Chapter 1: Prologue: Into the Storm
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Zazzalil burst through the door to her room and into the cold outside air, only to instantly shield her face behind her arm. The rain was pounding down so hard that it stung as it hit every part of her body--or was that from the cold?
That wasn't important now, she reasoned with herself. Right now she needed to figure out a way to keep her ship from ending up at the bottom of the ocean. She slowly lowered her arm, squinting to try and keep water from getting in her eyes.
"All hands on deck! Batten down the hatches!" she roared, thought she wasn't sure if anyone even heard her over the constant pounding of the rain. "Lower all sails!"
Much to her surprise, it took no longer than a few seconds for her to see the fabric of the sails to start folding in on themsevles, giving the ship a little more stability on the choppy waters. A little.
Check. Next order of business was take care of steering. Lucky for her, a particular blonde-headed woman happened to be running toward her "Keeri! Man the helm!"
"Aye aye, cap'n!" In no time, Zazzalil felt a rough jolt as Keeri gained control over the ship. The jolt, however, had obviously been too much for whoever was up in the crow's nest. She looked up just in time to see a body being thrown from the post, over the side of the ship, and out of sight. This opened her eyes to the reality of the situation. They were not prepared enough to handle this storm.
She glanced back at Keeri to see that she was managing her job despite the difficulty of steering in these weather conditions. She was her right-hand; a capable crew member and could undoubtedly handle herself. For now, Zazzalil needed to move on and check that everyone else was safe.
She was barely able to take one step before she felt another jolt. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a massive wave--at least three times the ship's height--rise and begin to fall forward onto the ship.
The brunette braced herself by grabbing onto the nearest secure structure she could find just as the wave crashed over the deck of the ship, pushing two of her crew members into the waters below. They were goners, no way they would survive in this weather. There was no time to process or mourn what had happened. She had to make sure that didn't happen to anyone else.
"If your tasks are done, get below deck!" she ordered. "Start tying down the cargo!" She watched as the majority of her crew followed her orders. Or at least tried to.
She had barely begun to release her hold on whatever she was holding onto to run and help when she had to strengthen her hold. The ship jumped a wave, throwing six of her crew members over the side of the ship. Two of those, either by some stroke of luck or raw determination, grabbed the railing of the ship and hung over the side. Their efforts, however, were in vain as the ship slapped back against the water, causing them to lose their grip and fall as well.
Zazzalil stood, mouth agape and unable to process what had just happened. She blinked through the fuzzy thoughts that were running through her brain. This all felt like a dream.
Brown eyes darted toward the steps leading to the hull of the ship as four of her men ran downstairs. At least there were some survivors.
"Hold strong! Don't let go!" she shouted to anyone who might still be on the deck. There was no telling the danger they were in if they tried to make a run for it again.
They were in for a long night.
Chapter 2: Chapter 1: Cornered
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Zazzalil shakily removed her arms from around the hand rails. She hadn't let go of them in she didn't know how long.
She glanced back and saw Keeri, obviously uncomfortable and hurting, but still at the helm. Just as Zazzalil anticipated.
Her thoughts quickly drifted back to the storm. It had been strange, exactly how quickly the storm had ended--almost as quickly as it had begun. Unrelenting and all at once, then suddenly they were left with only a light drizzle and a cloudy sky with no real evidence that the storm had even happened at all. The worst of the storm had lasted for what felt like hours, but it was entirely impossible to tell exactly how much time had passed. The storm clouds that were still in the sky certainly wasn't any indicator of that.
Zazzalil went to take a step forward and sucked in a painful breath through her teeth. It hurt to move. It hurt to stand still. Hell. It just hurt.
She weakly, slowly, limped across the deck as her body got more used to being able to move again. Seeing her, the rest of her crew that had managed to hold on followed suit, meeting her in the middle of the deck.
"Smelly-Balls, Grunt," she addressed two men who were very much so in the same position she was just a few moments ago. "Did you see anyone make it below deck during the storm?"
Both crew members, following the lead of their captain stood up and began stretching out their stiff muscles. "A few," the one with the bun, Grunt, responded, "not many." The other man, Smelly Balls, nodded in a agreement and did not say anything further. She glanced at two other crew members as they meandered their way toward the group, and then back at Keeri who was still steering the ship.
The captain pressed her lips together and placed her hands on her waist, eyes looking up to the sky to avoid the tears she felt coming on.
Not here.
"Okay, uh," she glanced back at the ground before meeting the eyes of her followers. "Grunt, you're in charge of getting me a headcount of who's here and who isn't." He nodded and headed down the nearby steps. "Smelly-Balls, walk around and assess the damage."
"Smelly-Balls will do his best," he responded, flexing his muscles before walking away.
"And you two," she addressed the two remaining crew members. "Look in the waters for survivors." They both nodded and also walked off, leaving Zazzalil to her thoughts for but a brief moment. She truly doubted that anyone who was cast overboard survived, but it was certainly worth looking into.
With these orders given, she had one last thing she needed to address. Keeri.
She turned around and walked back the way she came, walking up to the girl at the wheel. The closer she got, the more clearly she could see that her eyes looked dark and puffy, and she was staring off into the distance with a lifeless expression. She only seemed to snap out of it when Zazzalil placed a hand on her arm and urged her to rest.
Despite the aching in her entire body, she would take the helm to give her crew the chance to rest and recover.
It had been four full days since the storm. After Grunt's final headcount, in which he had discovered that the four who escaped to the hull were crushed to death by loose cargo, there were officially five crew members left excluding Zazzalil. While tragic, that was not the most concerning bit of information she had.
Before the storm hit, they were about a day south of one of the largest trading capitals in the world, Hatchetfield. Now, well... Now she wasn't quite sure. The storm had knocked them further off course than she had anticipated, and now she found herself hunched over a table in her quarters, trying to get an idea of where in the world they could possibly be. In the past few days, she had probably spent more time with this map and compass than she has in the past month.
While their location was an uncertainty, she was certain that they needed to find land as soon as possible. They were running low on supplies, and would likely be running out of food in the next couple of days. Not to mention, they barely had enough people to keep the ship operating efficiently. In order to make sure they had enough crew members on hand at any given time, they had begun to sleep in shifts; only one person was allowed to be sleeping while the other four remained a wake, and they were only allowed to sleep in shifts about about 4 or 5 hours at a time. This was, daily, about 20 hours straight that they had to spend awake. As the captain, she was getting even less than that. The crew was exhausted. Zazzalil was exhausted. And through that exhaustion, she couldn't help but blame herself for the position they were in.
It had been been her decisions that had caused them to lose so many of their own. She had no way of knowing exactly which losses were from the orders she had given, but she knew exactly how many of them there were.
Eighteen men had lost their lives that night. Of those, she was directly responsible for at least ten of them. The mental and emotional burden of losing them weighed her down more than she had realized it would. Should couldn't afford to let herself feel and work through that pain right now, however. If they weren't able to find land soon, she would lose everyone.
She groaned and let herself go limp and flop face down onto the table in a less-than-graceful manner. She wasn't sure how much longer she could function like this.
"Zazzalil?" Keeri asked, rubbing her eyes as she entered the captain's quarters. "Are you okay?"
Without lifting herself from the table, she turned her head to the side to address her right-hand. "Keeri, I don't know what we're going to do."
"How far off track are we?"
That was the question the smaller woman had been avoiding telling her crew for days. It was one thing if she was panicked, but an entirely separate situation if she allowed her crew to know exactly how lost they really were. Of course Keeri had known to ask. She was not the smartest person, but her emotional intelligence had certainly started raising red flags about Zazzalil's behavior.
Zazzalil sighed.
"I... I don't know."
The blonde nodded, walking to the captain and placing a comforting hand on her back. Neither of them quite new what to say, so they stayed like that for a couple of minutes before they heard a knock at the door, prompting Zazzalil to push herself up with a grunt and an eyeroll.
"Enter," she commanded.
Grunt opened the door, the concern in his eyes were immediately evident to the captain. She didn't even need to ask if something was wrong. She knew. "What is it?"
"A ship's been sighted, and it's approaching fast," he responded, scanning her expression for any trace of reaction.
Without hesitation, Zazzalil sprinted out onto the deck, Keeri close behind her. She whipped her head around, looking around for the ship, jaw clenching when her eyes finally settled on it. It was still quite a distance away, but she could already tell that their ship wasn't too much bigger than her own.
"Smelly-Balls! Report?" she called up to the crow's nest, not taking her eyes off of the looming threat.
"It's definitely headed this way, captain," he confirmed, looking down to the woman for guidance.
"What should we do?" Grunt asked, waiting for his captains command.
Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought. They were not equipped to handle an attack right now. However, they would be even less equipped to handle an attack days from now, if they were attempt to flee and eventually be caught. She had a choice to make where both options would undoubtedly end poorly.
"Everyone stop what you're doing. Someone wake up whoever's asleep. We need all hands on deck to prepare for a full on attack."
She stalked to the edge of the ship, still not breaking eye contact with the vessel and rested her elbows on the railing, mouth twisting into a scowl. She had no idea how much of a threat this ship posed, but the last thing she was going to do was underestimate it.
Her eyes narrowed at the ship, Keeri now joining her.
"Let them come."
Chapter 3: Chapter 2: Let Them Come
Notes:
I'm just going to say upfront that I'm not good at writing action scenes, so I did my best. I wasn't sure how to write this scene without trying to write it like an action scene, but I promise it'll get better from here on.
Chapter Text
Zazzalil yawned, but did her best to not let the rest of her crew see. She was sure they already knew she was both mentally and physically exhausted, but there was no way she could let them see the extent of her exhaustion. Especially not now that the ship was confirmed to be most definitely headed in their direction, and likely mere minutes away from making contact.
In preparation, she had fetched her pistol and rapier from her quarters and put her hair into a bun, securing it in place with her bright red headband. She was ready to give whatever she had to give for the safety of her crew.
She watched as lifeboats were deployed from the sides of the ship. As failure seemed ever imminent, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd made the right choice. If they failed, it would be her fault. She was fully aware of this fact. That only made her question it that much more. The past several days had been filled with doubts and uncertainty but these past few minutes were definitely the worst of it.
"Here they come! Keep them from getting on the ship!"
The people in the lifeboats began climbing up the sides of the ship, though many of them found themselves being batted away and knocked back down into the water before they could make it all the way up. This appeared to be a viable strategy until the number of people climbing became more than they could handle.
"Pull back! Let them come!" Zazzalil screamed as she pulled out her rapier and began fighting with several pirates at once. She would have to trust that the rest of her crew were capable of taking care of themselves. For now, she found herself ducking and weaving to avoid being cut by the enemy pirates. She didn't have the energy for this.
