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THE LEGACY The Grounds of Nachmasheeghan
By Andrea Dean Van Scoyoc
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The Lost, The Forgotten, The Damned
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About ANDREA DEAN VAN SCOYOC
Called “One of the most unique and twisted authors of our generation,†Andrea Dean Van Scoyoc is a best selling, award winning author of Horror Sinisteria.
From ghosts to the paranormal, from the Occult to pirates, Andrea can write it, write it well and keep her fans and critics begging for more.
A force of nature, Andrea has blazed a path through a genre most often dominated by men. She is routinely sought out for appearances at everything from private functions to public venues to conventions, where she appears as a celebrity guest.
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EXCERPT
THE LEGACY
CHAPTER ONE
THE WILL
1721
“Captain Nachmasheeghan! Captain, we can’t hold the ship in this storm much longer!†The words blew in the cruel wind, as the frantic crew called to each other above the din. The cold breath of the watery mistress beat upon the sturdy ship and rain poured down by the buckets full, like a thousand angry sea gods bent on sending the vessel straight to the salty deep.
The Captain turned toward the terrified crewmember. He was a handsome man, astute and regal, like royalty--he looked every bit a Captain as he stood at the wheel, the tempest whipping his long, dark hair about him and wrenching his clothes to and fro. The small crewmember made his way to him precariously, his eyes wild and panicked, his voice a harsh screech above the roar of the furious night.
The Captain’s answer was quick and stern, but not hateful.
“You will stand your post and not move again! I have seen this ship through much worse than this and I trust His loyalty far above all others. Have no fear, the Agamemnon will take whatever the sea gives him and ask for more.â€
With a quick nod, the small soaked man ran back to his post, his bare feet slapping the hardwood deck not even making a sound against the crashing of the sea.
Captain Ian Nachmasheeghan looked up in time to see a large wall of water bearing down on them all.
“All hands brace for impact!â€
The warning was sounded throughout the rest of the ship, “Brace for impact!â€
“Brace for impact!â€
The water drove into the ship as if Neptune himself had a vendetta against any man foolhardy enough to take him on in such a storm. The ship lurched and listed to one side and water poured over the sides and just as quickly filled the decks before receding again.
Ian held on to the ornately carved wheel, his hands firmly planted on the winding fish tail as he struggled to keep his footing. The wheel was no help and, as the ship lurched once again, he lost his footing and his grip on the wheel. He tumbled down the stairs and dangerously close to the side as the deck water nearly carried him away.
He looked out at the emptiness of the night and the onyx colored sea as the water reached for him with the hand of wet death. He didn’t see the customary images of his life pass him by as people had always said happened to those close to death. Instead, his thoughts went to his crew and how they would fare without him. TJ would take care of them…he knew he would. The side of the ship and certain death were closing in on him and just as his booted feet hit the low sides that separated him from his watery grave a hand grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and held on tightly. He tried to turn his head, see who had him in their saving grasp, but was greeted each time with a face full of salty water. He sputtered as the hand pulled him backward. He grabbed the leg of the man who had saved him and clung to him as lovers would during frenzied coupling.
He lost track of time as the assault continued. How much more could his trusty ship take? He wasn’t certain how many crewmen had already been washed overboard. He’d faintly heard their screams as the depths claimed them. It was cold and he shivered as his savior hunkered down close to him. Still unable to see his face, Ian simply continued to hold on.
Then, as if admitting defeat, as if Ian and his men had successfully beaten the depths of Neptune’s fleet at their own game, the tempest took its leave and the sun bade them good morning over the horizon. Ian shook his long hair from his face and stood as best he could. He could barely feel his arms from holding so tightly to the crew member, and he shook them as his bones reminded him just how much he hated the cold. The man he had clung to all night was lashed to a rail and untying himself. Ian smiled. It was his old and most trusted friend, Tolliver Jean-Leferr, the very man who could have allowed him to die in order to have the crew of the Agamemnon to himself.
Ian offered his hand to his longtime friend.
“That is twice now, old friend. Perhaps one day I will be able to fully repay you for what you have done for me.â€
Tolliver smiled, his eyes bright and twinkling in the early morning sun. He too was a handsome sailor, destined to see the captaining of his own ship one day, he was certain of it. Until that day, he was content to call Ian Nachmasheeghan his friend and Captain.
