It was his intense command of presence that made Dandolo unlike any captain I had ever met. He did not acknowledge me as I entered his room. It was larger than any cabin on a ship I have seen. Despite all the furniture and strange artifacts from seemingly exotic lands that cluttered the room, his cabin still looked spacious. He faced away from me with his face buried in a book and all I could see of him was his short stature, dark skin, and long brown hair that ran past his shoulders. He did not look up from his book to greet me.
“Are you a religious man?” He asked, his voice smooth and pleasant, but he did not wait for my response. “’ And the Dark Maiden emerged from the shadows and before the Beggar’s shack. ‘You need not fear me anymore, for I am the guiding light, I will shroud you in my darkness and there you will find peace.’”
“’ My children will soothe you,’” I continued, reciting the passage from the Book of Night. “’ and sing you to sleep while you look to the true beauty in front of you.’”
He turned to face me, looking upon me with his sallow cheeks and sunken yet striking eyes. There was anguish in those eyes, yet he did not seem to hide it. And while his face looked like one of a starving man, his body was lean and his muscles were well-defined.
“It is my favorite passage,” he said, placing the Book of Night down. “This is where it all began. With a single passage a movement was born. One that would eventually reach all of Ibara and beyond,” he nodded at me, presumably alluding to my life in Cold Harbor. “A single passage that has caused so much joy, hope, terror, and death. A single passage that has shaped the identity of an entire people and a single passage that has altered history forever. Isn’t it remarkable the power that words can have?”
“I know plenty of people that would wipe their arse with the pages of that book,” I said.
He bore into me with his hazel eyes, studying me intently before letting out a soft chuckle. “Indeed,” he said. “And I might presume you to be one of them. But no matter, the damage is done. The word of the Maiden travels beyond Ibara and to foreign shores as we speak. Scores of my fellow islanders are converting every day.”
“Is that why you are here? To impose the will of the Maiden? Or maybe you were summoned by Parthos herself?”
“Do you think that is why I am here?” He asked.
He waited for a response, even though he already knew my answer. I did not deign to reply.
“Come sit,” Dandolo said, breaking the silence. “Even in the Fairview Isles we hear the legends of Dagomar Dernbut- the berserker of the Antiban Sea, Captain of the Undead Legion, and slayer of witches. I know many that seek to emulate you. My only question is: are the stories true?”
“Aye,” I said reluctantly. “But you would be sorely disappointed to think I am that same person I am now.”
“Oh?” His eyes twinkled. “And why is that?”
You’re a ghost of a man. I shuddered at the thought. “Things change,” I said, unable to meet his eyes. “My days of prowling the sea are over.”
“And yet here you are, in a den of pirates, fraternizing with a warlord and a Priestess of Parthos. Are you sure those days are truly over?”
“I did not ask to be here.”
He smiled at me like a cat playing with its prey. “Liar,” he said. “My Priestess told me all about you. You had fallen off of the face of the earth, dead to everyone and alive only in the deeds of your past, but you decided to come back to the game when you boarded that ill-fated ship we destroyed. You were the one that set off on this feeble quest of yours to slay Ascianus of Bracchano. A veteran of the sea like yourself knows the risks he takes. You ask to be here just as much as I do.”
I did not know what to say, so I only stared at him with contempt. If my life is this easy for others to see, then how come I struggle to see it so?
“Well don’t just stare at me like a dying fish,” he said as he reached for a bottle of rum. “Tell me if I’m right.” I watched him as he took a long gulp of the clear liquid; he did not flinch in the slightest.
“Aye,” I reluctantly agreed. “So maybe I did ask to be here, out on the sea, and what’s it to you? My business with Ascianus is my business alone. I risk my life out here for one thing and one thing alone: revenge. And I will tell you now, there is nothing more that I desire than the sight of my sword plunging into Lord Ascianus’ stomach and getting justice from the man who took everything away from me.”
“You did that yourself; you know. When you tried to be forgotten by the rest of the world.”
His words stung as they lingered in the air of his stifling cabin. Dandolo took another swig from the bottle before offering it to me. I readily accepted. The alcohol burned as it traveled down my throat but I used every ounce of willpower inside of me to not flinch. I would not belittle myself or be belittled anymore in front of this man.
“Paulu Gold,” he said. “Some of the finest rum in the Isles.”