Without too much of a thought, she turned and ran up near the helm of the ship, hoping to avoid finding her and her crew surrounded before the fight had even begun.
She was ready to fight as many foes as it took. Much to her surprise, however, only one foe approached her, slashing at her before Zazzalil truly had time to register that she was here. Zazzalil blocked the attack before her mind could register what she was doing.
"Nice move." She found herself face to face with a curly-haired woman. Her limbs were long and limber which would give Zazzalil the disadvantage as far as reach goes. The woman did not, however, look as strong as Zazzalil. An upside, at least.
With a frustrated grunt, Zazzalil swung her sword at her head, only for her attack to be parried and riposted; a small slice on her bicep. This lead to a full on sword fight with a flurry of swinging blades and clanging metal. Both sides received small knicks and cuts as they switched back and forth between having the upper-hand.
"You're pretty good," the taller woman responded, winded.
"You're not too bad yourself." She pushed forward, hoping to overpower her opponent before she ran out of energy. She couldn't play the waiting game forever--it was time to end this fight as quickly as possible.
With a flurry of sword slashes, she began swinging her rapier with as much force as she could muster in an attempt to knock her opponent off of her balance. She was finally getting somewhere. Or so she thought.
In the middle of her lunge, the woman side-stepped and used the flat of her blade to catch Zazzalil's ankle, sending her to the ground with a thud. The force forced her to release her grip on her rapier, which clattered next to her. Clearly there had been some opening that she hadn't been aware enough to catch.
The past few days finally caught up to her. She was unable to stand--unable to move, even. This was it. She felt a swift kick to her side, sending her to her back. She squeezed eyes closed, sucking air in through her teeth at the pain. After a few moments, her eyes opened, forcing her to stare up at her victor.
"Where's your captain?" she demanded, staring down at the smaller woman. Zazzalil snickered.
"You're looking at her." The woman's expression was unreadable, but she looked strangely calm as she surveyed the rest of the ship.
Following suit, Zazzalil took a brief second to look around. She saw two bloodied and lifeless bodies laying on the deck. She also saw Grunt, Smelly-Balls, and Keeri in the process of having their hands bound and lead to the side of the ship. None of them looked like they had any energy left, and were allowing their captors to do so without fighting back too much.
In no time she, too, was bound and carried to the side of the ship. From there, they were loaded onto a lifeboat and brought to the other ship. During the ride over, she saw her ship being looted for whatever supplies they had had remaining. She let slip a defeated sigh. Their ship was being abandoned and there was a very real chance they were going to be killed. Or worse.
"Let's go." One of the pirates gave her a shove and soon she found herself on the other ship, on her knees and tied to the mast.
The pirate that beat Zazzalil stepped in front of them, staring at each of them. "Well, well. It seems there really weren't that many of you."
The brunette glared up at her, trying her best to not look as dead as she felt.
She held an air of superiority, and somehow seemed as confident as she did timid. If that was even possible.
"You have two options. You can either join my crew, or you can become our prisoners to be sold as slaves."
Zazzalil's eyebrows furrowing and mouth dropped open. She would have exasperatedly thrown her hands in the air as well if her hands weren't bound. "What the hell kind of options are those? If you think we're ever going to join you, then you're dead fucking--"
"Yeah, alright."
"What the fuck?" Zazzalil turned to Grunt, staring at him incredulously. "Dude, seriously?"
Grunt avoided eye contact for a moment before shrugging and looking to his former captain. "I mean, yeah. You think I want to be sold as a slave?"
"Smelly-Balls is victorious and will so graciously join the losing team."
"Uh, you lost?" Jemilla corrected as everyone stared at him in disbelief.
"Yeah, sure," he responded sarcastically, laughing to himself as he nodded.
"Fine, be a couple of cowards. But Keeri and I are going down together!"
"Actually, I'm in, too," Keeri agreed with a shrug, sounding slightly unsure of herself.
Her captain groaned, her head rolling before pleadingly looking to the blonde.
"Not you, too!" she shouted, basically asking Keeri to change her mind. There were a few moments of silence.
"Very well," the other crew's captain said, sighing as she placed one hand on her hip while the other lazily gestured toward Zazzalil. "Lock her up, and untie the rest."
The rest of the crew did just that, leaving her to stare at her traitorous friends as she was dragged below deck.
Chapter 4: Chapter 3: Prisoner
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Being locked up wasn't so bad, Zazzalil reasoned with herself. She had at least been able to catch up on sleep.
When she awoke, there was no way of telling what time it was. It was dark, but she couldn't tell if that was because she was stuck in a windowless room, or if it was perhaps because the sun had already set. Despite being locked up and entirely unsure of her surroundings and setting, she felt more rested than she had all week.
Her stomach let out a low rumble. God, was she hungry. She tried to swallow, but the inside of her mouth was sticky and slimy prevented her from doing so.
She flopped over onto her back, exasperatedly sighing. How could her crew have betrayed her? They had been her family, and now they had abandoned her for a different captain. Did the relationship between a pirate captain and her crew mean nothing anymore?
She supposed that didn't matter. She was hungry, possibly dehydrated, and weak. There was no telling when, but she was going to be sold as a slave and then her life would mean nothing anymore.
There wasn't too much she could do, so she rolled back over and closed her eyes. Maybe sleeping would quell her aching stomach.
The next time Zazzalil awoke, there was someone else in the room with her. She rubbed at her eyes, wiping the sleep out of them as she lazily lolled her head to the left.
"You're finally awake." The figure sitting in the corner of the room stood and walked toward her. "You must have been tired. You've been asleep for an entire day."
So it had been one full day? That answered one of her questions, but not much else. She supposed it did explain why she was so hungry and thirsty though.
She moved to sit up, but felt her body revolt against her. Regardless, she pushed herself up and leaned forward, crossing her legs so that she could rest her elbows atop her knees, and her her face in her hands.
The woman went off on some ramblings Zazzalil didn't quite understand. The only three things she was able to pull from what she was saying was that her name was Jemilla, she was the captain of this ship, and that they were headed for the trade capital, Hatchetfield.
Ironic. That was where they had been headed before the storm. The storm. Her crew. The casualties...
Zazzalil curled tighter in on herself as stomach grumbled, begging for food. This pulled her out of her head and back into the room. Jemilla stopped talking for a moment.
"Hungry?"
Zazzalil heard footsteps move across the floor, away from her, and then the door open and close. When she looked up, Jemilla was gone.
When Jemilla came back, she was holding a bowl and a mug.
"I brought some food and water," she stated, offering them up to the imprisoned girl. It was funny, she mused, that the girl was much smaller than she had realized when they had been fighting. It had to have been something about the way she carried herself. Of course, in battle she was able to carry herself in a dignified manner. Locked up down here, however, she looked almost childlike.
The small woman turned her nose up at the meal, prompting the woman to set the items on the ground halfway between the two. Perhaps she'd change her mind if she wasn't directly accepting the food from her captor.
"We'll be docking in Hatchetfield soon," Jemilla stated, looking down on the smaller girl. She did her best not to sound as if she was pitying the woman, but it was hard not to. She just looked so defeated. "Have you changed your mind yet?" the curly-haired woman asked.
"Like I would ever," Zazzalil responded, eyebrows furrowing and her mouth twisting. "Who do you think I am?"
The curly haired woman pursed her lips together and nodded. She noted as the girl stared distractedly at the food.
"It's just some soup and bread that our chef made."
This earned another hard glare.
Jemilla sighed as she walked over the bowl, picked it up, took a decently sized bite, then followed it up with a swig of water from the mug. "It's not going to kill you," she mumbled through the food and drink before swallowing.
The woman's lips puckered in thought before she scooted toward the bowl and began shoveling as much as she could into her mouth. Jemilla watched in silence as she did so, taking in her features. Her entire body, most particularly her arms, were quite muscular; an obvious contrast from her own twig-like appearance. Her brown hair was messy and unkempt, and her chocolate eyes were unreadable.
This continued for a few minutes. Once the food was gone, she still refused to meet Jemilla's eyes.
"What's your name?" Jemilla asked, realizing that she still didn't really know who she was. Silence. "My name's Jemilla, and I'm sure you already know that I'm the captain of this ship."
Silence.
"Zazzalil." The woman looked up at Jemilla,
"Zazzalil?" Jemilla repeated, hoping she had heard correctly. She wasn't sure if she had even wanted to answer. Now they were getting somewhere. The woman gave a nod, earning a small smile from the taller woman. "Well, it's nice to meet you."
At that moment, another pirate stepped into the room. His eyes darted to Zazzalil for a brief moment before settling on Jemilla. "The lookout has spotted Hatchetfield, captain."
Jemilla nodded. "Great, make sure the rest of the crew is ready to drop anchor."
He nodded and walked from the room.
The captain looked back down to Zazzalil. "Well? Have you made a decision?" She had every intention of giving her an out. Sure, she was a pirate captain, but she wasn't heartless.
Jemilla could watch the gears turning in the girl's head. The lack of food and water while she was down here, certainly made her look weak. She had thought that giving her food would make her feel better, but she could almost see the conflicting emotions on her face.
"Fine," she sighed. "Just... get me out of here."
Jemilla nodded. She walked to the door and opened it, allowing Zazzalil through the door.
When two duo finally came up from below deck, Zazzalil was certain she felt everyone's eyes fall on her. She looked to Jemilla for a split second before her eyes focused on the deck below her feet as she meandered to the side of the ship and glanced out over the water.
"Hey, you changed your mind!" she heard a familiar voice call out behind her. She spun in place and found herself face to face with Keeri.
She shrugged, not particularly wanting to talk to anyone. "Yeah, I guess so." Her frustrations tried to work their way to the surface, but she wouldn't let that happen. Keeri was the only person she had left on this ship, even if they weren't on the best terms right now.
"Well, I'm glad you did," the blond said, a small smile coming over her features.
Zazzalil hummed and nodded. She walked over to the front of the ship and clambered out onto the bowsprit. She had wanted so badly to be with Keeri again. Now that she was, she was couldn't get past her own feelings of anger to talk to her.
She needed to clear her mind.
Chapter 5: Chapter 4: Drop Anchor, Hatchetfield Ahoy!
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Hatchetfield. It was finally visible to the naked eye, and was certainly a sight for sore eyes, especially with the sunrise that was coming up just behind it. That is, if Zazzalil hadn't seen it before.
She sat upon the bowsprit, one leg hanging over either side and watched as the trade center grew. Within the next minute or two, they would drop anchor and be free to explore the area for the next few days. As she stared, she couldn't help but wish her passed crew members were here with her. After all, this had been their destination before the storm had hit.
