeared to ascend into the dark gathering clouds themselves as their flags wafted through the sea air. Once the ship came closer into view, passed the obscuring clouds, the flags became perceptible, being dark and marked with the emblem of the ravenous sea thriving thieves of this time… pirates.
At the bow of the ship, standing resolutely with his head held high, stood Spectre Silverthorne, the captain of his beloved ship, the Diamond. Silverthorne, at the time, was one of the most feared pirates to ever roam the seas, with his band of brigands to raid the various towns and ports along the way. His name, Spectre, had been given to him by those he forayed… for Silverthorne and his men would emerge out of what appeared to be nowhere, pocket what they could and return it to the ship before anyone could perceive it. It was as if he were a ghost, blowing in from town to town and stripping them clean of their riches.
For all of Silverthorne’s life as a pirate, his days seemed to be lucrative, managing to steal what he needed and being able to annihilate all who came in his way. However, there was one mistake that Spectre made- one night in the town of Constanta, which was located on the shores of Romania, connected to the Black Sea. Since the Romanian province had been rich in ores such as silver and gold, Silverthorne took this into account and realized how much of an advantage this would be for him and his men. Sabotaging Constanta, Silverthorne led his men on a rampaging siege, pilfering as much of the desired loot as they could. However, it was Silverthorne’s final stop that cost him dearly.
Stepping down from the wooden ramp which lead onto his galleon, Spectre stared through the darkness which engulfed the shores of Constanta. Twilight had just reached the province, and already the land was shadowed by night. Briskly adjusting the collar to his trench coat, Spectre squinted his golden brown eyes slightly, the freshly falling snow wisping into his face, causing him to move the brim of his hat down over his eyes. It was much colder here than it had been in his homeland of Spain, but Spectre knew that Romania was to the far east of Europe, causing its winters to be much more harsh than many others. Glancing for a moment over his shoulder to his crew who began making preparations for when the ship would leave the harbor, Spectre proceeded into the town, hoping to come across some of the riches that were claimed to have been inherent in Romania.
The cobblestone streets of Constanta were familiar to Spectre as he traveled along, for Spain inherited the same pavement, coincidentally. Treading through the crowd of townsfolk which lined the corners of the streets, the pirate allowed his eyes to skim through what valuables may have been put to market. However, all that appeared to be at the vendors were nothing more than simple items such as foods and other products of daily usage. Gritting his teeth, Spectre shook his head with a dissatisfied grunt, the disappointment of not being able to come across the treasures he had planned on building within him. He was certain that Romania had been lucrative in such precious assets, however, he had come across nothing of the sort. Grinding his teeth together, Spectre managed to spot a dais not that far off from where he was standing, a small number of silk woven scarves arranged delicately across the wooden surface of the vendor. As Spectre stood before the booth, golden brown eyes gliding across each of the silken fabrics, the mercer grinned up at him, propping himself against the post which served as a provision for his stand.
“Such splendorous items they are, indeed. However, don’t you find them to be a bit out of your predilection?” he asked, Spectre’s gaze gradually passing up from the commodities and over to the man behind the cubicle.
“Just looking,” he murmured, Spanish accent causing the mercer to blink leisurely, knowing that the province of Spain was affluent with golden bullions, something that a much more pitiable nation such as Romania would love to get their hands on.
“Certainly a man such as yourself would have a lovely lass back home, no?” the mercer asked with a furtive smirk. “Assuredly she would admire such a delicacy as this.”
Spectre reached a hand out and stroked the sleek surface of one of the scarves, his mind engulfed in copious thoughts before he sighed, poking down into his pocket, dropping a few golden doubloons before the mercer, the hawker’s eyes broadening as he leered in appeal. Although the myths of Romania containing substantial amounts of ores were true, the townsfolk lived a life of dearth, and any bit of proceeds they could acquire were consequential. Swiftly dropping the doubloons into his own pocket, the mercer motioned to the scarves on the tabletop, Spectre snatching up a cerulean hued one, bowing his head to the merchant.
