Charles Vane Black Sails Novels & Stories

Noone on board the ship that the three traitors are on move to see what is happening. I watch as three ships sink as I wiggle my fingers and the waves consume them. Not taking my eyes from Carter, he looks at me with a blank expression. I lift my hand and point my finger at him. “You are a traitor. You will die a traitor’s death.” I throw my head and shriek loudly into the sky as the winds pick up and swirl around the ship and I smile as it groans under the weight of the wind. Metal twists and comes alive. The darkness seeps from my fingertips and swirls around me.

They close their eyes to the onion. The port was as crowded as Davos had ever known it. Every dock teemed with sailors loading provisions, and every inn was packed with soldiers dicing or drinking or looking for a whore . . . a vain search, since Stannis permitted none on his island. Ships lined the strand; war galleys and fishing vessels, stout carracks and fat-bottomed cogs. The best berths had been taken by the largest vessels: Stannis's flagship Fury rocking between Lord Steffon and Stag of the Sea, Lord Velaryon's silver-hulled Pride of Driftmark and her three sisters, Lord Celtigar's ornate Red Claw, the ponderous Swordfish with her long iron prow. Out to sea at anchor rode Salladhor S

The echoes lowered their blades. The scarred woman looked toward me. “Fate has already started moving.” The b lood moon pulsed. A black line crossed its surface like a crack. Cassian stopped fighting. His expression turned hard. “That is not a warning.” Raiken came to my side. “What is it?” Cassian looked toward the eastern horizon. Ships appeared beneath the red light. Black sails. Silver wolf emblems. Thousands of them. At the centre sailed a vessel built from white bone.

I grabbed Elle from the waves and swam toward the back of the dome. We climbed onto a small ledge just as the white dome began to groan. The virus was spreading through the ship’s systems. "Vance! Get the boat moving!" I yelled. But Vance wasn't looking at the boat. He was looking at the sky. A fleet of black jets was screaming toward us from the north. And they weren't firing at Silas. They were firing at us. "The Board is cleaning the house!" Vance shouted. "They're going to sink everything!"

The Black Rose lead submarine navigated the suffocating, silent pressures of the abyss for seven relentless days. It moved like a ghost through the thermal layers, evading every sonar sweep and satellite eye that the Voss and Reyes empires possessed. Finally, in the frozen twilight of the eighth day, the charcoal-black leviathan breached the surface.

He did not want to incur any losses and lose any of the warships before they had even set out. “Stop the jabbering,” Blackstone stated, caring little for the barriers being erected around the warships. He dashed forward, his eyes conveying his intent to do battle. With his hammer raised up high and Edict coiling around him strongly like a constricting boa, he danced into the path of the 2nd Sky and slammed his hammer down! *Boom*

"Strigoi, Nosferatu, Jiangshi…" Suddenly black smoke emits from the words, a figure emanating from the black smoke. "I'm finally free, free from the clutches of the chronicles. It's time to claim the world once and for all and create a New Dawn under my rule." The voice chuckled. "What's happening?" I shuddered, the sinister aura cloaking the smoke. "The King of the Vampire has arrived."

It was inevitable that he would annihilate it. Vivian's expression turned cold as she abruptly sat up. Her gaze was chilling. "How dare you kill my darling? You'll pay for that with your life!" The black-clad figures instantly shifted into a battle formation. A net was cast over Vivian. But such restraints were useless against her. She unleashed her energy, destroying the net and yanking it hard to pull one of the black-clad men toward her. In an instant, her hand wrapped around his throat. -

The morning after Inquisitor Vane’s ultimatum, the Blackwater River looked like a graveyard of iron. Three massive Southern warships sat anchored in the center of the flow, their steam vents huffing rhythmic clouds of grey smoke into the pristine mountain air. They were "teeth" of a different kind—not bone and sinew, but coal and steel. ​Rhea stood on the battlements, her fingers tracing the rough stone of the manor. Beside her, Elias was a statue of suppressed fury. The grey-gold veins on his neck pulsed in time with the thrumming of the ships' engines.

They close their eyes to the onion. The port was as crowded as Davos had ever known it. Every dock teemed with sailors loading provisions, and every inn was packed with soldiers dicing or drinking or looking for a whore . . . a vain search, since Stannis permitted none on his island. Ships lined the strand; war galleys and fishing vessels, stout carracks and fat-bottomed cogs. The best berths had been taken by the largest vessels: Stannis's flagship Fury rocking between Lord Steffon and Stag of the Sea, Lord Velaryon's silver-hulled Pride of Driftmark and her three sisters, Lord Celtigar's ornate Red Claw, the ponderous Swordfish with her long iron prow. Out to sea at anchor rode Salladhor S