The ship slowly pulled up next to a dock and she spun to watch the anchor drop into the water.
Keeri and a small, dark-haired girl with glasses approached her as everyone else hurried off the ship, eager to touch solid ground.
"Zazzalil! Are you coming?" the blonde called to her.
"You go ahead," she encouraged, motioning to the ramp, "I'll catch up."
Keeri nodded and the two walked off, leaving Zazzalil completely alone on the ship. She rested both of her hands on either side of the surface below her, propping the entire weight of her torso on her locked elbows.
What a failure she was to be in this position. She missed her friends. She missed her family. Her eyes started to burn, but she wouldn't let herself cry. The guilt was eating her alive, but she wasn't going to let anyone else see that.
"What're you still doing here?" The voice pulled her from her thoughts. She snapped her head up, and made eye contact with none other than Jemilla. She cleared her throat.
"What's it to you?" Zazzalil snipped with an eye-roll. There was that fight Jemilla had missed during their conversation below decks.
"I'm your captain," she responded, her expression unchanging, "I'm supposed to care." It all felt unauthentic to Zazzalil.
"Are you going to just rub it in my face every fucking time you see me?" The two made intense eye contact but when Jemilla failed to come up with a response, the small brunette continued. "I only agreed to this because I have no other choice. I'm a woman. A life of slavery would be... unkind."
Jemilla pursed her lips and glanced down at the floorboards below them. "I'm sorry."
"I don't need your sympathy."
Silence.
"Why are we fighting?" Jemilla asked.
"Don't try and act like we're friends."
"Fine, you don't want to be friends. Who says we have to be enemies," the captain reasoned, her expression unreadable. Granted, Zazzalil did not have the best emotional intelligence, but something about the look in her eyes didn't sit well with the smaller woman and left her feeling slightly uncomfortable.
"Uh, yeah, we kinda do." Zazzalil's face twisted into one of disbelief.
"Says who?"
"Says me."
A beat, and then without another word Jemilla grabbed Zazzalil's hand and began leading her in the general direction of the upper deck, away from the bowsprit and past the ramp.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Zazzalil pulled her hand back, causing Jemilla to jerk back slightly and spin to face the smaller girl. They both stopped in the middle of deck, staring each other down. "Where are we going?"
With a calm, confident expression, Jemilla leaned forward and said into her ear. "We're alone on the ship and, if you don't mind, I'd like to have you."
Zazzalil's mouth flapped open and closed in lieu of a response. With a smirk Jemilla reclaimed her arm and lead her to the captain's quarters, pulling the door shut behind her.
The sun had sunk below the horizon when Zazzalil finally entered Hatchetfield's marketplace. She wasn't quite sure what she was looking for, but it felt nice to finally get off the ship.
She couldn't help but wonder, what had Jemilla been trying to accomplish? They weren't friends. They weren't on good terms. So why had she agreed so easily? It was just sex, she supposed. It wasn't like it meant anything. She herself had been with plenty of people--man and woman alike. Sometimes both at once. It had never been anything really emotionally fulfilling for her. More of a game, if she was being honest.
She pulled herself from her current train of thought by glancing at the vendors that lined the busy streets. There was a sea of browns, and reds, and blues in every direction she looked. With every step, she found herself surrounded by a sea of people either looking to buy or sell goods that had gotten in their travels.
A few coins lined her pockets, but she did not have a need or desire to actually purchase anything. Instead, she took to listening to the conversations that were going on around her. Most of what she heard were shouts from the vendors trying to sell their products, or shoppers who felt as though the price they were being charged was less than reasonable.
"Treasure!" she heard one voice yell. Maybe it was just her fixating on it, but it seemed to ring out above all of the other voices around her. "Gold! Riches beyond your wildest dreams!"
She turned abruptly and pushed through past a few passerby to get closer to the disembodied voice.
"Did I hear something about treasure?" Zazzalil asked, taking a step toward the voice. A face emerged from behind a wall of bodies, causing her to jump.
"Ah, a pirate in search of treasure?" he asked, smirking as she approached. Zazzalil looked around, not quite sure why nobody seemed to be interested in hearing about riches. This was a trade capital, so why would anyone be uninterested?
"Something like that." She shrugged her shoulders.
The man raised an eyebrow at her. "If that's the case, then I'm sure you've heard about the legend of Snarl."
Zazzalil hummed. "I know some, but not much." She had never been one for legends and lore. The stories had never been interesting enough to keep her attention. Her crew, however, had loved such stories so she overheard bits and pieces on nights that the nights were filled with stars and the moral was high. Looking back, she missed it. The joy, the energy.
Her crew.
Her mood dropped for a moment, and when she zoned back in the man was already in the middle of a monologue.
"--and the legend of Snarl points to his long hidden treasure!" He seemed more enthused than Zazzalil could ever be about a story like that.
"But it's just a children's story," she pointed out, "there's no way that it's real."
"Oh, my," the man responded, a low chuckle rumbling his throat, "if only."
The ominous reply gave her pause. She looked him up and down, looking for a sign of deception. Something about his character and demeanor was entirely off-putting, but she wasn't quite able to put her finger on it.
"The legend is real, and fortunately for you, I have a map right here." He pulled out an old piece of rolled up parchment paper. Zazzalil remained silent, but now her eyes fixated upon a roll of parchment that he pulled seemingly out of nowhere. "It's yours... for a price."
"What price?" Skeptically, her eyes darted between the man and the map.
"A chunk of the treasure, of course."
"That can't be it." She raised her eyebrows at him.
"Oh, no," he soothed. "I assure you, that's all I want."
Zazzalil pondered this for a moment.
"I need to run this by my crew. What's your name? Where can I find you?"
A breathy chuckle. "The church down the road. They call me The Ducker." She supposed it made sense. His headdress certainly looked like a religious artifact. And it definitely explained the weird robes he was wearing.
A nod. "I'll come find you."
She hurriedly rushed back to the ship. This was exactly the kind of adventure she was looking for.
"No," Jemilla stated shortly. "Absolutely not."
"But why not?" The conversation was not going how Zazzalil had hoped it would.
"You want us to just drop everything and go on a wild goose chase for some 'magical treasure' that may or may not exist?"
"Well, in so many words, yes!"
"No. That's not happening." Jemilla's tone was matter of fact and authoritative.
Zazzalil looked over to the navigator who was standing on the other side of the room and gave her a pleading look to help her out. All she got in return was a shrug.
"Now, if you don't mind, Tiblyn and I are discussing our navigation plans for our next departure." The lanky woman moved to walk across the room, hoping she had effectively ended the conversation.
"You're really not going to consider this?"
Jemilla looked up incredulously, her arms thrown above her head in exasperation. "No, I'm really not." Her arms crossed over her chest. "Now if you don't mind." She motioned to the door and then leaned over the table in the center of the room with the ever uncomfortable Tiblyn.
Zazzalil watched as they began talking, both very obviously ignoring her presence.
"I can't fucking believe you!" She shouted, as she turned on her heel and slammed through the cabin door. With a scowl fixed to her features, she stomped her way below deck and threw herself onto a hammock.
Jemilla was a coward, and she desperately wanted to get away from her.
The next time Zazzalil went on land she found herself bent over a pint, likely too intoxicated to stand if she wanted to. They would be leaving tomorrow, so she wanted to take advantage of the free time to drown her sorrows away. After yesterday's events, she didn't want to be on the ship and could think of nothing better to do with her time than this. Of course, she had felt a little better when Keeri tried to talk to her, but with her betrayal only a couple of days behind them, it was hard to find any of it sincere.
She threw back the last half of her mug in a matter of seconds before motioning to the bartender that she wanted another. She didn't particularly need another, but she wanted to dull her senses as much as possible.
"Are you sure you're gonna be able to afford all of this?" the man asked as he poured her another glass and slid it across the counter towards her. "This is the tenth one."
"Aye." She might be a pirate, but she wasn't a blatant thief. Her hand slid into her pocket and emerged cradling a small pouch of coins out of her pocket. There was no doubt her tab had amounted to around 7 or 8 gold pieces. The pouch contained at least three times that amount. "Keep the change."
The man took the purse from her and pulled at the string on the top, opening it just enough to see that she had most definitely overpaid. "Thanks, lassie." He nodded at her before pulling out two shot glasses. "Pick your poison. This one's on the house."
"Whiskey." She began gulping at her ale while the man shifted things around behind the counter.
About half of it was gone when two shots in front of her. She reached out, the two clinking glasses before simultaneously throwing them back. The tiny glass was flipped upside down and placed on the counter.
A burn worked its way down her esophagus and rested low in her chest. She smiled at the bartender before turning her attention back to her drink.
Last time she had been drinking, she was on her ship with her crew, and they were celebrating a rather sizable find they had come across on a small island.
And now they were all dead.
She stared at her glass, lost in thought for what seemed like forever.
A hand on her shoulder pulled her from her trace-like state. "Zazzalil?" A slightly blurry figure stood next to her. Zazzalil squinted before finally recognizing the figure as Jemilla.
"Great," she sputtered, her voice thick with ale and sarcasm. "You're here."
"How much have you had? I can smell you from all the way over here," the captain stated, wrinkling her nose slightly.
"None o' your business."
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Jemilla look all around the tavern before taking the seat next to Zazzalil at the bar.
"Listen, I don't want you to be mad at me--"
"'m fuckin' pissed." Blunt, harsh, and to the point.
"You do realize how dangerous that could be, right?" The little brunette opened her mouth to retort, but Jemilla kept going. "We don't know where we're going. This could all turn out to be a trap, or not true. What if we get lost? People could get hurt, or worse."
"Are you a pirate, or a coward?" Another biting, scathing comment.
Jemilla drew her mouth into a tight line and didn't answer for quite a long time.
"Fine." It had been at least a few minutes before the woman spoke again.
Zazzalil's head snapped to the side, catching Jemilla's warm gaze.
"I'll speak with Tiblyn and we can look into the legend. But the second it seems like it's going nowhere, we're giving up."
"Are you serious?" Zazzalil yelled, standing up and swaying slightly as the alcohol coursed through her system. She could hold her booze, but she was definitely on the verge of having too much.
"Dead serious," Jemilla confirmed. There were a few seconds of silence before the captain smiled.
"We leave in the morning, but for now..." Jemilla trailed off as she grabbed Zazzalil's hand again and lead her out of the tavern, almost throwing her off balance and onto the ground. For now Zazzalil didn't mind. She was riding on a high from being told they could search for the treasure, and her head was fuzzy from the drinks.
