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Pirates Of The Decian Sea - Short Story From The Ki Kalendeen Chronicles

Stories
hrankta
Yeoman – Lvl 10

1472 XP

Here's a short story I wrote that contains characters from Blood Of The Righteous: Pirates Of The Decian Seas By J. E Sandoval Corwyn Fyke sat at the Officer’s Mess table waiting for Doc to bring dinner. Being First Mate of the Waverunner, he sat to the right of Captain Jaxom Karinga. Karinga was in his mid-thirties. He had long black hair, which he usually kept tied in a ponytail, and wore his facial hair in a neatly trimmed goatee. He wore his usual maroon jacket and a new black silk shirt. Corwyn had served with Jax since he first went to sea so long ago he couldn’t even count the years. Jax was the finest captain he could ever hope to sail under, and through their time together, they had become the best of friends. To Corwyn’s left sat William Dunkirk, the ship’s boatswain. Sunken eyes, short trimmed brown hair, a hooked nose and a gaunt face echoed his no-nonsense approach to work and life in general. They picked him up six years ago after he had spent some time in prison for pulling a few heists. Fortunately, these days, he used his organizational and leadership skills for the good of the crew. At the foot of the table was their large, muscular Master-At-Arms, Stockmore, or Edge, as he was called. Edge had been a Sergeant in the Elgannan army under General Brandvold. He boasted a large number of kills on the battlefield, but what was even more impressive was his skill as a trainer. Over the last three years, he had whipped the crew into shape and turned them into an efficient fighting force. Edge went with Captain Karinga anytime he went ashore, as he had since he joined the crew, five years ago. Next to Edge was Quenton, the ship’s surgeon. He was bald and wore a fancy blue silk shirt. Nice fellow. Always willing to help with any task, and always ready with a hangover cure if one of the crew imbibed too much ale or whiskey. Quenton had been with the crew for over ten years, and he seemed perfectly content to stay. The last person at the officer’s table was the blond haired blue eyed enigmatic David Tanner, the ship’s Yeoman. David had saved Corwyn and Jax three years before from some of the sea merchant guild’s piss-boys who thought they could make a quick score. Upon learning of his talents for reading, writing, and doing sums, Jax had hired him on when he was but 14 years old. It turned out to be the best decision Jax had ever made, as Tanner was such a skilled negotiator and tactician, he had made the crew very wealthy. Well, most of the crew. Some like Stockmore would burn through their gold faster than Tanner could earn it, which was no easy task. David was the son of a leather worker from Northpoint on the island nation of Decia. His father must have done incredibly well for himself with how educated David was. Truth be told, David didn’t like to talk about his past, so no one pressed the issue. “So, Corwyn, which of Doc’s many faces of hardtack do you think we’ll be served tonight,” Karinga asked. Corwyn shrugged. “Don’t know and don’t care. They are all delicious.” The rest of the crew chuckled. Corwyn had grown up downwind from the Odourus Blanches in Gaul, the large garbage dump for the northern city of Bor De La Maer. He left when he was old enough to sail, but people joked that he had stayed too long and it had burnt out his sniffer. “Probably Dandyfunk,” Tanner said. “Hadn’t had to choke that down in a while. Hey Corwyn, when we put in at River’s End tomorrow morning, after we make the drop-off, will you accompany me to the Royal Bank? I need to make a desposit.” “Of course, lad,” Corwyn said. “If we see a guild ship in port, I’ll come too,” Edge offered. David nodded. “Good idea. Afterwards, how about we stop at the Royalton for lunch, my treat.” Corwyn perked up. The Royalton was the finest dining establishment the capital city of Elgannan had to offer. They also had the most beautiful serving staff, and they treated their patrons like nobility. “In fact, if anyone else wants to join us, feel free.” “I think I’ll take you up on that, David,” Jax said. “I’ve got too much to do,” Dunkirk said. “But thank you for the offer.” “I need to stock up on my medical supplies,” Quenton said, “otherwise I would be in on that like maggots on a bloated rotting corpse.” Tanner wrinkled his nose. “Gee, thanks, Quenton! Just the image one needs before dinner.” “Sorry, Davey. My apologies.” Doc opened the door to the cabin, carrying a large bowl. “So what is it tonight, Doc?” Fyke asked. “Dandyfunk! And lots of it!” Corwyn caught David smirking. “Dig in!” Doc said before turning around and closing the door behind him. “So,” Jax said, digging his spoon into the brown mushy mixture, “what do you think we’ll be able to get in River’s End, David?” David smiled. “I think this next run is going to be our most profitable yet. The Royal Bank is looking for someone to transport half a million gold to their branch in Port Cauldwell, and they are offering a 4 percent payment for its delivery.” Corwyn’s jaw dropped. “Damn, that’s a lot of gold!” “And a lot of risk!” the captain said. “If we fail to deliver, we would end up in indentured servitude until we could pay it back!” David waved his hand dismissively. “Won’t happen. Once the guild finds out we are on a run for the Royal Bank, they will leave us alone. If one of their ships attacked us and took the gold, the Bankers would seize all of their assets and put them out of business.” “What about pirates?” Edge asked. “Always a danger, but the only one who has been able to keep out of the guild’s reach is Black Jack Mulligan, and no one has heard from him in four months.” David dropped a glob of Dandyfunk on to his plate. “What about that Edward Blackheart fellow?” Quenton asked. “Dead. I heard he tried to raid a ship outside of Port Kolm and the Decian Navy captured him. He had a date with the gallows the next morning,” Tanner replied. They ate in silence for a while, the captain considering his options. “What else could we do?” he asked. “Lady Malceour is in the market for some weapons. We could fill a quarter of the hold and make a nice profit on it when we return to Port Cauldwell,” David offered. He ate a spoonful of Dandyfunk and frowned. “Ugh. How could something so sweet taste so bland?” “Anything else?” Karinga asked. “Dickonson’s latest batch of whiskey should be ready. Those always fetch a good price in Decia,” David said. “Plus, cloth is always cheap this time of year. I’m sure we could turn a decent profit with the Decian tailors guild. Not everyone can afford silk.” Karinga gave half a smile and looked around the table. “I say we do all four!” David smiled. Karinga was getting more and more bold. Trusting David’s instincts had become second nature to him. He even trusted it more than his own reasoning