Charge

Chapter 1 - Imprisonment - Part 1

        If there's one thing I've learnt from travelling the skies of Celym; magic always finds you. There's no hiding and no running from it because to be rid of magic would be to take out my own heart and blood. Ever since the mass eradication 15 summers ago, the Empire has been sniffing out the charges that remain. Forcing us into hiding, suffocating on the power just beneath our skin. The mark on my palm - a birthmark present on every Charge living and dead - thrums with heat as I wrap rags around it before slipping my fingers into leather gloves. Of course, I've covered it in tattoos and scars, but it always seems to shine through—a death sentence.
    "Captain," my second calls from my door, making me jump and throw my hands behind my back.
    "Gods, Mae, you scared me!"
    "A thousand apologies, captain, but you'd better come to see this,"
    I sling my belts and sword across my waist and follow Mae out of my quarters, shutting the door behind me.
    "What is it? The Vipera come back for round two?" The bunks are empty. No one is left in the hull. Not even the wounded. "Mae?" I say slowly, following her to the ladder leading to the bridge. She doesn't answer me, ushering me to come see. Mae is a woman of few words - but not this few. As my boots make contact with the wood of the bridge, I reach for my sword.
    "Oh, Gods..." Every one of my crew stands on the deck, a dark shadow cast upon the entire ship. My hair whips around my face, and for one singular moment, my body is still. Sleek obsidian sheets pieced together in intricate patterns, and cut with gunmetal supports to make up a monster of a ship; that could easily fit about 100 of my own inside it. If I were to stand on the bow, I would not even have to walk five paces to touch it. There are not many ships that can come so close so fast, and even fewer in obsidian and gunmetal. "Heave to!" I yell, springing back into action with an order to stop the ship so we don't end up splinters against the keel of an Imperial frigate. Sweat pools on my forehead and heat swirls on my fingertips. "What the f*ck is an Imperial ship doing in these parts?" I hiss, pulling my blade out of its sheath in one swift movement.
    "Hard to say, but it can't be nothin' good," Mae grimaces, her dark brows pulling to the centre of her forehead. She holds her battleaxe in one muscular arm. There's an abrupt hiss from the gigantous metal beast in front of us as a hatch opens and creates a bridge - almost like a makeshift bow. Out of the newly made entrance, a singular man walks out.
    "Lilith, Captain of The Scarlet Dread, pirate and criminal, you are under arrest!" The man calls sharply, staring me down. His black hair is pulled loosely into a ponytail, strands spilling out down his neck and onto his collarbones. "By order of the Empire of Celym, you will come aboard and surrender your ship. Failure to do so willingly will result in excess force,"
    "You've got to be sh*tting me," I mutter under my breath, stepping carefully one foot in front of the other with my chest puffed outward. "The Empire has no jurisdiction over the outer skies," I bellow, making my voice an octave or two deeper. "You have no right to make such demands,"
    "Please don't make my day longer than it has to be," the man sighs as more Imperial officers fill the bridge behind him. A thin, blonde-haired man comes up next to him, whispering something inaudible. The dark-haired one raises his arm in one fluid movement, fingers upward and palm facing out.
    "Captain, this is bad," Mae whispers from a few paces back. My fingers twitch and I chew back the words I want to yell 'Of course this is f*cking bad' for the sake of keeping composure. The irritation brings a deep heat to my palms, and I have to clench my fists to reel it in. A ritual I've been doing more and more over the years.
    "I'll only ask nicely one more time," the dark-haired man - the captain, I assume - yells over the roaring gusts of wind. He doesn't move a muscle in his face, and yet his black eyes flicker with power - arrogance. I almost dent the handle of my cutlass with how much I clench my fist to diffuse the burning anger brought on by only a glimmer in his eye. Even with the howls of the wind, I'm sure he can hear the sound of my grating teeth. Something that probably feeds his ego even more. I take a deep breath, straightening my posture and tightening my jaw.
    "You have no grounds, no right!" I bellow. "What? You're gonna arrest me because I'm a pirate? Are you gonna arrest every damn pirate in these skies? Because I can tell you right now how that's gonna go for you!" I stand with my body behind the blade of my cutlass, the tip aimed toward him. "So you better get out of my sight and out of my skies, savvy?" The dark-haired man sighs, dropping his still-raised hand.
    "Commander?" He says, flitting his eyes to the blonde man next to him, nodding.
    "Of course, Captain Whittaker,"
    "You were given the choice to come peacefully, remember that, pirate," the captain narrows his eyes, smirking quickly before drawing his sword. The bridge that the Imperial soldiers stand on extends and hits the bow of my ship with such force that it knocks the wind out of my lungs. A chorus of metal rings throughout as members of both parties draw their swords.