So, eagerly, she followed.
Chapter Text
:...Day 1...:
Jemilla stood in the captain's quarters with Tiblyn, both hunched over their map and compass. In the corner of the room stood Zazzalil and The Ducker. The Ducker, when confronted by Jemilla and Zazzalil early this morning, had made the condition that he was to come along. In order to ensure that he would not be left behind, he refused to hand over the map until they had raised anchor and departed from the harbor where there ship had been sitting.
"Ducker," Jemilla addressed, now fully standing and crossing the room. "The map, if you will?"
Content that their end of the bargain had been held up, he bowed his head slightly and surrendered the parchment.
The captain walked it back over to Tiblyn and handed the object to the navigator.
The dark-skinned woman immediately got to work, cross referencing the treasure map against the maps of the immediate area, as well as maps that were presumed to be along the way to this island.
"This..." She finally spoke after what felt like ages. "This map is filled with riddles I don't think I understand."
"Allow me," The Ducker offered, walking over to the table to assist. "I am quite familiar with the Legend of Snarl."
He had been correct, Zazzalil mused. He was practically quoting the story word for word. Perhaps having him along was the better option. While she had doubted him at first, the map and the Legend of Snarl as he quoted it had fairly obvious parallels that she herself would have missed. She was sure any other person on the ship would have felt the same way.
"So then that means we're headed..." Tiblyn trailed off, her pointer finger resting on the map. "Alright, I think we've got it. The island actually isn't very far from here." A surprise.
"Really?" The captain looked over her shoulder, non-verbally asking her to show her what she meant. Zazzalil walked toward the table as well and looked at the map.
"So if we just headed east from Hatchetfield, that means we're about," Tiblyn pointed to a spot on the map that was just off the shore of Hatchetfield, "here." She traced her finger along a route on the map around a large land mass and to a small island to its north. "And this is where we're headed."
Jemilla nodded. "How long will that take us?"
"Depending on the weather," she paused to think for a moment, her head bobbing back and forth slightly, "anywhere between seven and ten days."
"Great, I"m putting you in complete control on this one. Make sure Chorn knows where we're headed." Both women stood up straight and nodded to each other as Tiblyn and The Ducker walked out leaving Zazzalil and the captain alone.
"I still can't believe you agreed to this."
Jemilla let out an annoyed puff of air. "Yeah, I can't either."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Silence. This was becoming a common occurrence between the two. Brief spurts of talking, followed by long pauses where neither quite knew what to say.
"I still don't think this is a good idea," Jemilla admitted. Zazzalil detected a hint of judgement and scorn in her tone.
"You already agreed to it, and we've already made the arrangements, so how opposed to it can you really be?"
Jemilla went silent and began rummaging through shelves, signaling to Zazzalil that this conversation likely wasn't going anywhere; a sign that it was likely time to leave.
Wordlessly, she stepped out into the brisk morning air and did her best to get a grip on her temper. Her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to preserve some body heat.
"Hey, Zazz!" Keeri joined her, a smile gracing her features. "I think Emberly made breakfast below deck. Do you wanna go grab some with me?"
The anger Zazzalil had felt just yesterday had since dissipated. Keeri had been operating with self-preservation in mind. That was something that Zazzalil couldn't fault her for.
"Yeah, I could eat."
For the remainder of the day, Zazzalil avoided Jemilla like the plague. This posed to be more difficult than she had hoped, but that was the life of a pirate. There was no privacy to be had on the ship. Though she managed it somehow.
Instead, she did her best to meet some of her new crew-mates.
There were a few that she could tell she was going to get along with fairly well. One particular person was Emberly--the one she had seen Keeri spending time with over the past couple of days. She was a small girl of around Zazzalil's height, but not nearly as built as she was. In fact, Zazzalil felt that she could likely snap the girl's arm if she really wanted to.
Then there was Tiblyn, the navigator. To Zazzalil, she seemed constantly stressed and worried, almost as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. Schwoopsie, however, was the polar opposite. Carefree, lackadaisical. It made sense that she was this ship's source of nightly entertainment.
Finally, there was Chorn... whatever it was. Zazzalil found herself far too frustrated with the fact that all it said was "chorn". Supposedly everyone else on board understood with no problem, but she thought they were conspiring against her. There was no way they could interpret the word "chorn" to mean different things.
"Zazzalil?" The brunette did her best to turn, though it proved a more difficult task than it should have. How did people sleep in these?
"Yeah?"
"I'm really glad you came around."
Zazzalil's thought process came to a halt.
"Whoa, hold up." She sat all the way up. Or at least attempted to. She was still having trouble figuring out how to move on such a flimsy piece of fabric. "I did not 'come around'. This isn't my crew."
Keeri gave her a doubtful look and rolled her eyes. "I dunno, you seem to be getting along with everyone here just fine."
"Being on good terms and getting along are two totally different concepts."
The brunette flopped over onto her side, facing away from her friend.
She would sooner die than truly become one of the enemy.
:...Day 2...:
Zazzalil decided to spend her afternoon in the kitchen, and try her hand at being a bit more useful around the ship. Of course, she didn't want to take on a job that would cause her to work too hard, and she and Emberly seemed to get along fairly well. So assistant cook it was.
"Who does she think she is?" Zazzalil grumbled angrily about Jemilla's "shoddy" leadership skills, and Emberly hummed.
"I mean, we should cut her a break. It's not like she's even been captain that long," the cook mused with a shrug as she took a taste of the stew she was making.
"Wait, what do you mean she hasn't been captain long?" Zazzalil questioned, surprised with this new information.
"Mmmm, needs more salt. What do you think, Zazzalil?" She pushed the spoon into Zazzalil's face. The brunette grabbed her wrist gently and backed away slightly to keep her face from getting smacked with the wooden spoon.
"Emberly." Her tone was stern. "What do you mean?"
There was a strained silence as Emberly reached for a bag of salt and put a small handful into the batch before stirring it in.
"Emberly!" Her short temper was getting the best of her.
"Okay, sheesh!" The dark-haired woman put the lid back on the pot to let it simmer and clapped her hands together. "We had a different captain a few weeks ago. Her name was Molag, and Jemilla was her right-hand, hence the fact that she's captain now."
"Had?" Zazzalil raised an eyebrow and waited for a response.
"There was an accident and it was... kind of Jemilla's fault," Emberly admitted. The woman was now shuffling around the kitchen, doing her best to avoid the subject, but knowing full well she would entirely unable to avoid the fiery woman.
"How?"
With another sigh, Emberly grabbed a knife and some vegetables and began chopping. All the while, she spoke.
According to her, it was a horrible, horrible accident. Molag had insisted on searching for the edge of the world, wherever that may be. Jemilla wasn't sure that it was such a great idea or that such a thing even existed, but the rest of the crew seemed to side with their captain, so on the search they went. The journey had gone well for the first week or so. And then, disaster. No one was quite sure how they had happened across it, but the crew found themselves in the middle of a rock field.
"We had enough room to navigate our way through the rocks," Emberly stated, popping a carrot chunk into her mouth and offering one to Zazzalil, who accepted, "but only just."
"What happened?" Zazzalil had a feeling she knew where this story was going, but she couldn't say for sure.
"Jemilla was at the helm. We scraped one of the rocks as they went by." Emberly took the lid off of the pot and walked back over to the table with the vegetables. "Molag went overboard--hit her head on the way down. There was no way we could have gone back for her..."
She began throwing them in handfuls into the pot. Upon completing her task, she finally looked to Zazzalil. Emberly was entirely unsure of what the woman was thinking, but decided it best to give her some time to think about the new information. Instead of forcing the converstion, she continued cooking in silence, both of them comfortable settling into it.
"Alright, I think this ready to serve." The dark-haired woman pulled the former captain from her thoughts. She pointed to a rack of bowls on the other side of the room. "Can you hand me a stack of bowls and then go tell everyone it's time to eat?"
Zazzalil obliged, and soon enough found herself hunched over a bowl of the stew, still steaming from the cooking process.
She scooped out a large bite and hummed in contentment. This was probably the best food she'd ever had.
:...Day 3...:
The third day of the journey was spent much like the first one. Zazzalil awoke well after the sun had risen above the horizon, and had definitely been the last person to make her way on deck.
"Hey, Zazz!" She looked behind her and saw Keeri walking toward her, waving a hand at the smaller woman. Accompanying her were Emberly and Grunt, though they appeared to be more engrossed in each other than anything that was happening around them.
As the trio approached, Zazzalil pondered briefly going back to bed, but ultimately decided against the notion.
She greeted them with a smile.
"You're gonna help me in the kitchen again today, right?" Emberly asked, finally pulling her attention from Grunt.
"Uh, sure, if you still want my help," Zazzalil responded. She had ended up doing a lot of nothing yesterday, so she didn't think that she would get invited back down to help.
"Of course. It's nice to have company," the smaller woman answered, full of pep.
Keeri and Grunt needed to go make sure the sails were working properly and that everything was secure, so they headed off leaving the two cooks to head below deck and start on lunch.
Dinner had been served and the room was full of chit chat and the scraping of wooden utensils and dishes. For dinner they had made some sort of meat dish with a side of potatoes that Zazzalil had sampled far too many times while it was cooking. Emberly's skills in the kitchen were far too good.
Once she had finished helping the head cook serve everyone, the pair grabbed their own servings and walked to a table in the back in the corner of the room where Keeri, Grunt, Smelly-Balls, Schwoopsie, and Chorn were already sitting.
Supper had been filled with emphatic conversation and much merry-making, and came to an end all too soon.
"Let's head to the deck for a show from Schwoopsie!" No one was quite sure where the voice came from, but the comment was met with much applause, and so the entire crew obliged.
"Come on, Zazzalil." Emberly nudged the woman. "We have to do dishes before we can go."
Zazzalil groaned, but went to follow the woman until she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Grunt.
"Uh, you go on ahead Zazz." He looked nervous. "I'll help with the dishes."
The former captain raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. Instead she headed up for the nighttime entertainment.
:...Day 4...:
"Tiblyn, do you even know where we are?"
"Yes, of course," she began, obviously flustered as she looked over the maps that were laid out before her. "I just... need a minute."
They stood for awhile.
"I need The Ducker," Tiblyn stated, more as a request than a statement.
Jemilla nodded and walked from the cabin to find him. She couldn't help but feel like this was a mistake.
Zazzalil rolled her eyes as Jemilla walked into the kitchen. On second thought, she looked sort of... lost. A descriptor that was uncharacteristic of the captain.
"Zazzalil." The woman stated shortly, motioning for the woman to join her.