lately. Corwyn weighed all of the pros and cons of the job as he started eating. First off, how to make sure the gold was secure in the hold. He would have to put three guards on it at all times. Second, the thought of indentured servitude scared the hell out of him. Third, being a relatively small ship, they only had a crew of 40. What if someone with a larger ship did try and attack them? “Something on your mind, Corwyn?” David asked. “Oh, sorry lad. I was just having some thoughts on the risks.” “Well, lets hear them,” David said. “How do we make sure none of the crew gets into the gold? I mean, they are good lads, but the temptation would be awful big.” David nodded. “True, which is why the guild will most likely put the gold in iron strongboxes with locks so complicated that I doubt even Dunkirk here could crack them. Not that you would, Will.” “Absolutely not. My thieving days are far behind me, I assure you,” Dunkirk said. Corwyn shrugged. “I suppose you are right. What about another crew of say, a large independent ship, tried to take the gold?” “Anyone with a large ship will be terrified of retribution from the bankers. The guild won’t dare touch us, and like I said, no one has heard from Mulligan in four months. He’s probably retired, captured, or dead. And anyway, it’s not like we are sailing the Mediterranean waters.” “I’m sorry, David, but indentured servitude scares the hell out of my. My brother, Cethwyn, is an indentured servant in New Paris. His life is a living hell.” Tanner took a deep breath. “I ask you not to press me on the details, but know, that if we fail to deliver the gold, I have a rock solid plan that will allow us to walk free.” Corwyn blinked. “Um, Davey, you can’t just drop a doozey like that and expect to move on.” David folded his arms. “I’m sorry, Corwyn, but I can’t elaborate. I just ask that you trust me.” “Very well, David,” Jax said. “Corwyn, please let it go.” Fyke sighed. That was asking a lot, but David had never let them down in the past. “Alright, David. I’ll trust you.” “Good,” Tanner said standing up. “Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going down to the hold to see if we have any creamed whiskey left. I need something to wash away that gritty gruel taste.”
    * * * * * * *
One thing that always impressed Corwyn was the opulence of the different branches of the Royal Bank. “For an institution that let people put money in at one location, then withdraw money in a different country and not charge a copper for it to make enough gold for such beautiful decorations, it boggles the mind!” “That is just one of the services they offer,” Tanner explained, adjusting the heavy sack he had slung over his right shoulder. “And don’t let the name fool you. There is absolutely nothing royal about them. They are run by common born merchants. In fact they loan gold to monarchies and nobility, then charge a lot of interest on it. That is where they make their real wealth. In fact, my father…” David stopped mid-sentence. “What about your father, lad?” “Oh, nothing. He took out a loan once to buy some new leather-working tools. He said it wasn’t worth the hassle it caused and he would never deal with them again unless he absolutely had to.” David fell into an awkward silence. Fyke knew better than to press him. He spent the rest of walk towards the banker’s winder looking at the beautiful variegated carpet, the colorful tapestries, or the many fine works of art that lined the walls, both paintings and marble statues. The customers were mostly well off, wearing fine silk clothing and the best leather footwear the city of River’s End had to offer. “Hello, Mr. Tanner,” the pudgy, well dressed man behind the counter said. “How much will we be depositing today?” David hoisted the heavy sack he had been carrying onto the counter. “Three thousand gold. This is for my personal account.” “Not bad! You are amassing quite the fortune, young man. I’ll take it in the back to get weighed and then I’ll bring you your receipt.” “Maurice,” David said, “Could I please speak to the manager? I understand that you fellows need a transfer run to Port Cauldwell, and with us, you wouldn’t have to pay the guild premium.” The banker raised his eyebrows. “Is Captain Karinga aware of the risk he is incurring in such a transaction?” “Yes, he understands completely.” Maurice looked to Corwyn. “You are his first mate, aren’t you?” “Um, yes sir, I am. And the lad speaks the truth.” “Very well. Mr. Fyke, you may wait in the customer’s lounge. Help yourself to any refreshments you may desire. Mr. Tanner, please come with me.” Fyke wandered over to the lounge. Looking inside, he realized he would stick out like a sore thumb with his black silk shirt, black three-cornered hat with a large green plume, black leather pants, and leather boots. He was also the only one armed, carrying his rapier and throwing daggers. The other customers stopped their conversations when he walked into the room and stared at him. Corwyn fidgeted uncomfortably at the unwanted attention. He walked over to the refreshment table. Available were pastries of every kind, honey nut treats, boiled cream tarts, fresh fruit, and several jugs of various liquid refreshments. He picked up a small plate of apple slices and began walking around the room, looking at the paintings that lined the walls. “Sea-going fellow, are we?” Fyke turned to man who wore the livery of a royal court member. He looked to be in his early fifties, was clean shaven, and had straight salt and pepper hair. “Yes sir. I am Corwyn Fyke, first mate aboard the Waverunner.” He extended his hand. The man grasped it and shook. “Geoffrey Haemar, chief advisor for King Nicolae Northcott.” “Wow. That is an impressive position!” Haemar shrugged. “I look at as a chance to serve the people of Elgannan. So, what brings you here, Mr. Fyke?” “Just waiting for our ship’s Yeoman. He’s depositing some gold, and I came along as protection.” Haemar smiled. “Ah, a man of action, are we? How delightfully refreshing!” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “I’ll tell you, these merchant types are awfully dull.” Corwyn chuckled. “I know what you mean. For me, when they drone on, I just picture myself at sea. Oh, that endless blue in every direction, sun setting on the horizon, the gentle salt spray, the gentle rocking, it will chase away any head-demon that has decided to nest in your noggin.” Haemar closed his eyes and inhaled. “Yes, I can see how that would be calming. Sometimes I wish my duties would allow me to have more freedom to enjoy such simple pleasures. Which reminds me! A man such as yourself would have more use for this than I.” He dug through his robes, pulling out a small rolled parchment. “Here you go,” he said handing it to Fyke. “Hey Corwyn, you ready?” asked David, sticking his head in the room. “Oh, hey, Davey, I want you to meet someone!” Fyke said, motioning David over. He slipped the parchment into his inside vest pocket. “This is Geoffrey Haemar, chief advisor to King Northcott! Master Haemar, this is our Yeoman, David Tanner.” Haemar extended his hand to David, which he shook. He looked at the young Yeoman quizzically. “Have we met, lad? You look terribly familiar.” David bit his lip. “Um, no. I just have one of those faces, you know? Come on, Corwyn. The Captain and Edge will be waiting for us.” “Now David, no need to be rude,” Fyke said. “Oh, it’s quite alright, Mr. Fyke. No, lad, I’m sure I’ve seen you before. Maybe I know one of your parents?” “Doubtful. My father is a leather worker in Northpoint and my mother died in childbirth. But if you will excuse us, we really have to go.” David grabbed Corwyn’s arm and hurried him out of the lounge. “Good to meet you, Master Haemar!” Corwyn said on his way out. “Good to meet you too, Master Fyke. Hopefully we’ll see one another again!” They walked quickly out of the bank. “Why the quick exit?” Corwyn asked. “I just didn’t want to keep the captain waiting.” David slowed their pace as they walked down the cobblestone street. “I don’t think the captain will be done with the silk merchant’s guild yet. David, why didn’t you go with him? You usually do the negotiating for him.” “There’s nothing to negotiate. This wasn’t a commodities run, we were under contract.” Corwyn nodded. They arrived at The Royalton five minutes later. The restaurant was decorated with Macedonian style column, along with marble representations of the old Macedonian gods. “Ah, good afternoon, Mr. Tanner! Always good to have you here,” the Maître d'hôtel said. “Thank you, Phillip. Three of my fellow officers will be dining with me today,” David replied. “Very good, sir. Please come with me.” They followed the well dressed man over to a table with a lace tablecloth. “Here you are, sir. Your server will be with you soon. I shall send your companions to you when they arrive.” “Thank you, Phillip,” David said. Phillip gave a quick bow and left. “Why didn’t you tip him?” Corwyn asked. “In high class establishments like this, tipping is meant as an insult. Sort of like ‘you are too incompetent to earn a living with your skill, so out of pity I shall give you coin so you don’t starve.’ Make sense?” David asked. “Yeah, I suppose.” Corwyn looked around the room noting the upper crust of society that served as the Royalton’s clientele. Well, for the most part, as an officer of the sea merchant’s guild had just walked in. The sea merchant’s guild traditionally invited crews to join voluntarily. Flying a guild flag protected a crew from most of the pirates, as if a ship under guild protection was attacked, the offending pirate would be hunted down and made an example of. The gold that was captured was used to pay restitution to the captain who was attacked. That was until Gaeceric took over the guild. Now, they were little more than criminal extortionists who would attack independent crews who refused to pay their guild dues. Captain Karinga was the owner of one such independent ship. Before they brought David Tanner on board, they were generally not bothered due to the small amount of profits they made. Now they had become a major target. The guild officer, Captain Frigmar, spotted them and headed towards them. Frigmar was about two legs tall, gaunt, balding, and walked a bit hunched over. “I didn’t realize the Waverunner was in port,” Frigmar said. “And by dining at such an establishment, I’m assuming you had a particularly profitable run!” David looked up at the older man. “Well, if it isn’t old Hunchy Frigmar! How’s the pirating going, Hunchy?” Frigmar scowled at the young Yeoman. “Don’t call me that! Don’t ever call me that!” Tanner smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry Hunchy! I didn’t realize I was mispronouncing your last name! My deepest apologies, Hunchy!” “Tanner, you are pushing your luck! What do you say I have the Morning Star follow your little Waverunner when you put to sea. I wonder what your clients would think when you never arrived at your destination?” Frigmar shot David a smarmy smile. David reached into his jacket pocket and slapped the piece of parchment on the table. “I do believe the Royal Bank would say ‘Why did the guild attack a ship carrying our gold? I suppose we had better liquidate them and seize all of their assets!’ I swear to you, Frigmar, if a guild ship comes within a league of us, the bank will be all over you like Gaceric on a prostitute!” Frigmar snarled. “Fine! You will not be touched by a guild ship on this run. But your time will come, Tanner.” “There’s a good Hunchy. Now won’t you be a lamb and send a pigeon to Pirate’s Cove and inform the rest of your rat bastard associates?” Frigmar nodded angrily, turned, and headed out. “Bye Hunchy! Always a pleasure!” David hollered after him. He leaned back, folded his arms and chuckled. “David, you certainly believe in living dangerously,” Corwyn said. Tanner waved dismissively. “Frigmar is a buffoon, promoted beyond his level of competence. I would never talk that way to Laudabacker, Ferndock, or Donegal.” “What was Frigmar so pissed off about?” Karinga asked. “Oh, hi captain, Edge,” Corwyn said. “I didn’t see you come in. Tanner here just put him in his place. The guild won’t be a problem on this run.” “Good,” Jax said, sitting down. Edge sat down next to him as the server walked up to the table. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” the server said. “What can I get for you?” “Meat!” Edge said. “The biggest steak you have and a light ale! Don’t get me wrong, I love Decia, but on an island nation like that, if you don’t have a taste for fish, there are few culinary options.” “I’ll have an herb roasted prime beef with a side of cheesy noodles and some fresh greens. And a creamed whiskey. Please make sure it’s cold if possible,” David said. “Excellent choice, sir!” Karinga rubbed his chin. “I’ll have the same as David, but with a dark beer.” “Do you have skilligalee? I’d like that with some grog, please.” Corwyn asked. The other three looked at him with disdain. “Really, Corwyn?” David asked. “A hardtack based dish? Don’t you get enough of that crap on the ship?” Fyke shrugged. “I love it! What can I say?” The server wrinkled his nose. “I’m sure I can have the chef whip something up along those lines.” He turned and headed off to the kitchen. David handed the parchment to Karinga. “Oh, you got it! Excellent!” the captain said. “When are they delivering it?” “Tonight. I suggest we set sail with the overnight tide,” David said. “I am inclined to agree,” Jax said. “Edge, keep the drinking to a minimum tonight.” “Yes, Captain.” “David, can you load up our hold by the time we set sail?” “Don’t worry, Captain. Corwyn and I will head over to Dickenson’s after lunch, then we’ll go see what old man Grayson has in his warehouse. If anyone has quality weapons forged in Lystra, it will be him.”