“Adios…,” he murmured before folding the scarf trimly, placing it within the pouch at his side, the mercantile nodding his head to him appreciatively.
“Thank you, good sir.”
Just as Spectre was about to continue on his way through the township, a nearby conversation caught his attention, causing him to pryingly listen in to what was being conferred. It was a man in about his mid-twenties who stood and did the majority of the speaking, his shoulder length raven hair drawn back in a tie, stray bangs still finding their way into his face, nevertheless. His attire was well trimmed and contained an affluent gothic quintessence to the design, indicating that he was distinctly from a wealthy family.
His name was Vladimir Drake, a nobleman, heir to the Romanian throne since his late father had passed due to a brutal murder. Ever since then, Drake had given his all trying to uncover the secrets which shrouded his father’s death, and he had stopped at nothing to do so. He carried the same facial features as the others in his line as well- straight black hair and amethyst blue eyes with a long facial structure. The man to which he was conversing with, however, was nothing unique, blending into the crowd of townsfolk just as the next passerby. It had been the well debonair man who had caught Spectre’s full awareness; for he indubitably had a sufficient amount of priceless riches at hand.
“Aye, but if they truly were composed of pure Egyptian gold and silver,” the man which effortlessly intermingled among the others conversed meekly, “you know what price men would pay for such trinkets?”
“I understand that…,” the affluent man didn’t appear to be taken by the statement all that much, just continued to stare down at the ground, mixed thoughts surely buzzing through his head like a swarm of angry wasps on a summer’s afternoon.
“For Egyptian gold and silver do not come easy. You and I both know well that ships can’t voyage into Egypt like they use to, therefore those delicacies are worth more than any other bullion of gold or silver here, Drake,” the townsman spoke once more, causing the other to bluntly try to oppose with his opinion.
“Yes, but-”
“Why, if you were to sell those trinkets,” the townsman’s eyes broadened as he grinned up at the one called “Drake” inquisitively, “they could earn you enough money to feed your family for at least three generations.”
Spectre’s eyes glinted in golden embers of his voracity stricken lust as a sinister smirk slipped swiftly across his light rose tinted lips. Just the thought of such splendor caused his adrenalin to boil, the hunger of his greed thundering within him and racing through his veins. For he knew that the life he lived was in paucity, and with the extra earnings from such a charm, he would be able to keep his family fed, clothed, and sheltered for the rest of their lives.
“As much as they’re worth, I do believe that their unnatural power is far more valuable yet,” Drake replied to the man, this time keeping his composure, tautly trying to prove his point. “For with them, you shall basically become an all powerful ruler if you had wanted; controlling the gates to the afterlife…the hall of judgment will be no more for you, no matter how sinful a soul.”
Reaching down into the pouch at his side, Drake vigilantly withdrew a glistening entity, the golden surface gleaming for but a moment’s time, Spectre’s dissipated eyes widening at the sight. Within Drake’s grasp, an amulet dangled from its chain, the charm swaying from side to side leisurely. It was plain to see that it had been hewed into the shape of a scarab, the body compiled of pure Egyptian gold. Narrowing his greed filled eyes, Spectre allowed his chin to raise up for a moment with a snort, watching charily as Drake slipped the scarabs back into his side bag, bidding farewell to the man on the street. As Drake began to advance through the marketplace, Spectre tagged along close behind, managing to slip up beside him, banging into him with a grunt. Drake blinked leisurely before Spectre bowed his head, tilting his hat over his eyes and continuing on his way.
“Lo siento, señor,” he murmured, Drake jeering as he rolled his eyes, spatting with a groan.
“…Spaniards…”
Turning in the opposite direction that Spectre had headed, Drake ventured back through the township to where he had initially planned on retreating to. Sneering as he gazed from the corner of his eyes, Spectre tossed the scarab charm up and down, tucking it within his own side pouch before shuffling hastily on his way. He knew that Drake hadn’t taken it into account that his item had been pilfered from out from underneath his nose, which gave the brigand a clear cut start on his way before the heir would realize what had happened and come ferreting after him. Journeying on his way back towards the quay, Spectre kept watch over his shoulder, just in case the beneficiary had discovered the scarab missing, and began hunting him down.
