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A Seafaring SagaChapter 16: Storm-Rider
Above deck onboard the Mantis, Burtrand Storm-Rider was bellowing at the storm as he gripped the helm while white hands.
“IS THAT ALL YE CAN LEASH OUT, IS THAT ALL YE CAN MUSTER? I'VE WASHED MESELF IN A TUB THAT’S BEEN WORSE THAN THIS!”
“Cap’n…” Smythe muttered, “Don’t tempt the gods…”
“STORM-RIDER’S MY NAME, AND STORM-RIDER I AM!” cried Burtrand, “AND THE STORM-RIDER ALWAYS TEMPTS THE GODS!”
An arch of electricity burst threw the air in a bolt, slicing through the storming clouds until it connected with the mainmast of the Mantis. One moment the mast was firmly attached to the ship, and the next it was shattered, collapsing like a felled oak. Sails were torn, rigging was ripped, and the bodies of the men manning the sails were tossed into the raging sea. Burtrand roared with fury and a stream of oaths flew from his mouth. Smythe, on the other hand, cowered, his hands over his ears, murmuring, “The gods are angry…”
With a final thundering boom, the mainmast collapsed upon the Mantis, it’s bulk smashing rails, men, a ballista, and the hatch Rosa and Anastasia were trying to escape through. The force of the blow shattered wood and turned splinters into deadly arrows. Shards of wood shot the air and buried themselves in both of the women’s flesh. Anastasia cried out in pain, but Rosa merely gritted her teeth and pushed forward.
“I’m not gonna let a hunk of wood stop me!”
But it did. The felled mast had completely collapsed and blocked the hatchway. For now, at least, Rosa and Anastasia, and the badly wounded Targon, were imprisoned below deck. As if the gods were satisfied with the crippling of the Mantis, the storm almost at once began to slack off. The waves still churned and chopped, but slowly the wind and rain died, though the sky remained thick with black clouds.
“Ahh!” Anastasia squealed scraping at the shards of wood embedded in her face, “What are we going to do now?”
“Here,” said Rosa, handing her another piece of iron bar, “take one of these. We might have to fight our way out.”
“Fight! I can’t fight!”
“Well you could have fooled me. Tell that to the corpse who kidnapped you.” Rosa shouted, pointing at Targon.
Anastasia looked at the crumpled form of the Dragon Master, wincing at what she had done and yet with a look of such bitter contempt that her face turned red.
“I was furious at him when I did that,” she shouted back, “but I won’t be furious with a score of pirates baring down on me! I’ll only be frightened!”
Rosa rolled her eyes.
“You tyco teenaged girls and your mood swings!”
Or was it that man’s fault? He did seem to have a talent for bringing out the worst in a girl.
The sudden rush of water hit Targon in the face, bringing him to his senses. As his eyes adjusted he found himself starring at a round, wooden ball with an eye carved into it. He reached out his hand to feel it. It was smooth…like…like…
“My stone!” Targon growled.
The Dragon Master heaved himself to his feet and turned to the stairs. Rosa and Anastasia were standing there, looks of astonishment on their faces. By all reasoning Targon shouldn’t even have been standing. Bulging pieces of flesh and blood matted hair hung down in grisly disarray. He was in a state of shock now, oblivious of his terrible wounds. His mind was captive to one thought and that one thought alone. Never did he see the two women standing beside the steps. He only saw a way to get to Burtrand, and an obstacle that needed to be removed.
Up on the deck, under the dark, brooding clouds, things were in a state of total chaos. Burtrand wildly barked orders to his men.
“Mr. Sourbuckle, bring her about! Men, look to your weapons and prepare for battle!”
It hadn’t been two minutes since the ships had been spotted.
“What’er we gonna do Cap’in?” Smythe shouted, “We’re sitting ducks without the mast.”
“Not if they don’t have ballistae.” Burtrand retorted.
“Ahoy Captin!” said the lookout from the one remaining mast, “It looks like they both have ballistae!”
The two pirates exchanged looks.
“Not a word, Smythe.” said Burtrand, drawing his sword, “We still have the upper hand here. Ride up a flag of truce. And bring me the girl.”
As if on cue, the broken mast rolled away from the brig’s hatchway and out stepped the grizzled form of Targon.
“Bloody megabloks!” shouted Smythe in shock.
Targon ignored the mate. Or perhaps he didn't here him. Either way, Targon bypassed Smythe and stumbled to Burtrand.
“Gimme my rock.” he slurred. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed.
Burtrand prodded the inert and bloody form with his foot.
“Get ‘im below!” Storm-Rider snapped, “And bring that princess t’ me!”
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