    * * * * * * *
Captain Jonathan Frigmar headed to the city’s Pigeon Post Service. Damn that Tanner. He would pay for his insolence someday. Laudabacker insisted on convincing him to work for the guild, but it would be just as well to see him run through. For now, though, Admiral Gaeceric was more interested in some of the other independent fleets and said he would get to the Waverunner soon enough. If only a pirate were able to attack them. Frigmar paused and smiled as a devious plan formed in his mind. Four months ago, the guild had captured the notorious pirate Black Jack Mulligan. While the guild couldn’t dare touch the Waverunner while it was working for the Royal Bank, maybe Mulligan could do their dirty work for them! He walked into the Pigeon Post building. Hundreds of the small gray and white birds sat in cages, cooing and flapping, eager to go to their destination. The smell was awful, as always, but it could be tolerated. “Afternoon, Captain,” the attendant said. “Where to?” “Guild headquarters.” “Aye, we have a few of them left. If you don’t mind, I’d like to attach a second message requesting more birds from there.” Frigmar waved his hand. Who could be bothered with such trifles. He walked over to the writing desk and scrawled out the message. “Here. I want this sent to Gaeceric today!” “Three gold, please.” Frigmar grumbled and dug out thee coins and placed them on the counter. If all went well, the Waverunner would never reach Port Cauldwell.
    * * * * * * *
Corwyn sat in the office of Grayson’s Warehouse & Exchange watching David Tanner dance his negotiating dance with a man with years more experience. Once again, David was proving that he could wring profit from a stone. “I assure you, Mr. Tanner, that these weapons were forged in Lystra, hence the premium,” the older man said. David gave him a disbelieving stare. “Please, Mr. Grayson, whoever sold these to you may have convinced you of their origin, and thus charged you a premium, but I will not be the one who pays for your error in judgment.” Grayson ran his hand over the sample sword and shield in front of him. “How can you say that about these beauties? Look at how beautiful they shine! You can almost see yourself in them!” Corwyn winced. Grayson had a point. It looked like, for the first time, David was going to lose a negotiation. He almost said something, but stopped. David had severely chastised him the one time he spoke at negotiations. He said those five words had cost the crew a gold each, and he let everyone know it. “Mister Grayson, may I?” David asked, motioning to the weapons. The old man nodded. David picked up the shield. He rolled it over a few times in his hand until he found what he was looking for. “Yep, just as I thought. The steel does indeed come from Lystra, but do you see this?” He pointed to some markings on the shield. “That is the mark of Avis Moran, a blacksmith who works out of New Portsmouth. He uses steel ingots out of the cast-off pile, and forges them into display pieces. If I were to sell these as war quality weapons, two hundred men would march to their deaths. They are not worth seven gold each, but a mere three.” “Blast! I overpaid for them!” Grayson said, unconvincingly. “Very well. I’ll be taking a loss, but you can have them for three apiece, but only if your crew comes to get them.” David smiled. “I believe we have an agreement.” The two shook hands. “I’ll have some of the men come pick them up within the hour.
    * * * * * * *
Fyke and the young Yeoman walked through the busy streets of River’s End under the warm afternoon sun. Women flooded the market district seeking to purchase what they needed for their family’s evening meal. Hawkers called out to them, trying desperately to attract attention. “David, how do you keep it all straight in your head? Avis Moran? I never would be able to remember smiths’ markings like that.” “I don’t know, I guess I just have a knack for it. I am very disappointed in Grayson, trying to cheat us like that. We’ll be able to sell them to that home décor shop in Port Cauldwell for five gold each, but if they were high quality real weapons, I could have bought them for five gold and turned them around for ten or eleven with Lady Malceour.” “Hm,” Fyke said. “I’m sure the captain won’t mind, though. It will still be four hundred gold profit.” “Yeah, but he’d be happier with eight or nine hundred.” “Don’t let it worry you, Davey. The weapons, the cloth, the whiskey, it’s all gravy! The bank’s gold is the real pile of potatoes.” David sighed. “Yeah, lumpy gravy at best. Damn, I wish weren’t so pressed for time!” “The captain will understand.” One of the problems with David Tanner, Corwyn thought, is that he held himself to a high standard, much higher than anyone else. He didn’t like watching him beat himself up like that. Over the past three years, David had become like a nephew to him, a brilliant nephew. Jax felt the same way. They arrived at the Waverunner. David climbed up the gangplank and grabbed a young crewman. “Billy, do you know where Dunkirk is?” “Down in the hold, Mr. Tanner.” “Thanks, lad.” Corwyn followed him down the ladder into the dark hold of the ship. Dunkirk had moved all of the ships provisions to the stern of the ship, maximizing the room for the new cargo. Doc wouldn’t be happy, having to lug the provisions an extra half of the ships length, but it would provide plenty of room for all they needed. “Afternoon, Tanner,” Dunkirk said. “Do we need anything to be up on the pallets this run?” “Yes. I’d say about sixteen pallets will be fine. We can’t be selling bilge soaked cloth, after all. Oh, and Dunkirk, can you send some of the crew over to Dickerson’s brewery and to Grayson’s Warehouse & Exchange?” David handed the gaunt man a parchment. “Here is the manifest of what I purchased.” “Couldn’t shake a delivery out of them, eh?” Dunkirk asked. “No, not with the small profits we’ll be making on them. With a delivery, we’d barely break even.” “If we had more time, David would have done a lot better,” Corwyn said in his defense. “But look at it this way, in less than half a day, he’s managed to fill the entire hold! And we’ll be able to sell it all in Port Caldwell.” Dunkirk shrugged. “I suppose we’ll be having to deliver them too. Alright, boys. I’ll grab some of the more strapping lads and we’ll head out.” “Better go soon, Will. Captain’s going to want to set sail at midnight,” Fyke said. “Yes sir.”
