Chapter 1

Chapter 1 for the novel that I am writing.

Crispin wasn’t sure how long he had been standing on the deck of his father’s ship. All he knew was that in a few more hours it would probably be sunrise, which would mean he could go back to sleep until he was needed on deck again. Being the son of the most feared pirate captain was tedious business. Captain Marcus, Crispin’s father, had built up a lengthy list of enemies. As a result Marcus grew paranoid and had every single crew member doing one thing or another to ensure that they would never be caught off guard.

“We need to be constantly on our guard,” Was what Marcus would always say to the crew. “Stay on your toes morning, noon, and night.”

But especially night, Crispin thought miserably as he paced the deck for the thousandth time that night. It was true though. Marcus had drilled it into everyone’s heads that, although it had yet to happen, a night attack was very likely to happen at some point or another. Everyone on the ship took their turn with the night shift, often with great reluctance.

Crispin was the only one who didn’t really mind the night shift. Despite the fact that it meant staying up late at ungodly hours and then spending the entire next day feeling irritable from lack of sleep, it really wasn’t that bad. Being on the night shift meant that no one else was awake. If someone was going to do something that they wouldn’t want to be caught doing, the night shift was the time to do it. That was why he didn’t mind it. Because it was the only time he had any privacy. It was the only time where he could do things without having to worry about being judged.

Things like using his powers.

It was the one thing that set him apart from the other crew members. He had powers, and no one on the ship knew about them. Crispin wasn’t sure about the other crew members, but he knew that his father had an inexplicable, deep-set hatred against people with powers. So he kept it a secret, and waited until his night shifts only to use them.

Crispin looked around briefly, checking his surroundings to make sure he was completely safe. He walked quietly up to the front of the ship and set his hands down on the rail. A sudden feeling of paranoia kicked in. He glanced over his shoulder one more time.

Relax, he thought, No one else is even awake. You’re fine. He took a deep breath then let his wings out, awkwardly maneuvering them through the slits he had cut in his shirt and jacket. A few lifetimes ago, Crispin figured he would have been regarded as gifted or special for having being able to fly. But things weren’t the same as they were hundreds of years ago. With no definitive proof of the Patrol, most people were afraid to use their powers in public areas. Crispin wasn’t as concerned about the Patrol though. They would never find him out in the middle of the ocean. But his father would. And there was no telling what he would do if he knew about Crispin’s powers.

Crispin took a step back from the railing, and stared up at the night sky. The full moon was casting a pale light onto the deck of the ship. How much longer? Crispin thought as he stretched out his white, feathery wings, When will the sun come up?

“Crispin?” A voice pierced the silence of the night. His father’s voice.

Crispin tensed up. This couldn’t be happening. He was supposed to be alone on the deck. His father was asleep. Slowly, he turned around.

“Dad,” He said, smiling awkwardly, “Hi.” He tucked his wings behind his back, in a sad attempt to hide them.

“Care to explain yourself?” Marcus asked in a disapproving tone.

“Care to explain why you’re here,” Crispin said, trying not to sound nervous, “I’ve got everything under control here. I don’t need…” He trailed off when he noticed that Marcus had his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. Instinctively, Crispin went to grab his own sword, which he always kept with him.

Before he could pull it out of its sheath Marcus grabbed him, and pointed the sword at his throat.

“What are you doing,” Crispin shouted, “Dad, stop!”

“How long,” Marcus hissed, “How long have you been like this?” He pointed the sword even closer now. Crispin could feel the cold metal tip poking into his neck.

“Shortly after I turned ten,” He said, trying to remain composed.

“Does anyone else know?”

“No,” Crispin said. It was a lie, but Marcus seemed to angry to question him. The truth was that one of Marcus’ friends, Roger, who had taken care of Crispin until he was old enough to fend for himself on the ship, knew about his powers. Up until that moment, Roger had been the only one who knew. He was the one that had warned Crispin to not mention his powers in front of his father.

Marcus suddenly pushed Crispin to the ground. “Good,” He said, “Then no one will know how much of a disgrace you are.” He kicked Crispin hard in the side. “I’ll never have to tell anyone how ashamed I am to call you my son.”

“But I thought…” He looked away from his father. I thought you loved me, was what he was originally going to say, but things were different now. His father knew about his powers. Marcus didn’t love him anymore. The ship was no longer a safe place for him. Not that it was completely safe to begin with, but Marcus was not a reliable man. He probably already had an extensive list of ways to kill Crispin that would look like an accident.

Crispin stood up and took out his own sword. “Please just let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain, Crispin,” Marcus said, “You’re a sad, miserable excuse for a human being. Just like the rest of them.”

“How can you say that,” Crispin shouted. He stood up and brushed himself off, “I’m your son, d****t!” He swung his sword at his father, but Marcus countered the attack, nearly knocking Crispin’s sword out of his hands.

“Never, ever say that again,” Marcus snarled at him, “No son of mine would be like you.”

