The Protection of Magical Creatures and Otherworldly Beasts

Water crashed against the hull, knocking the ship roughly as it sailed towards the island. The crew hunkered down, their destination in sight, if only they could reach it before the storm worsened. The clouds swirled from fluffy white to a ghastly grey, heavy with rain threatening to pour perhaps all at once. Electricity tinged the air, they could feel it prickling the hairs on their skin, so attuned as they were to the subtle warnings Mother Nature provided.

‘This is our last push, fellas!’ bellowed Captain Barnet, his mess of thick curls blowing wildly beneath his hat. His olive skin weathered with battle scars, his long coat billowing behind him. He was not only their Captain, but their hero, throwing himself headfirst into the fray, never cowering behind his crew, though they would throw their lives down without hesitation if he asked. A loyal stock bound to a fearless leader.

‘Aye, aye!’ The crew roared to life, not a pair of hands idle during the final stretch of their journey. They had been sailing for weeks, only stopping to restock when absolutely necessary. This mission was time-sensitive – they would only pray they weren’t too late.

The Protection of Magical Creatures and Otherworldly Beasts, PMCOB for short, a crew of passionate young scoundrels who fought against the exploitation of animals, both those used legally and illegally. Captain Theo Barnet had assembled them together, once a man with an enthusiasm for conservation, now a jaded outlaw who fought for the rights of those who could not speak for themselves. His passion burned bright, but his guns blazed brighter, with only one rule: no mercy shall be shown to the merciless.

‘The beach has no docks,’ said Sail Master Dorian, floundering with his parchment whilst the wind tried to sweep it from his hands. ‘We’ll have to anchor down and use the rowboats to make it to land.’

The rain was pouring now, soaking the lot of them from head to toe. ‘Get the boats ready,’ Barnet ordered, ‘and Bella,’ he called to the ships designated medic, ‘get the supplies ready. Essentials only. We don’t know how far we’ll have to travel on foot. Best be prepared.’

They both took off with haste, Bella’s long mess of blonde curls damp against her forehead, Dorian’s masterful brown coat heavy against his shoulders. He shoved his parchment haphazardly into one of the many hidden pockets sewn into the coat's insides and made to ready the rowboats for their departure. So close they were to fulfilling their goal, and yet it seemed as though the world stood against them. But they’d faced worse hardships on their travels, and every time landed triumphant. There was no reason to believe this time would play out differently.

‘Jacey!’ Barnet called for his first-mate, the woman who had first joined him on his travels. She stood before him, pale-skinned and rosy-cheeked, her black hair a striking contrast to a frame that seemed so fragile, yet her grey eyes swirled a storm that he knew was not to be trifled with, fierce and determined. ‘Tell Leon and Milo to prepare themselves for anything. Whatever they can carry, they can bring.’ Milo, a master of swords and trickery, and Leon, the resident gunner, with a gleam in his eye for anything loud and explosive. The ship's two best fighters, a menace to whoever stood in their way.

‘You got it, boss,’ and with a smile and a wink she ran off, sliding across the sodden deck to fulfill her beloved captain's orders.

Barnet steeled himself at the wheel, focusing on the task at hand. They had been following this particular band of miscreants for months, gathering intel and searching for their base of operations. An illegal salamander breeding ground, where beautiful creatures were born and raised for a life of fighting, of pain, exploitation, and an inevitable early death. It made his blood boil. There were real humans, just the same as him, who saw nothing wrong with abusing such fantastic creatures, and for what? Monetary gain? It made him sick.

He had once vowed to do whatever he could to save the vulnerable. It was that vow that pushed him forward, ignoring how the gale bit at his cheeks, how the cold sank into his chest. Their destination was in sight. It was time.

…

They pulled the boats along the sand, exhausted from their fight with the rocky waters. The sun had begun to set, the moon glowing on the horizon as the sky dimmed to a blanket of starlit darkness.

‘We could still give it a go. Navigating our way,’ Jacey suggested, though the red rings under her eyes spoke louder. She was in no position to fight, and as Barnet peered upon the rest of his crew, he knew they were no better suited for it. It was too much of a risk.

‘We’ll be better off after a night's rest. We can’t afford any mistakes, not with such a large threat in front of us. Bella, did you – ‘

‘Bring the camping supplies?’ Bella interrupted, giving the pack on her back a hearty tap. ‘Of course! Always prepared!’

‘Prepared for a nap,’ Leon chuckled.

Bella shot him a disdainful glare, ‘Piss off, would you rather we slept on the ground?’

‘’No doubt you’d find a way to pass out for a few hours, regardless.’ There was a teasing tone towards Leon’s words, harmless in intent, oblivious to the way Bella’s brow furrowed.

Captain Barnet interrupted. ‘I think I can see a cave over there. Think we can make it on foot before we all collapse?’

