Dawn of a Red Sky

  Dawn of a Red Sky

  Ryan Gilbert

  Copyright

  Dawn of a Red Sky

  Copyright © 2017 by Ryan Gilbert

  All rights reserved in all media. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locales, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental or fictionalized.

  To my family and friends who have supported me and inspired me throughout this process…

  Table of Contents

  DAWN OF A RED SKY

  COPYRIGHT

  PROLOGUE

  ONE YEAR LATER

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE END… FOR NOW

  COMING SOON

  PROLOGUE

  Waves crashed.

  A light breeze blew across the beach.

  The sounds of the island echoed in her ears.

  The smell of salt water filled the air as Julia Hamond opened her eyes. She felt like she had been knocked unconscious. For how long, she could not possibly guess. She had seen nothing except inky blackness for what had seemed like hours.

  Rubbing her eyes, Julia tried to stand up, but a jolt of pain shot through her body. She felt extremely weak. The sand slid right out from under her as she tried to get a foothold. She collapsed on the ground just as the tide rolled across her ankles. It felt like she had not moved for days.

  Julia lay down on her back, trying to regain her strength. The last thing that she remembered was seeing a flurry of red lightning. There was a sudden, excruciating pain, and then there was nothing.

  Just nothing.

  Her clothing hung from her body in a misshapen mess. The ends of her dress were tattered. Her boots were gone, leaving her barefoot. The sleeves of her shirt were nothing more than bits of cloth held together by string. Her hand reached for her neck, feeling around for the red ruby necklace that Riggs had given her. She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the cold jewel in her fingers once again.

  Riggs.

  Where was Riggs?

  Where was she for that matter?

  She remembered him laying on the deck of a sinking Adventure Prize, trying to get to her as the lightning coursed through her body. Everything after that was clouded in darkness.

  Again, she tried to get to her feet, succeeding in reaching her knees. Forcibly, she pulled her leg up, putting all of her weight against her thigh so she could stand. With wobbly balance, she stood up, looking out over the ocean in front of her.

  But that was not all she saw.

  In the shallow water rested two ships, both damaged beyond repair. Their sails blew in the wind like lifeless corpses hanging from the gallows. Yet, there was something familiar about them that the girl could not quite identify. With heavy feet, she turned around to try to get her bearings.

  That was when everything clicked.

  She saw the rocky mountains, the morning mists slowly swirling around the island, and the regrown patches of the forest that covered the island. She could even see the bits of ash that still mixed with the sand.

  Julia was petrified.

  She was standing on Isla de Dolor.

  “I see you’re awake, Julia.”

  With some of her strength coming back to her, Julia spun around to see who had spoken. Her luck seemed to be running out with every second.

  Standing in the water, Ororis stepped through the waves, her black fin having just transformed into her long, slender legs. In her hand, she held several fish, still squirming to try to get away from the mermaid.

  “Get… away… from me,” Julia stammered.

  How could Ororis be alive? The girl had watched her fall into a burning ship. Riggs had pinned her to the deck. There was no way that this… thing… was actually the Red Sky’s dreaded enemy. What was happening was nothing short of her worst nightmare.

  Almost as if she had read Julia’s mind, Ororis said, “You seem frightened, child. Now why is that? Is it because you and your captain left me for dead?”

  Julia took a step back.

  “Is it because you helped take my precious powers away?”

  Ororis threw the sputtering fish further up the beach. Julia took another step backward, stumbling a little.

  “Is it because you’re afraid of what I’m going to do to you when I get my hands on you?” the mermaid shouted at the girl.

  Julia’s foot caught on a piece of wood, and she fell to the ground. She tried to scoot away, but it was no use. Ororis was much faster and stronger than her, and she knew it.

  The girl held her hands out in front of her, trying in vain to shield herself as the mermaid calmly walked to her side. There was no one to save her now. She shut her eyes, waiting for Ororis’s fangs to rip out her throat.

  Nothing happened.

  Confused, she opened her eyes and saw Ororis holding out a hand to the girl.

  “Take it, Julia,” said the mermaid.

  Timidly, the girl took Ororis’s hand and let her former adversary help her to her feet. This was not the Ororis that she had known.

  “So… you’re not going to kill me?”

  Ororis shook her head.

  “Why?” asked a puzzled Julia.

  Leading the girl to a fire pit that she had not noticed before, Ororis said, “Well, to be honest for once in my life, I’m looking for something to turn my life around… something like what you and your captain have.”

  Cautiously approaching the pit, Julia asked, “Are you meaning love?”

  “Possibly,” said Ororis.

  Before she could stop herself, Julia scoffed at the idea. It did not seem plausible.

  “I think that would be mighty hard to come by in your case. With the countless amount of people that you’ve slaughtered, I can’t see why anyone would want to even give you a chance.”

  “But you’re giving me a chance, correct?” asked the mermaid, almost seeming pitiable.

  Remembering their past battles, Julia said, “I’m not giving you anything right now. If you want a chance, then you need to convince me that you deserve one.”

