Rise of the Nightbloods

CHAPTER 4 - RAVEN

Cheers erupt from the crowd of leather clad men and women. Rélia's hand is tight on my shoulder and her eyes alight with triumph. The brown skinned man who rowed us here—Penn, she called him—clambers over the railing and pulls up the rope ladder with him. Now that there's no one in the water to stop me, I can finally set my plan into motion.

"Cap'n!" Penn shouts. Both of us turn in his direction. In his hand, he holds a stunning cutlass. I close my eyes and will my Sight to aid me, even if it will drain me. Clear as day, I see him throw the sword to Rélia, see it sailing straight into her palm. When I open my eyes again, it has yet to happen. "Welcome back."

Just as I saw, Penn tosses the sword, the blade cutting through the air with a strangely melodic sound. Before Rélia can catch it, I elbow her in the throat, launch myself forwards, and catch the sword by the hilt. Sparing no hesitation, I reach for the dagger in Rélia's sword-belt while she's winded. It's not the energizing welcome of my staff, but it's better than nothing.

I point the blades at her throat. A pirate at my mercy! Intoxicating triumph pulses through me as Papa's face flashes across my mind, twisted in terror, bloodied, clawing at the heavy black chains wrapped around his neck. His strangled screams for me to run echo in my mind. The sickening sneer of victory on the face of the Divider's captain lights a vengeful fire in my core. This isn't him. It isn't revenge. But it's one step closer. Kill her, kill everyone on this ship, and I'm one step closer to ridding the world of their kind.

Like King Macos seeks to do to the Nightbloods, a voice says in the back of my mind. Purge the pirates and you're no better than him.

I try to ignore it, despite the fact that it's right. Honor is not nearly as important as avenging my papa. I don't care. I've been training for years, building my skill, fighting for this moment. Seething with anger, I drive the sword further towards Rélia, stopping until the blade is a hairsbreadth from pricking her. Behind me, the crew surges forward.

"Today, you die," I growl.

Unperturbed by the sword at her throat, Rélia throws her head back and laughs. My blood boils, yet my stance falters. Only madmen laugh in the face of death.

"This was your big plan?" she says, once she's caught her breath. "To point a blade at me? I can't believe I was actually beginning to fear you. Love, you're alone on a ship full of enemies. You haven't got a chance."

Everyone around me laughs. I scoff. This is entertainment to them. Fine. I'll give them a show.

"You couldn't kill me if you tried," I sneer, playing on her pirate nature. How could one back down from a challenge? If she takes me up on it, I will win.

She raises an eyebrow, as if impressed. "Alright. Let's see what you've got. Tell you what, if you win, you're free to go. You have my word."

Something tells me she's lying, but when I win, I'll hold her to it. Or I'll kill her. Maybe both. All I know is she's too cocky. That will be her downfall.

I toss her the sword. Smirking, Rélia drops the scabbard holding my staff on the deck in front of me. Not once taking my eyes off of her, I slide my staff free. "Ready to lose?"

Rélia grins, and it almost seems genuine. "If you are."

Without another warning, she swings her sword at me. I parry the blow. Adrenaline explodes in my veins and I push back against her blade. I take a step back to aim and swing the weighted end of the staff at her head. She ducks. I grunt as I swing the staff back around, blocking another of her blows. Sparks fly as our weapons clash; steel against nearly impenetrable wood.