DESDEMONA "MONA" RAINORD
〝Eternal Mother Odea, keeper of the oceans, I call on you to cleanse my spirit, so I might not be lost no longer. I ask this of you with true devotion, o'eternal guardian. 〞
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Dark smoke clung to the air as bright fires burned viciously throughout the homes down below.
It was the light of day and no one was coming.
West Hand never stood a chance against the brutal plundering of the mighty—the impoverished hamlets of the Free Lands never did.
The villagemen bellowed as they fought bravely to protect their lives and values. Those who slaughtered them bathed in their blood with joy. Blood curdling cries from women and children rang throughout the hamlet, fueling the pirates' bloodlust. The mother's above didn't listen as the villagers prayed for mercy. Villagers called upon any who would listen to their sorrow. Screaming villagers were common among the vast skies of the Free Lands.
No one was coming—not the goddesses and certainly not the royals.
The territory located smack dab in the middle of the realm became untouched by those who ruled the Four Great Kingdoms, except for those who wanted a piece of what the Free Lands had to offer. Commoners and noblemen alike traveled far distances to settle into the territory, hoping to produce a better life for themselves and their families. Rich or poor, the Free Lands were open to all, including those who would give their souls for a sliver of hope.
Gold shined in the day's heat, bringing warmth to Desdemona's hand.
A grin spread across her face as she twirled the loot between her fingers. Desdemona loved the metal's smooth surface. She took the coin and pressed it on her lips. Silently thanking Lady Odea, who she hoped turned eyes to her misdeeds, Mona placed the coin between her front teeth and bit down gently.
Real gold.
Almost as rare as black licorice ambrosia.
Desdemona threw the gold piece alongside many of the others she'd had taken. The sounds of gold clashing together in her pouch was the only motivation she needed to pull off a successful raid.
Stealing was easy.
Desdemona took pride in her skill, among many other things. In a world where magic was the sole currency, it took no effort to sneak around in the shadows like a cat in the cities of Nephris as a Traditional.
Her whole life depended on taking from others.
She thought herself to be lucky that she'd found the Tiad—or when the pirates ultimately captured her.
By the time the crooked pirate group found her, Desdemona hadn't eaten for days and exhausted all of her options: the merchants in the capital of Thetis already knew who Mona was by name and face, but they purposely deprived her basic human rights because of her blood status. As the jewel merchants shoved pricy aquamarine gemstones down foreigners' throats and tavern owners fed the city, their eyes weren't focused on Mona and her slippery fingers.
That night, she stole whatever her heart desired.
While the city danced and laughed their hearts away, Desdemona slipped inside the old gutter she called home. With a full belly and more jewels she could ever have, Mona laid her head down in the old gutter.
And when Mona awoke the next morning, she was long gone from the city that overlooked her.
The Tiad made it easier to steal. Always on the move, they looted and killed their way through the free settlements of the Free Lands. Gold, food, women and men alike, sat in the palms of their hands.
What more could Desdemona ask for?
The pleas of the villagers along with the howls of fire echoed behind the pirates as they kicked down another door with heavy feet. Mona scanned the shack, disappointed in its prospects. A small family cowered in a corner. They were poor and dirty-just like all of the settlers in the hamlet.
Desdemona hated poor people.
The father begged while his children clung to their mother. Their weeping did nothing as the pirates rummaged through their home.
"Please! I beg of you!" The father cried. "We have no gold, no silver! We've only just settled here!" He fell to his knees in front of Mona.
Mona kicked the father away, ignoring his pleas for help. She hated beggars more.
As she trudged throught the mealy shack, Desdemona thought about the times when the merchants of Nephris turned her away or when her cries went unheard at the hands of the brutal men in the Tiad. Just like those times, no one came to help.
The father of the family continue to cry out.
A large, boisterous man raised his foot to kick the father across the head, hard. "Shut yer trap!" The brute named, Samson, growled.
The heavy blow made a loud thud as the man collapsed onto the mucky floor. Blood trickled down the poor man's face and neck. The man would never breathe again. The children screamed for their father as their mother clutched them closer.
Samson grinned devilishly. His teeth were rotten to the core, yellow and uncleaned from the long summers endured on the ship. He turned to the mother and took a fist full of brown hair in his hand. The mother let out a painful shriek as she was yanked from her children.
"This one is mine. She can be my whore," Samson beckoned to the small woman. He roughly grabbed her jaw, facing him. He licked his lips like a predator salivating for its prey.
Samson was the biggest brute of them all, Desdemona knew all too well. Killing his enemies and fucking their wives gave him more pleasure than the gold.
"This is it," Fynnrir, one of Mona's younger thieves in the crew, hurled a large sack in front of her. Stale bread and family knickknacks spilled from the seam of the bag. "Captain, ain't much to this shithole," he shook his head.
Desdemona knew the chances of finding loot in West Hand were slim to none. The wild western part of the Free Lands were known to be desolate. Empty.
