Contents

  Cover

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  Copyright

  Map

  Bêlit: Shipwrecked

  About the Author

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  BÊLIT: SHIPWRECKED

  E-book edition ISBN: 9781803366388

  Published by Titan Books

  A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd 144

  Southwark St, London SE1 0UP

  www.titanbooks.com

  First edition: February 2024

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental.

  © 2024 Conan Properties International (“CPI”). CONAN, CONAN THE BARBARIAN, CONAN THE CIMMERIAN, HYBORIA, THE SAVAGE SWORD OF CONAN and related logos, names and character likenesses thereof are trademarks or registered trademarks of CPI. ROBERT E. HOWARD is a trademark or registered trademark of Robert E. Howard Properties LLC. Heroic Signatures is a trademark of Cabinet Licensing LLC.

  V. Castro asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  Typeset by Chris Chambers at CC Design.

  BÊLIT:

  SHIPWRECKED

  V. CASTRO

  The storm had the ferocity of a creature conjured in the depths of Hades. Her angry claws punched all corners of Bêlit’s ship, the Tigress. One sail had been torn from the mast when the storm began, and the others threatened to fly away as well.

  The entire ship groaned from the battering. Bêlit stood near the helm wearing her most prized jewels as saltwater and rain drenched her body. The black charcoal that rimmed her burning obsidian eyes ran down her pale skin, making her truly look like the demon her reputation made her out to be. There had been storms before, but none like this. She cursed the sky then looked toward her crew, who had no choice but to stay the course and keep her alive.

  “Anyone abandoning their station will be hung from the mast!” she shouted.

  “Aye, Captain! Your presence gives us strength!” they echoed back to her.

  She turned to return to her cabin. The walls were bare—all the hanging items were strewn across the wet floor, where they now floated on rising waters. From outside came the screams from those taken overboard. Her entire crew had to remain at their positions no matter the cost. Their loyalty ensured they would. Bêlit wondered for a moment if this was the end. For all the ferocity and obedience her crew possessed, they were at the mercy of the sea. If they all died, she would simply find more. This couldn’t be the way it ended for her. The gods would be stupid to do such a thing.

  Seneka, her first mate, held onto wooden rails along the wall of her cabin. His shoulder-length brown hair dripped with saltwater. Irreplaceable maps were tucked beneath his tunic as he sought to keep them as dry as possible. Their elephant-bladder-stitched casing would offer some protection. The only other possessions on him were his beloved hurling ax and poison dart atl. As skilled as he was with them, however, they were useless in this battle.

  He gave her a look of surrender and held out his hand to help her to the railing then moved to block the door to the cabin with his body to prevent more water from spilling inside. Bêlit returned his gaze, but with a twinkle of defiance still in her dark eyes. A mere storm would not end her life. Death would have to work harder than this, as it had tried to claim her before. No, her lust for life was always stronger.

  “It is not enough, but may my body be enough to protect you, my captain. It has been an honor to serve you,” he said with arms outstretched, and touched the walls.

  She gave him a nod. Five solid years they had travelled together with the current crew, along the Black Coast. In that time they had gathered more treasure than most freebooters could imagine possible. Bêlit could easily retire to some coastal town in Shem, if she wished, as a wealthy landowner, perhaps a warlord. They had hidden more wealth than she could spend in a lifetime, but it wasn’t just about the treasure.

  Bêlit sailed for the freedom and excitement of adventure. She had no master, and commanded the ship as she saw fit. If any of the crew had a problem with it, they would be tied to the back of the ship with a rope and dragged until they drowned. The body would be brought onto the deck for all to see. Luckily, for them, their fealty had proven stronger than their desire to leave her command. There were also no doors for possible suitors to come knocking at. She was a woman with whom no man or woman dared trifle. If she wanted someone, she would have them. Who wouldn’t be grateful for a night with her?

  Her reputation preceded her in port towns along the coast and across Shem. Other pirates wanted to fight her, or to bed her, yet all were aware of the potentially lethal consequences. She had met Seneka at a port where he was fleeing the Pictish Wilderness. He sought to lose himself on the sea, to evade those who would see him dead. That fateful night, while she enjoyed wine in a local tavern, a drunk of low status who didn’t know who she was had attempted to touch her. With a mere fingertip on the back of her arm, she swung around to face him. Her sword gutted the man in one swoop, and, with the bowels of a stranger spilled on Seneka’s boots, he promised loyalty to her in that moment, witnessing her ability to wield a sword without mercy. On bended knee he waited for her to accept his offer. She scanned the tavern before shouting, “Anyone else want the privilege of my sword spilling their blood?” No one looked her in the eye or said a word.

  Then or now, Bêlit hadn’t cared that Seneka was a wanted man—his skills as a fighter and tracker were enough.

  When the saltwater sloshed knee deep and the Tigress barreled side to side one final time, the ship jerked to a violent stop. Bêlit and Seneka tumbled against the wall. The water stopped pouring in, and the noise of the storm diminished. Before long, the loudest sound was of seagulls.