With a nod they took off, marching as best they could across the damp sand. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the night showed no signs of letting up its blistering conditions.

The cave was cold, but it was dry and it was hidden. A quaint fire burned amidst their sleeping bags, their weaponry removed as they settled in for the evening. It was Bella’s turn to cook; she hovered wearily above the wild flames, a pan laden with the last of their (not so fresh anymore) vegetable stock. Leon had been tasked with catching enough fish for them all to enjoy, and he did not disappoint. Both large in width and length, Leon stood at a frightening six feet and four inches, a mane of unruly ginger hair spiked upon his head, and a grin that was both welcoming, and somehow, unsettling. When he cocked his gun no foe was safe, the sharpest shooter that Barnet had ever found, and with it, a begrudging friendship had bloomed that he would forever hold dear.

Dorian sat down beside his captain, his famous overcoat left to dry beside the fire, though he still kept a pouch tied across his shoulders. He rummaged through it, as though it were twice as big on the inside, a rather frantic look upon his usually composed face, before he relaxed. He pulled an orange from the leather confines.

Barnet frowned. ‘I said to bring only the essentials!’

‘As I have, dear Captain.’ He began to peel the fruit, a fragrant citrus aroma wafting into the air. ‘Nutrition is essential to stay focused!’

‘And what do you call this?’ Bella pointed to her stir fry, tossing the vegetables into the air with a stern flick of her wrist.

‘A beautiful assortment of health, I’m not disputing that,’ Dorian retorted before popping a segment into his mouth. His eyes closed in bliss as he chewed. ‘But nowhere near as delightful as this little treat.’

‘I wish I’d brought my muffins with me.’ Milo chimed in, looking oddly wistful. ‘I’d murder a muffin right about now. Blueberry, specifically…’

‘If anyone could hear you now, they’d think I leave you all to starve aboard that ship.’ Barnet rose from his seat. ‘Bella, I hope that food’s ready soon, otherwise we might have a cannibal conundrum on our hands.’

‘Ready to plate up now. Gather round, friends!’

And so they ate, and so they laughed, and so they tried to forget the nerves that buzzed like an electric current from crewmate to crewmate. Though as masterful as they were, walking into the lion’s den always had its risks. They trusted one another, knew that they were there to serve a greater purpose, but still, the thought of losing a friend in battle weighed upon them. It was a feeling that would never fade with familiarity.

Milo and Bella danced beside the fire, spinning and singing whilst Jacey and Barnet clapped an inconsistent beat. Leon was sat next to Dorian, a gun in hand, talking far too quickly about the mechanics of what made this particular model superior to the rest, whilst Dorian hummed in acknowledgement every so often, too engrossed in a book he’d brought with him to truly be taking any of it in. The atmosphere was warm, and as the night grew on, so did their exhaustion.

They settled into their sleeping bags, silence at last, yet Barnet couldn’t let himself fall. Nature could be oh so quiet – he hadn’t quite gotten used to just how distracting the absence of noise could be. Growing up in a city most famous for its nightlife, he’d been lulled to sleep by the sounds of a rambunctious crowd for the first 24 years of his life, and without the waves to rock him, he struggled to acclimatise.

‘You should be asleep, Captain.’ Jacey had rolled over, her sleeping bag always close by Barnet’s wherever they went. She struggled with sleep too, but for reasons she had not yet admitted. Always awake at night, falling asleep during the day – yet reliable when it was most needed. Lack of sleep did not interfere with her duties, though it worried Barnet like nothing else. Watching her yawn as she scrubbed the deck, falling asleep during her sword training with Milo, it was a wonder she hadn’t been injured.

‘I worry too much,’ Barnet said, the intimacy of the night loosening his tongue. He lay on his side, staring into Jacey’s twinkling eyes, and felt himself relax, just an inch. ‘I’m responsible for every one of you. Don’t know what I’d do if…’ He couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence.

Jacey’s hand appeared from beneath her quilt, tender and cautious. She swept a curl from in front of Barnet’s eyes and tucked it behind his ear with care, letting her fingers linger a touch too long upon his cheek. In that moment it felt like they had known each other for a thousand lifetimes, that they would know each other for a thousand more.

‘Theo,’ her voice was soft, a contrast from her usual booming confidence, ‘I’ll worry about me, and you worry about you, and when it’s all over we can focus on worrying about each other. But we’ve a mission ahead of us – that’s what’s important. Stop dithering over something that hasn’t yet happened.’

All he could offer was a weak smile. Her fingers stroked through the knots of his hair, her nails scratched lightly at his scalp; she knew it relaxed him, she was forcing his eyes closed, sending him gently towards the slumber his body craved. She would never know, truly, how grateful he was to have met her.

...

Thank you for reading. Part two is in the works and will be uploaded as soon as it's ready. I had a lot of fun writing this - does anyone else procrastinate writing their novel by writing something else entirely?