Venture to Uncertainty (#1)

Prologue

The man hunched over scout plans in the belly of the Bellhaven had eighteen years of sailing to his name, a sharp blue stripe on his shoulder that marked him an important navy officer, and a knack for memorizing the notes to countless songs on the violin. He was also going to die in nine minutes.

Leaving a trail of dirt as he dragged his finger down a parchment list of sailors, Nok chewed on his lip and said, "Jojo did the midnight shift two days ago."

The man sprawled on the must couch in the corner raised his cigar in agreement. "That's right. Patch's turn," he declared, smoke billowing from his mouth. That man had a few minutes longer to live, fourteen, to be exact.

Across the room at the table, Patch grinned, his rotting teeth gleaming in the flickering candlelight. "Not so," he said, reaching over to tap Nok's list. "I had the pleasure of the hellshift just last night." His clock would run out in twenty-two minutes.

Nok pursed his lips, realizing both men were right. He kept going down the list, greasy fingerprints smudging the lead he'd written it with. "So then it's back to..." He trailed off, tapping the last name on the list a few times. "Me."

Patch let out a huffed laugh, shuffling a deck of incomplete cards. He leaned back, propping his feet up on the chipped oak table with two thumps. He was a loud man, but no one would mind tonight, for there wasn't anyone to wake up; nobody slept this close to the border of Myria, not even their weathered, old captain, who regularly chided them for indulging in nonsense rumours.

"That's what'ya get for honour," Jojo called from the couch, thick grey clouds curling from his cigar. "When it's my turn to make the list, I always seem to forget my name."

Patch raised his brows, stacking the cards in even piles. "Just put one of 'em deckhands on again," he muttered. "They expendable anyway."

Nok just rolled his eyes. "Ain't nothing out there," he said, shoving aside the scout plans to get to his feet. Or, at least if there was something out there, he'd be the first to see it up in the crow's nest, of which it appeared to be his turn to man. He rolled back his tight shoulders, refusing to dwell on a time when his whole body didn't protest at the slightest movement.

"Watch them arrows," Jojo quipped, blowing his smoke up to the ceiling, dripping with rogue streams of seawater.

Patch shook his head. He was a higher rank than either of them, but he showed it off by speaking far less. He, too, often disciplined the deckhands for tittering about ghost ships captained by the Devil and his dead souls—but only because he knew the truth was far more haunting, and whispering in fear of legends only made them more legendary.

"If something be out there, Nok," he said, "just ring the bell." He leaned forward to shuffle his cards again. "Ain't nobody take down pirates like the Navy."

Nok gave the man a curt nod, reaching for his worn coat on the hook by the door. It was true that the Navy ticked most pirates off their list with hardly any trouble. These past few years, though, rumour had it that certain pirates were starting to pick off navy ships far easier.

Nok abandoned the cozy warmth of the room, shutting the door behind him. His boots clicked on the wooden floor as he tugged down the hatch, letting the ladder tumble out. Buttoning up his coat, he climbed the rope and pulled himself onto the deck, soft wind kissing his sun-spotted face. As he closed the hatch and got to his feet, the ocean was steady for as far as he could see, gentle waves sloshing up the sides of the Bellhaven, a prestigious navy vessel that only had a few more weeks at sea before returning home. Only a few more weeks before Nok saw his wife, before he could gather up his young baby in his arms once more. Even less time before they could get the hell away from the Myrian border.