About a half hour passed as Captain Silverthorne continued on, the moderate breeze wisping through the trees, blowing the raven bangs of the skipper from side to side. It was obvious it had grown colder now, a few snowflakes descending from the midnight violet skies above, beginning to cover the earth beneath in a slender white sheet. His boots left steady imprints within the feeble powder which lined the cobblestone pathways, wind sending more of the delicate flakes to whip against his face, each new icy fleck stinging his cheeks. Drawing the brim of his hat over his eyes, Spectre adjusted the collar to his trench coat to his liking, shuffling through the vacant streets alone.
It was now well passed eleven thirty, the midnight hour creeping upon the old Romanian town, shadows dancing through the alleyways and across the old avenues and in between fencing and property which seemed to stretch for miles without end. While most of the edifices were located within the local town area where he had previously been, farther out towards the docks was bare, rarely even a soul to be found. Rounding a corner, Spectre warily kept caution as something moved before him, causing him to jerk for a moment’s time, only to realize that it hadn’t been anything to be frightened of.
An ebony coated stallion stood before him, wintry gusts wisping from his nostrils as he stared into the captain’s goldenrod eyes, ears twitching up and down gradually. Releasing a sigh, Spectre placed a palm on the horse’s muzzle, running his fingertips along the surface before smirking.
“Trueno,” he whispered gently before removing his hand from the horse, “I see Emilio sent you to find me ‘eh?”
The horse’s ears convulsed once more to that statement, Spectre chuckling before taking the reins into his grasp, beginning to lead Trueno away, a sudden shrill demand causing him to abruptly stop. The voice was familiar, and by the sound of it, Spectre knew that he was soon to be in a dilemma.
“Damn! Had I been paying more attention this never would have happened,” Spectre swallowed hard before increasing the tautness upon the reins. “I don’t care what your opinion is… help me find him. And when you do, bring him to me alive. I wouldn’t want to miss the scoundrel’s well deserved execution.”
Watching as shadows began to head his way, Spectre swiftly mounted Trueno, giving a few forcible jolts into his sides, the horse making his way down the cobblestone road towards the harbor at a mild pace. It was only when the hoof beats of another well built horse crept in on him that Spectre gave the reins a flick from side to side, Trueno’s hooves pounding the ground beneath him. Glancing over his shoulder, Spectre cringed when he made out the figure atop the trailing horse- it clearly being Drake. Cursing aloud, Spectre once more drove his feet into Trueno’s sides, the stallion nickering as he weaved in and out of streets, hoping to lose the pursuing one.
Trueno’s body had been sleek and well built for speed, with thin legs and fragile fostered ankles; therefore having given Spectre an undemanding time escaping from many of the towns he had plundered with his crew. He truly was a horse bred of the Spanish and Italian blood. Drake’s stallion, however, was bulkier and had a copious mane and thicker leg structure. Hair also sprouted from above his hooves, indicating that the way he had been bred was for the colder climates. Nonetheless, such a build on him problematically slowed him down.
Trueno bounded overtop a small picket fence which lie in between two dwellings, Drake’s stallion nickering and rearing up aggrievedly, Drake growling as he watched in distress as Spectre fled from the scene into a thick patch of fog that had been forming over the town. Gritting his teeth together firmly, Drake gave a sharp blow into the side of his stallion causing it to canter through the streets and into the murkiness as the captain had.
Trueno slowed to a gradual walking pace, all becoming silent as it had been earlier that night. The thin layer of mist danced around Trueno’s hooves as he strode forward, ears resting back against his head as Spectre kept a close watch for anyone to sneak up and ambush them. Nevertheless, the once still atmosphere was suddenly shattered by the firing of gunshots in the near distance. Grinding his teeth together as he winced, Spectre started Trueno back into a galloping velocity once more, feeling a few bullets wisp passed him.
“Mierda!” he hollered as he felt a shell brush against him, taking a piece of his trench coat’s sleeve with it.