    "Step one foot on my ship, and I'll gut you," I growl, sidestepping carefully, keeping him in my line of sight as he walks down to the wooden bow. His men fan out behind him, eyeing the rest of my crew. The moment his black boots land on the timber of my ship, a chain reaction sets off. The sound of the wind is overcome with grunts and cries as metal hits metal. Chaos and carnage are no strangers to pirates, but usually, we're the ones dishing it out. Only to those who deserve it, of course. The captain sets his ink-black eyes on me, stalking forward with his sword gripped tightly in gloved hands. Our bodies tense simultaneously, and I slash my blade diagonally upward, but he parries it with minimal effort. Now that he's standing before me, I realise this man is easily a head or two taller than me. His shoulders broadened by years of hard labour and training. His imposing figure and natural strength are enough to have me taking steps back as he continues to parry my strikes. I've taken stronger foes and fought beasts from every corner of the realm, but none have ever had the concentration and tenacity of this man. Skilfully wielding his weapon like it's an extension of himself. A pained wail from nearby rips my attention away as Mae takes a blade through the abdomen. Now that I look around me, most of my crew have their hands up in surrender or lay bleeding. In the brief moment of distraction, there's a cool breeze that blows past me as my cutlass clatters to the floor. The man stands confidently, having disarmed me. My palms thrum with heat, and my heart pounds in my throat. He lifts one long leg before kicking me backward into a pillar, my breath coming out in a strangled gasp as the wind is knocked out of me, and my spine hits the wood behind me. There's a metallic tang in my mouth, and he's got me right where he wants me - the tip of his blade held so close to my throat I can feel the chill of the metal.
    "I expected more," he says lowly. "Pathetic,"
    "F*ck you," I spit, still struggling to fill my lungs with enough air.
    "Enough, you're beaten, so I'll ask you again," He talks carefully, making sure I hear each word and feel the weight of the implications. His entire body is composed, and elegant. But beneath his eyes is a raw anger that mirrors my own. While he's focused on keeping my stare, I fiddle with my right hand, shuffling the glove off my fingertips to reveal sharp nails. "You will come aboard my ship and travel to the capital to pay for your crimes,"
    "Like hells I will," I grit my teeth, before stepping sharply on his foot with my heel and swiping my nails across the length of his face, causing him to recoil in shock and pain, his sword falling next to mine. My chest heaves as I look at the blood dripping from the tips of my nails, but there's an unfamiliar sensation stirring just beneath. An intense surge of power. I bite my lip, not daring to breathe as I stop and stare at the bandage that once wrapped around my palm. The dark-haired man looks at it, too, completely ignoring the open wound across his cheek. The bandage is singed and burnt away. And underneath through the mess of tattoos and scars, is the sign of the Charge glowing like fire.
The next time my eyes open, I'm being dragged by two officers across their bridge and into the opened door of the hull with shooting pain in the back of my head. I can feel the grub from this morning in the back of my throat, mixing with the salty metallic taste of my blood. I try to breathe and see how many paces they've dragged me to know how long I was out. Only a brief moment. My mind urges me to kick and struggle against the grip of the two men dragging me by my arms, but my limbs feel heavy and my eyelids threaten to close if I don't focus all of my attention on keeping them open. I notice one of the men is the slim blonde-haired one from earlier - the commander. He's deceptively strong. A slew of curses falls off my tongue incoherently as the haze over my thoughts starts to clear.
"Quiet - lest I hit you again," the blonde man growls, his grip tightening. "Let's get her inside before she regains her strength,"
"Yes, Commander,"

I've never been in an Imperial ship before; I sure as hell never planned on it - and not like this. In the hull is a vast network of floors, the walls made of marble and stone like the castles I've seen down on the surface.  My feet drag along the floor as the two men haul me down winding paths, pulling my body in so many different directions that the only thing keeping me from throwing up is focusing on how cold the floor is as it scrapes against my shins. Somewhere between entering the vessel and now they bound my wrists with a rope that now digs into my raw flesh. I blink my eyes to bring back some clarity while looking around me, knowing I should be familiarising myself with my surroundings but everything begins to look the same - or maybe I'm too concussed to notice a difference. I swallow thickly to fight back the urge to gag on the blood pooling in my mouth. In the end, I give up, closing my eyes tightly and feeling the weight of my spinning head. I carry on like this for a few moments more before the hiss of a metal door drags my eyelids open. With a sudden jerk, they pull me through the doorway and into a dark, cold metal room with a cell door halfway in.
"Wait!" I squeak, the first word I've managed to push out. They don't wait, however, throwing me through the small cell door sending my body flying several paces before landing on my shoulder. Pain shoots up my arm as my head meets the cold ground, the second knock to my brain stealing my consciousness.

