DEVIL'S ISLAND

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

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Stealing From the Best: If Shakespeare could do it, you can too. Steal your plots. Take old plots and weave “your particular magic” into them. Originality is the key to plagiarism. You cannot lift the exact plot, with the same characters intact, but you may take a pattern and use it, and plot is nothing more than a story’s pattern.

BACK COVER

The Pillar of Autumn was the most splendid Man-of-War in all of the Spaniard Military fleet. It was a massive vessel, eluding both majestic illustriousness and battle-spirit. It not only obliterated the enemy, but did so without receiving damage. And with its unprecedented crew of three hundred, it was clear it was the future of ocean warfare.
The English Royal Fleet was jealous indeed.

In this time of relative peace though, the mighty vessel was docked in the military city of Alcance, a wondrous place for any military man. But Commander Santiago Claves itched for excitement. He stood at the helm of the vessel wanting to set sail, but he and his crew had orders to remain docked. There were no active traitors to the Spanish Crown lately. Spain was too formidable.

Commander Santiago smiled at the thought of being invincible. He stood straighter, his eyes affixed upon the calmness of the sea. He had much to be proud of: a flawless military record, the unrelenting support of the Spanish Crown, a beautiful daughter named Mathilde, and the confidence of the Holy Roman Church.

No one knew it, outside of the Commander and his Lieutenant, but aboard his vessel was hid away one of the greatest secrets of the war against the pirates: a holy knight in blessed armor, which was argued by some to have been created by the Angels of God.
But holy peace can only last so long.

"No!” a cry fell unto the commander’s ears. He rushed to the starboard side and found one of his soldiers pointing skyward. Commander Santiago looked up, and descending upon him and his crew were winged beasts of fur and horns, controlled by sickly brutes wielding axes and cleavers. These creatures had called themselves the Covenant, in an attempt to mock the Holy Church.
A mistake.
Commander Santiago smiled; he was going to see some combat after-all.

“Fire!” Santiago Claves had shouted.
The men listened to Santiago, obeying without hesitation. They had loaded the ebony balls and lit the fuses, unleashing chaos on their enemies’ vessels, turning them into kindling. Within minutes the men had begun to howl with approval as the enemy ships fled, some patting Santiago on the back. Yes, they had obeyed him, and did so without pause. Yet, Santiago was not the commander.

It had been two months since the Midsummer Night had left port, and the sea was calm the entire time, save one fairly vicious storm. Nonetheless, the men were restless, bored and wanting action. Some grumbled about the lack of fighting, a few drank themselves into deep sleep on the sly, while others filled the time with card games. Commander Dmitri Xing spent a great deal of time in his quarters, reviewing the information provided by Naval Intelligence.
The Midsummer Night had been launched after reports of pirate convoy sightings had reached the Crown. Pirates were a terrible threat to decent civilization, so the gathering and mingling of such barbarians must be met with quick and decisive force. At least, that was how the orders had read when presented to Dmitri.
Royal Intelligence had pinpoint a sector off the coast of Mauritania where the convoys had been seen most recently, and it was the job of all the sailors aboard the Midsummer Night to seek out the pirates and to destroy them with righteous prejudice. For the first two weeks the crew and their vessel had slinked along the coast, eager for combat. Then, when nothing presented itself, they ventured further out into unknown waters. It was out in the unknown that they had spent the remaining time of the last two months. And it was in the unknown waters that they had all met boredom.

Santiago had served under Commander Dmitri Xing for three seasons; he had respected him greatly. He could not understand how anyone could betray him as Guthri had done. But that did not matter any longer. Both Guthri and Xing were dead, their bodies blasted out into the ocean when the enemy began their attack. Sailors were frantic and afraid, scurrying about as cannonballs rained down upon them, shattering wooden planks. Something must be done, so Santiago had called the men to order.
“Damnit men,” he had shouted. Sailors stopped dead in their tracks, peering up at Santiago standing beside the wheel. It had been a wonder any of them heard Santiago at all. “Are we going to allow some savage bastards to best us,” he had continued, “the best sailors of the Crown’s Navy?”
As explosions boomed and shook the war vessel, the sailors shook their heads. “Then do what you were trained to do, prepare the cannons!”
The cannons fired continuously, bombarding the enemy; a thundering orchestra of warfare and obliteration.


Submitted: September 01, 2022

© Copyright 2022 CENTAURI ADAMS. All rights reserved.

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