Chapter 2 - To Create a Masterpiece

  Jackrin hummed. It was neither a happy tune, nor one of despair. It simply was.

  He sucked in a sharp breath of the oceanic air, bounding across the rooftops of one house to another using the greater strength of his unhuman half. Part of his mind was enthralled by the rippling masterpiece he sought to carve out of Dhorjun's corpse while the other half drifted in dedicated thought for Eksa's wellbeing.

  He'd done a poor job keeping her from her vices. She'd abandoned rationale. Her every action was dictated by alcohol's cloying sensations. Drink had dulled her nerves and robbed her mind of its agility. She was torn between her love of the ocean and her love for Aaron —a tragedy Jack might have written a ballad about had it not been his own friends he'd be mocking. She was more than capable of being an ardent blaze, but refused to climb out of the pit she claimed she'd been pushed into until the very person that had shoved her came to pull her out.

  Jack sighed, bringing an abrupt end to his humming. He wondered what manner of marauding image of Dhorjun would invoke the most emotion from all of Kovar. Art was an act of contemplation. An act of great patience, and much meditation. Art was also a lonely maiden needing in another's appreciation. Lusting after it, in fact. Jackrin's songs and jokes and juggling acts drew clusters of crowds with not an inch of space between them, but his alleyway paintings that he oft resorted to when tending that insatiable need for violence went unnoticed until long after the deed had been done.

  Dhorjun, though, ruled with an iron fist. Him, Jack could kill while laughing rather than hide each vicious murder behind the sounds of his own shrill voice caught in the shadows of dank and abandoned corridors.

  Jahck skidded to a sudden halt at the edge of a slanted roof. “Look at you. Look at you grinning and giggling at the thought of a justifiable murder. You don't raid innocents with the crew but you slit throats and skin bodies in the lightless spaces between two houses. What is your morality?”

  “Don't act like you don't do much the same,” Jack countered.

  “Ah, ha, ha… ha, ha. I don't do much the same. I do the exact same. Difference is, I'm not a hypocrite,” Jahck said. “I know what it is I do and why I do it. I enjoy it. I do not hide from it, nor try adding any superficial justification to it, Jackrin Malkieri. What about you?”

  Jack was following orders this time. This would, he thought, also help Eksa in the long run. The Red Serpent had become the most popular figurehead amongst both pirates and enslaved citizens alike —the latter admiring her for allowing them to live under the false guise of liberty. Now, they knew of her raids of merchant ships, but her rule was far favoured over the likes of Dhorjun and Crow.

  What about you someone whispered.

  Jack ignored that voice much like the passing wind. He continued his midnight stroll through the air, summersaulting here, back flipping there, until he landed upon the roof of the tavern most oft frequented by Dhorjun and his lackeys. The door creaked open, letting spill the orange glow of inside onto the dusty street below. Jack knelt and watched from above, blond bangs plastered on his forehead from sweat gathering in anticipation.

  Crow and Aki were the first ones out, the former limping, his arm around the latter's waist. Aki gently moved his arm away and shook her head. “Not today,” Jahck heard her say.

  “You said the same yesterday and the day before,” Crow said.

  Aki put her hands on her hips. “A lady has days when she is not compatible. Don't confuse me with those that do this without respite, Hawthorne.”

  “Crow,” the man grumbled.

  Jahck tilted his head. The former barkeep was lying. He could hear it in her voice. Not his problem. He focused his ears on the thumping footsteps of the black maned admiral moving inside the tavern. Dhorjun would come out soon. And Jahck had thought up the perfect bait to reel him in.

  He dropped down upon a part of the street where light did not touch. He then used the Mask of Illusions to change his appearance into that of Eksa's. Oh, this was going to be such a brilliant little show!

  Jahck marched down the lane until he found himself before the open door of the tavern. Aki frowned at his illusion. Crow and his loyal mercenary hounds spared 'Eksa' the lengthy seconds required to regard her admirable figure and nothing more. Dhorjun came out not soon after, slumping like a drunk but eyes very much aware and conscious of his surrounds. That uncouth cudgel of his hung from one end of his hip.

  “I want a word,” Jahck said, doing his best to mimic Eksa's coarse voice once it'd been oiled by alcohol. Aki's pencil thin brow shot up at this. She shuffled forward a step, biting on the edge of her lips as if weighing her would be actions upon a scale.

  “Speak quickly,” the ogre admiral grumbled.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Jahck made 'Eksa' blush and frown. “A word in private.” He didn't wait for acknowledgement. He made his illusion turn and walk away while walking backwards all the while to maintain a field of vision over his deceived audience.

  Dhorjun's eyes narrowed. He scratched at his neck. Then began to follow.

  ***

  A word in private?

  Creasing lines formed between Aki's brows. Dhorjun followed Eksa down the barren street. The girl had become a raving drunk since Aaron's silent departure. Had alcohol become too mellow to dull her ails? When violence and drink no longer staved off the mental aches, the mind would seek another drug to indulge in.

  Aki knew very well what that drug would be. She'd sought it out herself, and now it just wasn't enough. She contemplated following the two herself, but she was surrounded by Hawthorne and the others. They'd raise too many questions.

  What is she to me anyways?

  “Come,” Hawthorne said, pulling her by her arm. “He'll fill us in if the girl demands anything outrageous.”