“Aye,” I replied bitterly. “I’ve had it one or two times before.”
Dandolo leaned back in his seat, his sinewy arms straining and flexing with every movement. His eyes, cold and un-telling, remained fixated on me. He let the tension in the room linger in the air a few moments longer.
“Forgive me,” he finally said. “It was not my intention to dive into your personal affairs like that; you are my guest and it was rude of me.”
“Why am I here, Lord Dandolo? What is it exactly you seek to gain from this conversation?”
He smiled fully, flashing me with his bright white teeth. “I was hoping you would ask,” he said excitedly. “You are here, Dagomar Dernbut- Berserker of the Antiban Sea, Captain of the Undead Legion, slayer of witches- because you are my prisoner, and it is up to me to decide your fate. Fortunately for you, I believe we can make a deal.”
My heart raced even though my face was still as stone. At that moment, I would have taken any deal to get me out of that suffocating cabin and back on my quest to Bracchano. “And what kind of deal might that be?” I asked, my voice as steady as I could make it.
The Captain stood from his chair and walked to a table in the corner of his cabin. There laid a map with a dozen miniature ship figures. “As you may have heard, the Marnish have sent their navy against my fleet. While their Pleidae is a fool and their fleet no major threat, they are still a major thorn in our side. One ship, in particular, a Quadrireme commanded by a woman named Cirilla, has been a significant nuisance. She has already taken out two of my sloops and I will not let her take any more. Her ship has been lurking around these waters for quite a while and it will be any day now that she discovers our hideout.” His hazel eyes burned with intensity and anger. “I need her gone.”
I was surprised that Dandolo would put his trust in a stranger to accomplish this task. Taking on a Quadrireme was no easy business. I was more surprised, however, by the excitement I felt coursing through my body. “Aye, and how do you expect me to accomplish that?”
He looked at me with a devilish grin as childish excitement flashed across his face. “You’re going to be the bait.”
******
“Are you crazy?” Alexander asked. It was as if he had aged overnight. Bags ran heavy under his eyes and his face was more creased, borne down with the stress of the past couple of days. He now even had a short, blonde stubble that added five years to his age. “You expect us to fight the Marnish navy with a sodden, run-down ship? I have heard of Captain Cirilla before. Her quadrireme is one of the finest in the Marnish fleet. How are we supposed to beat her?”
“We won’t,” I said curtly. The tension between us still ran high and I felt that he would pounce on me again if I said the wrong word. “We are the bait, remember. Our job is to engage her and then hold her off long enough for Dandolo to arrive.”
“That will never work, we only have a bireme. One good ram and she could cleave the ship in two.”
“He’s right,” Isabel agreed. “The second she gets anywhere near us we are doomed. We’ll have to keep our distance. Skirmish and evade.”
“Aye, then I hope you are good enough at the helm, Captain,” I replied. She looked at me as if I was the Maiden herself.
“You want me as Captain?” She asked, her voice still conveying surprise and disbelief.
“You’re a rotten bastard, but I am no fool. You are the most competent sailor between the three of us. You keep her away from us as long as you can and I will lead the defense when the real fighting begins.”
“I don’t know, Dag,” Alexander said. I could tell he was uncomfortable with the plan and how little control we would have. He was a worrier, that boy was; ever since I met him.
My lip stiffened and for a brief moment, my face betrayed my annoyance. “It is not like we have a choice anyway. If we refuse, Dandolo will kill us; but if we actually emerge victoriously, we will have a ship and a crew to sail us to Bracchano. We can end this odyssey once and for all and set out to do what we intended in the first place.”
I glanced towards Isabel and she shifted uncomfortably. Her black hair flittered as she looked out to the other side of the lagoon.
“I am doing this with or without you,” I said. “You may have forgotten your grievance with Ascianus, but I will never forget mine. No longer will I deny my revenge.”
Like a well-placed spark, Alexander’s eyes lighted with rage and his nostrils flared. I saw him clench his fist and I prepared for a strike. “I have forgotten nothing, old man,” he spat. Suddenly, he eased and the tension flooded out of his body as he let out a small sigh of reluctance. “You have my support. I don’t like it in the slightest, but it’s like you said, we don’t have a choice.”