    * * * * * * *
Oh, how he hated waking up Gaeceric this late at night, but it was important. Commodore Donegal hurried through the hallways of Guild Headquarters towards the Admiral’s room, small rolled up message in hand. A bold plan like this he expected more from the warped half insane mind of Captain Ferndock, but Frigmar was usually far more cautious and level headed. He arrived at the Admiral’s door and gave three quick knocks. “This better be damned important!” the deep voice hollered from the other side. Donegal opened the door and stuck his head inside. Gaeceric, the head of the guild sat up in his large feathered bed. His large muscles on his bare chest and arms bulged as he stretched and wiped the sleep from his eyes. Two sleeping prostitutes on either side of him stirred, but did not awaken. “So, what is it?” Gaeceric asked. “I received a pigeon from Captain Frigmar, sir. He says that the Waverunner has secured a contract to transport half a million gold from River’s End to Port Cauldwell from the Royal Bank.” Gaeceric ran his hand through his long blonde, frizzy hair. “Of what use is that information to us? We can’t touch a ship working for the bank.” Donegal cleared his throat. “Sir, he is suggesting we release Black Jack Mulligan, give him back the Griffon, and let him take care of the Waverunner.” “Hm. That is a bit bold for Frigmar. But with that much gold, Mulligan would most certainly retire.” Gaeceric paused to yawn. “Plus Karinga’s boldness has inspired a number of other independents to not pay their dues. Seems that will kill two birds with one stone. We will be rid of the Waverunner, and we won’t have to feed those 150 pirates every day. Do you think they will be sea-worthy after four months locked up?” “I think with that much gold, they will have plenty of motivation.” Gaeceric nodded. “I agree. I’ll let you handle it, Donegal. Close the door on your way out.” The large admiral lay back down and pulled his covers back over him. Donegal quietly stepped out of the room and closed the door. He headed towards the dungeon. A bit of pride filled his chest. Three years ago, something of this much importance, Gaeceric would have most certainly handled himself! As he walked through the sparsely decorated castle, he passed the office of the captain of the guard. He peeked inside to see Captain Ardmore finishing up his morning duty roster. “Captain Ardmore, a moment please?” The red headed man stood to attention. “Yes sir, Commodore sir.” “Would you please gather twenty five guards and meet me down in the dungeon? Also, take all of the weapons we captured from the Griffon and have them placed back on board. I want that ship ready to sail within the hour.” Ardmore looked at him quizzically. “The pirate ship, sir?” “Yes. We are probably going to be setting them free. Admiral Gaeceric’s orders.” “If you say so, sir. Excuse me, sir. I have a lot to do. See you down there in a quarter of an hour, sir.” Ardmore hurried off to perform his assigned duties. Donegal continued towards the dungeons. He descended the spiral staircase to the pits. The smells of unwashed men hit him as he reached the bottom level of the castle. The dark room was lit only by torches with hay covering the dirt floor. He walked over to the jailor. “In which cell is Captain Mulligan?” The overweight, bald man stood, grabbing a torch from the wall sconce. “This way, Commodore.” The jailor led him through a maze of cells, the men inside starting daggers at him. They stopped before a large cell holding about a dozen or so men. “This is it, sir.” “Captain Jonathan Mulligan?” A tall, large man with a long black beard and hair to match stood up and walked over to the cage door. He was dressed in standard prison rags. “What do ye want, ye bloody Jack-Tar?” “I want to set you and your crew free.” All conversation stopped and all eyes turned to Donegal and the Captain. Mulligan leaned forward. “Look me in the deadlights and say that again.” Donegal looked him in the eye. “I want to set you and your crew free, and give you back the Griffon.” “And why would ye be wantin’ ta do that?” Donegal offered him the small rolled paper. “Bah!” Mulligan said with a dismissing wave. “If’n I could read, I never would have become a bloody pirate!” Donegal unrolled the parchment. “According to Captain Frigmar, an independent merchant ship, the Waverunner, is carrying a cargo of half a million in gold on behalf of the Royal Bank. It is sailing out of River’s End as we speak, heading to Port Cauldwell.” “I see. Ye be want’n us ta do yer dirty work for ye.” “Something along those lines. You keep the gold, the cargo, and kill the crew to the man, with one exception. I want the ship’s Yeoman, David Tanner, left alive. I want you to put him in a lifeboat with oars and enough provisions to get to shore. I also want you to tell him that he was left alive by the guild’s orders.” Mulligan stroked his beard. “And what does this David Tanner be lookin’ like?” “Two legs tall, young, blonde, and strong. He wears his hair long, and he has a scar going from his left eye to his mouth. Leave him alive, you are free to take the gold and retire. Kill him, and we will find you again and you will… how do you fellows say it? Dance the hempen jig.” Mulligan smiled. “What do ye say, lads?” One hundred and fifty voices shouted “AYE!” in unison. “Commodore Donegal, I do believe we be havin’ an accord.” The pirate extended his hand through the bars, which Donegal shook. The twenty five guards hurried down the stairs and stood at attention. Donegal nodded to the jail keeper. “Captain, you shall find your clothes and weapons on your ship. We’ve stocked you with two weeks of provisions and the Griffon is ready to set sail. Time is of the essence, so you must sail within the hour.” “Aye!” Mulligan said as the jail keeper unlocked and opened his door. “Come on, lads! There’s piratin’ ta be done!”
