The Pirate King

I study the rope, hanging taut against the wooden beam. Tightening my grip, I lift the sword. It’s rusted and blunt, and every now and then the floor threatens to slant beneath me, but I’ve made this manoeuvre work before. It’s all in the angle.

I take a breath and swing, tensing the moment the metal starts to pierce the leather thread. In the dark hull, it’s hard to see just how accurate my swing was, but on further inspection, I can’t help but smile. The rope has been split in two, and even with it having been pressed against the beam, there isn’t even a light scrape in the wood. My precision was right.

“Sirena!”

I tense, the sound of my name even more menacing in the dark.

“Get ‘ere!”

Someone stomps above me, sending dust from the floorboards above me. There’s a few gaps in the wood, which weak rays of light try to slip through. I watch the dust dance in them a moment longer than I ought.

“Sirena!”

I dart out from under the stairs, leaving my sword tucked behind a long-forgotten chest, and rush up to the deck.

As I emerge from the hull, I give myself a second to take in the scene ahead. The sky is clear above us, beating a hot sun into the sea. The waves look calm, but a current tugs them in a different direction to our ship’s disturbance. A ripple of something that had once been – or perhaps something that is still to come.

Men are sprawled across the deck in front of me, riggers and other crew members tending the ship. Some swing between our masts, flying almost as confidently as our flag; a dark beacon against the light day.

Our captain, a large man made up of salt and scars, spins past me, slashing a sword into the deck. Jewels glint in the light as he gives someone a menacing smile, lining his fingers and jacket and teeth. It is said that smile alone has scared the skin off of sailors, and haunted even the most daring of pirates that litter the prized sea. No one has crossed it and survived. But I know the smile he wears now is not intended to harm, not when his eyes shine, as eager and unruly as the sea itself.

“You see what I did, son?”

I can’t help but glance at the person he speaks to. The boy is young, just shy of eight, and dressed in a shirt and belt that are large enough to have come from the captain himself. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.

The boy nods, eyes widening as his father pulls his sword from the deck and hands it to him.

Something sharp stabs the back of my head, sending a burst of pain through my skull. I shoot at an arm without thought, gripping the person who hit me by the throat.

“You think you could actually do some damage?” Derlek, the stout quartermaster, snarls at me. I dream about squeezing tighter, to let him know the strength I actually have, but I know it comes to no avail. I’ve already wasted too many years trying. Hesitantly, I force myself to drop my hand and avert my gaze.

“That’s what I thought, girl.” Derlek spits the word, as if there is no greater insult. After almost two decades of hearing it, I’m beginning to think it might be true.

“You’re late.” Derlek twists, gripping me by the shirt and dragging me along with him. “You’ve got netting to weave. A whole lot ‘a it.”

I glance back at the boy in the corner, watching as he swings the sword in the air. His stance is rocky, but it’d weigh more than the ones he’s used to. He’s fairing well, better than I was at his age, but I guess that’s what happens when you get to practise in the sun.

“That’s it, Malik,” his father says, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “A few more years and you’ll be the next pirate king. Everything you see before you will be yours.”

I tense, looking out at the sea again. You’ll be the next pirate king.

Derlek halts. “…And don’t be stingy with it again, or I’ll replace the figurehead with you. Bare chest and all.”

My head snaps to him, his words finally breaking through. Before I know it, my palm is meeting his cheek, my rings cutting through his skin like its water.

Derlek lets out a stream of curses as he stumbles back. I stand frozen, acutely aware of the men that are now peering in our direction. I tuck away my hand, as if hiding it may mean I did not do it.

“Sirena.” The word comes out low and tight, as if just saying my name too loud will bring about a curse. It’s the only way I’ve ever heard the Pirate King say my name, ever since he bestowed it to me at birth.

I turn around and lift my head, meeting the cold eyes of the ruler of the sea. They are no longer bright, but how could they be? The Pirate King is no longer looking at his son. He’s looking at his daughter.

“Yes, Father?”
He sends the back of his palm into my cheek, my eyes immediately welling at the impact. My lip splits and gushes where his own rings cut, but I do not falter and stumble like Derlek did. I saw it coming, which is a mercy in itself. No one strikes without getting struck, that is the rule on our ship. On the Pirate King’s ship.

I hear a small gasp, and glance down to see Malik peering out from behind our father’s legs. I wipe my lip and blink back my tears, forcing myself to not appear like my skin is still burning.

The Pirate King doesn’t even spare me another look. He instead turns, leading Malik back to his lesson. The rest of the ship soon return to their tasks too.

Derlek throws the twine at me. “I want double because of that.”

I bite my tongue to keep from getting slapped again.

They are just afraid, I tell myself. It’s a line I’ve come quite familiar with over time. Ships are no place for women, not when tales of our wreckage are brought in from the land. Tales of girls with razors for teeth and the strength to tear boats like this into nothing.

Even my name is a curse; a reminder of their vulnerability. Sirena. Siren. Not even my own father could distinguish me from a trap.

And yet I’m the one paying the price, forced to train in the dark and study stolen glimpses of maps. It’d be better if I didn’t care, if I could just run the next time we docked and live a life on land. But, as much as we both hate it, I am my father’s daughter. I have fallen in love with the sea, with every shining possibility tumbling in it’s waves.

I look at them now, reading the restlessness still within. When I look out at the horizon, glowing gold with the setting sun, I see what message they’ve been trying to send.

“Attackers!” I yell, peering over the edge. “Six ships coming our way!”

Behind me, people hesitate. I curse at them. “See for yourself then.”

When they do, the ship bursts with life. People prep the shift to turn towards the oncoming vessels, other’s call in the other ships in our fleet.

My father readies the canons, body buzzing. This is what he lives for.

I notice Malik in the corner, struggling with a rope. I rush over, hastily untying it for him before I am noticed by the others.

When I move to leave, Malik grabs my hand. “Your face is still bleeding.”

“So?”

“Does it hurt?” His dark eyes dart around my face, taking in the cuts. I know from the look he isn’t asking for my sake.

“No one is going to hurt you,” I try to say the words softly, but they come out strained. Soft is not what I’m used to.

“Ever?” Malik asks.

I study him. You’ll be the next pirate king.

“You don’t want this,” I say the moment I realise.

Malik jumps when something explodes behind us. I look back to see the enemy ships already close. The fighting has begun.

“I need to go,” I tell my brother. I have been trained to hide, whereas he- he should be by our father’s side.

Malik merely shakes his head.

“Malik-”

“Dad told me a story of a hidden port with- with gold and jewels. I saw the map, that’s where we are heading. We could go there ourselves, away from everyone. Please.”

I look from my brother to the battle again, thinking about what he’s supposed to do, who he’s supposed to be. Thinking about how much power there is for the person training the next pirate king.

“Get the map,” I tell him, a plan coming to mind. “We need to go right now.”