She and Emberly shared a perlexed look and a shrug before Zazzalil followed the captain out of the room and into a more or less empty room on the other side of the hull.
"If you wanted me this bad all you had to do was a--"
"Oh, shut up," Jemilla cut her off, a bite to her tone that had been coming and going with each interaction they had. Were the two on good terms or not? Zazzalil wasn't quite sure.
"Listen, if you just wanted to take whatever out on me I can leave." She spun on her heel to do so, but Jemilla frantically reached out and grabbed her wrist.
"Wait! Don't go." The two looked at each other. She awkwardly pulled her hands back and wrung them together in front of her chest as she looked past Zazzalil. "Please." A whisper.
Zazzalil thought about walking away anyway, but her feet wouldn't cooperate. Both stood, and once Jemilla realized Zazzalil wasn't going anywhere, she spoke.
"We're lost, and I'm not sure how it happened."
"Okay? And what good am I going to be?" It was an honest question. Sure, Zazzalil wasn't a particularly bad navigator, but she certainly was not good. On her own ship, she had relied quite heavily on her own navigator, and had found the task to be quite confusing when she was forced to do it herself. She knew Tiblyn to be much better than anyone she had ever met, even in the short time she had spent with her. "Ask Tiblyn and The Ducker. They'll have more answers for you than I would."
"No, I just, uh." She was stumbling over her words. Again, uncharacteristic of what Zazzalil had come to expect from her. "They're talking in my cabin."
Another surprise. Jemilla was definitely a control freak and had all but demanded to be involved in the navigation up to this point. So why had she come to look for Zazzalil instead? Why was she so hard to get a read on?
"I'm just worried, Zazzalil. Will you sit with me for a few minutes?"
Zazzalil slid down a supply crate and rested on her bottom. Jemilla followed suit, at least a foot or two away, not wanting to get too close.
"What are we doing?" Zazzalil asked, laying naked and out of breath. She had finally vocalized the thought, though she was sure she wouldn't get an actual answer.
"What do you mean?" The taller woman rolled onto her side and propped her head up on her hand. It was a valid attempt to make eye contact with Zazzalil, but she wouldn't quite meet her eye.
"Don't pretend like you don't know what I mean. We hate each other." She got out of bed and began getting dressed, doing her best to ignore the captain. She wanted to leave. Or maybe she didn't? It was all quite confusing.
Earlier that day they had been sitting in the storage room, and several hours later they found themselves in Jemilla's quarters, doing... whatever this was.
"Who says I hate you?" Jemilla asked. "Besides, I don't hear you complaining."
There was silence while Zazzalil walked to the window, pulling the shades to the side to look out over the ocean the best she could. Jemilla was probably the most inconsistent person she had ever met. It was frustrating. One second she was blaming Zazzalil for getting them stranded at sea, the next she was whispering sweet nothings in her ear and begging for her company. She wished she would pick one extreme and stick with it.
"Come back to bed."
The shades fell shut as the smaller woman spun around, watching as Jemilla patted the bed next to her.
And with a tinge of regret, Zazzalil joined her.
:...Day 5...:
Zazzalil awoke with a start in the captain's quarters. Golden sunlight bathed most of the room in a radiant glow. Sunrise. She rolled, only to see an empty bed beside her. A sigh. How embarrassing it would have been to have Jemilla see her panicked from nothing more than a dream.
This was a first. She found herself alone in the captain's quarters. This was something she would not have minded on any other morning, but the nightmare she had just jolted awake from gave her reason to feel differently.
She stretched and stood, determined not to let the nightmare get to her. Without a real sense of urgency, she soon found herself meandering around the cabin and looking at the trinkets that lined shelves and tables. There weren't very many books like she would have suspected, but they were crammed nonetheless. Mostly with trinkets--some of them valuable looking treasures, maps that were neatly rolled and tied shut, a telescope, and other things of that nature.
She looked over to the navigator's table in the center of the room. The map was lying in the middle of the table on top of a map of the region of the ocean they were currently in. Next to it was a compass.
Then she remembered that they were to have a meeting to discuss exactly where they were headed. She should probably slip out before it got too late to do so without being noticed.
With another stretch of her hands above her head, she finished getting dressed and stepped out into the morning breeze.
Zazzalil laid down across one of the beams that laid horizontal behind the main sail and let her arms hang limply below her. From afar, she watched as Jemilla opened the door to her cabin and stood in the doorway, taking the room in before walking in. Not a few minutes later, Tiblyn and The Ducker joined her in the room. She had no doubt that if they couldn't figure out where exactly they were headed, they would abandon the hunt and find something else to do.
That was not what Zazzalil wanted.
What felt like at least a full hour later, Tiblyn and The Ducker walked out of the captain's quarters. From this distance, their expressions were unreadable, but their body language at least didn't look defeated like she had thought it might.
The woman pushed herself to her feet and, probably not as cautiously as she should have at this height, walked to the shroud to climb down. Once at the bottom, she hurried across the deck, wanting to know as soon as possible what had happened.
Without knocking, she entered Jemilla's cabin. At this point, she figured knocking was redundant.
"How'd it go?" She asked, snapping the captain from her train of thought. She looked panicked and frantic.
"Not great," she answered as she began moving about the cabin. "I knew we shouldn't have done this. We're horribly lost."
"Jemilla, we need to talk."
"Zazzalil, I don't have time for this." The captain continued pacing back and forth without a sense of purpose. "You're the whole reason we're out here, and I'm trying really hard to get us out of this mess, so if you don't mind, we'll talk later."
"But Jemil--"
"No, Zazzalil."
God, why was she so insistent on blaming her?
"I heard about Molag," Zazzalil blurted.
Jemilla tripped over herself, a sputtering noise resonating from somewhere in her throat and slipping involuntarily from her lips.
"Oh?" She tried to regain her composure and act like this fact wasn't a big deal. "Who told you that?"
"That's not important," Zazzalil dismissed, taking a step closer to Jemilla. "I just... Is that what all of this is about?" She wasn't sure why she even cared, but the question had slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. "Because if that's what all of this is about, then why? Molag is gone and being afraid of everything isn't going to bring her back."
A frustrated flail of her arms, then a more poised and confrontational stance from the taller woman.
"Well, excuse the fuck out of me," she began. "I lost the only person who's ever actually cared about me. You don't know what that feels like."
Zazzalil was stunned. What did Jemilla even know about her? "You think I don't know?" Her body began to tremble.
Jemilla tried to say something, but Zazzalil cut her off.
"My entire fucking crew died." Her voice was low and harsh as she growled through clenched teeth. "Eighteen of my family, all dead because of calls that I made as a captain. But I guess I wouldn't know."
"Zazzalil, I'm sorry." She reached her hand out, but Zazzalil pushed it away.
"Fuck you."
Jemilla called after her, but still she trudged away. Her shoulders hunched forward and her hands rested on the opposite biceps.
That's what you get, she supposed, when you try to be nice.
Notes:
I'm not too great at writing dialogue, but I did my best. I'm also sorry if this chapter was a bit slow, but it was mostly about estbalishing character relationships and duties so I didn't feel like there was too much I could do with it.
Chapter 7: Chapter 6: The Legend of Snarl
Chapter Text
A deep fog fell over the city and mixed with the thick smoke that wafted from every building in the small village. The scent of death hung in the air; burning flesh and blood. Screams, shrieks, and cries as figures darted from house to house. Each house these dark silhouettes entered was left silenced and promptly looted of every valuable under the roof.
They reorganized at paddle boats located on the beach just on the edge of the village. There, all of the valuables were loaded on the boats and rows back to the large ship that loomed as close as it could. Due to its remarkable size, that is quite a distance away, but still close enough to be seen quite clearly from the civilization.
This continues for a number of hours, into the wee hours of the morning. Just as the sun becomes visible over the horizon, the rowboats make their way back to and from the ship in record time.
Their captain stood atop the quarterdeck, watching his underlings finish carrying out this task. He gives a yell of victory which sounds of gravel, hoisting his rapier above his head. His crew follows suit.
The pirate's face--or what's left of it--screws into a malicious smirk. A deep, raspy laugh fills the vicinity as paddle boats row back to the ship, carrying more treasures than most people see in a lifetime. The captain's yellow eyes shone ominously, reflecting in them the flames of the town on the nearby shore. Even from this far away, he could hear faint screams of the few survivors. They would be dead by morning.
With his riches earned, he barked a command to his navigator and they departed, disappearing into a thick mist that dissipated mere moments later.
The ship had vanished without a trace.
Such is the Legend of Snarl. A ghost ship doomed to forever travel the oceans in search of treasure. Time after time again, the ship would appear seemingly out of thin air, only to disappear without a trace.
This ship had not always been considered a ghost ship. It had been said that they found a treasure so foul, so evil, that the very uncovering of it doomed them to a life of eternal death--or perhaps eternal damnation?
No one could say for sure, except perhaps the members of the crew themselves. An impossible task, as any unfortunate individual who has been close enough to any member to ask such a question has surely faced certain death.
Jemilla closed the book with a sigh. All of this reading was causing her to go cross eyed and she wasn't sure how much longer she could spend buried in its pages.
She supposed she should be thankful that she learned to read, at least. Most people in her position weren't nearly as literate as she was, and she really had Molag to thank for that. When Molag and the rest of the crew had found her as a little girl, Molag had insisted that she learn how to read and pushed her to become as book smart as she possibly could. "It's a useful tool," she had said to Jemilla, who complied because who was she to say no to the only maternal figure she had ever known?
She placed the book on the table with a soft thump and rubbed her eyes with both of her hands, sending her to another world of blackness and fireworks. Sleep was a necessary evil right now, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to indulge until she had exhausted every possible answer from the book. There had to be some sort of clue somewhere. Her mind felt like mush, so perhaps it made sense that she was having trouble picking it out.
She needed a break.
A few aimless steps took her out of her cabin and into the first bits of sunlight that were gleaming over the horizon.
Incredibly late? More like unbelievably early.
Most of her crew were probably getting their first starts of the morning. How she wished she could say the same. Instead, here she was, restless and so desperately in need of answers that an entire night pouring over a book had not gotten her.
How disheartening it was. She couldn't face Zazzalil again until she had an answer. The woman would respond negatively to further interactions until she was able to confidently say they were hunting for the treasure. And she could not do that without an answer. No answer, no talking to the spunky brunette.
Where did this sudden need to please Zazzalil come from, she wondered. Though, she did suppose it hadn't been as sudden as she liked to think it had been. Since that time at the tavern just one week ago, she had felt the need to do whatever she could to make the woman happy. Their nightly escapades had been a bonus to their dynamic, despite the fact that she knew that they hadn't meant the same to Zazzalil as they had to her. That was okay for now. But she deeply wished to win her over, and she didn't see another way to do that.
