The Blood Reaver Page 10

  “A treasure awaits us.” Thor met each of their gazes, nodding. “A bounty at this port that will lead us to a chest of gold doubloons.”

  “Spanish gold,” someone muttered with obvious pleasure.

  “What kind of bounty?” another asked.

  Thor grinned, settling his pipes back in their case. “’Tis the bastard bairn of none other than Captain Santiago Fernandez.”

  There were a few sharply indrawn breaths, and the men grew silent, waiting for their captain to expand on his words. He searched the sea of faces for Edgard, his first mate and second-in-command. Edgard’s face was guarded, but he did nod his support. The man had been with him for as long as The Sea Devil had been his, and Thor trusted him implicitly.

  “I dinna know if ’tis a lass or lad, but I do know he or she would be twenty by now. We’ll put out the word for a small reward, and once we’ve the bastard in hand, we’ll set sail for Scarba, and then arrange to meet Santiago to claim the gold.”

  “Ye’re not going to give him the child.” Edgard made the statement rather than asking, having picked up on Thor’s choice of words.

  “Nay. I’m going to kill the wee bastard. Kill Santiago. And take all the gold on his ship.”

  The men cheered, all except Edgard, who he suspected would remind him of the brethren code when his men wouldn’t dare. Thor took the large mug of ale they passed him, swigged it hard and then tossed it in the air.

  He set his mouth to the pipes again and played a victorious tune, his hard gaze on Edgard’s all the while. Screw the code. Vengeance would be his. The taste of sweet retribution was already thick and delicious on his tongue.

  Read the rest of THE SEA DEVIL by Eliza Knight

  Excerpt from SEA WOLFE

  by Kathryn Le Veque

  Enjoy this except from Book 4 in the Pirates of Britannia series…

  Prologue

  Near St. Ives, Cornwall

  He knew they were out here.

  It was early morning and the sun was barely up, turning the fog that had rolled in overnight into shades of gray. Everything was still and quiet. Even the sea was quiet. So very quiet.

  But he knew it was a ruse.

  The pirate commander known as Lucifer stood on the deck of The Madness of Melinoe, or simply the Melinoe, a small but fast and heavily-armed vessel that was known to fight battles against ships twice her size and win. This lady was fiery, and she was commanded by a man that no sane man would tangle with. Any pirate named Lucifer was surely a man to be feared and avoided.

  “What is wrong?” came a soft question. “What do you hear?”

  The query came from a younger pirate, but a man who had proven himself indispensable on sea or on land. Felix d’Vant, tall and sinewy and blond, stood next to Lucifer, trying to figure out what had the man so fixated. He was simply staring out into the fog as if beholding a hidden enemy. But only tense, brittle silence filled the air. Lucifer simply shook his head.

  “Hear?” he repeated. “I hear nothing. It is more a… feeling.”

  Felix didn’t like that at all. Lucifer’s feelings were often truer than most men’s facts. Without a decisive command given by his leader, Felix took matters into his own hands. He turned to the men on deck, men who were on edge because Lucifer was seemingly on edge, and began to give them silent commands. His gestures were firm, bordering on panicky, and the men began to move. Something was in the air and they needed to be prepared. But before they could get to their posts, Lucifer suddenly bellowed.

  “Hit the deck!”

  Men began to fall, for a command of that nature wasn’t mean to be ignored. As they began dropping to the damp deck, a faint whistling could be heard that very quickly grew deafening, and the masts and wooden portions of the ship around them began to explode around them as nine-pound cannonballs hurled over the decks.

  And just that quickly, they were in battle.

  “Gun crews!” Lucifer roared. “Roll out the port side battery!”

  Since the Melinoe was a smaller vessel, her gun deck was quite cramped and directly below the main deck. Lucifer found himself screaming commands to the gun deck officer, who in turn rolled out the five four-pounder cannons they had on the port side. The gun crews began to work furiously to load the long, iron cylinders.

