The sails loomed proudly over the cliffs and shore, endless smoke tainted the air due to the inferno that struck the depths, her foes meandered woefully on the distant temple tops, and the shattered remains of an outstanding beast laid scattered onshore. There was only one thing that would have made the sight any better… Sadly, the volcano laid dormant, unawakened by the barrage of gunfire she released onto the tribe.

Barbara could not help but sneer, watching while her crew dragged the queen’s head onto the deck. No savage or drone dared approach them while they ripped its twisted visage off its huge charred thorax. It was not easy to tie those big pincers onto the wall above her cabin, but it was worth it. The black chitin suited well the red oak. She crossed her arms proudly, admiring the way in which it crowned the door below the helm, one more testament of her dire undertakings.

With the news of the necklace’s retrieval and such a kill, her crew had forgotten entirely their dislike for her daring march. Once the creature stopped twitching and before the smoke could settle down, they pillaged chitin and melted amber from the shore, knowing that their rarity would grant them a nice sum of gold. There was only one who kept scowling at her, not as impressed by the spoils and rush they got.

Olivia did not smile when Barbara walked up the stairs to the helm, much less when she leaned behind her and whispered shrewdly. She heard her, even if her comrades were yelling loudly to mock the distant figures on the anthills.

“Mindful of the cliffs now. Stay near them, she can’t have gotten very far.”

Her second in command snarled but obeyed, trailing the shore to their right. There were footprints on the sand. A girl had fled towards the jungle not that long ago.

“One more mouth to feed, one that can’t even speak the same language.”

“Oh, do not worry about either of those things, little olive.” Barbara stepped off and glared at the jungle over the railing, finally spotting a shadow trudging tiredly at its edge. “Whatever small leftovers we grant her will be more filling than what she is used to. And she shall learn as all others have.”

Olivia sighed, having been told of that servant; it was a familiar tale, even if slightly different. Due to it, she made the helm roll, allowing the bowsprit to point closer to shore. Their crimson vessel was small when compared to others, something that helped it sail smoothly through the slender channel.

Barbara stood tall and glared down at the lone native, who stopped her slow stride near the cliffs. When an anchor was thrown strongly off-board, both exchanged a proud stare; one did so in silent inquiry, while the other in apprehensive zealousness.

The gaze of the pirate was more intense, mightier. Without a single word, the girl’s defiant attitude was shattered. She shivered visibly, sneaking a glance back at the mouth of the caverns and the towering stony anthills. Her people had been taken down, trounced by two intruders and their own cattle, but it was a matter of time until they rose again. They were assembling slowly, trying to bring order. The pirates knew it as well.

There was only one way in which she would be able to escape the wrath of her own kin, and both were very aware of it. If she tried to evade her superiors in the jungle, she would surely carry on with a life full of strife, at best. Humans were dangerous but usually better than nocturnal voracious beasts.

The girl took one single step towards the water and ship, scowling in her doubt. It was only when Barbara snapped her fingers and a rope dangled down the hull that she seemed to make up her mind. It helped that the pirate yelled, hinting with strong gestures that this was her only bid.

“You’ve got nowhere to go, brat! If you appreciate us not letting you be torn or burned, you’ll grab that rope!” She shrugged next, prompting a chuckle from two of her mates, who watched eagerly the exchange. “Then again, I don’t need your thanks or servitude! I won’t care much if you go into that jungle! Your choice! This ship is sailing away no matter what!”

A decision was made, sly yet resigned. The girl was sharp, smart; she understood those words as a stern invitation, and she knew enough about outsiders to determine that they wouldn’t kill her in a peculiar ceremony. Still, when she grabbed the rope, she did so hesitantly. She murmured some curious and bewildered words while she caressed the hull, almost afraid that the ship could come to life. It was only when a few women yelled for her to hurry that she stopped examining the vessel meekly.