    * * * * * * *
Fyke walked along the deck of the Waverunner, making sure the crew were doing their job and offering assistance when needed. Dunkirk had the crew working like a well oiled machine, making everyone’s job easier. He spotted David Tanner at the jib, staring off into the horizon, as he usually was. He decided to pay the young Yeoman a visit. “Evening, David.” Tanner jumped a bit, startled. “Oh, hi Corwyn. Sorry, I didn’t hear you sneak up on me.” “Seen anything today?” “Just a guild ship, The Inferno, that was about to cross our path. It spotted our colors, reefed its sails and dropped anchor until we had passed.” Corwyn smiled. “Ah, if only they did that all the time for us.” “I doubt they do that for their own members.” “The Inferno, isn’t that Ferndock’s ship?” Corwyn asked. David nodded. “That man is insane. Had we not been carrying the gold for the bank, he probably would have attacked. Hell, I’m surprised he didn’t anyway against Gaeceric’s orders.” “Gaceric would have strung him up by the balls using garrote wire.” “I suppose,” David said. “But I’ll bet it still chapped his ass to be forced to let us go.” A couple of dolphins jumped playfully in front of the ship’s keel, alternating which one was in the water and which one was airborne. Fyke laughed. “Hey Davey, check out those two fish!” “Dolphins aren’t fish, Corwyn. They are mammals. See that hole on the top of their head? They breathe through it. They don’t lay eggs like other fish, the mother gives birth directly to her calves. They also drink their mother’s milk.” “Oh, come on, Tanner. How could you know that?” David shifted uncomfortably. “I told you, my father had me educated.” “So if they are mammals, can they be trained like dogs?” The young Yeoman shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” Corwyn grinned. “Maybe after I retire, I’ll see about setting myself up as a dolphin trainer. People would pay a few silver to see a trained dolphin jump through hoops and such, wouldn’t they?” David considered it for a few second. “I suppose they would! Although the care of the dolphins would be fairly tedious. Plus you would have to have a number of them trained. If one were to die or get sick, it would be important to keep the show going.” David looked over at Fyke. “Why, is it something you are seriously considering?” “Nah. Not any time in the near future. My place is here, at sea, beside Captain Karinga.” David returned his gaze to the horizon. “Still, it might be something to consider if the captain ever retired.” Corwyn chuckled and slapped David on the back. His duty time was almost up, and he was going to get some grog. He never walked away from David Tanner without learning something new.
    * * * * * * *
Black Jack Mulligan stomped in his books around the deck of the Griffon. After four months of captivity, it was great to be back at sea. He spent the last three days getting his sea legs, but he was now back to his old self. “Coming up on Port Cauldwell, Captain!” the first mate called. “Aye, Mr. Yates! Strike the colors and take is to the port. Let’s be seein’ if’n the Waverunner beat us here.” The deck became a flurry of activity as the crew performed their individual tasks to slow the massive ship. The colors came down, the sales were brought down, and the rudder turned to take them into the harbor. Mulligan pulled out his looking glass and scanned the nine ships at the docks. None of them were the Waverunner. “Looks like we beat them here, lads!” The crew cheered. “Mr. Yates, set course for River’s End! I want someone up in the crow’s nest every minute of every day until we find that ship!”
    * * * * * * *
The officers of the Waverunner sat around the table in their mess at lunch time, picking at their plates of Salt-pork and brewis, another one of Doc’s many faces of hardtack. “Dunkirk, what is the mood of the crew?” Karinga asked. “They have been a might skittish these past four days,” the boatswain answered. “Everyone will breathe a lot easier once we put into Port Cauldwell tomorrow night.” David sighed. “I really don’t know what everyone is so worried about. I mean, my God! Even Ferndock let us pass!” “Tanner, it is stressful to them. They are terrified of indentured servitude if anything happens to the gold,” Dunkirk explained. “Besides, there was a red sky this morning.” The young Yeoman shook his head and tore off a piece of salt pork. “Sailors and their superstitions. In a day and a half, we shall be enjoying our biggest payday yet.” They went back to quietly eating their meal, when there was a quick knock on the door. Doc opened it, his eyes wide with worry. “Captain, ship dead ahead.” Dunkirk glared at Tanner. “Superstitions, huh?” “Coincidence. It is probably just another cargo ship.” Fyke got up and made his way out onto the deck. It was high noon and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, so he had to shield his eyes and let them adjust to the glaring light. He walked over to Karinga, who was standing at the jib, staring through the looking glass. “That is awfully big to be a cargo ship. It is right in our path. Corwyn, tell the helm to go 25 degrees port.” Fyke turned and yelled “25 degrees port!” “25 degrees port, aye!” the helmsman yelled back. The ship lurched a little as it altered course, taking it out of the direct path of the unknown vessel. The entire crew stood nervously, waiting to see what the other ship would do. Every second seemed like an eternity as they waited. “She’s altered course! Looks like she is intent on intercepting us!” Kiringa told Fyke. “Let’s not let the crew know just yet. I don’t want them to panic.” “Aye, Captain,” Corwyn replied. They waited, watching the ship become bigger on the horizon. David Tanner had joined them, as had Edge. “Any idea who they are, Captain?” Edge asked. “Not yet. I see their flag, but I can’t make it….” All the color drained from Karinga’s face. “Oh dear God. It’s Black Jack Mulligan!” “It’s Black Jack Mulligan,” Edge yelled. The crew immediately began to panic. Corwyn’s stomach twisted into knots. Black Jack Mulligan, the most feared pirate to sail the Decian Sea in generations! No one ever escaped him, and he left none of the crew alive. “Can we outrun him?” Corwyn asked. “Doubtful,” David replied. “He has a four mast ship, and look at the narrow build. They build ships like that up in Scandinavia. They are made for speed and ramming. Despair washed over Corwyn’s soul as their last hope of survival had been dashed. He looked down and shook his head. The captain put his hand on his first mate’s shoulder. “We may die, but we are going to take as many of those pirates with us,” Karinga said. Fyke looked up as the Griffon moved closer. “Well, at least I got to eat at that Macedonian restaurant before I died.” David’s eyes went wide. “Macedonian! Fyke, you’re a genius! Captain, I have an idea! Send someone to fetch forty of those decorative shields we are carrying. Bring one