Second on the Right

By

Elizabeth Los

Elizabeth Los

Copyright© 2014 by Elizabeth Los

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to
persons, living or dead, places, events or locales is purely
coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s
imagination and are used fictitiously.

Adult Reading Material

Licensing Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment
only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
If you would like to share this book with other persons, please
purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading
this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for
your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase
your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this
author.

Many thanks to Tammy Davies, Michael Los, Jason
Parent, and Ruth Feiertag who helped me edit and revise this
story.

I hope you enjoy reading the story as much as I
enjoyed writing it.

Second On The Right

August 22, 1615

Storm clouds gathered overhead. The wind
whipped past the sails, driving freezing needles of rain into the
crew’s flesh and flinging icy waves over the
Swallow’s
rails. Lightning flashed and struck the top of the mast, which
exploded with a loud crack, raining flaming splinters of wood onto
the heads of the sailors below.

The crew’s shouts were scarcely audible over
the howl of the wind, but they all knew their roles in the struggle
to control the ship. This was not the first time they had faced
great danger and knew they must act as one if they were to survive
the raging storm.

Captain Niles Davis stood at the helm, using
all his great strength to hold the ship’s prow steady into the wind
and waves. His weathered and worn face scowled at the events
unfolding on the top deck.

A long knife clashed and clanged as it met
with the equally strong metal of the opposing weapon. With each
strike, a faint glow emanated from both. Two extraordinary beings
fought in the center of the
Swallow
’s deck. One wielded the
power of the sea, the other, the wind.

Though crewmen ran past, none ventured near
this private fight. The cabin boy, Robert James Benedict, hid
underneath the stairs leading to the helm. Blue eyes shone brightly
in contrast to his matted auburn hair and deeply tanned skin. Too
naive to comprehend the urgency of his shipmates, he leaned forward
to gain a better view of the two skilled fighters that danced
before him. The ship lurched from a violent gust of wind and the
boy’s hand slipped against broken wood. He winced in pain, but gave
only a cursory glance at the bleeding wound. With a quick and
satisfactory swipe, he smeared the blood on his breeks, returning
his attention to the couple’s war.

The god of wind, known as Panerthos, pushed
off the deck and flew high into the air. Despite the strong gales,
he alighted on a mast with grace. He bellowed a triumphant crow. A
cloak flapped and flailed about his slender frame, the fabric
outlined with a ribbing of blue trim. His jet-black hair, once tied
back neatly, was escaping its ties and long tendrils blew across
his face. His silver eyes glared down at the witch below.

The woman growled in annoyance. She closed
her eyes and muttered unintelligible words. Daria, often simply
called the Sea Witch, wore a sandy brown dress, her dirty blonde
hair braided and adorned with oceanic plants and debris. Her skin,
scaly in appearance, glittered with a blue-green hue.  Though
her blessing was desired, most knew her curse was more readily
given.

With a subtle movement of her fingers, a huge
wave crashed down over the ship, knocking her opponent to the deck.
Crewmen nearby screamed as the rushing water pulled them out to
sea. Panerthos, now forced to his knees, coughed and sputtered for
a moment. He raised his head, his eyes gleaming with a hint of
red.

The woman smirked while in ready stance.
“There now, you see? A much more fitting place for the great air
god,” she called out to him. “On. His. Knees.”

Blinded by rage, he slashed at her, but
missed.

“Had enough?” she asked.

“Never!” he growled as he stood and charged
towards her.

Daria stepped to the side a moment before he
reached her. He could not slow his momentum. As he passed, she spun
around and pushed her blade into his back. With little effort the
weapon slipped right through his body. She released the hilt and
stepped away.

Startled, Panerthos stared down at the tip
protruding from his chest. A great howl echoed through the air and
the winds whipped about violently as he struggled to remove the
blade. Try as he might to push the weapon out with bloodied hands,
he could not. He fell to his knees, weakening in his fight. With
one final growl, he fell to the deck.

The storm that had come so quickly dissipated
and the sea returned to its gentle rocking.

For a long moment, all was still and silent.
The crew gawked in disbelief at the still form of the air
elemental, not daring to make a sound. Slowly, inch by inch, his
body began to melt into a pool of black sludge. The knife that had
killed him trembled, pulling the liquid inside, the blue orb in its
hilt glowing. Within seconds, all that remained were black clothes
and the long knife.

The victor held a fist up in the air, a wide
grin on her face.

Men cheered and surrounded Daria, offering
their gratitude.

