Symphony of Shadows

51. Honor

A/N: Warning: VERY Graphic Depictions of violence. The next chapter will be posted on Sunday at 8pm American Eastern Standard Time:)

Eret had a skull crushing headache that was no doubt thanks to that irritable vigilante wannabe. Seriously, who did he think he was? The world wasn't all blue oleander and rainbows. People did what they had to do to survive—Eret was no exception.

He opened his eyes to see the woman had kept her word, and he was back on his ship.

Or what was left of it.

Most of his men had gained consciousness, and they tended to their wounds on the front deck. As he surveyed the damage, he found that no one had actually been killed, which was an interesting discovery. The dragon vigilante may have some morals after all.

"Oi! Get me a waterskin! I'm dying over here."

Eret croaked out and caught the attention of his new second in command—his old mate, Knud, had been murdered by Viggo after their shipment was delayed. Now, Trygve was his right hand and the stoic trapper was growing on him. He pulled out his waterskin and handed it to Eret. A swig of water was just what he needed, and his headache dulled slightly. He handed back the water and gave Trygve a solemn nod.

"Thanks. What's the status of the crew?"

His second in command looked around and pointed to the half-burnt sail. Blimey.

"We'll have to stitch a temporary replacement for now and when we get to the port scrap it for a new one."

Eret nodded. It wasn't the worst news. At least the mast was still intact. A new pair of sails would cost them, but it was the least of their worries.

"And what about the men?"

"Surprisingly, everyone seems to be alive and not in critical condition. That bastard roughed us up with a couple of good blows, a few slices of his sword, and a swift hit to the head. We all woke up a few moments ago Sten and Toke have some burns, but nothing healing salve couldn't heal in a moon cycle. They took a cold plunge after the burns, so it wasn't too nasty. I think they fainted from the cold shock, though. The rest of the crew is sowing and wrapping up their shallow wounds."

Finally, some good news. Eret sighed in relief and at the mercy they'd been shown. It could've been a lot worse, all things considered.

"But there is one thing, boss. They took all the dragons."

His eyes widened at the nervous trapper, and his heart stopped in his chest.

"What?!"

Trygve gulped and looked at the wooden planks.

"We checked. They're all gone."

They were dead men. All of them. It wasn't Trygve's fault, but Eret couldn't help lashing out at him.

"Do you know what Viggo's going to do to us when he finds out?! Dying at the hands of those idiots who attacked us would've been better than what he's going to do to us!"

Eret paced furiously back and forth, trying to find a solution. They were out of time—Viggo would arrive at any moment. There was no way they'd be able to find twenty dragons and trap them all on such short notice.

He should've begged to stay on that stupid island.

Out of the corner of his eye, the surrounding sea rippled and Eret almost jumped overboard.

Viggo.

Breathing out slowly, he rolled his shoulders back. He wouldn't lead his crew in fear. He'd die in honor—not in cowardice.