Crispin stepped back from his father. He tried to look like his father’s words had no effect on him, but in reality, they had hurt more than anything. There had always been a bit of uncertainty on whether Crispin really was Marcus’ son. None of them knew who Crispin’s really mother was. All that Crispin knew about his mother was that she had abandoned him when he was just a baby and left him with Marcus because he was probably the father. Despite the uncertainty, Marcus had decided to take care of him.

“Fine,” Crispin snarled, “I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.” He stood defiantly, waiting for his father to respond. After a few seconds of silence, Marcus still had said nothing which surprised Crispin.

“That’s not what I want,” Marcus said finally breaking the silence between them.

Crispin was taken aback at his father’s words. He tightened his grip on his sword, preparing himself for anything. “It’s not?” He asked, “What do you want then?” He almost asked if that meant that he was allowed to stay, but he knew better. Given his father’s history with dealing with people with powers, he knew that his father meant every last insult that he had just fired at him. His father hated him, he no longer wanted him around. So what did he want then?

He just barely missed it. He barely noticed the way his father had shifted his weight ever so slightly. Marcus was getting ready to attack him.

Crispin dodged out of the way as his father lunged at him. His right wing just barely missed his father’s blade.

“I want to kill you, Crispin,” Marcus said. He lunged at Crispin a second time, but this time instead of ducking out to the side, Crispin pushed his wings down and leapt up into the air. He hovered about seven feet above the deck, just out of reach of his father.

“You don’t have to do this,” Crispin called down to him, “We can talk about this. Please…. Dad?”

“Why don’t you come down for a moment,” Marcus said in a sweet tone. Crispin didn’t respond. He didn’t trust his father anymore. Crispin watched curiously as Marcus carefully lowered his sword and dropped it to the ground. “Come on, Crispin,” He said, “Let’s talk.”

Crispin took a step backwards as soon as he felt the ground beneath his feet. He didn’t want to be anywhere near his father. “Ok,” Crispin said firmly, “We’ll talk, but I’m not letting you any closer.”

“That’s ok,” Marcus said. A sly grin crossed his face. “I’ve got you right where I need you to be.” He reached down by his belt and grabbed one of his throwing knives.

Crispin gasped as he launched himself up in the air again. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder. His father must have predicted that he would try to fly away. He swore under his breath. He had done exactly what his father had wanted him to do. He should have known better.

“I was aiming for your back,” Marcus shouted after him.

“Well,” Crispin grunted, as he pulled the knife free from his shoulder, “You missed.” He held the knife in his good arm, ready to throw back to his father.

“You can’t kill me,” Marcus taunted, “I know you can’t.”

“I can,” Crispin said defiantly, “But I won’t.” He dropped the knife into the ocean below him. He hated his father for trying to kill him, but he didn’t want to sink to his level. “I’d love to know what you’re going to tell the crew,” Crispin said, “Are you going to tell them that you tried to kill me? Your only son?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to tell them,” Marcus said, “Because they need to know that that is how I deal with scum like you. And you’re not my son. You’re pathetic. You’re a miserable excuse for a human being…”

Those were the last words that Crispin heard from his father. He flew away, but Marcus continued to fire insults at him. Crispin wasn’t sure if Marcus had failed to notice that he left, or if he just needed to blow off some steam by shouting insults at nothing. He decided not to dwell on it. The gash in his arm from his father’s knife was only getting worse. He needed to get help, and he knew exactly where to go. A few miles north east was Coral Bay, a city nestled in one of the southernmost points of Toltova. It was where Roger lived. Roger would help him. Crispin clasped his injured arm, trying to stop the bleeding. Then he headed to Coral Bay.

Crispin wasn’t sure how long he had been flying when the skyline of Coral Bay finally came into view. It felt like a few hours, but in his injured state Crispin knew there was no way he could have been airborne for that long. It must have been the pain, which was now unbearable, that was making the trip seem longer than it actually was.

By the time Crispin was actually flying over the city, he was beginning to feel dizzy. He lowered his altitude by a few feet. There was a low chance of being seen this late at night. Very few people wandered the streets of Coral Bay this late at night. The main reason for this was because all the criminals came out at night. Crispin shuddered at the thought of running into one. He had his sword, and his five throwing knives, but in his weakened state he wouldn’t stand much of a chance.

Suddenly he was falling. His vision was fading. Not now, Crispin thought, I’m so close. Not now. His last thought was that he hoped that whoever found him sprawled out in the street wouldn’t hurt him, but he knew that was asking for too much.

Author's Note

Sorry this took so freaking long. This is the first chapter of the novel that I'm writing. It currently doesn't have a title, but I'm open for suggestions. It's going to focus on 4 characters, but it will probably be told from the perspective of 3 (This is subject to change though). This hasn't been proofread yet. I was going to get someone else to give me their opinion, but they're kind of tied up right now. Also, one more thing for your view pleasure: A drawing of Crispin http://starfast99.deviantart.com/art/OC-Crispin-468605536