Despite this desire to win her over, she did realize that hanging onto their current goal had its limits and boundaries that, in her personal opinion, shouldn't be crossed. She did realize other pirates might persevere and find the loot no matter what, even at the cost of their entire career, but Jemilla was much more calculated than that. It was one thing to hope to find a legendary treasure, but an entirely different thing to spend your entire life and life's earnings on an unattainable dream that could never actually happen. Zazzalil might not be able to see that distinction, but Jemilla was unafraid to admit that it was a line she was entirely unwilling to cross.
And so she pondered.
Pondered for what felt like hours over what she had read. Over what she had learned. But nothing was coming to her. It felt as though she was trying to shove a brick into a circular hole. She was getting nowhere fast, and that needed to change. If she didn't figure this out within a reasonable amount of time, they would have to abandon the hunt and turn elsewhere to find their next source of treasure.
She stepped to the edge of the ship, propping herself against the railings. It was a shame she had missed the beginnings of the sunrise this morning. It was her favorite part of the day, and the only guaranteed personal time that she got. She loved using the time to think.
There had to be an answer in the legend somewhere. She stared toward the sun, which was now only half covered by the horizon, her lips twisting into a scowl.
And suddenly an idea hit her with such force that she jumped back, nearly yelling at the epiphany.
What if the island was also affected by the curse? It made sense. An isle where they hid their treasure could very well have been considered an extension of the ship and its crew. If that was the case, then that meant…
Zazzalil. She needed to find Zazzalil. With a bit of hope, she walked below deck and to the kitchen. As expected, the woman in question was helping Emberly cut some vegetables. For a moment, Jemilla watched as she struggled and had to stop herself from laughing.
"Do you need something, captain?" Emberly had finally noticed Jemilla's presence and spoke up. Jemilla hope she hadn't caught her staring, but knew that Zazzalil definitely had when she spun around to glare at the captain. Not entirely deserved, though she deserved not undeserved either.
"I need to speak with Zazzalil."
With a groan, Zazzalil dropped the knife down onto the table.
"What the fuck do you want from me this time?" Her comment was harsh but deserved, Jemilla mused. She glanced over to Emberly who looked thoroughly confused, and then back to Zazzalil.
"I just spent all night reading," the captain answered. She was sure that she looked as bad as she had felt. Her eyes burned with exhaustion and she desperately needed some sleep. Not now, though. Determination gripped at her. She needed to figure this out.
"Good for you?" Zazzalil's mouth tugged to the side as her eyebrows furrowed. Her shoulders shrugged and her hands lifted, questioning Jemilla's point. "And?"
"I know how we're going to find the island."
Zazzalil followed Jemilla quickly to the captain's quarters. The duo grabbed Tiblyn and Ducker on the way so they could run the plan by them.
Each and every day was a new surprise from Jemilla, Zazzalil mused. It was like an emotional roller coaster, and she had no idea why she let herself get caught up in it. Part of it was exhilarating, and left her wanting more. Another part was emotionally exhausting, and made her wonder why she hadn't stayed behind in Hatchetfield to recruit another crew just to be rid of the woman altogether.
Then there was the side of her that made Zazzalil want to stay. No matter how weird and rocky they got, she knew that she wanted to be near the woman no matter what. Whatever weird power struggle they were going through right now.
"So what's your brilliant plan?" Zazzalil asked, hands finding her hips as she waited to find out what Jemilla had come up with. She was hopeful, though she wasn't quite sure how meaningful whatever breakthrough she had was.
"The island only exists at night," Jemilla said, looking between the three. "That being said, visibility gets low at night so that makes this a bit more difficult."
"Of course!" The Ducker exclaimed, realization dawning over him. "We sailed right past it and never even realized!"
"Exactly." The captain nodded, walking over to the table, gesturing to the map.
She turned to Tiblyn. "I need you to plot out where we currently are so that we can have the best chance of success. When we turn back around and get close again, we'll stop and wait for the sun to set. That's out chance."
The group began plotting together, bouncing ideas off of one another, working together better than they had since Zazzalil had joined the crew.
Jemilla was more hopeful than she'd been through this entire treasure hunt.
Chapter Text
The sun was finally setting, and this was where the guesswork for Jemilla's plan came in. There was no telling when exactly the curse took effect. Was it perhaps exactly when the sun went down? Was there some wiggle room? Was it based more on time of day than the cycle of the sun? Would they even manage to pass it when it was visible? What if they passed it and it wasn't? There were so any uncertainties that the group had to roll with and figure out when the time came.
Jemilla disliked not being entirely in the know and Zazzalil could tell. Each time she saw Jemilla that day, she looked like she wanted to run and vomit over the side of the ship. It would have been cute, she reasoned, if it wasn't so goddamn pathetic.
"Jemilla," Zazzalil said firmly, approaching the woman, grabbing the captain's arm to stop her from pacing around the ship. "I know you're worried, but panicking and hyper-focusing on the issue isn't going to suddenly make you omniscient." They were standing out in the cool, evening air, their faces illuminated by the wall sconces on either side of Jemilla's door. The curly haired woman's arm fell from the other's grasp, and she crossed her arms over her chest.
"I know, I know," the captain agreed, dismissing the other woman with a few waves of her hand. "I just... don't feel right about this without knowing every detail."
Zazzalil rested her back against the wall and relaxed against it. "We'll play it by ear. It's gonna be alright."
This, Jemilla noted, was where the two differed. They both cared about their crew and what they were doing so much. The need to succeed so fully consumed the two of them. That need just manifested in different ways. Zazzalil was fearless and steadfast in achieving her goals--she was fearless and headstrong. Jemilla, however, was analytical and calculated. The need to protect others was at the forefront of her mind, and she seemed to value safety above their goals.
"How do you do that?" Jemilla asked, settling against the wall next to her.
"Do what?" Zazzalil shot her a quizzical look, confused about what she could have possibly meant.
"We don't know what's gonna happen," Jemilla's eyebrows furrowed as she stared at her hands. "People could get hurt. Everything could go horribly wrong." She looked back to Zazzalil. "But you're still so confident and sure of yourself." Her head shook and she chuckled. "I don't get it."
Zazzalil shrugged. "I dunno. It's just how I am."
The two stood in a comfortable silence as they watched the sun slowly sink down, below the horizon and out of view. It was finally almost time to move and, according to Tiblyn, they were near enough to the island that they would be able to see it when it appeared.
Jemilla couldn't help but worry about this--they had no idea where the island actually was. What would happen if they misjudged their location and the island popped up under their ship? That would basically guarantee that they had no way off of the island, and if that happened she couldn't promise that they would survive. There was no telling what would happen if they were unable to get off of the island by the time it disappeared again.
She was ripped from this thought process by a shout of "land, ho!" from the crow's nest.
This prompted Jemilla and Zazzalil to make eye contact with one another and run to the side of the deck, peering over to the island that was already close. Tiblyn had been right, Jemilla thought to herself. They really were close to the island, almost uncomfortably so. Based on how close it was, there was no doubt that this island had just appeared out of nowhere.
This was it.
"Alright, let's get to the boats!" Earlier that day, Jemilla had pulled a few crew members aside to recruit them for this mission. Bringing the entire crew felt excessive. As such, they loaded up two lifeboats, both containing five pirates each: Smelly-Balls and Grunt among them. In addition to this, Ducker was accompanying them--his knowledge of the legend was, no doubt, going to be an asset to them as they pushed forward with their journey.
A couple of remaining crew members used the cranks next to the lifeboat racks to ease the boats into the water, and then they were off. The island was not far, no further than one hundred yards away.
They hit the shore and promptly hopped out, everyone silently looking to Jemilla, asking with their eyes where their destination was.
She surveyed the land, noting a mountaintop not too far from their current location. She had seen it from the ship, but now that they were on the island and looking up at it, it looked much larger.
"Let's head toward that mountain." Admittedly, she picked an aimless direction, but the mountain did appear to reside in the middle of the island. They headed for the forest just off of the beach and began trudging through the foliage.
Jemilla put her hand up to signal that everyone stop as they approached an opening in the mountainside. There was some sort of carving that looked like a large saber tooth tiger. Two large stalactites hung from the opening of its mouth in the shape of large, razor sharp fangs. The entrance immediately dipped to a large staircase, but it was impossible to see to the bottom of them.
"Did we remember the torches?"
There were a couple of affirmations behind her, and soon enough one was placed into her hand and lit.
With a nod, she stepped forward, leading the descent into the cave. The stairs lead lower and lower, giving the appearance of going on forever. The group stayed huddled close together, confident that if they were attacked, they wouldn't be able to attack everyone.
Jemilla glanced to her right, stealing a glance at Zazzalil. The shorter girl had a serious look on her face as she walked next to Jemilla. Her eyes were trained downwards, seemingly focused on whatever was awaiting them at the bottom of the staircase. Jemilla took to her example and did the same, quickening her pace for fear of taking too long.
After several minutes of nothing but walking down the stairs in silence, the group of pirates reached the bottom and stepped into a large, open chamber. In the center of the room was a stone throne that was sticking out of the middle of the ground, a skeleton sitting atop.
"Come on, let's get going!" Zazzalil yelled, moving to run ahead renewed with energy now that she felt like they were getting somewhere. She felt herself get jerked back somewhat harshly by Jemilla's hand tugging at her wrist.
"No!" Jemilla shouted back at her, her eyes darting around the room, searching for a hidden danger. "We don't know what's ahead, so I really think we ought to proceed with caution."
"The only thing in here is a skeleton, Jemilla. It's already fucking dead." Zazzalil freed her arm from Jemilla's grasp and ran forward. No sooner had she taken two steps forward, a loud whirring sound rang out behind her. She whipped her head to see a blue barrier had manifested itself between the brunette and the rest of the group.
She heard Jemilla take a sharp intake of breath through her teeth. "Ohh, bummer," she breathed, the casual shrug of her shoulders matching her thoroughly unimpressed expression. "If only someone could've predicated this."
The clattering of bone against bone was what drew Zazzalil's attention back to the center of the room. Gusts of wind began swirling around the decayed corpse, lifting it from the chair in some sacrificial looking pose. It's red and black robes fluttered in the wind, and she wondered how the black hat remained on its head. A golden sword manifested in its hand, and she noted the large snake head with the ruby encrusted eyes at the pommel.
With a scoff, Zazzalil drew her blade and began swinging it around in a flashy manor. "So I guess this is all me, then," she said, centering her weight as she sunk into a more stable stance.