  Julia turned around, stumbling toward the sea. She needed to get back to Riggs. She did not feel safe, even if Ororis was claiming that she was no longer evil. Something did not feel right.

  Once the first wave hit her in the legs, Julia crumpled onto the ground, falling into the water. The ocean pounded against her chest as she planted her feet in the sand. She tried to force herself to swim, but there was not enough strength left in her body. Every muscle and joint ached, and it hurt to move.

  There was nothing she could do.

  She felt Ororis wrap her arms around her and drag her back to shore. She was both frustrated with herself and unnerved by her former enemy’s actions.

  “How did you get me here?” she asked the mermaid.

  “I swam. You were nearly killed by a magic spell, so I brought you here.”

  “Then take me back the same way,” Julia ordered, watching as the mermaid started a small fire to cook the fish.

  “I can’t.”


  “What do you mean you can’t?”

  Putting aside the two rocks that she was using to create sparks, Ororis explained, “Whenever you were hit with that magic, you absorbed most of that killing spell. When I brought you here, you might as well have been dead. Making that same trip while you’re as weak as you are right now… impossible.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Julia asked.

  “Wait until you’re fully recovered. Only then will I take you back to your captain.”

  Julia rolled over onto her side and crawled to her knees, pounding her fists against the ground. She did not want to be stuck on Isla de Dolor with Ororis for any longer than she needed to. Something about the mermaid’s sudden willingness to help did not sit well with Julia. The only thing that she could hope for would be a quick recovery.

  Under her breath, she whispered, “Don’t worry, Riggs. I will find my way back to you, my love. I promise.”

  One Year Later…

  CHAPTER ONE

  In the port of Rebelde on the island of Jamaica, the pirates were growing increasingly paranoid. Over the last year, many of the ships had not come back from their voyages. Friends were lost at sea, most likely never to be seen or heard from ever again.

  Rumors were circulating around the town that the English Navy had finally become better at predicting the pirates’ movements and were cracking down on those that sailed the seas. There were two names that the pirates had come to fear in the last couple months.

  Admiral Edward Carter and Commodore Matthew Hamond.

  In the taverns, those that survived their attacks would describe the horrors that had happened to their fellow crewmates. Men would be brought into interrogations and would come back with broken arms. Some would be left struggling for air and would die within hours.

  It was a terrifying thought for a pirate.

  On the streets of Rebelde, two men stood in an alleyway, their hushed voices concealing the subject of their conversation. Bran and Philippe watched the people of the town walk the dirty streets, their eyes drawn to the bay out of constant fear of the Navy.

  “What do ye think about the stories?” Philippe, the burly sailor asked, “Ye think ‘ey’re true?”

  Casually lighting a cigar, Bran placed a hat on his head, saying, “I don’t know what to make of it. For years, the Navy’s just been a bunch o’ pansies. They’ve ne’er even gotten close to causing this much trouble fer us.”

  Surprised, the sailor asked, “So ye don’t believe what’s being said?”

  With a cocky smile, Bran replied, “Not one bit.”

  “That ain’t smart, mate. What about… what about the story that the crew of that ship told? For the life o’ me, I can’t remember its bloody name.”

  Glaring at the sailor from underneath the brim of his hat, Bran answered, “The Red Sky, you dullard.”

  “Precisely. Yer saying ye don’t believe what they said about their encounter with the Admiral and the Commodore?”

  The man spit some saliva out of his mouth and looked Philippe straight in the face.

  “I don’t believe a single word ‘at comes out o’ their mouths.”

  Smirking to himself, he continued, “Do they really think that we’re supposed to believe that those two wenches that follow ‘em around are a fairy and a mermaid? What a load of bollocks. They’re a poor excuse for a crew if I’ve ever seen one.”

  “But their captain swears that it all happened.”

  “Don’t even get me started on that runt of a man,” he said, taking the cigar in his hand, “He comes back ‘ere after supposedly being assaulted by those Navy monsters and all he can whine about is how he lost his pathetic lil’ lover. Real men don’t waste their time wit’ mere playthings.”

  *crash*

  The two spun around to see someone standing in the middle of the alley. Bits of glass from a smashed bottle covered the ground as rum ran down the wall, forming small puddles in the dirt. The shadow of the building hid his face, not that the two even wanted to waste their time on him.

  “What… did you… say?” the newcomer asked.

  “Nothing ye need concern yerself wit’, fella. Find a diff’rent alley fer yer drunken talk,” said Bran, turning away from the unwelcome guest.

  “I asked you a question, mate.”

  “And I said to bug off,” said Bran, blowing a puff of smoke in the air.

  *shing*

  Bran slowly turned back around, the newcomer’s sword pointed directly at his head. It did little to intimidate him. He had fought many drunkards before. This one just happened to have a harsh temper.

  “Listen, fella, yer wasting our time. Best be leaving ‘fore we beat yer sorry arse.”