Barbara hummed in approval, seeing her mates pull at the rope and girl. Once on deck, her young eyes began to look all around, both at the strange crew and the sections of the ship. The bolstered head of the queen made her cringe the most. Her mind seemed to be baffled by the fact there were no men to lead the crew. A few tried to pat or greet her with blunt, eager approaches, but that caused her to hiss a little and lean away with a curse.

The captain was used to such initial reactions, albeit less intense and foreign. She could see the welcoming interest in her mates’ eyes, for they shared the same sentiment towards this sort of recruitments. Not even Olivia regretted charging towards the temples from the channel, no matter how much they said otherwise.

“Now, I can’t keep calling you brat. It will get tiring fast.” She pushed a few women aside, towering over the native tauntingly. The demand came with a sardonic tone and gesture, but one that was well-intentioned. “Name, now. Naaaame, nombre!”

All stared blankly while Barbara pointed repeatedly at the girl, muttering the word over and over. The native gave her a funny look, but after a few seconds, she seemed to frown in realization, letting out a cautious murmur.

“Tre-bal?”

Barbara nodded, completely unaware that the word was not how she was called but a repeated question, how name was said in her own language.

“Ah, Tre-bal; not that hard to pronounce. Good! Was honestly dreading having to change your name.” She clapped her hands, ready to start putting her to work. The anchor was being lifted already, and she could not wait to leave this dreadful island. “Alright, Tre-bal, listen well: you will be escorted down to the cargo and-“

She was interrupted. The native let out an annoyed whine; her attitude was as mean and proud as hers, something that helped establish that she was trying to correct her assumption.

“Blo! Majtek, Majtek!” She pointed at herself and let her pointy teeth peek, mimicking the gestures used in the demand. Her paleness and feral looks made her stubborn interjections uncanny. “Maaaaajte-!”

Barbara slammed a hand onto her mouth, deadpanned. She got the point.

“Alright, that’ll be enough.” The pirate retrieved her hand because Majtek did not doubt to bite onto it spitefully. Still, she proceeded to brush it off and look around, yelling loudly. “Maria! Where are you, you lazy lass?! Come here right now!”

It only took a second for a yelp to echo behind the crowd. The former cabin boy climbed down a ratline swiftly, fast to push herself past the others to attend her captain’s call. She panted, already dreading whatever command she would be tasked with.

“Aye, c-captain! What do you need?”

Barbara smiled sweetly, in a way that Maria knew well. She grabbed Majtek and pushed her lightly towards her, leaning her head with feigned gentleness.

“Since the sun is going to set soon and we just got another pair of hands, you are going to show the kitchens to this brat. And you better make sure she understands how everything works in it, or else.”

Maria stammered, having caught Majtek when Barbara shoved her. Neither liked that fact.

“Why me?!” She leaned back with a grumble, disliking greatly the foreign curses she was being yelled at. “Does she even know about any food other than insect meat?!”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Barbara did care a little, and that was why she chose Maria to look over the girl, but she would never admit it. She warned while turning away with a strong stride, amused. “Now, be careful. If what I’ve heard is true, she has a knack for poison. So, keep an eye on her.”

That only confused Maria more. Barbara ignored the consequent complaints, laughs, and strange curses, heading for her quarters. She intended to get into them and wait until they were completely out at sea, but somebody whispered to her at the door.

“Captn, a word.”

Barbara sighed, unable to ignore Dolores. She was leaning by the stairs, piercing her intently with her only eye. Her answer was almost barked.

“What is it?” Although she had displayed great glee for their arrival and spoils, she was in a sour mood. She did not wish to address the implications of their circumstances, not directly. “Your captain has not slept, Dolores.”

The woman let out a scoffed laugh, eyeing her up and down.

“And will ya manage once locked in yer cabin?” Barbara did not feel insulted or mocked. Dolores said plain truth, so she listened seriously. “What the hell will we be doing with that monarchist in the brig?”

All knew far too well that a ransom could have been planned the moment they seized him in his ship. She was not fooling anyone while claiming she would blackmail the navy for his safety; however, they did not really wish to challenge her schemes.