  “Right…” Aki agreed. Hawthorne had been increasingly lax over the past year and then some. Eksa's descent to pirating acts had given him peace of mind. She'd become just another marauding raider, a pawn for his many schemes than direct competition.

  Again, why do you care?

  Would things be different if Aki hadn't obeyed Crow during her stay on The Scarlet Reaver? What if she'd remained a mentor and friend to Eksa only?

  I had no choice.

  There it was again. That line she told herself when the inquisition arose in her mind to torment her. Aki blocked off all her thoughts. She squeezed shut her eyes and walked blind for a while, following the moving herd of Hawthorne and his loyal band of mercenary sailors as they headed for the musty inn they'd been utilising. When she was sure the questions had gone for the night, Aki opened her eyes again.

  But curiosity got the better of her. She turned her head to peer down the dark cobbles one last time, catching Eksa ducking into an alley as she undid the buttons of her shirt, Dhorjun following after.

  Flames. She's doing it. She's stumbling along the same ruinous path I've tread. And I'm going to stand idly by…?

  It would be with Dhorjun no less. Aki had been with him once. He was not the gentle type. Every woman working sheets feared the Black Fanged Reaver. Rarely did any of them escape the night unbruised or undamaged. Eksa was hardly chest height compared to him. If she somehow escaped the giant's bone crushing grip around her throat or shoulders, she'd still far from leave the encounter unharmed.

  Aki bit down on her lower lip until it bled. She made a show of feeling her clothes. “Ashes. Think I've forgotten something back at the bar,” she said, excusing herself from the group.

  There's always a choice. She'd spent her days making all the wrong ones. She wasn't going to let the girl do the same. Even if that meant killing the fleet admiral.

  ***

  Dhorjun crossed his hairy arms. He stood straight like a bear on its hind legs, daunting. “Finally lost the will to fight me, eh girl?”

  Jahck twitched, seeing a flash of a frigid past. Seeing the shadows of towering pines and smelling the horrid breath of a hungry beast. He saw fangs dripping saliva. It all buzzed like a heat born mirage, inducing a nauseating headache. He clutched his head, struggling to maintain the illusion of Eksa. He reached into his pockets and felt his fingers curl around the dagger hilt warmed by his own body. That's right. He was here to kill Dhorjun. Here on orders and desire. Here to enjoy a night drenched in darkness and malady.

  “Fear gripped you, Eksa? You're shaking like a wet puppy. You brought this on yourself. I'm not stopping now.”

  For a woman, Karine seemed to have an abnormally deep voice. She was significantly taller and wider than Jahck remembered too.

  The illusion broke.

  “What the Fla—”

  Jahck lunged, grinning wide beneath the mask. First broke the windpipe to silence any sound. Then bent the fingers, twisting round and round. Then came the dagger sheathed between two ribs. And last.

  “Last falls the mask to reveal the truth behind the fib!”

  Jack giggled with delight. He hacked and slashed and clawed and stabbed. No trace remained of a human face. The torso was pulled open to bask in a clear night's glory, wet innards glistening. And the smell… not sweet like blood should have been, but rather bitter just as Eksa's. Blood with high alcohol content. Jack clicked his tongue. At least Karine was finally…

  Karine did not have large hairy arms. Nor a mop of wavy black hair covering the sides of his face and chin. Jack scratched his head. Oh, right. This was Dhorjun. This was an order completed on behalf of Eksa. A justified murder because the victim was… was…

  He covered his mouth. The sticky and bitter smell made his throat feel prickly. There was something swirling in his stomach that wanted out. Despite it all, Jackrin laughed behind his hands. That was all he could do. Laugh and it all eventually went away. Just like that woman he'd drunk dry during their moment of blissful union. Just as that night, a limp body lay on its back never to move again.

  He picked up his mask, wondering why it lay before his feet and marred by a spray of blood.

  What about you?

  “What about me?” Jack whispered. He stared at the violet slits marking the eye holes of the mask. Thoughts he did not understand lashed out at him. He moved to wear the mask but heard the sounds of hurried footsteps approaching. Jack used his enhanced strength to leap in the air, grasping at the edge of a roof before pulling himself over the edge, and absolving himself of all association for the crime committed. Below, someone gasped. A feminine sounding voice. Seemed the body had already been discovered. Jackrin made himself scarce.

  He too had lost sight of himself much the same as Eksa. His moral compass had disappeared. He needed it back. He needed Aaron back. There was a plague growing in his mind that wasn't there before. A plague taking shape in the form of strangling questions. Life was simpler when he followed Aaron. Somehow, that'd always felt the right choice. Aaron had always seemed in control, always knowing just what to do and when.

  “Was he?” Jahck asked. “Or was that the figure you painted of him. Admit it. You enjoy this too.”

  No. No I don't.

  He put on the mask again. The mask brought serenity and a clear sense of mind. When he was not Jack, he did not need to worry about the actions of Jack. The questions were gone now. There was only great pleasure. Pleasure and pride in what he'd done tonight. After all, who wouldn’t pride themselves in the creation of a masterpiece?

  Something told Jahck that this particular work of art would get the just amount of appreciation and attention that it deserved. He cackled into the night sky, bounding across rooftops once more on his return to the Scarlet Reaver. He had splendid news to deliver to his captain.