She had a feeling this wasn't going to go over very well.
Notes:
That was a fairly short update, but I promise the next chapter is halfway done because I was writing them concurrently. Thanks to everyone who has commented, bookmarked, and left kudos so far!
Also, as I'm sure some of you noticed, with the addition of this chapter I have expanded it to be a Twisted crossover, but those are ideas I'm still expanding upon, and I promise you'll get more context in the following chapter. And on that note I'm sorry I keep editing the tags. I never know what to put there, and a lot of times things change as the writing process evolves.
Chapter 9: Chapter 8: Trials
Notes:
Again, I'm sorry for my lack of ability to write a fight scene. I did my best.
Chapter Text
Zazzalil's eyebrows furrowed and she squinted against the wind that was now blowing directly into her face as if some force was directing it at her intentionally. Her feet shuffled backwards, but her shoulders remained squared toward her opponent.
She watched as the wind eased the skeleton to the ground. It was still limp when its feet touched down on the ground, but something about the action awoke something inside of it.
Glowing yellow eyes stared her down. If a skeleton could make facial expressions, Zazzalil had no doubt it would be glaring at her. It lifted its blade, pointing the tip directly toward the tiny brunette.
"A challenger finally approaches. Best me in a one-on-one match, and I will permit you to pass. Do you accept?" Zazzalil wasn't entirely sure that it was the skeleton talking, but she figured it had to be given it was the only other thing in the room.
"I'm not afraid of you," she grumbled, grinding her teeth together as she steeled her resolve, lunging forward with a thrust of her own blade. There was a clang of metal, and a blood curdling scream from the skeleton as another gust of wind plowed into the brunette, sending her flipping backwards. Her side hit the ground with a painful thud. As she bounced, she used the momentum of the hit to rotate her body and, when she hit the ground again, she skidded into a kneeling position, her blade scraping across the rock below her.
A scowl worked its way over her features.
So that's how this was going to go.
Jemilla stared on as Zazzalil got thrown back by the wind. She felt herself flinch as she watched the woman slam into the ground. That had to hurt. No matter how much her brain yelled at her to look away, she found herself unable to do so.
When Zazzalil propped herself back into a kneel, she turned to the rest of the party. "We have to help her." Her voice sounded more desperate than she cared to admit.
"What is there to do?" Grunt asked. "This damn barrier is in the way and it doesn't look like there's a way around it." He gestured beyond the barrier, to where Zazzalil was throwing her entire body weight at her opponent. "And you heard that thing. It's a one-on-one fight. It seems like we're not really supposed to intervene."
He was right. Something about the barrier surrounding their battlefield was mystical. Its presence was off-putting, but also left Jemilla awestruck. Was it part of the curse?
She swore and ran over to a large rock nearby and picked it up. It was small enough that it wasn't uncomfortable to hold, but large enough that she wasn't able to wrap her fingers all the way around it. With the rock in hand, she darted back to the barrier and began using the object to repeatedly smack the blue dome as hard as she could.
The group stood on, watching Zazzalil fight while periodically looking back to Jemilla who was yelling at them to help her as she wailed away. They thought that they should do as they were told, but they knew their efforts were going to be in vain. Each looked amongst themselves, but stayed firmly in place, unsure of what to do.
"Jemilla, I think Zazzalil's got this," Grunt said, finally stepping forward to grab her wrist and stop her from wasting her energy. Smelly-Balls joined the two, his hand resting on her shoulder.
"Yeah, Cap'n! Zazzalil's got this!" The last two words were spoken in a screen that sounded much higher than he should have been able to produce, his eyes squeezed tightly shut and a finger pointing to the sky.
Jemilla sighed, letting her hand drop and the rock fall to the ground. She looked back to the battle as Zazzalil dropped to the floor and made an attempt at sweeping the skeleton's feet with her own leg. In turn, the skeleton took a swing at her head with the hilt of its blade, narrowly missing as she made contact with his ankle. Though largely ineffective, she did manage to knock it a slightly off balance.
Zazzalil could handle herself, Jemilla knew. But this skeleton looked strong and the situation was nerve-wracking.
"Yes, I suppose you're right," she said, though she sounded as if she was trying harder to convince herself than anything else.
Zazzalil did a backwards somersault, landing in a deep squat a couple of feet away from her foe. She was surprised that the skeleton was so sturdy. She'd figured that without skin, bones, organs, and other such meaty parts of the body the skeleton would be lighter, but it was just so heavy. This proved to be problematic. Her fighting style often relied on outdoing her opponents in a show of strength and this one simply would not budge.
Even if it wasn't for the issue of its weight, there was that damned wind. If she had a clear enough opening, all it took was a singular gust to send her flying across the room and put her right back where she started--out of range and entirely ineffective.
She slowly inched forward, deciding that taking a more defensive approach might be more beneficial. Rapier rising between her and her foe, eyes training the corpse, readying herself for its attack.
All at once, it rushed her, using its own blade to smack hers with raw power, sending it skidding across the floor, before it delivered an uppercut to her abdomen. She stumbled back, gasping and gagging to desperately get air back into her lungs. It didn't allow her the time to do so before it walked forward and lifted her by the front of her shirt, blade coming up to swing at her head.
Her foot came up, finding a perch on its collar bone to kick backwards, ripping the fabric from its hand. She felt her feet hit the rock below with a thump and she backed off again.
Once again, the skeleton surged forward and she tucked and rolled to the side out of the way, toward her sword which was lying a few feet away from her. She scooped it up and swung again, this time finally landing a hit with the flat her of blade across its temple, momentarily stunning it. Seeing an opening, she kicked its pelvis and sent it stumbling backwards.
With a jump, she moved to stab the skeleton, but again it screamed and sent her flying with a gust of wind.
Yet again, it quickly and easily regained the upper hand. It swiped at Zazzalil, managing to leave a small gash on her cheek. She hissed in pain, yet again backing up. A more defensive strategy didn't seem to be working either.
Something resembling a growl gurgled from her throat and spilled out through clenched teeth.
"Fuck it!" She yelled as she wound up and threw her rapier like a spear.
Time froze as the sword lodged directly into the chest of her opponent where its heart would have been. She had no idea if that move had, or would, work. While that would have been a fatal blow to a mortal, this was a skeleton and, therefore, already quite dead.
For what felt like minutes, but what probably only a few seconds, the two stared each other down. All at once, the skeleton let out a scream and wind, even more powerful than before, whipped up around the area.
It hadn't worked.
Zazzalil deepened her stance and pulled her fists closer into herself, still on guard. Was there truly any way to kill it, she couldn't help but wonder. Maybe she would be stuck in this battle for the rest of her life. If her life would even last that long.
Zazzalil panted, her fists clenching tightly as she watched the skeleton take jagged, sporadic steps toward her, looking as if it was going to careen over at any moment. She was defenseless. Left wide open from her lack of a weapon. Her breath hitched when it made a more jagged movement, almost as if it were about to lunge, and she readied to dodge the attack. Much to her surprise, she didn't have to. The skeleton paused when it was inches away from her face.
"I have been bested in the trial of strength," it growled, though no part of it moved. "Two more trials ahead, young captain. Be prepared."
Just as it finished speaking, it crumbled into a pile of dust and fabric. One final whoosh of wind burst from the area, almost covering up the metallic clang of its blade, as well as her own, clattering on the ground echoing off of the walls. The force of the wind knocked her to her knees, leaving her to stare at what remained of the skeleton.
Before she could truly register what had just happened, she felt a pair of hands resting on her shoulder, and heard a familiar voice speaking in her ear. "Are you okay?"
She glanced back, seeing that the barrier had fallen and the rest of the crew were now gathered around her, looking around the chamber to make sure that there would be no further threats. Jemilla was hovering over her, looking her over for injuries.
The brunette opened her mouth to answer but stopped when the sound of grinding stone resounded in the room, and the floor began rumbling. She felt Jemilla's grip on her shoulders tighten in an attempt to steady herself, but could also distinctly feel the way she was stumbling over her own feet regardless of the extra support.
A strong jolt and the shaking stopped. When she looked up there was a large opening on the far wall.
"I guess we know which way we're going," Zazzalil said, reaching for her rapier before accepting Jemilla's outstretched hand and pulling herself up with a strained huff.
Chapter 10: Chapter 9: Tribulations
Notes:
CONTENT WARNING. A background character gets stabbed to death, and another gets decapitated in this chapter. It is not graphic, but I wanted to give a quick head's up in case anyone is bothered by this.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jemilla was still rattled from the battle. She hadn't even been the one fighting, and she was so wired that she didn't know what she was supposed to be doing. For a minute there, it looked for sure as though they were going to lose Zazzalil, but the woman had pulled through at the last minute with some quick thinking. It was impressive, if she was being honest.
She watched as Zazzalil began walking off with a degree of nonchalance that was surprising considering the fact that Jemilla would consider that fight a near-death experience. The other woman was so cool and collected about the whole thing. The two made eye contact when Zazzalil looked back to her and smiled. She stumbled slightly, prompting Jemilla to rush toward her, but she was stopped when Zazzalil put up a hand.
"Just some bruising," she said. "I'll be okay, let's just keep moving." Jemilla stared at her, concerned. Admitting it was difficult, but Zazzalil was right.
"Yeah, okay. Let's go," the captain said, motioning toward the new archway on the opposite side of the room and the entire crew began walking through it.
The skeleton had been a surprise. Sure, it had been bested, but there was no telling what else was ahead. She took a deep breath to help alleviate her nerves. Going forward, she could only expect more danger and it only made her want to turn around. But for some reason, she swallowed those desires and moved forward, through the doorway and into a new room.
"What the fuck is this?" Zazzalil asked, looking around the space. Jemilla opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a disembodied voice.
"The trial will take you to the final chamber upon its completion. Simply pass through the mirror, and you'll find yourself in the final room."
Jemilla studied the mirror, noting that it appeared to be a simple mirror in every way. The captain, however, was on edge. She was well aware that this could go south at any moment. There had to be more than meets the eye here.
"All we have to do is walk through? Sounds easy enough," Zazzalil noted, moving to take a step forward but one of the crew members stepped forward, stopping her before Jemilla had the chance to.
"You've done enough, Zazzalil," he said, offering up a smile to the woman. "Allow me." He looked to Jemilla, asking for permission with his eyes. She nodded to him, hoping that the action also conveyed her thanks.
He squared toward the mirror, taking a few hesitant steps forward. Jemilla could tell he was trying not to look back at the group or change his mind. They watched with bated breath as he finally approached the mirror and put his hand up to touch it, his reflection's hand reaching up to meet his.