As a few more projectiles flew at him, Spectre yelped once one became embedded into his arm, clinging to the reins the best he could, Trueno beginning to grow exhausted from the pursue he had been put on. Just as Spectre was about to pull back and head into another fog patch, an additional bullet struck, this time hitting Trueno. The stallion bleated as he collapsed forward, Silverthorne toppling off of him with a grimace, pain shooting up throughout his right arm with the impact with the ground. Cringing as the pounding of hoof beats drew nearer, Spectre got onto his feet and hurried into the fog as he had planned, leaving Trueno to expire on the cold cobblestone streets.
Slipping into an old graveyard, Spectre crouched down behind a tombstone, the fog shrouding him from the sight of any passerby at the moment. Breathing heavily, he pressed his fingertips to his wound, watching as the blood bubbled and stained his coat’s sleeve, along with his fingertips. Resting his head against the headstone with a twinge of agony, Spectre listened off in the distance as the hoof beats entered the cemetery, the fog veiling the seeker as well as it had the captain.
“I know you’re out there!” Drake’s voice carried out among the tombstones, bouncing off one and being sent to another. “Why don’t we just make this easy for the both of us and you return what you filched from me, you bastard!?”
Spectre’s golden eyes glinted through the darkness as he breathed heavily through his nose, nostrils flailing as he tightened the mashing of his teeth. His voracity had overpowered him once more, to the point where now it meant more to him than life itself. Clutching his side bag firmly, Spectre could feel the scarab within, he grunting before slipping through the mist, and down to the wharf where his galleon and crew had been waiting.
The sea was rough beneath the ship as Spectre and his crew drew the sails open, some of the icy snowflakes beating against them as the wind increased. Gazing around himself in a slight panic, Spectre began to feel insecure, as if something were skulking in upon them. Wincing as he reached into his side bag, the captain removed a handkerchief and forcefully secured it around his arm where the bullet had entered. Wincing as the stinging pain shot through him once more, Spectre finally drowned the aching away with sweeter thoughts of his return home. Resting upon the bench located on the side of his vessel, the captain’s eyelids began to grow heavy, the mixture of pleasing notions and twinging agony casting him off into a deep slumber.
The ship rocked from side to side upon the waves, snowfall ceasing as all became silent upon the sea. A patch of fog lie ahead in the near distance, but it was nothing that the crew hadn’t come across before. The mist appeared to thicken as the Diamond entered within, nothing but the specters of the deep drifting across the surface of the water. The sails flapped gradually as the choppy current beat against the side of the craft, all else remaining still. However, the once tranquil sailing was presently shattered, as the resonance of cannons could be heard being fired, followed by the appearance of another ship out of the fog.
Spectre’s golden brown eyes flew open suddenly as the ship jarred, he swiftly getting onto his feet and heading to the bow of the vessel, cocking his pistol once he was there, awaiting whatever threat had come upon them. Just as all once more became stagnant, Spectre grunted, feeling insecure, before yet again his ship jolted, the rival craft thumping against the side of his own. Glancing around for a solution as he was about to fire, Spectre was suddenly clouted down by something heavy, his gaze becoming weak as he felt the collar of his trench coat being tugged upward, followed by his body’s hoisting. Blinking his eyes a few times to clear the ambiguity from them, Spectre gaped slightly as a pair of amethyst blue eyes glared back down into his own.
“Where is the scarab?” the raspy voice asked, baring its teeth as Spectre tried to pull away, only feeling the grip increase on him. “I swear to you, I will let you go a free man if you hand it over.”
“Why do you need it so gravely?” Spectre managed to choke out, Drake grunting at that, the captain’s eyes clearly glinting with a voracious lust.
“My question is…why do you need it so gravely?”
Spectre didn’t answer that statement. It was partially from the fact that he couldn’t get it passed him to mention, but yet, another half of him wasn’t certain of what to say. Feeling a dagger get pressed firmly against his side, Spectre cringed, watching as Drake pushed his nose to the captain’s, not once removing his glance from the golden eyes before him.
