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A Seafaring SagaChapter 10: Onboard The Mantis
Rosa had discerned several things in her first hour in the brig. First, Anastasia was a crying weakling of a wimp who probably couldn't lift a teacup without assistance. Second, that the ship that they were in, whatever it was, was not moving. Laterally, that is. Sure, the ship rolling up slowly with the tide, but Rosa had been on a ship before, and she knew what a ship in motion felt like. Thirdly, Rosa surmised as she watched a craggy, one-eyed man lope his way toward them, we're on a pirate ship, more likely than not.
“‘Ello, lassies…” the pirated grinned lopsidedly, revealing black teeth, :I be ol’ Marble Eye, at yer service.”
The pirate bowed ironically and shoved a keg and a loaf of bread through the bars.
“Eat up, lassies, eat -- gah!”
Rosa had reached forward like lightning, grabbed Marble Eye, and smashed his head against the iron bars of the jail door. Rotten teeth flew wide, and the grimy glass eye popped out of it's socket and rolled across the deck to the feet of Anastasia, who shrieked. Rosa held the unconscious pirate pinned to the bars with one firm hand while she fumbled about with the other, fingering for keys, or a knife, or some else useful.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
Anastasia shrieked again, and Rosa released Marble Eye, cursing. Burtrand Storm-Rider, with Sydney Smythe flanking him, stood grandly, his saber out.
“Targon was right. What are they feeding you ladies these days?”
Rosa automatically took a dislike to any man she looked at, no matter what they said. But with his opening line, Burtrand Storm-Rider had just put himself on the top Rosa’s ‘Men I loath’ list.
“YOU TYCO BLEY NANO INTELLEBRIX SON OF A MEGABLOKS SHIFTY-BRICK!” Rosa exploded, rattling the bars insanely, “LET ME OUT OF THIS TYCO BEFORE I --”
“Do what?” cut in Burtrand smoothly.
Rosa smashed herself against the bars in her fury, ripping her clothes and causing the rusty bars to chafe her skin.
“TYCO YOU! MEGABLOKS YOU!”
Burtrand and Smythe backed away a little.
“Smythe!” snapped Burtrand, “Take ol’ Marble Eye ‘pon deck. Let the sea air revive ‘im. As for these ladies...alert the crew they are not to be feedin’ the captives ‘til I order it.”
“Aye-aye, Cap’n.”
As Rosa continued her furious screaming, both pirates ascended the stairs, Burtrand upright and aloof, Smythe hunched over while dragging the limp form of Marble Eye. Rosa’s shouting continued for another twenty minutes until she slumped, exhausted, against the bars. The first thing she saw were Anastasia’s watery eyes.
“Why’d you do that?” the princess whimpered, “I didn’t shout...but they said neither of us are to eat...everyone’s so mean....I’m h-h-hungry…”
Rosa would have shouted something vile if her throat wasn't so horse. Instead, she curled in a ball, and tried to get some rest. Then she could plan her escape. And get her revenge on Burtrand Storm-Rider.
It was night. Targon was on deck or rather, sitting on the lower rigging with his boots on the bulwark, and staring out over the water. His mind was busy contemplating his next course of action. He would capture one of the southern isles and set up a kingdom for himself. That was his plan, though he didn’t know how he would accomplish it. Targon had no army, no allies and no way of knowing what he was up against. He was ‘flying by the seat of his pants’ as the Dragon Masters would say. And Dragon Masters know about flying.
Targon did have one consoling gift however and he turned it over slowly in his hand, watching the moonlight glint off its smooth, polished surface. It was the rock Caimlin had given him all those years ago. The sergeant had told him it was magic, only to reveal later that it was all a cruel joke. The smooth rock with a deep shade of green was only a common stone Caimlin had picked up by the roadside. But Targon knew the truth about the stone now and he could take some comfort in that knowledge. He stared into it now, his mind roving back inmontana rusa mas grande mundo time.