“Both things will be settled with a big bottle of rum, I say.” She slammed her door open, shutting the matter with one last snarl. “Tell Olivia to fetch me one, will you?”

The door was locked shut, and only the second in command would be allowed to knock on it. Dolores muttered an expletive and moved away, knowing that her request was just an excuse to summon Olivia to the quarters.

They had gone through a lot of trouble for that necklace and sailor, and even if they were too loyal to hold a grudge and leave her behind, the matter would still need to be discussed. Its outcome was not set in stone yet, and all could not help but wonder if they would witness a hanging, a ransom, or a perpetual inhabited brig.

La ostra headed out to sea, with the echo of a proud shanty and the strong winds. All busied themselves to make the vessel soar away from the island, causing the sails to tower over the setting sun and rising waves. Whatever decision their captain took from now, they would abide, for the open sea was at hand at last.

—————-

The brig was small. He couldn’t believe it, but he found that stony prison more comfortable. As they left behind the island into the darkening seas, waves began to strike the hull strongly. The vessel kept plunging up and down with the tides, causing him to shift against the metal bars he leaned against.

He had sat down on the humid flooring to not stumble erratically. For hours he had glared at the walls with his arms crossed. If looks could pierce physically, he would have torn the bars of the cage at this point. 

Her crew was as nasty as he remembered. Insolent, jeering, and forceful; just like her. Once they dragged him down to the brig, they shoved him into the cage with little regard. They did not even bother to take off the gag they tied around his mouth before leaving with a demeaning laugh.

He snarled again, fidgeting with the cloth, pressuring it so hard with his fingers that he ripped a few holes into it. No yells were ever acknowledged, so he desisted after a while. He was tired of waiting and wondering what would happen to him; he had enough.

“I should just kick these bars down, storm up to that bitch and…“

And what?

The island was surely gone past the horizon by now; he was still trapped, this time at sea. Rushing her would only make a mob of pirates point at him with guns and blades, and he could not trust getting out of that unscathed.

Olve looked at his own hands, ignoring the sound of the shifting waters. He could see himself wounding her crew to escape. There was no regard or reluctance towards them. However, no matter how much he wanted to, he could not stop rejecting the idea of fighting her.

Her crew was extremely loyal. She had been lying to herself when she claimed they would leave her behind. If he were to somehow bolt and snatch her in a chokehold at gunpoint, none would dare shoot or make a risky move. He could perhaps demand a boat, row away with the necklace, sure that they would not dare sink him and it with a cannonball.

He could stand right now. It was the middle of the night. The drunken chants had died out, exchanged by the sound of intoxicated steps and murmurs. Pirates were never the sharpest lot. There were still a lot of chances of him failing such venture, yet he was awfully aware that they were not the reason for his reluctance. He had fled before, knowing well it could have gotten him killed.

Olve clenched his teeth in anger, trying to push away the memory of her shooting a beast that would have done him in, him reaching for her hand over the lava, the words they exchanged crossly in a sealed hoard, the way in which she emerged through the smoke to drag him out of a furnace, her defiant and determined leap, that one dispirited admission, the moment in which he dashed to shield her from a drone, and the way she listened when he vouched for another soul.

He did not want this outlook on her. They should’ve axed him like all his mates. She should have shot him in the jungle when she had the chance. He should have let her fall into the fire for her faults. And most importantly, she should have left with her prize and let him burn.

Nothing of this would have happened if either of them had committed to their roles. He shouldn’t be in this brig for all the wrong reasons. Gratefulness and leniency were things that a lawful man should not feel for a criminal such as her. Care should not be hidden deep inside a pirate’s heart either.

It made no sense, yet it also did. All he should be thinking of was her facing justice, a noose around her neck. He should die attempting to arrest her, take down this ship at any cost. Men like him were trained to antagonize any attempts of ransom against the kingdom. They were not meant to give in.

He did not understand his own whims and thoughts, much less hers. That was why he jumped sharply to his feet when he heard the door that led to the brig creak open, concealed by a wall past the stairs.