"We told you," the daughter scoffed between tears. "We have nothing," her voice created a strange sensation in Desdemona's gut.
The Tiad's victims never fought back. The sufferers bowed their heads fearfully in the wake of the plunderers' presence, yet the girl was brave enough to talk back.
Samson raised his hand to the young girl. Without giving it a second thought, he used all of his strength to strike the girl. The girl whimpered.
"Shut yer mouth, girl, or yer be just like yer begetter, singing for the Hells."
"Please, not my babies. Have mercy!" The mother wept for her children.
Samson tugged harder on the woman's hair, whispering the sweetest threat. "After I fuck you to my liking, I just might," he shoved a meaty finger towards her daughter. "Take her."
Eyes wide open, the woman didn't say another word.
The young girl did not make a sound when she held her bruised cheek in her hand. She was nothing short of fourteen and had probably never been hit before. The girl tucked her younger brother in her arms, shielding him.
Desdemona stood there quietly.
First rule of the Tiad: never interfere with the affairs of other crew members.
Mona had seen many of the seamen lose their own lives for meddling. Nevertheless, she held no regard for those weaker than her. Desdemona had no use for anyone who couldn't give her what she truly yearned for. If this family couldn't give her gold, there was nothing she needed here anymore.
The sea taught her many things about selfishness.
"Burn them," Desdemona finally spoke. There was no emotion in her tone. "Take the woman if you please, Samson," she turned on her heels towards the broken entryway.
The pirate crew followed the steps of their captain. The children began wailing, pleading for their mother. The woman in Samson's arms thrashed around in his grip to get to her children. Another crew member raised a thin match lit with a flicker of fire ready at its tip. The pirate smiled from ear to ear, taking great pleasure in causing others misery.
"Wait," a slender man stepped from the shadows. His voice was mellow, unlike the rest of his crewmates. The raider wielded a xiphos. The blade sleek and slim-just like him, took point at the young girl. "This one has Tenjuian blood. I can smell it," he turned his nose up in disgust.
Samson licked his lips again. He eyed the girl in the corner. "Oi! Crows will take yer for a fair price."
And Samson, who could never be trusted, was damn right. Chaoria's most prized attribute, magic, contributed to most of the kingdoms' success. Just an inkling of blood from a tenju was worth more than any amount of gold. The Crows were more than likely willing to trade a few gold coins for the right object.
Desdemona's palms itched. The thought of coins in mounds riled her up.
The stale air in the shack lashed the pirates' faces from the rapid draw of the xiphos. The point of the sword touched the nape of Samson's neck.
"Back off."
Samson guffawed. His hands shot up, waving the white flag. "I'm just fucking with yer! Eh, Lev!" He slapped the swordsman on the back.
A low guttural growl came from Lev.
"Enough," Mona pushed her way between the two men.
Desdemona walked slowly towards the girl. The girl covered her younger brother's face, protecting him from further violence. Mona scanned the children. Their bodies shook as they wept.
Mona slipped a small vial between her fingers and reached out for the girl. In a blink of an eye, she popped the cork, dousing her palm with the liquid. The girl flinched as Mona caressed her cheek. The redness slowly faded from the girl's face. Mona stared into the girl's eyes. She saw the same sadness that her eyes once held, but learned to hide.
The pirates watched the exchange, curious about their captain's thoughts.
"Bearberry oil," Mona held the empty vial. "One drop...and well, bye-bye pain."
The girl didn't say a word and turned away.
"What's your name?" Your brother's?" Mona asked.
"Captain," Lev began.
"I won't bite," Mona smiled, ignoring her subordinate.
"Captain," Lev's voice held a hint of concern. Desdemona raised her hand before he could continue. If no one else in the pirate crew knew Mona's next move, her first commander surely did.
Mona stood still, awaiting the girl's answer. The girl did not give in. How could she? Her own life dangled in front of her like a carrot teasing a rabbit. The girl backed away reluctantly as Mona reached out for her. The girl clutched her neck.
A small ache tugged Mona's heartstrings when she took a glimpse of what the girl was holding. Hanging from the girl's neck sat an emblem that Mona thought she'd never see again. The jeweled necklace bore two fish circling each other, symbolizing ideals of Nephris. The ache in Mona's heart felt unfamiliar, yet slightly comfortable.
Desdemona shut her eyes briefly as all the good memories she fought so hard to bury surfaced. Faint traces of the salty sea breeze filled her once again. She thought of the way her toes used to wiggle around in hot sand. Even though poverty cursed her very existence, Mona still had a place to call home.
Life was simpler back then.
With the Tiad, Mona could never have enough, but at some point along the sea, Mona did have enough. Enough of it all. She grew weary in the shadows of the sea. She found no more happiness in taking from others-especially their lives. Every raid had a routine: destroy, kill, take. But, this time, something entirely different stirred within Mona. She somewhat pitied the family, more than herself?
Mona did something she thought she'd never do.
"Take them both, unharmed," Mona gave a warning look. "We'll sail south come sunset."
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