My eyelids twitch as I wake from a dreamless sleep, groaning softly at the various aches and pains throughout my body. I lift myself onto my elbows, ignoring the searing pain that shoots through my arms and into my ribcage, making every breath hurt. My arms feel like they've been filled with sand before I look down and realise while I was out someone came in and swapped my rope bindings for metal with a long chain going from my wrists to the back wall. They also took my belt and gear. The thought of someone reaching around my unconscious body to retrieve my belt makes me queasy, or maybe it's the throbbing head wound. There's a small window high up near the ceiling, the only source of light filling up the cell. At least I wasn't out for long if the sun is still up. I falter, realising that the rest of my crew is probably in a cell just like this one; they're probably waiting for me to come and save them. My stomach sinks and twists with guilt. My head snaps to the left as a loud creaking noise startles me out of my thoughts. The huge door that leads to the small space in front of the cell opens, a tall silhouette blocking any light from the open door. I inhale sharply as he closes the door behind him, leaving only bars to separate us. His dark hair is unruly, untied. Not what I'd expect from an Imperial captain. However, the intricate stitching on his cheek draws my stare the most. The wound I gave him will scar. That thought makes me feel a sense of pride but dissipates quickly. For a moment, he doesn't say anything, just stepping carefully up to the bars and squatting down to my level.
    "You look like sh*t," he mutters. Through exasperated breaths, I laugh weakly.
    "Not nearly as shit as you," I spit. He purses his lips, his dark brows pulling to the centre of his forehead. Fueled with spite, I pull my body into an uneasy standing position, prompting him to do the same. "Where's my crew?" My sudden demand confuses him, and he takes a moment to organise his thoughts.
    "Your crew? Why?" He asks. The corner of my eye twitches at his response, thinking it'd be common sense.
    "I am the captain of the Scarlet Dread, and my crew is of utmost importance,"
    "Were the captain,"
    "Where are they, assh*le?" I'm growing impatient, but he looks like he could play this game all day. He brings one gloved hand around the bars, bringing himself as close to me as possible, which makes me jerk backward.
    "Who do you think turned you in?"
        "Yeah sure, my crew, the crew on a pirate ship, who are all pirates, ratted me out to the Empire... for piracy - if you're going to lie to me at least make it believable," I scoff. The man narrows his eyes, his lips twitching as he hides a smirk.
        "It wasn't for piracy,"  he whispers slowly, stepping away from the bars before clearing his throat. "We get many false tips from petty people trying to cash out on bounties. They're never genuine but it's Imperial protocol that we follow up on each and every one of them, taking the accused to the capital for trial," his gaze travels from under his lashes, watching me carefully.
        "I don't understand," I snap, growing impatient.
        "Don't play dumb," He scoffs quietly. "You stand accused because of your blood, and for the first time, it's actually true," His words hang heavy in the air between us as he waits for my reaction. It's hard to think clearly over the ringing in my ears. "I know what you are, Lilith," My heart rate quickens considerably and I instinctively take a step back, clenching and releasing my fists within my cuffs to disperse the stir of magic that gathers in my fingertips.
        "I don't know what you mean," I lie, arching my brows. He shakes his head.
        "I have no patience for this game," He says with a sharp sigh. I flinch, unable to hide my surprise at his bluntness. He returns to the cell bars, removing one of his black leather gloves. Something makes him pause, showing the first sign of unease since I scratched his face earlier. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, taking a deep breath before extending his bare hand through the bars and toward me. I have to blink several times to make sure it's not the concussion or the beat down making me see things but no matter how many times I blink, it's still there every time I open my eyes. On his palm, scarred deep in his skin is the same mark I bear on mine. I reach forward and touch the mark with my finger gingerly, immediately drawing my hand back in shock as magic fills my veins, screaming with excitement as it touches his.
  "You..." I struggle to decide which words to say first. "Who are you?"
    "Cal," he draws his hand back, his black eyes looking somehow darker than before. I knew others survived the purge, but I'd given up hope on ever meeting one. Steam rises within my heart, tightening my chest.
    "You traitor!" I spit out, ignoring the growing heat in my palms. "How could you join - no - how could you thrive in the very empire that killed our people?!" I yank on the chains, trying to reach him, to hurt him.
    "It's not that simple," he growls, looking at me condescendingly.
    "It really f*cking is, you should be ashamed of yourself!"
    "Oh, so now the pirate has a strong moral code?"
    "I'd rather be a pirate than the literal sh*t under my boots," I pull again on the chains, wincing as they pull the cuffs against the raw skin of my wrists.
    "Right, because that's going so well for you," his voice has a bite to it, a sharpness. "You're living on borrowed time, pirate. The emperor will not be merciful,"
    "He lays a hand on me, and I'll tell him exactly where to find another charge," This seems to amuse the man - Cal.
    "Surely you'd know that a dead man will come up with anything to save themselves, but if you really want your last words to be of me, by all means, go ahead,"  he spits sarcastically. My mouth hangs open and through the rage, all I can do is scoff. Cal stares me down one last time before turning toward the door, pressing his palm against it before faltering. "It was Mae, by the way,"