Olve tensed and grabbed the cage’s bars, hearing steps coming down. He glared fiercely at the shadow that approached, ready to curse whoever roamed into view. His mind was wary of all the crew, and a pirate was what he expected, so he was a little taken aback when he saw a native.

He blinked twice, staring at the very same girl he saw bolt towards the jungle. She was the last person he expected to see, and it took him a couple of seconds to realize it was her. Her paleness and skinniness were what made him recognize her, because she was no longer wearing scales and chitin, but an oversized top and a long skirt.

“You again?!” He had not expected Barbara to find her, considering how fast she ran away from that rampaging monstrosity. “What the hell are you doing down here?”

Olve glared fiercely and hatefully at Majtek’s hands; she was holding a plate. Upon his aversive growl, she said something he did not understand, and he did not trust the way in which she nodded at the food. He remembered all too well what she did.

She knew he would not take the food from her, no matter what words or gestures she expressed. That was why she fidgeted and shot a wary glance to the upper door, to then drop the plate on the only table outside the cage. He was baffled by that, but much more by how she proceeded to grab the lock, yanking at it as silently as possible.

“H-hey, what are you even-“

She hissed something that sounded scolding, giving him a quick stare. He stood there, watching her fiddle with the lock for a few seconds, angrily and urgently. Due to such a baffling and confusing sight, he would have told her to stop, but another voice did before him.

“Drop that, brat.” Majtek gasped and flinched away from the cage, startled by the way a figure entered the brig soundlessly. Olve leaned on the bars, hearing Barbara stomp down the stairs. Although he could not see her yet, he knew she was piercing the girl with her stern gaze. “To open that lock, you need a key. One that I have right here.”

Barbara finally stood tall in the brig, where Olve could see. She twirled a key in her hand and taunted Majtek, who shied visibly with a nervous snarl.

“Out, you impish rascal.” With how strongly she pointed to the stairs, the command was obeyed immediately. Olve frowned when Majtek hurried away with her head low, not without one last reproach from Barbara. “From now on, you’ll not only help Maria in the kitchens, but also broom the decks until they shine like the sun itself!”

The upper door was shut quickly, leaving the two alone in a tense silence. Barbara did not take long to look away from the stairs, meeting his apprehensive glare. She tucked the key in a pocket, hinting that she would not let him out, to then acknowledge his intense questioning stare.

“Comfortable in there?”

She said that all too plainly, but it was clear derision. He gave her the same blank look, motioning with a hand at the half-broken hammock hanging from the ceiling, the small holes in the wall that let water pour in from time to time, and the oil lamp by the stairs that barely illuminated the room.

“I mean, I’m not used to the grandest of accommodations, but there’s much to improve.” He scoffed, nodding at the plate on the table. “It does not help that I may be poisoned. Again.”

Barbara looked back at the plate with an eyebrow raised. She then took it with a chuckle, picking a three-tailed barnacle from it. While she chewed, she took a nearby stool and dragged it in front of the cell, sitting casually as she spoke.

“The food is not poisoned, so you can stop glaring at it.” She picked another boiled barnacle, eyeing it much more gladly than he did. “These are Maria’s specialty. That imp did not cook, only took it here. I’m not even sure if she knows what seafood is, so letting her handle the task is out of the question. Let’s be honest, even if she wanted to kill you, there is no way for her to smuggle a toxin in our fine ship. A dagger is all we need.”

His glare did soften, recognizing the type of barnacle. They used to grow on the hulls of ships, and sailors would never doubt to collect some from time to time. Anything was better than salted meat and dried bitter crops. He was hungry, and she was offering him the plate. That prompted him to voice a question, quite wary and irked.

“Have you keelhauled anyone recently?”

Barbara leaned her head with a smile, knowing exactly what Olve was thinking. These barnacles tended to grow at a much more rapid rate on the hulls of pirate ships. They thrived with blood.