But be warned Targon. You will come to a bad end someday, if you continue in this path.
The words from Targon’s past echoed like a ghost in his head.
“Shut up, would you!” the Dragon Master shouted at the stone.
Targon started. The sound of his voice surprised him.
Is that my voice? he thought.
Whatever sweetness the Dragon Master’s voice might have possessed was utterly gone. Now it was all growls and gruffles.
“Megablox!” Targon swore, “This is all the work of that bloody woman!”
The Dragon Master reached up to his neck. Yes, that was going to leave a scar. And one that wouldn’t ever go away most likely.
“I guess the saying true, then.” Targon growled to himself, “Most women like scars, but some women like giving them.”
In his cabin, Burtrand Storm-Rider twisted the tip of his hefty moustache, as he sat grimacing at his desk. He had a strange premonition of woe upon his mind and he didn’t know why. And that- that worried him.
“Bah, ye’re brewing trouble where there’s naught but sun.” Burtrand consoled himself.
After all, wasn’t everything going according to plan? Right about now his men should be delivering the ransom message with the pirate’s demands while he was miles away with the princess. Yes, the king would have plenty of trouble. What with his daughter kidnapped and the coronation called off (the ransom note making sure it stayed that way) and whatever trouble Targon had created in the capitol. Yes, things couldn’t be running smoother. Well, there was that venom spewing she-bear down in the brig. Burtrand had contemplated having her walk the plank, but they were in too much of a hurry to do it proper and besides, watching them starve was much more amusing. At that moment Sydney Smythe barged into the captain’s quarters.
“Cap’n, Cap’n, ye’ll ne’er believe what I saw!”
The first mate seemed out of breath, grabbing the desk for support and knocking over a sack of doubloons and the sextant in the process.
“What’s wrong with you, ye bloody sea-rat!” Burtrand cursed, whipping out his saber and striking Sydney across the head with the hand guard, “Ye don’ just come barging into my cabin like ye’re staggerin’ drunk!”
The captain moved around his prostrate mate and closed the door. “Arr, ye’ve been taking lessons from ol’ Marble Eye and dipping into the grog barrels again I’ll wager. I’m not sorry he got all his teeth put out!”
“Aye,” said Smythe, pulling himself up, “It’s rather a blessin’ at that. Some o the men were gettin’ a little itchy with the women on board, but now that they sees what happened to him they’re avoiding the brig like the plag -- wait, but -- but no, that’s not what I came here to tell ye! Ya see --”
“Well that’s good news.” said Burtrand, interrupting, “Heaven knows this land has enough illegitimate heirs already.”
“But—but that’s not what I needs to tell ya!”
“Oh really?” said Burtrand, sitting down again on his chair.
Smythe nodded. “Aye, ye remember ‘ow ye told me to keep an eye on that lan’lubber? Aye? Well, I keeps an eye on ‘im see? Cause I always does as ordered, I does. Arr, an what does I find ye ask?”
There was a very long pause.
“Oh yeah, that’s right! He’s got a magic stone, that’s what! I heared ‘im talkin’ to it. Aye, course I can’t prove it’s magic, but I’ll bet me golden tooth that’s what ye’re lookin’ for.”
Burtrand was silent for a moment and then said, “We don’t know if this is it, Mister Smythe, but thank ye for your help. You will keep keeping an eye on this man until we know for certain. Davey Jones knows I’d like to be indestructible. And if what you say is true then I wouldn’t mind taking that stone fer myself. Aye, I promised to deliver him to one the southern isles but whether he’s delivered alive or not makes no dif’rance to me. You’re free to go Smythe.”
As the first mate exited the cabin Burtrand fell to thought. He knew now why he had the premonition. Truth was, Burtrand was worried that history would repeat itself. After all, he was headed south with both a magical item and a kidnapped prisoner onboard. But there was, as Burtrand thought, one consolation.
“At least we’re not being followed.”
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