  They picked themselves up, not knowing if it was finally over. When the floor beneath their feet still did not move, they moved to the door, anxious to assess the damage on the deck.

  The remaining crew also emerged from below as the sun broke through the clouds to warm their sodden, aching bodies. Drenched in saltwater, yet alive, Bêlit scanned the now-calm horizon. She had never been so grateful to feel the sun as it sizzled on her pale skin. They had hit land.

  But where?

  To one side lay the sandy beach of an island. The clearing sky and azure waters made it appear as if the last day dancing with death had never happened. Whatever water demon had toyed with their lives for what had to have been nearly two days, he no longer wanted to play. By some miracle the Tigress had survived and so had Bêlit and most of her crew. There would be no rest for them. They had to get back onto the sea. She stomped to the center of the deck, trying to control the trembling of her body, which desperately needed to dry in the heat.

  “We are alive,” she said loudly. “The mighty Tigress gave us protection because she is unsinkable. The best there is above all others.” She looked at the shivering crew, who smiled and cried out in joy. They each made a fist and placed it over their heart as they looked upon their leader with devotion.

  “Clean up this mess. Hassan, I want a full assessment of the damage. Salvage what you can and put it on the beach to dry out. Seneka, find out where we are, and how far off course we have been taken. Anyone not moving will wish they perished by the hand of the sea. Now get to work!”

  Hassan bowed his head. “Leave it to me, my captain. We won’t let you down.”

  Twenty crew members scattered to follow her instructions without protest, despite the look of exhaustion on all their faces.

  Strapping on her sword and lowering herself to the beach, Bêlit wanted to fall into the sand and sleep for hours. However, this was not the time. They needed to search for signs of others who might be a threat. None of her crew were in any shape to fight… yet. As she faced the clean, soft stretch of beach, one hand on the hilt of her weapon, she hoped to find food and not a foe.

  She took off her boots one at a time to drain them of water, before walking with bare feet along the span. There were no remnants of old fires or fishing. No hacked-down trees. She trotted over to one with a familiar fresh blood fruit abundantly fallen at its base. Dropping to her knees, she devoured one. Red juice dribbled down her chin and stained her light cotton tunic. The mouthfuls made her moan as they reached her belly.

  Stretching her muscles, Bêlit felt invigorated by the fruit’s juice and flesh. It had been at least two days since their last full meal, and when the pit of the fruit resembled a raw-gnawed bone, she tossed it to the ground. The red silk girdle she wore bene ath needed to dry, as well. She continued to look around. There were more such trees, but no signs of the fruit being harvested. Piles lay in various states of rot littering the sand. Perhaps this island was uninhabited after all or had been abandoned.

  Sometimes long-forgotten places held left-behind treasure.

  The idea made her mouth water.

  Bêlit returned to the ship, where the crew continued to work on emptying the Tigress and taking stock. She waved Seneka and Hassan over. “Tell me what I need to know.”

  Hassan was the first to speak. “Aye, Captain, we need to fell a few trees and cut new boards to replace the ones that were damaged when we hit land.” He gestured upward. “The mast… she is weak and needs work too. First we must find the tools on the Tigress. ’Tis a jumbled mess.”

  “Then do it,” she replied, adding, “I don’t want any time wasted here. Seneka, take two others and gather as much fruit as you can. Then dig a pit and gather the driest wood you can find. We will discuss our next moves over a fire later.” The first mate nodded and flicked his head toward two men she knew to be Mithras and Zeke.

  The sun moved in and out of fast-moving clouds overhead, baking her skin. Bêlit had to consider what to do next, but before that she would look through her cabin for salvageable items.

  * * *

  When the sun began to set, it created a canvas of clouds ablaze in purple and orange streaks. Mithras and three others built a fire that came to life, crackling and spitting out glowing embers. Nora hauled enough fish to give them a decent bellyful. She made a woven platter to serve Bêlit her portion of fish and fruit. Bêlit began to feel good about the day’s work as she ate first. If someone did see the fire, and they were hostile, at least her crew had some energy in their bodies to try to fight back.

  “I hope the clouds clear.” Seneka sat next to Bêlit. “I can’t map where we are without the stars.”

  “They will,” Bêlit replied, then she looked around. “The crew get one good rest after this meal. Then we push harder. I also want to know what secrets this island possesses.” She looked toward the ship, a dark mass in the gloom, and her mood also darkened. “The Tigress is in worse shape than I thought. I refuse to be stranded here without getting something out of it.”

  “Aye. You must sleep, my captain. I’ll take the first watch, and rotate the others. You will be protected. Hassan has made a tent for you out of the dried-out blankets we could salvage. ’Tis by the trees and as comfortable as he could make it.”

  Bêlit nodded and took a mouthful of the charred fish. The sand was still warm. It would be a better bed than a still drying-out Tigress.

  * * *

  As the first rays of the sun crept over the horizon, the crew rose to see to the Tigress. First, they picked on the leftover fruit, and cracked open coconuts they had gathered the night before. Bêlit stood to address them all.