“No, not lately. But there may be another keelhauling soon if someone does not shut their mouth and realize that we could have simply opted for starvation.” She handed the plate a little closer, whispering with a scowl. “We really love these things, so if you don’t want to eat, someone on deck will gladly take them.”

Olve sighed loudly, hating to accept the offer. Barbara did not taunt him when he took the food from her, knowing he did not have much sustenance since they sunk their ship. He leaned against the broken-down hammock and began to eat one barnacle at a time, ignoring her presence in a zealous manner.

He had wanted to yell at her, demand her answers. However, now he could barely begin to voice those questions he had pondered for hours. She was not any better, wondering multiple things herself.

She waited patiently, holding her hands together while seated on the stool. He did not comment on her unfaltering stare, contemplative and eerily serious, because he soon gave her the same look.

The plate was let down on the floor. Olve leaned his head against the bars and glared into Barbara’s green eyes. Neither dared look away when the words flowed, whispered with the most tired of cautions.

“You really got me out. What now?”

Barbara leaned back a little, slowly. She took a deep breath and admitted, as apprehensive as him.

“I’m trying to figure it out… because it does not only depend on my choices.” His eyes narrowed and glinted when she took something out from her pocket, the item that sparked all their troubles. She twirled the engraved golden chain in between her fingers, letting the gem dangle in the air in a pensive manner. “You went to great lengths to protect this heirloom, for a queen that does not even know of your existence. I wonder, will they hail you a hero for your efforts, or punish you for your failures?”

He faltered for a moment, knowing that the first statement was very unplausible. The second, on the other hand…

“If I don’t retrieve the necklace, there will be many who will scorn my survival. So, payment for my release is very unlikely, I must admit.”

She nodded, adding grimly.

“Furthermore, I can’t simply sail over to a port controlled by the kingdom and shout demands. As soon as they see our flag, they will attempt to sink us before we can mutter the word ransom. Imagine if they knew what sways in my hand. It could take me years to arrange a written exchange regarding your hypothetical rescue.” Barbara smiled sadly, saying a truth that both knew from the start. “Without this necklace, you are meaningless to them. The moment my vessel cut through the mists towards your ship, you were bound to bet your life to secure an unfeeling knickknack. Your perseverance has been pointless.”

“Right, your integrity is very superior to mine.” He grinned apathetically, getting to the point she was clearly heading to. “You won’t give the necklace back unless we pry it off your cold dead fingers.”

“Correct. And that puts you in a very… ah, dangerous spot.” Her words were threatening, even if she did not wish them to be. “I can’t simply release you, Olve. That is something only the foolish would do, mainly captains who never last long in the seas. If one lets their foes live, they shall cross paths again. We like to gamble, but we make sure to keep the odds in our favor, see?”

She stood from the stool and began to pace in the brig, finally averting her dark gaze. He questioned her again, hating her indirect hints.

“You went to great lengths to save me from that hellhole. I doubt a lot that you will hang me to free your brig… You can’t keep me locked here forever.”

She snarled, catching perfectly how he hinted his rebuttal for what she was trying to imply. Lawful men like him pissed her off.

“I don’t want to hang you, but if you leave me no other choice, I will. You said it, I can’t keep you in this brig.” He could no longer see her face, because she was giving him her back with an apparent condescending stance. “Whatever I do with you now, it will be infinitely more merciful than what you would have faced in that island. A fast drop and snap are much less painful than suffocating under the flames of a thousand suns. Do not force my hand.”

She did not want to turn around and look at him, yet when he spoke again, she did.

“I will not join your crew, Barbara.”

He dared voice what she struggled to offer. Her green eyes narrowed, noticing the prideful way in which he took a breath, his unmoving stance. The brig seemed to creak louder under the pressure of the waves while they stared at each other, lost in a voiceless argument. She was the first to cave in, speaking up with a ghastly yet self-righteous tone.

“It’s your best bet, your only way out. I’m willing to leave behind your insolent transgressions.”