Robert crept towards the dead man’s clothes,
searching for the knife. The glowing blue orb caught his eye, and
he reached for it.

“Boy!”

The shout startled him and he dropped to the
deck. The woman towered over him. He squinted, holding his injured
hand up to block the sun. She was frowning. She snatched his hand,
pulling him to his knees in the process. One glare at the sight of
the fresh wound on his palm and she let go roughly, pushing him
back to the deck.

“This weapon is very dangerous. Do not touch
it or you shall surely die,” she hissed.

Behind her someone cleared their throat. Her
attention shifted away from the young boy.

Captain Niles Davis stood expectantly, his
smile rather forced. “Daria,” he said in a low, biting tone.

While the captain continued to speak, Robert
carefully inched towards the knife. The conversation between Daria
and Captain Davis became muffled, replaced instead by the thump of
the steady, strong beat of his heart. He had a secret treasure
trove hidden in the bowels of the ship. This knife would easily fit
within his stash. Robert might have forgotten about the knife,
except that it was now forbidden to him. This meant he must have
it. No one told him no. He grinned, eyes widening in wonder. He
glanced at Daria, who now faced the captain, and pushed himself up
to claim the fantastic knife for his own. A few steps to go and he
found his movement thwarted.

“Robert, me boy!” Freeman, the ship’s surgeon
and carpenter, called. “Take this key ’n go below. Fetch the
cap’n’s rum and bring it ta his quar’ers.” He grabbed the boy’s
collar and shoved him in the general direction. Stumbling, Robert
scurried down the steps.

“Captain, if we may,” Daria said, gesturing
towards his cabin.

Frowning, the captain gave a curt nod and
turned. Daria silently followed on his heels. Hushed whispers rose
and fell like the wind. The crew seemed curious, but they dared not
eavesdrop.

Inside the cabin, Daria gazed at the captain.
A roar of cheers drifted through the doors. Davis groaned. “My best
rum.” He looked longingly at the doors and thought of his supply of
spirits dwindling rapidly among the crew. Shaking his head, he
paced nervously around the room, finally stopping to glance at
her.

“Yes, well?  Let’s get on with it,” he
grumbled.

She gave him a seductive smile and a slight
bow of her head. In seconds, her scaly skin smoothed, the sandy
brown dress transforming to a sparkling turquoise. “My dearest
captain, I have but a simple request. One more task for you before
I leave. It is but a trifle, and one I know you can handle. A
strong man, such as yourself, will have no trouble—”

“Enough!” he snapped. “I have no need for you
to placate me. No form of flattery will cover the truth. This is
your doing. He was your doing, and you want me to take care of it.
You’ve nearly destroyed my ship and half of my crew! Why should I
help you? Why can you not be rid of the blade forever? Drop it in
the deepest trench in the sea and be done with this and leave me
be!”

Daria slithered towards him. “Captain,” she
said in a syrupy tone, “you are by no means a simple man. I know I
would ask no other, save you. I trust no other. The knife must be
destroyed by fire, melted in a forge. As goddess of these seas, I
cannot do this. I must ask you, my
dearest
captain. After
all we’ve been through, after our history together, would you not
do this one task for me?”

The captain glared at the wall. One glimpse
and he knew he would relent. She had a way of making him do her
bidding. No matter how outrageous the task, he always ended up
saying yes.
Not this time
, he grumbled to himself.

Daria ran her fingers down the side of his
face. “Captain Davis,” she whispered.

He tried to resist, tried not to react. He
was
not
going to help her.
She can do it herself.

She pushed closer, caressed his chest and
brushed her lips against his ear. “
My
captain, do this and
you may have
your heart’s desire,
” she whispered again in an
enticing tone. “Niles.”

His head whipped back to face her. As soon as
their eyes met, his shoulders slumped in surrender. He had failed
to hold onto his anger, his stubbornness. “As you wish,” he said
with quiet regret. His answer was rewarded with a kiss.

At last, the
Swallow
made for shore.
Nearly twelve weeks after the battle, the crew deserved a
much-needed break. Captain Davis needed it more than any of them.
Supplies were growing as thin as his patience.

Once the ship docked, the crew’s energy
seemed to increase. They were all looking forward to their chance
at shore leave. The crew rushed around, securing lines, packing
crates, and preparing to disembark. One young boy, who would argue
he was more man now than he had been before the battle, remained
below deck, waiting.

By nightfall, both captain and a majority of
the crew had left. A skeleton crew watched over the ship. In one of
the darkened recesses of the captain’s quarters, a chest was
hidden, its contents holding a forgotten promise.