******
I stood on the bow of the trireme tapping the wood anxiously and staring at the gap between the mangrove shoals anxiously. The ship that Dandolo had lent us was sturdy but well worn. I could see where planks were replaced and others still cracked and where the sails were resewn. The ship did not look particularly swift, but it was sturdier than I imagined, and it looked like it could take a ramming. Regardless, I prayed to the Maiden that would not happen. As soon as we boarded, Captain Muruna took her place at the helm and started issuing commands, much to the irritation of the Priestess who was observing us onshore. She carried herself with pride as she ordered us further into the bay. Her face was determined, driven, and dare I say unrelenting, but I wondered if she felt like I felt inside: anxious and scared, but also excited.
I did not sleep the night before. I had tried, but the memories of numerous battles past flooded me. Though they were only memories, I felt the smoke choke my throat, my arms bruised and battered, and my sight blinded red by blood. I gave up when I lost count of how many times I was mere moments away from death. I was up to fifty-something. But above all, I thought of Natalie. I thought of the never-ending moment when I threw the knife that plunged into her chest and the laugh that erupted from Ascianus. It haunts me, that moment does. In the long winter nights at my cabin, her face strewn with shock and pain appeared everywhere I saw darkness. I would tell myself that the next day would be better. Then the next day would turn into the next week and the next week into next month and next month into next year. It was never better. Only until I embarked on this journey did I no-longer see her stricken face. It was replaced with an unbridled desire for revenge, but as I sharpened my sword, there was a feeling deep inside of me that told me it was something else.
“Clearing Mangrove Shoals!” Alexander shouted, pulling me back to my surroundings.
The water was a pristine blue, almost clear enough to see the sandy bottom. I felt the sun’s rays bear down harshly on the water. There was naught a cloud in the sky but a steady gale blew from the east. I was determined to give Ugur a good show. In the distance, I heard the cries of a hawk and the frantic cries of another bird.
“There Captain!” The crewmate in the crow’s nest shouted. “Ship to starboard, half a league!”
Captain Cirilla’s Quadrireme was a work of absolute beauty. It sunk in the water as two levels of oars heaved to adjust the ship towards our direction. The ship was painted in shades of the imperial purple and gold, with a varnish that made the wood a rich brown. I watched in anticipation as the quadrireme pulled in their oars and unfurled their sails, revealing the fiery eye of the stargazer, the sigil of Marnes, and propelling them in our direction.
“Right men!” I heard the captain shout from the wheel. “Let’s spill some blood!”
A cry erupted from our sailors. There were thirty of us, a meager crew to command this ship, but even more meager to stand against the quadrireme’s seventy-five.
Both ships sailed directly at each other, one of which preparing to split the other in two, while the other desperately hoping that both timing and luck would be on their side. The Marnish ship, capitalizing on the wind behind their sails, was sailing towards us at a high speed. When the ship was a few hundred meters away Captain Muruna ordered us to veer to port and row full speed ahead.
“Archers!” She shouted; her voice fierce like a rabid dog.
A volley of arrows flung from our bows, raining havoc on the deck of the Marnish ship as it sailed right past us. Our crew cheered at our successful evasion. The Marnish were caught off guard and took casualties in that first volley. They quickly recovered from their stumble, however, and began to slow and turn back towards us.
“Fire!” A second volley flew from our bows, piercing the sails and burrowing into the painted wood. A harpoon flew over our sails and into the ocean in front of us.
“Row you bastards!” Isabel shouted. The beat of the drums increased in pace and the men groaned as they rowed with all of their might. The ship propelled forward, just out of firing distance as we regrouped. I watched three men as they lit the tip of a bolt on fire before loading it into the ballistae. The fiery bolt soared through the air before landing with a loud splash in the water beside the Marnish. Another one was loaded and launched, this one lodging itself in the middle of the gangway. Our entire ship cheered as we watched the fire spread, but our celebrations were short-lived as two large harpoons buried themselves into the starboard side of the ship. With a sudden jolt, the ship lurched, caught by the lines on the harpoon, and ground to a halt.
“Cut the lines and do it quickly!” Isabel shouted. But it was too late. Two more harpoons struck into our trireme and we were suddenly being pulled backward. The sky rained arrows as our two ships exchanged volleys; my shield alone was struck with five, but neither side caused any real casualties. When we were close enough, we launched our sole volley of javelins, but to little effect.
“Now’s our time, you villains!” Alexander roared. “Let’s give them a glorious show!” The crew erupted in cheers, taunting and yelling every obscenity possible towards the Marnish.