“Unlike you pirates, I don’t fear a noose around my neck.” He taunted her, all too aware that she was growing anxious. The more he spoke, the more she would hide her gaze under her new feathered hat. “Besides, by pushing away all my honor, I would annihilate your reputation. A man, joining your heaven of unruly wenches… How bold and defiant you would seem.”

He flinched back when she dashed and slammed her hands around the bars of the cage. She growled much more fiercely than a tusked panther, resenting that comment greatly.

“Listen here, you delusional charlatan, if people out there knew what you hide so desperately, they would scorn you as much as they do us outlaws, if not more. Even if you don’t think so, you are like most of the women in this ship, something to be molded to the kingdom’s liking, or else. Your crew would have beaten you to an inch of your life if they had even suspected a thing, and you would surely dangle from their masts. I can promise you that, and you have always known. You do your best to not be an outcast when that is what you really are. Fake your reverence all you want, but I can see the truth all too clearly, and it disgusts me.” She began to calm down, breathing out while he kept a cautious distance from the bars. Her hands opened and dropped to her sides, letting her stand there tiredly with a rueful scowl. “I always sense the ones who don’t belong. Somehow, although I never want to, I keep welcoming them to a place where they can escape from all restraints. This time… I want to.”

All her words were true. He hid, pretended to be what was expected, disregarding his own wishes and doubts. Her words struck him deep, yet they did not manage to sway him. She grimaced when he shook his head after a while, firm in his conviction.

“I’m sorry, Barbara, but I must disappoint you.”

He did, greatly. That only made her fret more, for she did not wish to let him go. She couldn’t.

“You could belong. I’ve stayed my hand for others like you before. My crew may have taken down your mates without hesitation, but they can come to accept you between them if they see you are different. We can… I am the only one who you can count on now.” She clenched her teeth, causing him to close his eyes as she confessed. “You’ve got no one left out there. Nothing. I shot him down.”

She expected a fierce reaction, a hateful realization. There were no yells or glares; when he opened his eyes again, he did so while staring at the ground and his hands, silently. It took him a few seconds to say anything, and the words flowed without scorn, something that made her shiver.

“I suspected as much…” He was eerily calm, although despondent. “There had to be another reason for your hesitancy.”

“I just-“ He would have laughed if he was not so disheartened, seeing her stammer. She took off her hat and hid her face behind it, clutching it strongly while she whispered regretfully. “I’ve taken away something I had wished for in all my youth. A loved one is something far more painful to lose than the shiniest of treasures. I’ve murdered the man who you called father, one who took you under his wing out of the kindness of his heart.”

Olve clenched a fist, remembering well the blood on the deck, the smoke of the siege. As he plunged into the eel-infested waters, he would have wished to see her dead, but with each second that passed that sentiment faded. He hated it.

“You really should have bolted away with the necklace.” Barbara leaned away, hearing Olve lament. “I am grateful for having been spared and saved, but I can’t possibly forget your crimes and stand by your side. How can you expect me to after his death?”

There was nothing but regret in her heart, but also firmness. Both regretted having come to know each other, all due to unbreakable convictions represented by a royal necklace. She wished he had not been assigned to escort it back to the mainland, but it was a vain thought. Her greed was the real catalyst.

“I don’t. I can’t possibly do so.” Their gazes met again when she lifted her hat and put it on resolutely, solemn and grim. Her next words were stern and direct, barely concealing her sorrow. “Forcing you to submit to my will is not an option either; I’m a pirate, not a slaver. There’s only one way for me to carry on with my greed. You shall take your righteous devotion to the grave, Olve.”

With those last cryptic words, she stormed away up the stairs. Due to it, he grabbed the bars of the cage and called, seeing her leave without further sentence.

“Wait, Barbara!”

She ignored his call, leaving behind the brig and striding through the cargo towards the upper deck. When the moonlight finally brushed her red coat, she looked up to the night sky. She stood there, piercing the stars with her wicked green eyes.

Her hand pressured intensely the necklace in her pocket, all the heavier in her hold. She recalled her own misery, and the blood she kept spilling in spite; it was as red as the oak of her vessel and the gem she stole.