Seraphim

Chapter 1

"Here dey is, Captain," the same man's voice said again, though his previous superiority had clearly vanished.

"Aye, don't look like much, do they?" The captain asked, chuckling dryly. Things were becoming clearer now, and the ache in her head was subsiding as her eyes adjusted to the light and began to take in her surroundings.

There was indeed chaos around them as around two dozen tanned, poorly dressed men bustled about and fussed over the ship, doing God knows what. Misty, who knew literally nothing when it came to ships, whipped her head from side to side in confusion. A distance away from them, three of the sailors were clearly trying to untie the lifeboats and prepare them for lowering, but the rest of what everyone else was doing was beyond her. She could see an island several miles in front of them, and the large stone structure that was most definitely some sort of prison. She turned back to the captain and the man, trying to push thoughts of what awaited her out of her mind.

"Well, don't be fooled, James. They are the best in Malivata," the captain was saying as Misty tuned back into reality. She noticed how well dressed the captain was compared to the rest of his crew. Unlike his men, his shirt was clean and white. Gold buttons secured it up to his throat, where it was open slightly, revealing his collarbones. His pants where made of leather, and they fitted him tightly down until they disappeared inside his shiny, buckled boots. He was just as tan as the rest of his crew, but he possessed a dignified air about him that the rest of them lacked. Strands of dark hair stuck out from beneath his extravagant hat. He had deep frown lines around his mouth, and he looked anything but kind. 

James chuckled. "Aye, maybe so, but dey can't do much tied up, now can dey?"

The captain ignored him, now turning to the three men by the lifeboats. "AYE, are those boats ready or what? I ain't payin' you three boys to take your sweet time!"

"AYE CAPTAIN SMITH!" They shouted in unison.

"Ah, very good," Captain Smith said and motioned towards the line of criminals with a large, scarred hand. "Aight, get em in the boats."

James grabbed onto the forearm of the woman in the front again and yanked her forward. The rest of the line followed slowly. The first of the lifeboats was tied up and ready to be loaded. They shoved six of them into the first boat, followed by one of the sailors with a pair of oars in his hands; and lowered it slowly into the water. The captain had walked over to watch the process now, and the sailors worked with renewed speed under his watchful eyes. The second boat was tied and ready in minutes.

"Aight, in ye go," said one of the sailors as he grabbed Misty's arm and lead her over to the boat. His hand felt like old leather on her skin, and her arm ached under his harsh grip. She shrugged her arm free and stepped onto the boat on her own, desperately trying not to visibly wince at the pain that moving her arm so harshly brought. The man watched in disbelief as she did this before turning back to the man next in line, grumbling as he went. He then proceeded to practically shove the man onto the lifeboat next to Misty, who was knocked into a sitting position at the force of the blow. She chuckled quietly to herself, half pleased she'd managed to upset the rather weak-minded man and half to keep everyone from seeing how much she wanted to scream in pain. Her laugh, although nearly silent, attracted the attention of the man who'd been thrown against her.

"How the hell can you laugh?" He hissed at her through his clenched teeth. There was blood on his wrists, and it covered most of the rope that bound his pale hands behind him. Clearly he'd tried to struggle at first.

"I'm enjoying myself while I can. You should try it sometime." Misty said, angry he was trying to ruin her fun. He only rolled his eyes at her and turned to look out over the sea. The lifeboat rocked constantly as new captives were loaded on, eventually followed by another one of the sailors with pair of oars. He looked just like the others, tan and dressed practically in rags. A cigarette was tucked behind his ear, and he made a grunting noise as he settled down on the only seat in the tiny boat. As soon as the boat was lowered into the water, he swung the oars around, nearly hitting all of them in the face, and plunged them into the water.

"Do you MIND?" An older woman who sat leaning against one of the boat's sides growled at him.

The sailor began to chuckle, but it immediately turned into a raspy cough. It carried on, spraying Misty and the man next to her with slobber as the man began to row. The man next to her only grumbled, but Misty leaned her head over the side of the boat in an attempt to avoid the worst of it. She found that when she did this, her face was only about a foot and a half away from the clear water beneath them. It was beautiful and peaceful, and she contented herself with watching schools of fish swim by them.

"Ye know, yous all is lucky, really," the sailor said after his cough subsided, though his voice was just as raspy as his hacking had been.

Misty lifted her head and straightened up, feeling safe now that they spraying had stopped. "I don't see any luck about this situation."

The man nodded. "Aye, but der is. Ya see, you alls was gonna be put te death 'cause of yer crimes. But da Confederacy said, 'Nah, let em live, we gots some use for dem 'cause dey special.'"

"Are you going to babble all day or tell us what the Confederacy intends to use us for?" A man who was sitting beside the older woman asked, clearly having left his patience back on the boat.

The sailor chuckled again, and this time was thankfully not choked by another coughing spell. "I wish I knew, lad. Das above my pay grade, if ye know what I mean. What I is sayin' dough is dat you should be grateful. Yous all coulda been dead long ago."

"I wouldn't exactly consider this little trip 'living' either." Misty mumbled under her breath. The man stared at her then, his gaze suddenly serious. "If ye were smart, ye'd know to savor the few moments ye have left, whether they is seconds, minutes, hours, or years." Misty didn't feel like arguing, and no one else seemed to know what to say; so they all launched into an uneasy silence, each of them eyeing the island as it grew nearer and nearer.