Within minutes the Marnish were boarding our ship. Shouts filled the air as the close-quarter fighting began. This was the moment I had been waiting for. My heart rate quickened and adrenaline seeped into every fiber of my being as I let the euphoria of battle wash over me. My nerves washed away completely. Oh, how I have forgotten how much I love the feeling. I cared not whether I lived or died at that moment, I only cared to see the life leave my opponent’s eyes.
The fighting was chaotic and unorganized as the Marnish boarded. “To me!” I shouted, trying to form some semblance of command. Four men gathered around me, one of them being Alexander. We fought ferociously, our backs to each other in a circle, refusing to be overwhelmed by the tide of marines. The Marnish were wicked fighters. One mariner charged me, his axe cutting the air beside me. If I had not dodged, he would have cleaved my skull in two. He chopped across his body with his other axe, which I deflected with my shield. Another savage strike, this time burying itself into my shield. I pulled the shield to me, causing him to stumble. I used the opportunity to bury my sword in his stomach. A net flew past my head, landing on the sailor beside me. A trident followed, piercing the throat of the entangled man. Arrows continued to fly through the air from mariners still on the Marnish ship. Though we fought savagely, we were greatly outnumbered and soon became overwhelmed. I prayed to the Maiden that Dandolo would attack soon.
“Captain!” A voice bellowed from the quadrireme. “Another ship! Quinquereme! And it’s coming right towards us.”
“Back to the ship, men! Back to the ship!” A voice commanded from the other side of the deck.
Within an instant, the tide of battle shifted. Most of the Marnish had retreated and we quickly turned to the offensive as they were preoccupied with organizing a defense for the incoming vessel. The impact of the collision was felt on all three ships. Everyone around me was flung forward, crashing into the railing and other men. By the time I had regained my balance I had found Dandolo’s men already boarding. The Marnish were quickly surrounded and, seeing no other option, they formed a defensive circle. The battle continued for the next twenty minutes as our forces slowly ate away at the remaining men. We fought savagely and like men possessed, but the Marnish, with their reputation for discipline, remained steadfast. As one fell, they would tighten their ranks to create a formidable barrier. Finally, though, I had managed to break through the circle, flanking an unsuspecting marine and slashing across his body. In the collapsing center, I saw her: Captain Cirilla.
She was magnificent. Beautiful, swift, and fierce as a tiger; she parried a thrust to her gut from another who broke through, spun around her attacker, and plunged her sword into her opponent’s back. Her long face and soft features were splattered with blood and sweat; her blonde hair was tied tightly in a bun. She was armored in plated leather armor and iron pauldrons, grieves, and arm guards that were polished so intensely that they glimmered in the sun’s rays like a magnificent offering to Ugur himself. She looked at me and I saw my death.
I heard a voice shout. “He is not the one you want,” it said, mocking and taunting.
We both turned and found Dandolo approaching us. The only armor he wore was a pair of pauldrons, grieves, and a short iron helmet. His bare torso gleamed with sweat. The circle had nearly been broken and only pockets of Marnish soldiers, each one viciously fighting to the death, remained.
The Captain flinched and slowly turned to acknowledge Dandolo. “You’re right,” Captain Cirilla replied. Her voice was calm and steady despite the obvious defeat she was suffering. “It is you I want, Dandolo of the Fisherman. You are guilty of piracy, murder, and theft. What say you?”
“I say thank you for the ship, my Priestess has been practically begging me for a new one. It shall be a fine addition to my fleet,” he mocked.
With a soft smile, Cirilla gripped her sword with both hands and raised it above her head. Her face tense with determination. “You will have to kill me first,” she taunted.
Dondolo smiled wickedly, the type of smile a man makes before going inwards into himself and releasing the primal monster that lives within us all. “That is the plan.”
With lightning speed Dandolo lunged at the Captain, only to be parried by a savage downwards blow. Cirilla spun away from him, deflecting another quick lunge before striking herself, nicking the outside of his forearm. Dandolo pulled back and parried two heavy blows, jumping back each time as he did. Cirilla slashed down and landed a blow so hard it brought the Fisherman to a knee. Dandolo rolled out from under the Captain and, like a viper, struck upwards from his crouch, stabbing her in the thigh. The Captain let out a fierce cry as the Fisherman struck again, this time deflected with her arm guards. She slashed across his gut but Dandolo leaped out of the way before she could leave anything more than a shallow cut across his body.