  They were very swift in their tasks. As the Melinoe continued north on her original course, the gun crews rolled out a strategic barrage of cannon fire in the direction of their enemy, hoping it would do enough damage to them before they could turn around and level off their other battery. The concussion was staggering, and the great blasts of smoke floated up onto the main deck, making the air toxic. As Lucifer rushed to the port rail with his spyglass to get a look through the fog, one of his men shouted to him.

  “Lucifer!” Remy de Moray was a close friend and an excellent warrior. He was pointing up to the mainmast. “Look!”

  Lucifer peered up through the damp, rolling mist to see a nine-pound cannonball wedged into the mainmast, not enough to collapse it, but enough to create an interesting situation. He shook his head.

  “Damnation,” he muttered. “It is supporting the entire mainmast from the way it is sitting. We are bloody fortunate it stopped when it did and did not rip off the entire structure.”

  Remy nodded, grinning. Young and handsome, with dark hair and jet-black eyes, Remy came alongside Lucifer.

  “That’s a nine-pounder,” he said. Then, he looked out onto the fog. “That does not come from any ordinary vessel.”

  Lucifer shook his head, his golden gaze still fixed on the mist. “There are only three ships that I know of that can fire off a cannonball of that size,” he muttered. “The French, and their main warship is near Lisbon last I heard, or the Spanish, or us. And I do not see the ships in our fleet firing on us.”

  Remy wasn’t hard pressed to agree. “The Spanish, then?”

  “The Spanish. Mayhap they are here to reclaim their glorious warship.”

  Remy smirked. “Then they will have to find Shaw and his Devils,” he said. “The Leucosia belongs to the Scots now and they are welcome to the damned thing.”

  Lucifer’s lips twitched with a smile. The Leucosia was the running joke between the English band of pirates, Poseidon’s Legion, and their Scottish brethren, the Devils of the Deep. Never was a ship such a hot commodity, a 22-gun beast of a vessel that the Spanish had stolen from the Dutch, the French stole from the Spanish, the English stole from the French, and now that beautiful vessel had been gifted to the leader of the Scottish pirates because Constantine had considered the vessel far too hot to handle. Only Shaw MacDougall, his dear friend and fellow pirate leader, didn’t know it.

  But he surely knew it now.

  “I am sure they are hoping to find her,” Lucifer said, “but their efforts shall be for naught. If it is Santiago and the Santa Maria out there, the Melinoe is faster. The Santa Maria has a heavy rudder and she cannot turn easily. She cannot outrun us and we cannot outfight her, so it is best for neither of us to try.”

  “Then we run?”

  “We run.”

  They were nearing their port of Perran Castle. Once inside the cove that was protected by the enormous castle with its artillery facing out to sea, Captain Santiago Fernandez of the fearsome Spanish pirate gang, Los Demonios de Mar would be a fool to come within range of an entire battery of nine-pounder cannons. Lucifer and his men escaping into the safety of the cove was much like a child running from bullies and hiding in his mother’s skirts; the bullies were sure to run off when Mother threatened.

  But Lucifer wasn’t concerned with turning tail from the Spanish warship; as he’d said, a ship the size of the Melinoe couldn’t outfight the big Spanish battle ship, so there was no shame in living to fight another day. He knew that Santiago and his crew, if they even knew who they’d been shooting at, were possibly looking for men to interrogate about the Leucosia and perhaps even prisoners to exchange for the vessel, so he wasn’t going to make an easy target.


  It was better to return home.

  “Curtiz!” he bellowed. “Load the stern cannon and make haste for Perran!”

  Curtiz d’Evereux, a rather cutthroat mercenary that had been with Poseidon’s Legion for almost a year, nodded sharply at the order and began moving the men, barking orders in a strict manner. He had a firm way about him and wasn’t afraid to jump in and work alongside the crewmen, something Constantine and Lucifer liked about him. But he had an edginess that was difficult to define, making him a somewhat mysterious character.

  Had they known what the mystery was, they would have thrown his carcass to the sharks.

