Michael: Last Angel of Earth

Ambros and the others were ready to leave; it was only Barjon they were waiting on. After a few minutes, he emerged from the abbey and made his way over with the rest.

“You have the map?” asked Fiona. Barjon nods his head. With that, the small band began their journey to the small island. As they started their march, Barjon looked around at the surrounding Irish countryside. Despite these dark times, there were still small patches of green and life left in the world. I guess that is why many called the place the emerald isle.

“So Barjon, tell me, how did you and Margret meet,” said Colum. He takes a moment before answering.

“Well, I met her when she was very young. Friends of mine found her just over ten years ago.”

“Armageddon Day,” replied Colum. Barjon nods his head.

“Yes ... we found her in a small factory, hiding from terrible people. On that night, a lot of things changed. My friends died, as did her family. Since then, I made a promise to keep her safe.” Barjon pauses mid-thought. “If it’s all the same, Colum, I rather not continue speaking of this. It brings up,” Colum raises a hand.

“Say no more, Barjon, I understand.” After the brief conversation, Barjon thinks back to the voices he heard before at the monastery. He could not be sure if they were real or not, but what he could be sure of was that the voices were angelic. Something he has not heard in a very long time. Just then, Ambros spoke up.

“Everyone, off the road.” Hearing the concern in his voice, Barjon and the others quickly get off the road and up a small hill. Getting to the top, Fiona asks why the sudden change. Ambros did not say a word and only pointed back to the road. They soon began to hear a small army walking down the road. Barjon and the others recognized who they were from the banner they flew, a black flag with a red drake, as the army entered into view. They belonged to The Draconian Ravagers, an army of dragons and dragon-like creatures that ruled over the isle under the leadership of their king, Zarakoth, The Iron Soul. Ambros’s fist clenched how he hated that tyrannical serpent.

“Let them pass. Once they are gone, we’ll continue,” said Barjon. As the company waited for the army to move on, Barjon could still hear the voices telling him to fight. He shakes his head and mutters to himself.

“Voices again,” said Margret. She knew of what plagued her friend. Barjon shrugs it off.

“I’m fine, really,” he said to her. They then get the OK from Ambros to continue on their path. Cautiously looking around, they arrive at a small rowboat, one large enough for the whole company. Colum cuts the rope, and the travelers sail to the small island to get supplies. As they rowed across the waters, Barjon felt a disturbance. Something was wrong. There was no sound, no joyous hums echoing across the morning mist. Even the sea was calm.

“Where are the Selkies?” said Ambros. Barjon could not be sure. They are usually out and about in the ocean. As they drew closer to the island, they could make out faint images on the beach.

“I see something along the shoreline,” yelled Fiona. Nearing the sand, the company quickly jumped off the boat and rushed toward the bodies. To their horror, they found the remains of several butchered Selkies. Everyone was horrified. Fins were hacked off the bone, some bodies were left skinless, and many were covered in vicious cuts.

“What heartless bastards could do such a thing,” said Colum. Barjon went to inspect the remains. Kneeling, he noticed that some of the bodies had strange branding marks on their bodies. Investigating closer, he concluded that these marks were made before the Selkie’s death. The patterns varied, but two stood out to Barjon. One was the image of a crow’s head, whereas the other resembled a beast of many heads.

“Crap,” said Barjon. “We have a problem.”

“You know who did this?” asked Margret.

“I do. It was the Hydra corsairs and their ruthless captain, The Witch.” The Hydra Corsairs are one of many pirate groups that operate these waters under the protection of Zarakoth. He allows them safe passage through his realm; in return, they raid, plunder, destroy, and pillage along the Irish, Scottish, and English coastlines. Their captain was Beth England. Known as The Witch, she was once a doctor known for radical medicines before the world’s end. Afterward, she went into hiding, living off her product to survive. Some say it drove her insane and led her toward violence and greed. After it was discovered, she earned her nickname; she would use her kills’ bodies and organs to further her medicine-making research.

“If she is here, then we must find the selkies before she kills them all,” said Fiona.

“Knowing her, she would not kill everyone. She would capture a few and take them back to the ship,” said Barjon.

“Is there another spot on the island where the Selkies live?” said Colum. Barjon noted a small pool where he had found the Selkies to be located. It was on the opposite side of the island. With no time to lose, the company gathered their belongings from the boat and quickly ran to the other side of the island.

The island was not large; it was about half the size of Malta in the Mediterranean. A small jungle, a minor river, and an underground cavern covered the island. Making their way across the island, they made it to the said cavern, where from above, they saw the infamous Hydra ship, along with the Corsairs and The Witch.

“Found another for you, captain. Be careful; this one is squirmy,” chuckled a corsair. He handed her a young one to which she bounded its arms to its sides and tossed it with the others.

“Very good; Zarakoth will be pleased. Gather up the men and make ready to sail.” Above, the group debated how they would reach the ship before it left.

“We won’t make it down in time. If we jump in the water, we are good as dead,” said Colum. Margret nodded in agreement. Ambros notices that the ship is carrying large crates of White Angel. The white angle was a type of fungi known to have dangerous properties. It is mainly used as an alternative to black powder as it is more easily produced and numerous. While a lit match can set it off, there was another way of setting off white angel, gorgon blood.

“I have an idea,” said the abbot. “It seems they have white angel aboard their ship. If I can aboard without being seen, I can sink the ship before it leaves.” He then shows everyone his small vile of gorgon blood.

“Good plan,” said Fiona. All were on board except Barjon.

“It won’t work,” he said.

“Excuse me?” replied Ambros.

“You don’t know the right concentration to set off white angel properly. One miscalculation and you will blow yourself up. Hand me the vile; I’ll get it done.” Ambros was slightly apprehensive.

“Barjon, I know what I am doing. I have used this vile before,” argued Ambros. However, Barjon stood his ground and furthered his point.

“You may know the concentration needed to set off white angel, but do you also know the mixture of how much white angel and gorgon blood to set off a timed reaction? There are Selkies on board. if you blow up the ship, then they die as well.” Ambros closed his eyes and let out a sigh. He had not considered that.

“Very well, Barjon. Take the vile. we will cover you from here.” Taking the vile from his friend’s hand, Barjon placed it in his pocket and quietly descended the cavern opening. Once back on land, he planted himself against the mountainside and glanced at his side. Most of the Corsairs were scattered around the area; thus, he had to keep to the shadows. After making decent progress, he hides behind a stone slab just a few feet from the ship. Peeking his head over the top, he sees the crates aboard the boat and the selkies below the deck. He had to save the Selkies first.

Just as he was about to leave the slab, he heard a clicking sound behind him. Barjon curses softly.

“That will be enough, love; follow me,” said the voice from behind. Barjon places his hands over his head and walks toward the ship. Getting aboard, he was taunted by the other pirates. Suddenly there is a whistle coming from the crow’s nest. Then, in a cloud of yellow dusk, a woman wearing a tricorn hat, red scar, and silver hair emerged before Barjon. A skull necklace sat around her neck, and a sword and pistol were at her hips. Caressing his cheek, the woman spoke.

“Barjon, so good of you to drop in,” said The Witch.