“Maybe one day, Ian…when we are both old and gray.â€
Captain Ian Nachmasheeghan nodded and smiled.
“I look forward to that day.â€
Many people found it odd that Captain Nachmasheeghan referred to his ship as a “he†when most ships were referred to in the feminine sense, but he had an answer for that.
“I have yet to find a woman who will obey and serve me as my ship has. Until that time as I do, I trust the consort of a male vessel much more so than feminizing my means of transport across the sea.â€
No one questioned him again once he uttered those words.
The battered Captain hurried to the bow of the ship, checking each man as he went. Of those that had survived, most were badly injured and a few were dead. TJ, as Ian affectionately called his best friend, followed him.
“Men… men! If I may have your attention! I know now that this storm was the worst we have ever endured yet and I grieve with you on the losses amongst our family. We will sail to the nearest port where we can seek medical help for those who need it and repairs for the ship. I pray that this is the last we will see of such a hell-fueled storm.â€
TJ sidled up close to his Captain.
“Ian, we are missing quite a few men. I have already looked overboard and of those that the depth did not wish to lay claim to, the water runs red with their blood and thick with their broken bodies. Do you wish me to retrieve them?â€
Ian’s face fell. He was known to be cruel at times and his way of controlling his men was often tyrannical, but he was also generous and kind-hearted once a person could get past his hard demeanor and booming voice.
“Yes, TJ. I will help you.â€
The remaining crew of the Agamemnon labored long into the day on into dusk as they piled body after body on the deck of the ship. It was not usual to see men, particularly pirates, shed tears. However these men were not just pirates plundering the sea, marauding murderers out for their own gain, they were a family. Ian added no married member to his crew wishing his men to have nothing to preoccupy their minds except the duties he gave them. It also bonded them, and if anything terrible befell them, there would be as few broken hearts as possible, such as now.
Midnight had just touched the clock as the last man was sent back to the sea he loved so well. She could be a cruel mistress and they all knew that, but rather than have their bodies float as grisly markers or sink as fish food, Captain Ian Nachmasheeghan chose instead to wrap them in a white cloth and send them to the eternal, deep darkness, properly where they could sleep undisturbed.
None of the Agamemnon crew was religious, and not one godly man could be found to say even a few words of comfort, so Ian did the best he could.
“Farewell dear friends and sleep with those of the deep so that they may record for all eternity your brave fight against Neptune’s best, where your lives were the sacrifice. God watch over and keep you all.â€
Tolliver Jean-Leferr’s eyes snapped up at the mention of the word “God.†Ian Nachmasheeghan was as blasphemous a man as he had ever met. Defying God at every turn and insisting that the only God he ever needed was himself, he seemed to be softening with each major loss of his crew. He had sailed since day one with Ian Nachmasheeghan, being just a boy not even into his teens when hired to work at sea. Being the two youngest on board the ship, they had become fast friends. That friendship had endured through a decade and, TJ knew, would only continue to strengthen.
It was rumored that the Agamemnon was cursed, this particular crew being the third in six months to be taken on and then be lost. Tolliver Jean-Leferr was not a man to allow his life to be ruled by superstitions and did not believe the ship to be cursed. If the Agamemnon was cursed, he would not be alive and neither would its Captain, as Ian had faced death, nearly succumbing to it twice, more times than most men could imagine. TJ and Ian both knew that it was the inexperience of deck hands that cost lives and made mishaps, not curses and the Fates.
A few men had stayed on with them since their last docking, all of them experienced hands and, they too, saw the failing caliber of men that came to the sea for a better life. Younger and younger every year they were, choosing to mate with the sea, unlike TJ and Ian who had been handed no other choice by life. This new breed of men simply wanted adventure and money but were not willing to pay the price that the sea often extracted for plundering her coffers.
Losing so many young men bothered Ian. No Captain liked to see crew after crew drown, die from exposure to the elements or give way to sickness. Ian’s redemption seemed to start with the loss of the last crew. After seeing such resources as strong arms and backs go to waste, he spoke of rectifying his soul with God, that he needed to speak with Him…just in case. There were many nights that TJ passed by his Captain’s quarters, out for his nightly walk, when he would hear his friend praying for mercy, beseeching a God he had never had any use for to visit mercy upon him, mercy upon his men and mercy upon those that he had to kill.