“I’m giving you one last chance, Silverthorne…or so be it…”
Spectre felt something inside of him twinge, something that came on so summarily, that he couldn’t even react upon it. Reaching down into his side bag, Spectre removed the scarab, eyes passing to it gradually before glaring at Drake with distaste.
“If I can’t depart with it, neither can you…”
Drake watched in alarm as Spectre cast the charm overboard into the sea below, his ire building as he struck the captain across the face brashly, causing him to collapse onto the ground. Spitting out a wad of blood, Spectre choked once or twice, Drake once again tugging him to his feet, and forcing him against the mast. Pinning his shoulders against the flagstaff, the heir scowled, his once violet hued eyes churning into a pool of deep red, stare searing right through Spectre’s being.
“You’re a fool, Silverthorne…,” he snarled, “To pay for a loss as great as this, I swear to you I will not rest until the last one of your bloody line is buried beneath the ground…rotting away as they all should be. For when the first male is bred into life, the Silverthorne line shall come to an end.”
Drake hissed at Spectre viciously, the captain trying his hardest to struggle free, but the force Drake had put upon him made it impossible.
“I will return with my plans of purification one day…you’ll see… My father’s dreams will not plummet into nonexistence. For on the eve of the confinement of the first male, I will rise again, seeking him out. And when I find him, I shall finish what I have started here. For the Silverthorne blood can only run so far; and it shall end with the first born son.”
Flinching as he once more tried to resist Drake, Spectre watched in dread as a pair of elongated fangs grew from his canine teeth, pointed and glistening in the faint moonlight. Feeling his head get thrashed against the mast, the captain closed his eyes forcefully as the fangs were driven deep into his neck, the agony rushing through him like never before. Shoving the captain to the ground, Drake wiped the line of fresh blood from his lips, glaring down at Spectre as he panted in anguish, holding his neck as blood poured from his wounds. Once more hauling him to his feet, Drake took one final glimpse at the captain with a sour sneer.
“To hell with you…”
With that, Drake thrust Captain Silverthorne overboard into the choppy waves below, the water beginning to discolor itself a slightly red hue as the heir and his band vanished into the night without a trace. The Diamond quickly began to sink herself, what remained of the crew scurrying to find ways to save themselves before it was too late…
As Silverthorne’s vessel vanished beneath the waves below, all that happened that night seemed to disappear along with it. All evidence of what had happened lie safely at sea, beneath the waters of the deep. As Spectre fought to keep himself above the swells, he eventually grew exhausted, the amount of blood loss weakening him even more. As he finally gave in to his fate, he submerged beneath the waters, all within his side bag fleeing and scattering among the ocean floor. The scarf he had bought remained safely within, however, lining the inside of the pouch as if it had always belonged there. The only other item which sunk below alongside of the captain was a journal…a small leatherback journal which held all of Spectre’s deepest and darkest thoughts; the only evidence left to what had happened that night to the Silverthorne captain on his return from Constanta…
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Opening chapter to my new novel, Of Sins and Sailors: The Island of Redemption. It is the first book in a possible four or five part series.Let me know what you think!
Of Sins and Sailors © Dorian J. Harper 2008-2013
Of Sins and Sailors © Dorian J. Harper 2008-2013
© 2008 - 2024 DorianHarper
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Overall Vision
Originality Technique ImpactI have to say that my expectations weren't unfounded, and you've proved to me your skill as a writer from this pristine bit of literature. You stuck to a tone and kept it solid throughout the work, which is always a plus, but you somehow managed to fit in just enough dialogue to make sure the descriptions weren't overwhelming. Meanwhile, I actually got a good image of your characters and the setting even though my grasp on history is tenuous at best (why I stick to the field of fantasy). It wouldn't take a history buff to actually enjoy the story, even if it might help if you knew some geography. I at least know that Spain is in Europe.
I can already tell a bit about the characters, despite the dialogue being limited in favor of setting a tone and scene. You've done a good job in allowing the 'flavor' come through, and even if you didn't have illustrations, I could very well make my own, clear image of the players in this story. I'm itching to get this thing so I can read on. Good on you so far, and I apologize for this taking so long, as I'm quite lazy.