  But they didn’t know, and probably wouldn’t until it was too late. They were nurturing a viper in their bosom. As happened with men who roamed the seas for wealth and adventure, Curtiz hadn’t disclosed much of his background, so no one knew much about him other than he’d once served the great mercenary de Nerra army out of Cumbria. The motto among the pirate brethren was “ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies”, so inquiring about a man and his background simply wasn’t done. Men proved themselves in the eyes of their commanders and comrades and that was all that mattered. Curtiz was capable and that was all Lucifer cared about.

  But that trust would possibly be his undoing.

  At the moment, however, all men were rushing to secure the ship so they could live to fight another day. The dark sails of the Melinoe were unfurled, even in the fog, to catch whatever breeze there was while, down below, a myriad of prisoners began the ancient rowing rhythm to the beat from the Row Master. Boom, boom… boom, boom. The Melinoe began to pick up speed, enough so that a second barrage of cannonballs did no damage at all, sailing harmlessly out of range as the Melinoe slipped up the coast.

  Lucifer, Remy, Felix, and Curtiz moved to the stern of the ship, listening to the cannonballs sail off into the mist. Quickly, the sound began to fade and they knew they were safely out of the Spanish range. There was a palpable sense of relief, but there was also a sense of triumph that the Spanish and their surprise attack hadn’t worked.

  “They have no idea where we are now,” Remy said confidently. “They must be using depth readings to figure out where they are in relation to Perran and to the coast. The sooner we return to Perran Castle, the better.”

  Beside him, Curtiz grunted. “The better question is how they knew we were here in the first place,” he said, turning to the others. “These are our waters, so why are they here?”

  Lucifer shrugged, glancing at the big, blond seaman who faintly resembled Constantine. “It is no secret that our presence is heavy in these waters,” he said. “It is quite possible they are looking for us, or it is equally likely they are simply looking for other victims. Our sails were not unfurled so, in this fog, it is quite possible they do not even know it was us. They have merely seen a shape.”

  Curtiz turned his attention back to the fog, which seemed to be lifting ever so slightly. “Or they are looking for Constantine and his new wife,” he muttered. “Word that Con has gone on a wedding trip has spread, and I have little doubt that our enemies have heard. Mayhap, they are even testing out these waters with the Sea-God away. Mayhap, they will challenge our supremacy.”

  That was a good point and one that had crossed Lucifer’s mind. He glanced up at the sky, seeing flashes of blue through the white mist. Soon enough, the fog would clear and it would be a beautiful day with soft sea breezes and the gulls crying overhead. But for Lucifer, there was much more to the day than simply the sky or the sea. He grunted.

  “Then they will be sorely disappointed if they test me,” he said. “While Con is in France with Lady le Brecque enjoying his wedding trip, I am in command of his Legion and anyone who challenges that command will be met with a firm and deadly hand. They would be foolish to try.”

  He said it in a tone that left no room for doubt, and Remy grinned as he listened to the boast. But it wasn’t so much of a boast as it was the truth. As Constantine’s First Mate, Lucifer had always been one to follow his leader without question, commanding when it was necessary, and conveying the impression that one did not contest his ways and live to tell the tale. But with the event of Constantine putting him in command of Poseidon’s Legion, and his empire, while he was away, Lucifer’s stoic and ominous manner had taken on dimension. Now, he had the full feel of a captain behind him, which made the man that much more terrifying.

  Remy had no intention of crossing him.

  “Aye, my lord,” he said. “Now that we are heading back to Perran Castle with the Spanish at our backs, what will your first order of business be?”

  Lucifer glanced at him. “It will be the same as it was when we left Eynon Bay,” he said. “We are heading home with a hold full of fine goods that we took from the merchant vessel foolish enough to drop anchor where they should not have. Once there, we will offload it, pay the men what they are due for the haul, and then I must deal with a few issues that have been left to my care in the wake of Con’s departure.”

  “Like what?”

  “Several, but the first ones that comes to mind are those two heiresses that we have imprisoned at Perran. I told Con that I would deal with them.”

  Remy knew who he was speaking of. Last month, they’d intercepted a heavily-laden merchant vessel crossing from Ireland to the port of Plymouth. It has been a very rich vessel and they’d taken a huge haul from it, including the two daughters of the merchant who owned the ship. The women had been taken back to Perran and imprisoned, at Constantine’s orders, until it was decided what to do with them.