to me.” The captain nodded. “Corwyn, I’ll send Dunkirk to fetch the shields. You try to calm the crew.” “Don’t worry,” David assured him. “We will make it through this. I’ve never let you down in the past, have I?” Corwyn nodded. “I trust you, David.” He walked over to the forecastle rail and shouted “Everyone calm down! David’s got a plan! He assures me that we will get through this! Calm down, return to your post!” “What’s he got?” a crewman asked. “He’s the one who got us into this bloody mess!” The crew murmured with agreement. “I don’t know, but he’s never let us down. Trust me, if David says we’ll get through this, then know that in a day and a half, you’ll have more money in your pockets than you know what to do with!” The crew gradually began to calm. Dunkirk made his way up the forecastle ladder carrying one of the large round shields. “Captain said you needed this,” he said, handing the shield to David. “Thanks, William.” David walked next to the first mate holding the shield. “Men, with these shields, we will stop the Griffon it its tracks.” He looked over to the stern of the ship and saw the ship’s cook. “Hey Doc!” he yelled. “Aye?” David angled the highly polished inside of the shield so it caught the sun and reflected it into Doc’s eyes. “Ack! I’m blind!” Doc yelled, covering his eyes. “Why did you blind Doc?” Corwyn asked. “He’s not blind; it will wear off in a few seconds.” David got down on his hands and knees and examined the shield. He measured it using his arm, then checked the angle of the curve. He pulled out a piece of charcoal and began scrolling on the deck. “What are you writing, David?” Corwyn asked. “I’m trying to calculate the focal point of the shield.” Corwyn looked at the writing confused. “Math has letters?” “They are called variables. You substitute numbers in later.” “What’s that?” Corwyn asked, pointing to a symbol he’d never seen before. “It’s called a square root.” Fyke scratched his head. “Squares have roots? Like turnips?” “Please, Corwyn, I need to think. Go and make sure that everyone on the ship has a shield. Then instruct the helm to turn port 65 degrees, reef sails, and drop anchor.” Fyke’s eyes went wide. “David, that will expose our broad side to their ram!” “I know. You have to trust me.” “You are asking quite a lot, my boy.” Fyke climbed down one of the two ladders that led from the forecastle to the main deck. The ship was alive with activity as the crew ran about their respective duties. The sun caught Corwyn in the eyes as he ran past a pile of the round silver shields. He looked around and found the captain up by the helm. He quickly ran up the stairs to the quarterdeck. “What’s the word, Corwyn?” the captain asked. “David wants us to turn the ship 65 degrees to port! Part of his plan having something to do with the shields!” Karinga nodded. “Helm, you heard him. 65 degrees to port!” The helmsman stared at the captain with disbelief. “Captain , you can’t be serious!” “I gave you an order, mister! Carry it out!” “Captain, a word,” Corwyn said. The captain and he walked out of earshot of everyone else. “Are you sure? You are putting a awful lot of trust into a plan that I simply can’t fathom. What is he going to do? Blind the Griffon’s crew? That ain’t much of a plan, sir!” Karinga glanced over at David. He was scratching his head and scribbling on the deck. “Corwyn, as of this moment, we are all dead. Unless someone else has a better idea, I am going to give that lad a chance to save us. He has never let us down in the past, and I don’t think he will this time.” Fyke gave a resigned sighed. “Aye captain.” Jax slapped him on the shoulder. “Go see what he needs. Don’t worry, my old friend.” Corwyn ran down the stairs, dodging crewmen, and made his way back up to the forecastle. “Figured anything yet, David?” “X equals forty! He has to be forty legs from us, then we’ll be able to stop him dead in his tracks!” The young Yeoman stood up. “Fyke, give everyone a shield and have them stand along the starboard rail.”
    * * * * * * *
Mulligan stood at the jib, watching the small ship turn to expose its broad side to him. He stared disbelievingly as they reefed their sails and dropped anchor. His first mate walked up beside him, noticing his puzzled look. “Captain?” “I don’t get it, Yates. Why in the bloody hell would they be turnin’ their broadside ta us? They dropped anchor, but haven’t struck their colors! I don’t reckon they be thinkin’ of surrendin’, so what the blazes is they up to?” “Shall we break out the bows, sir?” Yates asked. “No, Mr. Yates. We might be hittin’ that there David Tanner fellow. Gads! It looks like they be linin’ up along the rail!” The large pirate continued to stare in disbelief at the nonsensical actions of the crew of the Waverunner.
    * * * * * * *
“Alright, everyone, quite down!” Tanner yelled. All conversation on the ship stopped and everyone looked to the young Yeoman. “When the Griffon is forty legs from us, I want everyone to angle their shields so that it reflects the sun onto a single point of her main sail, preferably low. Do you all understand?” “What good will that do?” Dunkirk asked. David smiled mischievously. “You’ll see. Here everyone, follow my lead!” He set the shield on the rail so the front of it was facing him. He tilted it back and angled it straight ahead. A small white dot appeared on the Griffon’s main sail. “Right about there, lads!” he yelled. The main sail of the Griffon looked to come alive as forty white dots danced chaotically around its dull surface. Slowly, they coalesced into a single blindingly white spot. “Keep them still as best you can, lads!” Tanner yelled. As the Griffon got closer, the dot began to shrink. Black smoke started to rise as the ship reached the forty leg mark. The crew practically held their breath as the seconds ticked by. “Any second now…” David said to Corwyn, who was standing to his left. Suddenly, the sail burst into flames! The fires quickly engulfed the entire sail and spread to the rigging. Ropes snapped as the crew of the Griffon ran around frantically in chaos. Another sail caught fire, then another. Finally the main mast started to burn. The crew of the Waverunner cheered as they cast their shields aside. He had done it! The Griffon was dead in the water, and most likely soon headed to a watery grave. David sighed. “Thank you Archimedes.” “Who’s that?” Fyke asked. “Macedonian mathematician.” “Well, if I ever meet him, I’m going to buy him a pint of ale!” Corwyn said. David couldn’t help but chuckle. “My friend, he’s been dead for centuries.” “Captain, their lowering the lifeboats! Looks like they are still going to try to board us!” Quenton yelled. David smiled. “This one is going to be a lot easier.” He cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled to the crew. “Anyone who has a good throwing arm and good aim, come here! Dunkirk, have some crew bring up one of the bolts of cloth and six cases of the whiskey!
