Gareth Gold-tooth's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Gareth Gold-tooth came to Undercut Island for buried treasure, but tonight he had to kill a man first. The thief stood on the wet sand at low tide, sabre drawn, a stolen coin still clenched in his fist. He had skimmed gold from the crew's share for weeks. Gareth had counted the losses himself. A captain who lets a thief live loses his ship. So he drew his own navy sabre and stepped onto the beach. The sun sat low and red over the water. Behind Gareth, a weathered old pirate limped down from the tree line and stopped to watch. This was Fast Willy, who had sailed under three captains and buried all three. He kept a locked iron chest bolted to the deck and sat on it every sundown. He said nothing. He only folded his scarred hands and waited to see which man he would bury next. "Give back the coin and I'll make it quick," Gareth said. The thief spat. "You'd gut me either way." He was right. He lunged. Gareth caught the blade on his own and shoved it wide. Steel scraped steel. The thief was fast, but panic made him wild. He swung twice at Gareth's head. Gareth ducked both, boots sliding in the surf. Cold water soaked his knees. Gareth feinted low. The thief dropped his guard to block. That was the mistake. Gareth drove his sabre up under the man's ribs. The thief gasped and stumbled back into the shallows. The stolen coin slipped from his hand and sank. He fell face down in the red water and did not move. Gareth stood over the body, breathing hard. His gold tooth caught the last light as he wiped his blade clean on his sleeve. One thief dead. A lesson the crew would remember. Fast Willy limped closer. He looked at the corpse, then at Gareth. "He wasn't alone," the old pirate said. "Two others helped him hide the gold. They ran for the inn an hour ago." Gareth went still. "You knew this and said nothing?" "I'm telling you now." Fast Willy nodded toward the dark ridge, where a rough pirate inn crouched among the trees, lamps burning in its windows. "They'll take a boat off this island before dawn. And they know where you buried your maps." Gareth's stomach turned to ice. The maps to the treasure hoard were his one true prize. Without them, Undercut Island was just rock and sand. He looked at the dead man, then at the burning windows on the ridge. He had killed the thief to protect his crew. Now two of them were running toward the one thing he could not lose. Gareth sheathed his sabre and started up the beach at a hard walk. "Willy," he said. "Get me a boat and a pistol. We finish this tonight."