The reflections of the once ungodly man did not bother TJ. He would continue to live his life in the manner he always had, by his own rules and for his own gain, but if Ian needed a god, or even many gods, the god that his Captain prayed to was as welcome as any god.
TJ knocked on his Captain’s door, but there was no answer. He looked into the warped and etched glass that made up the only visible window from the deck. The light was burning brightly in the lantern--Ian had to be there. He never lit the lantern and then left it. That light served one purpose, and that was so his crew could see when he was accepting visits to his quarters and when he was not to be disturbed. TJ looked again. The lantern was definitely lit. Maybe Ian simply did not hear him knock the first time?
TJ knocked again, loudly. The answer this time was loud and immediate.
“Enter here!â€
TJ opened the door and walked in slowly.
“Good evening, Ian. Am I disturbing you?â€
The Captain looked up, his eyes hard set, but then softened.
“No, TJ, I always have time for you, old friend.â€
TJ walked further into the room and sat down in the chair opposite his Captain’s large and intricately carved desk, an acquisition while in the Orient.
“I was simply lost in my log book. Unless I am mistaken, we sent fifteen men off to their just reward this evening and I still have ten unaccounted for. Never have we lost so many men at one time, not even during our fiercest battles.â€
TJ pursed his lips but nodded. “You know the battles with the sea are always the worst. She is cruel, she is exacting and she is unjust. At least men have a purpose in the demise they bring about on others. She,†and he put heavy emphasis on the word “she†as if uttering a curse upon her, “has no mercy, she has no heart and yet we love her for it.â€
Ian smiled faintly. TJ was right.
“I feel her anger more and more the longer we sail, old friend. It is almost as if she is trying to tell me something and her wrath is my punishment for not heeding her message. One day I may just give up this life, though I don’t know what I would do if I did.â€
TJ laughed loudly.
“You would do no such thing and you know it!â€
Normally TJ, the man who had been his friend and confidant for many a year, would be right. This time he was not.
“I mean it, TJ. This life has taken its toll on me. It has abused me, sickened me and broken my heart. We have sailed, we have plundered, we have robbed, we have killed and we are rich beyond comprehension, but at what cost to us…to our lives and our souls? Our bodies are far older than numbers, our hair streaked like the hags who have told us our fortunes and for what?â€
Ian stopped and shook his head. TJ could feel his chest tightening. His Captain had talked this way before, each time after a devastating loss, but this time it was different, as if he meant his threat of leaving the sea.
“If I could find a life that would make me happy I would grasp it like it was my last breath and hold it so close that it would never escape me.â€
TJ felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. It was not a bad thing for a man to wish better for himself, but they had both been children of the sea since they were but boys. What would Ian do if he left the sea? More importantly, what would TJ do without his friend for guidance? He tried to remain calm as he spoke.
“Tell me, Ian…even if you could obtain this new life, what would you do with yourself?â€
The Captain looked thoughtful for a moment. He sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his flat stomach staring out through the large window that took up the front of his quarters.
“I would like to own a shipyard, I think. I love ships, have always marveled at the craftsmanship that goes into building one and would like to do that I think.â€
TJ laughed sarcastically.
“And what do you, a murdering pirate know of building ships?â€
Ian ignored his friend’s tirade. He knew that TJ could be difficult at times. He was nothing but low ilk, always had been.
“Nothing now my friend, but I have the money to buy the education and learn what it takes. If all else fails, I have the means to hire those that do know the trade. I could succeed at this, I’m sure of it.â€
Ian just caught TJ’s nostrils flaring.
“Our next port is Aberdeen, Scotland, old friend. Maybe you will meet your dreams there.â€
Ian knew the remark was meant as a barb and would not fall into the trap of answering in the negative.
“Perhaps I will. I can hope. If I do not retire now, I will be looking at each port we make as my possible place of resting this weary body and soul at some point in the future. Aberdeen seems as good a place as any to start looking.â€
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