Blackheart Read Online Free

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    Entering the passage that drew him toward his cabin, Lochlanaire’s mind hurled through time. He froze. The lanterns’ brilliance faded. He remembered the first day of his imprisonment, irons cuffing his legs and arms. Lochlanaire was guided by pistol to step along the foul-smelling recesses of the castle dungeon to its farthest cell. The cage door groaned open, then slammed. The world was extinguished, for blackness surrounded Lochlanaire. Squeaky rats scampered from his struggling footfalls…
    Bolted amongst the present, Lochlanaire grappled with the memory. He cradled the ship’s wall to his left. His breath strained. The ship’s lanterns once again brightened the path. Lochlanaire forced his weakened legs to step through the passage. He hurried to his cabin and grabbed the wine decanter, carrying it to the bed. There, he flopped against the wall, drinking until the decanter emptied. He dropped it on the floor. Hours after he left the helm to his brother, Lochlanaire fell asleep…
    Mysterious faces crept throughout the darkness. Eyes dulled in death suddenly appeared in a multitude of caverns. Screams resonated. Shots boomed; bloodstained fingers clawed…
    Lochlanaire jolted awake and searched the lantern-fluttery cabin. Sweat soaked his brow. He lifted shaky fingers, but no blood splashed his flesh. He swiped trickles of sweat off his face. He struggled to reach the window, comforted by the breaking dawn and whirling sea waters.
    Straightening his clothing, Lochlanaire left the cabin and found the men readying for battle on deck, for a ship dipped toward their direction. Lochlanaire looked to the tallest mast of Satan’s Victory upon which a black flag fluttered and depicted a skull and crossed knives. He ran to the stairs and directly approached his brother. “Why did you not alert me?”
    Grayson confessed, “We’ve fought battles without Your Lordship’s presence. We can weather the storm once more, Captain. You required sleep more than a fight.”
    Lochlanaire couldn’t refute that. “What is our status?”
    Grayson affirmed, “They’ve trailed in our wake for hours, speculatin’ on if we’re friend or foe. They’ve obviously determined that we’re adversaries and are challengin’ our authority. Our status, Captain, is we are prepared to attack, pillage, and destroy, lest you say otherwise.” He gestured to the men who manned the cannons below, primed to shoot.
    Lochlanaire pondered the magnificent two-masted ship that began to bridge the distance. “Are they pirates?”
    “Aye, Captain.” Grayson tossed the brass spyglass to Lochlanaire.
    Lochlanaire inspected the black flag, which portrayed the skull and crossed sabers that graced the ship’s center mast. Could he endure a conquest of this magnitude? Lochlanaire couldn’t say, although he’d fought the men who attacked him at the pier sufficiently, as well as the king’s swordsman. “Permission granted.”
    Grayson shouted to the men to battle. Cannons roared his answer. Shots splashed the sea, surging onto the opposing vessel’s stem. The ship refused to retreat in its chase, however. Shouts echoed from the men, sails soon furled on both vessels and grappling hooks anchored the ships. The men of Satan’s Victory swarmed their foe and shots burst. With their pistols rendered useless, swords, cutlasses and knives were employed. Lochlanaire judged the progress of the men, unsheathed his cutlass, and jumped alongside Grayson off the ships’ bows. Lochlanaire’s cutlass slit the throat of man after man. A brigand strangled him from behind. Flipping the man over his head, Lochlanaire split his assailant’s chest, blood splattered. He kicked another villain in the face, breaking his nose. Another thief received a broken neck as he cut to their deaths anyone who fell into his path.
    Satan’s Victory’s men killed the captain and the conquest ended. Cast to their longboats, the few surviving pirates abandoned ship and were