  Ransoming them back to their father was one thing, or they could very well be auctioned off to pirates willing to pay their price. Constantine had been busy with his marriage, so the duty of deciding their fate had fallen to Lucifer, and Lucifer had been putting it off for weeks. They didn’t normally take female prisoners for any length of time, so Lucifer didn’t want to put it off too much longer. He needed to make a decision and get on with it. He had more important things to worry about than two disruptive females.

  “I’d nearly forgotten about them,” Remy said. “As I recall, they were both rather pretty. What do you intend to do with them?”

  Lucifer watched a gull fly overhead, disappearing into the fog. “Something,” he muttered, turning away from the railing. “Anything. With Con away, I have enough to worry over without having to deal with a pair of she-cats. Mayhap, I shall auction them off and keep the money for myself.”

  “Oh?” Remy was interested. He had an eye for pretty women, and they for him. “How much will you ask for the pair?”

  Lucifer pushed himself off the rail and began to head towards the bow. “I have not yet decided,” he said as he walked away. “But for you, the price is doubled, whatever it is.”

  Remy smirked. “As I recall, the elder one was quite the spitfire,” he called after Lucifer. “You may have to pay me to take her off your hands if no one else wants her.”

  Lucifer simply waved him off, knowing that would never be the case. The elder daughter – he’d forgotten her name – was, indeed, a spitfire. But she was also quite fine, as he recalled. She would bring a fine price should he decide to sell her, and perhaps an even finer price should he ransom her back to her father. Either way, she was his responsibility and he was going to make it worth his while.

  As Lucifer departed for the bow, and Remy and Felix went about their business, Curtiz remained at the stern. He had been listening to the conversation quite carefully. He knew of the female captives because he’d been at Perran Castle when the ship bearing the women had come ashore. And he had been the one to settle the women in their new prison home.

  Curtiz had been their jailor for the most part, at least in those first few early days. And as their jailor, he’d observed much. Mostly, he’d observed that no one seemed to be paying much attention to the women in the wake of Constantine’s marriage. Being that the women were being ignored, and that they were a valuable commodity, Cu
rtiz did what pirates do – made the most of an opportunity, even if it was under the nose of his leader.

  And that was why the Spanish were here.

  Only, he wasn’t going to tell Lucifer any of that. He would pretend he had no idea why the Spanish had come. But the truth was that the Spanish had come to Perran Castle on his invitation to take on the daughters of a wealthy merchant so they could negotiate with the women’s father. Even if the Spanish pirates didn’t return the women to their desperate father, the women were both quite beautiful and would make fine concubines for the Spanish pirates.

  But it was all for a price… and Curtiz was demanding a high price, one that the Spanish were willing to pay. After the loss of the Leucosia, they saw it as a great opportunity to take something from Constantine le Brecque, something of value, and Curtiz was more than willing to be the intermediary for the transfer.

  The truth was that he didn’t have any real loyalty to Constantine or Poseidon’s Legion. He’d been bouncing around since his service to de Nerra and his only purpose in life was to make money, so the opportunity with the two female captives had been too good to pass up. They would be gone before Lucifer or Constantine realized they had been taken and, God willing, so would Curtiz. He planned to take the money from the Spanish and run.

  But meanwhile, he would play the loyal pirate, at least for as long as it suited him. He was a good warrior, an even better sailor, and those skills had been impressed upon Constantine and his crew. He pretended to think as they did and, so far, the ruse had worked.

  But he was in this only for himself, as he would soon prove.

  Unfortunately, Lucifer was ignorant of the thoughts of a man he was slowly learning to trust. At the moment, he was more concerned with the Melinoe making port before the Spanish figured out they had escaped. The fog had begun to lift and the ship was making excellent time, drawing closer to Perran Castle along the western coast of Cornwall. In fact, the fogbank remained to the south as they passed out of it, leaving the Spanish buried in the mist and still out to sea.