  “I want to explore this place,” she said. “The Tigress needs much work, so there is time. It doesn’t seem like there are locals, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t being watched, or that there aren’t others deeper into the island.” She pointed. “Zeke and Mithras, go straight into the jungle. Nora and Homer to the left, Horus and Ajani to the right. When the sun is at midpoint, make your way back here to report everything you see and hear.”

  Without hesitation, the six crewmen began to prepare to leave for their excursion deeper into the island’s jungle. Bêlit watched them walk into the thick of the trees, hoping they would return with good news—that there was no one.

  Her attention then moved to the Tigress. The ship was lopsided in the sand. Felling some trees, the crew attempted to create stilts that would enable them to repair the punctures made in the wreck. From the looks of it, it must have been a large coral reef or rock that split the ship’s belly.

  They would also need to bring fabric up from below the deck, to stitch a replacement for the lost sail.

  * * *

  Midday came and went with no sign of the six who had been sent to scout. Bêlit didn’t show the concern she felt—she had earned the respect she enjoyed by not losing her head, even when things appeared dire.

  Seneka supervised the slow repairs while Bêlit scoured the ship for valuables that had been stored there. If, as she suspected, her scouts had found natives, they might need things that could be used for trading. Such goods might also be needed later—repairs made on the island would at best get them to a major port. More time and effort would be required before the Tigress could be brought back to fighting form. And it wouldn’t be cheap.

  Some of the valuable-but-heavy sacks of coffee and salt been thrown overboard in the storm. Chests of gold had been overturned, some of it lost.

  * * *

  By sunset she could hear raised voices coming from the trees. Only four figures emerged. Mithras appeared red-faced and exhausted from hiking through jungle in the heat of the day. He looked at Bêlit with concern and hoped she would know what to do, because she always did.

  “’Tis dire news, me captain. We don’t know what happened to Nora or Ajani,” he said. “’Tis a waterfall that seemed to draw us toward it. The jungle is thick there—methinks that’s where they disappeared.”

  The crew had stopped working to find out what the commotion was about. Seneka’s eyes darted toward Bêlit, who rested a hand on the sword attached to her hip. She looked back at the crew with narrowed eyes. “None of this concerns you! Get back to work.” She turned back to the returning crew.

  “Tomorrow we go back, but tonight we get our weapons ready. You must all be prepared, in the event we find ourselves in a fight,” Bêlit said before stomping toward Mithras. Despite being a strapping young man, larger than most, he looked like a small child waiting to be scolded by his mother. Mithras had joined their ranks at the young age of fourteen, rescued from the slavers’ block in Shem.

  Bêlit had given him a chance to earn his own gold.

  “You saw nothing more? Don’t tell me stories, boy,” she said in a hard tone.

  He shook his sweaty head and gazed at her with genuine devotion. “Me captain, nothing. I’d rather die in the briny deep than tell you lies. I owe you my life and am forever grateful… But ’tis strange that four of us found ourselves at the waterfall at the same time. No paths led there. We had to walk one by one through the jungle. On the way back we chopped as much of the jungle as we could to make a better path.”

  Bêlit had gazed into the eyes of many men, had been told as many lies as there were stars. She searched his face without smiling. He looked at her, both dazzled by her beauty and in awe of her hold over him. There was no deception with Mithras as far as she could see. “We return in the morning. Go now and keep working with the others.”

  Mithras bowed his head and joined the crew, who were talking amongst themselves and preparing the fire for the evening.

  Earlier in the day Bêlit had found a large, smooth stone where the beach met the tree line. She would use it to sharpen her sword enough to split the hair on the back of a wild boar. She would split a man’s skull without remorse, if need be. Her mood was becoming darker. An impatience surged in her body. She hated waiting.

  * * *

  “We aren’t alone here! And something has come from the sea!”

  The shouts made Bêlit jump from her slumber and grab her sword. Seneka ran toward her.

  “Two have been taken in the night! What few belongings they had salvaged were left behind, and there are no tracks. And this other thing. You must see it.”

  His words raised an alarm inside of her. Seneka was the best tracker she ever knew. If anyone could detect the most seemingly insignificant piece of evidence, it would be Seneka.

  “We prepare to leave now,” Bêlit said, loudly enough for all to hear. She scanned their faces. The fear was as clear as the water lapping at the shore. She would only take her most skilled fighters into the jungle. Something, or someone, didn’t want them there. It made her wonder why. Perhaps there was treasure after all. If there was, it belonged to her.

  But first, she would follow Seneka. As she moved to the other side of the ship, a long type of netting made from some sort of wire jutted out of the water as high as mid-mast to the Tigress. Thick, sharp crimson-stained barbs that looked like the teeth of deep-water beasts dotted the netting. Flesh still clung to parts of it, as did what could easily be human bones. It extended too far in either direction for the Tigress to go around it. Below were boulders risen from the sand. Between each crevice, metal spikes that would surely rip the Tigress. Someone controlled the beach. She would find whoever did this and make them pay one way or another, then take any treasure they possessed. Her lips curled to a sinister smile of murderous delight.

 

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