Cormier paced across Iron Ghost’s quarterdeck. He stopped and looked at the ship’s lifeless sails before raising his spyglass toward the object of his pursuit. The merchantman, Silver Scale, was escaping. Although within ballista range, Cormier dared not fire for fear of destroying the ship’s precious cargo. Captain Cyr Cormier was a Crescent Raider of the Kingdom of Krey. A privateer, if you will, commissioned to engage enemies of the crown in maritime warfare. His present orders were to capture Silver Scale and send her crew to the bottom. Cormier collapsed the spyglass and called for his second lieutenant, “Mr. Fabre.” Fabre snapped to attention, “Sir!” Cormier lowered his voice, “Summon her.” The lieutenant’s jaw slackened, and his face went pale. Cormier’s eyes narrowed, and he felt his temper rising, “Are you deaf, mister?” “No... no, sir.” Fabre stammered. Cormier regained his composure, “Summon her, Lieutenant. Summon the matant if you please.” “Aye aye, sir.” Fabre hurried below as Cormier walked to the railing and looked for his bosun on the main deck. “Mr. Rach!” “Aye, cap’n!” the bosun hailed back. “Prepare the crew for boarding.” Rach looked at the sails and then back to Cormier’s resolute expression, “Aye aye, cap’n.” The bosun barked his orders, and the crew readied for action. Lieutenant Fabre returned to the quarterdeck visibly shaken. He tipped his hat to Cormier and returned to his duties. Moments later, a slight figure in grey robes appeared on the main deck, holding a simple wooden staff. Her black locks of hair seemed to billow in a breeze that did not exist as she climbed to the quarterdeck and approached Cormier. “Captain,” it was more of a whisper on the wind than a voice. “Matant Serefine,” Cormier replied evenly. “The crown requires your service.” She regarded him with her black, soulless eyes. “Requires?” she hissed. “The last time the crown required my service, I spent a fortnight in recovery.” Cormier held her gaze, “You will do your duty just like everyone else aboard this ship.” He was in command and would not be disobeyed. “Aye, captain,” she replied coolly, “I shall do my duty.” Serefine knew she could bewitch him at any time and overtake his ship. The blood coursing through her veins was ancient, and the contract granting her power was still binding. Serefine glided to the center of the quarterdeck and raised her staff skyward. She lifted her head as a dog would to the moon, and what started as an incoherent murmur grew into a haunting melody that increased in tempo and volume. Her body kept time with the song as it convulsed in a spasm of dance, causing her robes to flutter wildly around her. The ritual finally reached its climax as Serefine’s voice rose to a falsetto shriek that pierced the ears of every sailor on board. “Look!” cried one of the hands pointing overhead. All the ship’s sails started to fill with air, and Iron Ghost lurched forward. “Brace yerselves, lads!” the bosun screamed. The oaken masts groaned in protest at the summoned tempest, and for a moment, Cormier feared he would split a sail. Iron Ghost closed on her prey in no time, and the crew readied their grapples for boarding. Cormier drew his saber and glanced down at Serefine, now collapsed against the helm. Part of him hoped she was dead, but he knew too well that he would need her again. He stepped over the matant and raced to his men. Cormier raised his sword and shouted, “Take no prisoners!” The crew saw the madness in his eyes and responded with a savage roar. They were the Krey, and this was their way.
Be sure to check back for Kingdom of Krey, Part Two.