The Princess and The Pirate

Long after sunset, the moon broke over the horizon, casting an eerie glare across the ocean’s smooth surface.

A small boat quietly cut across the calm waters, pushed only by gentle rowing.

The dinghy slid beside The Silver Ogre’s Revenge and shadows, only slightly darker than the night around them, ascended the side of the large ship.

On deck were a few pirates playing cards by lamplight. They laughed and drank their horrible booze and seemed to be in high spirits.

“Ace, high,” laughed one, as he went to grab the mound of small, mandarin oranges they were playing for.

“Wait, wait, I think you’re full of shit,” another one said, throwing his cards down. Why did Frank always win at cards? And more importantly, why did he always keep playing with him?

The sound of a soft whistle cut through the air and Frank’s celebration was caught in his throat. He grabbed at his neck and a single line of blood appeared. Choking on the liquid in his throat, Frank fell off his barrel to the deck floor.

Both his compatriots stood up, brandishing their swords at the darkness. Only the ship herself creaked and sighed wearily.

Another whistle pierced the air and Joe, Frank’s angry comrade, lost the color in his eyes. A long needle glistened in the lamplight, sticking out of his cheek. He fell to the floor, asleep.

Only Bernard was left. Spirits? Sea witches? The wrath of Poseidon himself? A shadow moved at the edge of his vision and the pirate swung fiercely! His sword only cut through a rope and wedged itself into the wooden guard rail of the ship.

He tugged on his weapon, trying to free it.

The sound of a pulley frantically squeaking filled the night air and the heavy branch of the boom came swinging down at him. It swept out of the darkness freely and knocked both the sailor and the lamp over. Bernard was thrown overboard and the lamp crashed to the ground, its spilled oil igniting.

“That was a stupid move, Novice,” a shadowy cloaked form scorned a smaller body that landed before it.

“Forgive me, Father Cordinae,” the smaller kneeling form pleaded insincerely. She flatly stated, “I saw the opportunity and I took it.”

“Now we have less time. Quick, to the door.” He motioned to the Captain’s quarters.

The fire started to grow across the deck, smoke curling up from the wood. The soft popping sound of the flames made on damp wood started to raise the lighter sleepers below deck.

Novice ran across the deck and came to a crouch before the lock in the door. With two long silver ticks, the small, delicate hands of the monk’s apprentice began to pick the lock.

“What is…Fire?!” came a shout from the quarters below, “Fire! Everybody up!”

Novice avoided the look from her master.

Quickly, half-awake pirates ran up from the body of the ship, “Where is everyone?!” Donavan shouted, “Put it out!”

“WATCH OUT!” Donavan felt himself shoved forward, closer to the growing flames. Throwing his body to the side, he smashed into some ropes, rather than tripping face first into the blaze.

A blade cut into the deck, the cloaked assassin’s short sword missing its target.

Like a flash, it had disappeared and flashed forward, the blade coming down on the sleepy Donavan again. With the barrel of his pistol, he stopped the sword from meeting his face.

The cloaked figure’s icy blue eyes weren’t warmed by the nearby firelight. The first mate, with great energy, pushed his attacker back.

“ARMS! EVERYONE TO ARMS!”

Novice felt the successful click of the door unlocking, but it had opened on its own. Kyle stood in the threshold and kicked the flat of his boot outward, right into the crouched cloaked figure.

She flew back.

Jacqueline shot awake at all the commotion and went to see the chaos. Instantly, she was jerked back, having forgotten her current state. All she saw was Kyle opening the door, kicking whoever was there, and his silhouette fading into the fiery chaos on deck as he shut the door behind him.

“CAPTAIN!” Jacqueline screamed, pulling on her chain.

In those precious seconds the door had been open, all she saw was a blaze on deck and a frantic crew running about. Outside there was a fight, the ship was on fire, and she was tethered to her spot with unforgiving steel. If the ship sank, the Princess would surely die.

She screamed again as the idea of her own frail mortality filled her mind.

“CAPTAIN!”

Jacqueline didn’t want to become buried treasure.

On deck, Kyle lunged forward at the smaller figure with his rapier. She was easily on her feet again and greeted his attack. Her body moved gracefully, in a refined, practiced way, while his was a brutish guerrilla style that wasn’t meant to look pretty; it was meant to get the job done.

Novice dodged his swipe and she caught his blade with a small dagger. With a heave, he broke their lock. Kyle rushed the small form again, running closer to the banister of his ship.

Ducking right, he grabbed for her hood, taking the rough material in his fist. It snapped Novice’s head back, revealing her dirty brunette hair underneath. She had hazel eyes that looked up at him, unflinchingly.

She bent her limber back further and Kyle felt a prick on his closed fist. A slender needle was buried deep into his hand. Almost instantly he felt nauseous.

The captain let her go and ripped the needle right out. As if he were suddenly seasick, dizziness and fever mercilessly took over his whole body. The brunette woman grinned at him and lunged at her weakened prey.

Across the deck, the fire grew and started to lick the bottom of the sails. Donavan was bleeding profusely from his arm and his ruined musket was the only thing standing between himself and death. The cloaked figure was like a phantom, constantly upon him from every direction. Beaten to the ground, the first mate pulled back the flint on his gun.

He wouldn't die with an unused round in the chamber.

Steel glinted in the air and he fired. The shot destroyed the damaged gun, releasing a violent explosion, but its outcome was still the same. As it marred Donavan, it also marred the monk. The two men were unfortunate enough to share the small circumference of wild metal and gunpowder.

Father Cordinae jumped back, ribbons of his own blood streaking the air. It was time to regroup. This enterprise had been an obvious failure.

Kyle was against the banister keeping a dagger tip from impaling his eye, while his stomach gurgled. Even now, it was becoming an ever increasing option to vomit all over this girl.

Novice’s face was covered in scars. Some looked ritualistic and others looked beaten into her. Maybe that had to do with the electric spark of insanity in her eyes. Trying to force all her weight onto him, Kyle used it to his advantage. Roughly grabbing Novice by the front of her cloak, he allowed the very tip of her dagger to dig into his eyebrow and with a pivot, he threw his assailant overboard.

She fell into the black ocean with a small splash. Kyle then slumped down against the wooden railing, feeling the sickness set deep into his bones.

The father and his student disappeared from the pirate ship. The remaining crew members threw blankets and sand on the scorched wood, trying to contain the blaze on deck, while both their captain and first mate lay incapacitated.

Right now, however, they had to keep the ship from burning down.