I glare at the crudely written words outside my cell. Vanessa Vries, it said, to be executed November 9th.
Yep, that was today.
The thing that bothered me most was not the execution part; I got over that weeks ago, but why I’m being executed. All I am is a quiet eleven-year-old girl with pale blue eyes and hair so blonde it could be mistaken for white.
Not to mention the only NeverSoul from Cool Ranch in existence.
Don’t know why the Armada would capture me, lock me up in their mighty galleon. The Revenge for six whole months only to publicly shoot me in front of dozens of Unicorns in Valencia.
I mean, who does that? That stuck up clockwork could have just shot me while I was sleeping in my humble home instead of barging in and demanding that I come with him.
But then, I’m sure they want to etch fear into those poor Unicorn’s hearts by showing them that The Armada is a ruthless and merciless ticking army.
And I’m sure they wanted to get rid of a quiet, yet powerful being, that could have a major impact on this so called, “Grand Design.”
All I want is my house and my freedom back! Is that too much to ask for?
And too be honest, I really don’t see how one NeverSoul could be dangerous to hundreds of armed Clockworks. All I really am is a bunch of emotions, whispers, traces of smiles, thoughts, lives, deaths, and everything and anything that never was, never is, and never will be, all rolled up into a soul. A soul of things that never were. A NeverSoul.
There are many NeverSouls that form, but only one out of a thousand can form a body, and only one out of a million make it to land instead of falling beneath the clouds and whatever’s under that.
I am that one.
But really, I don’t have ghostly hoodoo powers like a Witchdoctor, I can’t turn myself invisible like Swashbuckler, I’m terrible at making traps like those Musketeers, I’ve never been able to heal myself like Privateers do, and I have way less health than a Buccaneer. I’ve ruled out all the classes and, let’s face it, I’m powerless.
I feel a sickening lurch, meaning we’ve docked at Valencia, and I hear the unmistakable footsteps of the Armada.
They were coming for me.
I braced myself for the execution and couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like. Like a burst of electricity, perhaps? Or blast of energy? Anyway, it didn’t matter, I would be dead and gone in a few minutes.
My door unlocked with a clang as the Armada Captain handcuffed me and led my up on deck. I let out a gasp, the stormy, windy air felt so different than the stuffy air I was used to in the cell. The sudden change of the atmosphere made it difficult to walk, which resulted in several painful jerks from the Captain as he led me to the execution stand.
There must have been a hundred Unicorns there, about twenty or so Guinea Pigs, and way more clockworks than I could count.
I was led up on to a platform and on either side of me were two Marines holding Axes. Everything was quiet as Deacon himself stepped on an opposite platform about 10 strides from mine. I held my head high as Deacon listed off the many reasons why I am to be killed, (I did none of them) and my ears perked up as reached the end of his list and held up his pistol. Rifle. Gun. Whatever.
“In the name of The Armada, Kane, and the prosperity of Valencia, I execute you, Vanessa Vries, and may you never-”
“Hold your fire!”
All eyes turned towards the girl on one of the higher steeples this place had. She held up a similar gun towards Deacon. She looked about my age, had her blonde hair in a ponytail, hazel eyes, and wore the garments of a pirate.
Deacon lowered his gun and said in a sweet voice, “Look who's come back, it’s Jenna Davenport, how,” Deacon paused. “Honorable to see you again.”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You want the pieces, I want the girl. So here’s my deal, I give you a piece of a piece of the Map to El Dorado, you give me Miss Vries”
Deacon was obviously considering this, and I couldn’t help but wonder what this girl, this pirate, could possibly want with me.
Deacon’s answer surprised pretty much everyone present. “Yes.”
“Wow, you agreed to that? You must be desperate. Anyway,” Jenna looked at me. “All you gotta do is think Dona Furiosa over and over again. And Deacon,” She laughed. “Here’s your piece!” Jenna threw a small scrap of paper down into the crowd where she knew it would take hours to find. Meanwhile I was repeating the words she told me to think, and suddenly there was a flurry of smoke and sparks, and I found myself on a Monquistian Ship, Jenna smiling broadly at the wheel.
“So, whaddya think? It’s brand new, got it from a monkey named Hooktail, pretty sweet ain’t it?”
“Why did you do that? You know, save me?”
Although Jenna’s smile remained, I saw a flicker of envy in her eye. “Avery says you’ll one day be the greatest pirate to ever sail the seven skies, it was my mission to ensure you didn’t die before then. C’mon, I think it best we get out of here.”
As we sailed out of Valencia, I couldn’t help but wonder, And I don’t get a say in this?
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