When nothing bad happened, he moved to walk forward, but was stopped when his reflection drew out a dagger and stabbed him several times in the chest. The entire group froze.
Jemilla heard him sputter, seemingly trying to say something--or many he was just trying to breathe--before he fell to the ground, a small pool of blood gathering around him. There was no way he could have survived those injuries. She found herself too scared to step forward and check anyway.
She looked to Zazzalil, and then to the remained her of crew. Everyone appeared to be in shock, either rendered unable to move or too scared to for what felt like several, long minutes.
"Looks like we're gonna have to fight our way through, boys!" another pirate screamed, unsheathing his sword to charge forward.
"Wait!" Jemilla heard the shout from Zazzalil and the woman moved to run after the man. However, her injuries betrayed her and she stumbled slightly. He darted right past her, easily avoiding her grasp. When he drew close enough, he swung wildly at the reflection, his sword making contact with its neck, sending its head toppling onto the ground, its body following soon after.
The captain watched the beginnings of a victorious smile emerge on the corners of his lips, but it quickly disappeared. He wheezed before his head, too, slid off of his shoulders and bounced across the floor. His body fell to its knees before fully collapsing to the ground next to the first body.
"Holy shit," Grunt breathed, looking at the scene in disbelief. That seemed the only appropriate reaction.
"No one else try going through the mirror," Jemilla ordered, looking desperately to her crew. The last thing she wanted was anymore casualties.
She needed to think fast if they wanted to get out of this room before sunrise. She paused, realizing the answer to her questions.
"The tapestry." She stared up at a large fabric that hung from one of the side walls. It was large enough that they could theoretically fit four or five of them underneath of it. Zazzalil shot her a skeptical look, not quite following her thought process. "We'll push the rock into the mirror with us."
She walked toward the tapestry, sizing it up.
"Are you sure that's gonna work?" Zazzalil asked, but limped toward Jemilla anyway.
Jemilla shrugged, happily noting it was definitely tall enough. She looked to the rest of the group.
"Smelly-Balls, Grunt, Ducker, you're coming with." She tugged it down, urging the others to follow her. "The rest of you go prepare the lifeboats for departure once we're through. We'll meet you there when we have the treasure."
The remaining three men nodded, heeding the command.
Jemilla and Zazzalil took the front, and the other three filled in behind them. It was just big enough to fit the five of them without the edges lifting from the ground. They blindly stepped forward, hoping that this plan would work. They figured they hit the mirror when they met some resistance, and Jemilla urged them to shove as hard as they could, and they were soon through the mirror.
In the blink of an eye, the tapestry disappeared and they found themselves in an enclosed room--no way in or out as far as Jemilla could tell.
"Clever girl," the same disembodied voice from before reverberated through the room. "You have completed the second trial. Welcome to the third and final trial. I would proceed quickly; dawn approaches."
On all sides of the room were compasses and maps of all levels conditions. Some were large, extravagant, and on sizable pedestals. Others were rusted, small, and in varying degrees of disrepair. Many more fell somewhere in between.
"What the fuck is this?" Zazzalil groaned, rubbing at her ribcage with her hand. Jemilla could tell that she was trying to act as though it didn't hurt, but it was obvious that she was in some level of pain. "I thought the treasure was supposed to be here. What the hell was all of that shit for?"
"The real treasure was the friends we made along the way," Smelly-Balls piped up from the back of the group, nodding vigorously to himself as he sported a stupid smile. Next to him, Grunt brought his hand to his forehead, massaging the area to no doubt soothe a stress headache.
Zazzalil held a hand up, gesturing to him as her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Shut the fuck up."
All members drew their attention back to the room. Meandering around to look at the various compasses that were laid all over the place, in some cases even in piles.
Hoping to take her mind off of wanting to get Zazzalil help, Jemilla looked up to the back wall where there were sketches--it looked like something of a shrine. They looked quite a bit like cave paintings. In them were two people--one man and one woman. The man was adorned in black and red with large, black head wrappings--they were quite similar to the skeleton that Zazzalil had defeated. The woman wore clothes of vibrant pink, a long, brown tuft of hair sticking out from a yellow bandana.
She watched as Ducker took a few steps closer to the shrine and looked up at it.
"This isn't part of the legend." His voice was laced with confusion. His eyebrows furrowed curiously as he stared. Perhaps he thought that if he looked at it long enough, the answers in his mind would be mysteriously planted in his mind. Jemilla watched as his eyes trace markings that made their way clear around the room. "This isn't any modern language."
"Those are writings?" She looked over them. It made sense. They looked like senseless scribbles upon first glance, but now she could see recurring patterns that she assumed were different letters. "Can you read them?"
"Yes, but I'm not entirely familiar with this language," he answered, a nod of his head. He stared up at them again, slowly stuttering through the writings:
The Tale of Two Lovers:
This tale has become so twisted.
One thousand and one nights was not enough.
Even one thousand and one lifetimes could not have been enough.
A household, fresh and anew, broken by greed and betrayal.
One compass points to the two keys.
The key unlocks the treasure.
The entire room was silent, even after he'd finished. In Jemilla's perusing of the Legend of Snarl the previous night, she recognized that the was entirely different from the legend that people knew. She stood, lost in thought.
"So if we pick the correct compass, it leads us directly to a key?" It had been Zazzalil who had broken the silence. "Because, if that's the case, I think it's that one." With one finger, she pointed to the largest, shiniest, golden compass. It was atop a pedestal, as if only to further display and accentuate its elegance.
Jemilla's mouth twisted into a frown. "I don't think it would be that easy." She began walking around the room, picking up each and every compass to look it over.
"Okay, well, we can't just stay down here forever and look," Zazzalil pointed out. "We're on borrowed time. Doesn't it make sense that the correct one would be the most expensive looking one?"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Just keep looking."
Zazzalil groaned as Jemilla began walking about the room. "Okay, but Jemilla, hear me out." The woman in question hummed as Zazzalil continued with her rant about the one compass on the pedestal. Jemilla was glancing at each and every compass she walked past, deciding that it could do more harm than good to look over the wrong one.
There was a particularly small one that caught her eye. It was a shimmery golden color, but it had some tarnish on it. On either side, there were two divots. The face looked a bit warn, but when she picked it up and spun it, it appeared to work. She turned it over in her hands. On the underside there were the dull engravings of some words as well as the engraving of a saber tooth tiger on it--a symbol that was often associated with Snarl.
"This… This is the one," Jemilla said just loud enough for everyone else to hear. Zazzalil stopped telling her story and looked in her direction.
"What was that? There's no way that rinky-dink looking piece of shit could be it." Zazzalil said, moving to her side as she, too, examined the engravings. "Holy shit, I think you're right." Her tiny fingers reached out to lightly trace over the etchings.
At that moment, the ground began to shake quite violently again and the wall opened up behind where they had initially found themselves when they were teleported to the room. Jemilla smiled, victoriously, taking this as a sign that this was indeed the correct compass. She spun on her heels to face her crew, the compass held aloft for all to see.
"This is the true map to the treasure! It will soon be ours!"
Cheers erupted from all around, and she couldn't help the smile that came to her face as she glanced down to Zazzalil. She knew that she never would have been able to get this far without her. Something in her chest felt tight, but not it was not a necessarily bad sensation. She reasoned that it felt kind of nice, albeit like she might burst.
"Now let's get out of here," Jemilla added, reaching down to deposit the heavy piece of hardware into her satchel. "I don't know what will happen if we stay longer than one night, so we need to make sure we get off this island as quickly as possible."
"Uh, Jemilla?" She looked up to address Zazzalil. Concern etched her features as she looked over the captain. "You're turning invisible."
Jemilla glanced down, noting how her hands and feet were translucent. So they would disappear if they didn't get off of the island in time. She looked back to Zazzalil and opened her mouth to say something, but instead her mind floundered, and she simply pointed to her hand.
"We have to get back to the ship," Zazzalil said, looking through her hands with wide eyes.
Jemilla's hand gestured emphatically in the direction they had entered the cave from. "Go! Now!"
Zazzalil was the first to heed the command, reaching for Jemilla's hand moving to drag her out of the room, but Jemilla realized she was moving quite slowly as she struggled through her pain. Without too much hesitation, Jemilla stopped just long enough to scoop Zazzalil into her arms and run. She shouted in protest, but Jemilla ignored her. The woman was surprisingly light and didn't weigh her down too much.
They passed through the newly formed doorway, which let them out on one side of the first chamber with the skeleton. Jemilla almost didn't notice as she sprinted to the stairs bounded up them.
As they exited the cave, Jemilla noted the beginnings of the sunrise coming up over the horizon. It was barely any at all, but it was clearly enough to cause a reaction on the island. So Jemilla had been correct--the island was disappearing with the sunrise and would likely continue to disappear over the next several minutes.
"This way!" Jemilla shouted, as she ducked around half-disappearing trees and plants, doing her best to also guard Zazzalil from the low hanging branches. She sneaked a peak backwards over her shoulder, noting that a few people were falling a bit behind. There was nothing that could be done about it, and she hoped that they would find a rush of adrenaline that would give them a means to catch back up.
The sun was nearly all the way over the horizon as the pirates reached the shore. Jemilla quickly threw herself and Zazzalil into one of the boats, breathing heavily as Ducker joined them. Grunt pushed the vessel into the water, back toward their ship that was looming nearby.
Zazzalil relaxed next to Jemilla, silently thanking her with a squeeze of her hand. "That was too close," she said, turning to catch one last look at the island. Jemilla noted the way she froze next to her and turned back to gaze at whatever had given her pause.
The last lifeboat was still on the shore, Smelly-Balls standing behind it about to push it into the water, when the island disappeared.
The boat and its passengers went with it.
Jemilla looked to Zazzalil, whose mouth was slightly agape as she stared where her crew mates used to be. Instinctively, she reached out and pulled the smaller woman close to her.
"I'm so sorry," she breathed into her hair. Her gaze raised from the smaller girl and looked to the rest of the pirates who were on their lifeboat. Grunt looked like he was trying not to expression an emotion that flashed behind his eyes.
She looked back down to Zazzalil and gently ran a hand up and down her back. The surest sign that she was hurting was the fact that she allowed the contact to continue until their lifeboat was hoisted all the way back up to the deck.
Notes:
That solution to the mirror probably wouldn't have actually worked, but whatever.
Also, thanks to everyone who has commented before. I've been meaning to start responding, but I have social anxiety so please just know that it means a lot.
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FearTheRaven on Chapter 2 Mon 30 Mar 2020 01:03AM UTC
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ThatsrightZoeyeyye on Chapter 2 Wed 01 Apr 2020 11:30AM UTC
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