The Captain was wounded now, she limped on her right knee and held her left arm close to her stomach. Dandolo seized on her injuries and feigned a strike on her left side. As she lunged to parry, Cirilla’s leg gave out under the sudden weight and stumbled. She lost grip of her sword and Dandolo quickly kicked it away. It was over. He had won.
He stood above her, his sword pointing directly at her heart. “Captain Cirilla of the Marnish Navy. You are guilty of interfering in Fisherman business. What say you?” Dandolo taunted.
The Captain looked around. Her men lay dead and she found herself surrounded by a small army of foul pirates. There was nothing more she can do; no more to give for her city. “Kill me and be done with it,” she said calmly.
“As you wish.”
******
The battle of Mangrove Shoals woke in me something that had laid dormant for years. It was a rush, a high, a reason to live. I was euphoric. As soon as we docked, I marched straight to the Priestess’ cabin, bent her over, and reminded her of the man I once was. The man I could still be. The man I am.
“Now this is the Dagomar I have always expected,” she said after we finished, each of us struggling to regain our breath. “All it took was one battle and a taste for blood to reignite the fire within you. There might be hope for you yet.”
She curled up next to me and purred as we drifted into sleep.
Though I could not sleep, for scenes from the battle played on repeat every time I closed my eyes. I felt the thrill all over again as I beat down everyone who came to challenge me. I reveled in the awe of the incredible fight between Dandolo and Cirilla. The rush lived on within me.
I wanted more.
******
The air tasted of salt and hibiscus the morning we were to disembark. Dandolo called for a week of festivities at their hideout in celebration of their newest acquisition to the fleet. It was a week of drinking, fucking, and fighting. I saw little of Alexander and Isabel during that time. They were uneasy about our fate immediately after the battle, but their fears were soon put to rest when Dandolo announced he will honor his end of the agreement and provide us with the bireme we commanded as well as a crew of twenty, enough to reach Bracchano. They were both eager to leave as soon as possible but it was plain to see that they enjoyed the festivities, and more importantly, each other. I now cared little what my son did with Isabel. He had made it clear that his business was his business; all that mattered to me now was finally defeating Ascianus. My dreams were filled with fantasies of me meeting him in battle in his hall and defeating him in hand-to-hand combat like I should have done all those years ago.
“I hope you find the ship sufficient,” a voice said, pulling me out of my daydream. I turned and saw Dandolo and the Priestess approach me on the dock. They were jovial and lively, but not intoxicated, at least not yet. Dandolo wore nothing but a pair of trousers, exposing to the world his bandaged stomach. I imagined he took pride in the wound, a memento from vanquishing someone as mighty and respected as Captain Cirilla, most likely. The Priestess wore her tattered black dress that she wore the day she captured me. Her hair was big, curly, and wild like a lion’s mane. She looked magnificent and I felt a surge of heat as her emerald eyes bore into my body.
“Aye, it shall be,” I replied. “We should be in Bracchano in two days’ time.”
“Two days’ time,” the Priestess repeated. “Is not long at all. What will you do after you take your petty revenge?”
My cheeks flushed. This was no petty revenge, but her voice carried with power and I did not want to contest her. “I don’t rightly know yet.”
“I shall make it easy for you then,” Dandolo said. “You will return here with my ship, which you will then sail for me as Captain. You shall make a fine addition to the Fisherman.”
“Is that an order?” I asked.
“It is not, as you are not formally under my command,” Dandolo said with a wry smile. “Not yet. But I will tell you this: you will return. You will need something to fill the hole in your heart once your current adventure ends.” He offered his hand, which I grasped firmly. I knew that he did not make that gesture lightly. “Until then.”
The Priestess kissed then kissed my cheek. “Take heart,” she whispered into my ear. “The most difficult part has only just begun.”
After they said their goodbyes, they walked away and didn’t bother to look back.
The cries of seagulls echoed through the air. “Get the rest of those supplies on deck, you lazy dog!” I heard my son command to one of the crew. “It’s about time we stopping shitting our britches and get out to sea!”
Nostalgia washed over me as memories of past adventures merged with the present. My days were filled with women, wine, and battle. I was more than just respected; I was a king. Why the fuck did I once give all of that up?