  The shadowy stranger did not back down.

  After blowing a quick puff of smoke, Bran nodded to his sailor friend. Philippe yanked a dagger from his belt while Bran pulled out a pistol. If the stranger wanted a fight, then he would get a fight.

  Even with two armed men staring him down, the stranger refused to back down.

  “We warned ye,” Bran laughed.

  Without a second thought, Philippe rushed at the drunkard, holding his dagger high in the air. The stranger did not flinch, his face still hidden by the shadows. It was going to be a quick fight.

  Just as the sailor was about to stab him, the stranger slashed his sword through the air, seemingly missing. Philippe stumbled past him, missing his strike as well. Bran laughed, inhaling some more tobacco smoke into his lungs.

  “Yer pathetic, ye bloody codpiece,” he said, leveling his gun at the stranger.

  The stranger said nothing as Philippe turned around. When Bran saw what had happened, the cigar dropped from his mouth and his hands started to shake.

  The stranger’s sword had sliced through the front of the sailor’s neck. Philippe’s dagger fell to the ground as he tried to stop the blood that was oozing from his wound, but it was a fruitless endeavor. The sailor crumpled to the ground, guttural sounds emitting from his mouth as he sputtered and died, his head buried in the rum-soaked dirt of the alley.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, the stranger snatched the knife from the ground and chucked it at Bran. The blade buried itself in the man’s wrist, the pointed tip sticking out the other side of his arm. Bran cried out in pain, but the stranger quickly shoved him against the brick wall, pressing his arm against the man’s neck.

  Applying more pressure with each passing second, the stranger said, “Now I’m gonna ask you again. What… did… you… say?”

  Bran sputtered, “I-I don’t know what yer talking about.”

  The stranger pushed harder on his adversary’s neck, cutting him off before he could say anything more.

  “I don’t ever want to hear ye talkin’ about my girl again. She was the only thing I held dear in this world, and you will not be makin’ her out to be worthless. Capische?”

  Bran’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “You’re… you’re…”

  “I’m Captain Riggs of the Red Sky… and you’d best remember it,” he said, shaking his black, scraggly hair out of his face.

  Panicking, Bran tried to aim his pistol at the Captain, but Riggs was too quick. Without even blinking, he twisted Bran’s hand around, ramming the barrel of the gun into the man’s chin. He tried to pull his fingers away from the trigger, but Riggs held his hand where it was.

  “Wh-what do you think yer doing?”

  Glaring into Bran’s terrified eyes, Riggs snarled, “I’m finishin’ the fight.”

  As the pirate captain held Bran’s trigger finger, the man tried to pull away, but there was nowhere for him to go. He could feel Riggs’ hand shaking as he tried to hold Bran still, making sure that he could not get away. The fear in the man’s eyes stood out to the pirate captain, invigorating him. As Riggs’ finger pressed against his trigger finger, Bran shut his eyes tight, telling himself this was not real.

  BANG

  At the last possible second, Riggs jerked his
hand to the side, forcing the barrel of the pistol away from Bran’s chin. The ball shot past the man’s face, so close to his skin that he could feel the powder burning him.

  “What the…”

  Before Bran could say anything more, Riggs grabbed him by the hair, running him into the other wall of the alley. With a *crack*, Bran’s back smashed against the brick wall and fell to the ground, unconscious, but still alive.

  Captain Riggs stood in the darkness of the alley, watching Bran for quite a long time. The pirate’s eyes slowly moved from his unconscious assailant to the man whose throat he had slit. To anyone who might have been watching, he seemed composed, looking over his handiwork.

  To Riggs, he was anything but composed.

  He was going mad.

  The hands that grasped his sword were shaking. He peered down at the pistol that lay on the ground. He could recall the excitement that had been running through his mind as he held the barrel against Bran’s chin, ready to shoot a lead ball through his brain. He could feel himself… almost enjoying it.

  Riggs quickly shook that thought out of his head. He did not enjoy killing. That was not the kind of pirate that he was. He grabbed at his head, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes as tightly as he could as he slid down to the ground. He could not become a monster.

  Ever since he had seen Julia, his one true love, die at the hands of his rival Jonathan Warner, he had an urge to find something to relieve that pain. So far, he had found nothing. As the months had passed, Riggs had turned violent. He could not control it. He knew that Julia would have still been alive if he had only killed Jonathan earlier. He could not shake the feeling that it was somehow his fault. With that weighing heavily on his mind, he would now stop at nothing to keep the rest of his friends safe from harm.

  However, one person did keep returning to Riggs’ thoughts. It was a person that he had never wished to see again, a man whose betrayal had cost the Red Sky dearly.

  “Did ye miss me?”

  Riggs opened his eyes to see a man sitting across from him, right next to where Bran’s panting body lay. The light of a nearby lantern glinted off the hook that had replaced the hand that Riggs had severed. Marcus Garrett sat across from his former captain. It was so real that Riggs had to remind himself that it was all just in his mind.