    * * * * * * *
“Get the bloody buckets up ‘ere, ye bloody stupid Jack-tars! We can’t be let’n the fires catch on the bloody deck!” Black Jack Mulligan stormed around the deck of the burning Griffon, shouting orders and trying to reign in the Chaos. “Captain, the sails are a total loss,” Yates reported. “I recommend we deploy the life boats and abandon ship!” A punch met the first mate’s stomach. “Damnit, Yates! We won’t be leavin’ the Griffon here ta burn! We put out the damn fires, take the lifeboats over n’ capture that damn ship, then we find out which one of those bastards is the damn pyromancer an’ hang ‘im up by his entrails!” Mr. Yates tried to compose himself, in spite of the dull pain in his gut. “Sir, do you have a plan to get us back to the Cove?” “Aye! We’ll put thirty men on the Waverunner and tow the Griffon! Now ye get over to the port side an’ tell them bastards they are goin’ to row towards the Waverunner, an’ if one of those bloody scallywags turn towards shore, I’ll make them eat their own bloody lips!” “Aye aye, Captain!” The first mate ran over to the port side of the ship. Mulligan went starboard towards a group of twenty men preparing a lifeboat, drawing his saber. “Oy, ye got grapples in that boat?” The crew stared at him with disbelief. “Captain, they have a pyromancer!” a crewman said. Mulligan sliced him across the mid-section, spilling his intestines over the deck. The men looked at their fallen comrade with disbelief as he expired. It wasn’t the first time Mulligan had killed one of his own men, but that didn’t make it easy to watch. “Hang on, lads, I’ll go get the grapples, then we take that bloody ship!” one of the crew said. “What’s yer name, lad?” Mulligan asked the stocky black haired young man. “Fletcher, sir!” “Mr. Fletcher, ye be in charge of this attack. Carry it out, an ye’ll be getting’ a double share of the prize.” “Aye sir!” Fletcher replied. “Miller, find someone to replace that lump of turds,” he said, pointing to their dead companion. Mulligan nodded with approval. After the Waverunner was theirs, they would use the gold, if it even existed, to restore the Griffon, and then they would rain unholy Hell down on the guild for sending them to be executed at the hands of a pyromancer.
    * * * * * * *
“Quenton, can you spare a box of sulfursticks?” David asked. The older bald man nodded, reached in his pocket and pulled out a small box. “Here you go, Tanner.” David tore a piece of cloth off of bolt. He handed Edge a bottle of the whiskey. “Here, I need you to make a little room in the bottle.” Edge grinned and pulled the cork out with his teeth. He took three drags from the bottle and shuddered. “Damn, that’s strong stuff!” He handed it back to David. The young Yeoman stuffed the cloth into the bottle and handed it to Fyke. “Okay, Corwyn. When that boat comes into range of your throwing arm, tell me, I’ll light the cloth, then throw the bottle.” Fyke nodded. “Aye, but what’s going to happen?” Quenton grinned. “Oh, I’ve seen this before. Just watch.” The lead boat, carrying a dozen or so men, steadily rowed closer. Fyke glanced up at the Griffon for a second. The main mast cracked and fell to the stern, lighting the deck on fire. He glanced back at the lead boat. If there was one thing he excelled at, it was throwing. “Now, Davey!” David struck the sulfurstick against the sand paper on the side of the box and lit the rag. “Now, Corwyn!” Fyke heaved as hard as he could. He watched the bottle sail through the air and strike the center of the lifeboat. It exploded in a burst of fire, engulfing the men and setting the small craft alight. The crew of the Waverunner cheered as the burning pirates dove into the water to douse the flames. “That’s how you do it! Okay, get in your teams, grab a case, and get busy on anyone who comes near!” Tanner said. Corwyn patted the young Yeoman’s back. “Damn, Davey. I am sorry I ever doubted you.” “Not as sorry as Mulligan. I’d wager with this loss, it will be five or six months before he is back on his feet.” They laughed and watched the steady chorus of explosions as boat after boat exploded into balls of fire.
    * * * * * * *
The officers sat around the table in the Waverunner’s officer’s mess, picking at the remains of their evening skilligalee, yet another one of Doc’s many faces of hardtack. “After that sound thumping we gave Mulligan, I don’t think we have to worry about any more pirate attacks for a while,” Captain Karinga said, taking a sip of grog. Corwyn picked through his meals as some answers eluded his reasoning. “What is it, Corwyn?” David asked. “Well, if Mulligan wasn’t afraid of the bank, where does he keep his gold? I mean, I know he probably has some in his hideout, but the guild would have raided it after they captured him, wouldn’t they?” “Most likely,” David replied. “Which is why a lot of pirates bury their gold.” “But how do they remember where they buried it?” Fyke asked. “They usually draw a pretty detailed map of the location,” Karinga said. “Ah.” Fyke continued to eat, his question being answered. The captain cleared his throat. “So, after we put in at Port Cauldwell, what do you say we take some time and relax. After that battle, I think we can afford a week or so of shore leave for the men. David, any idea on what we are going to do afterwards?” “Hm. I’ll ask around. Hey Corwyn, after they unload the gold, will you come with me to the Royal Bank?” “Sure, Davy,” Fyke replied. He thought back to their visit to the bank in River’s End. Suddenly, he remembered something! What was the parchment that the advisor fellow had given him? He reached into his inside pocket and pulled it out. “What you got there, Cor?” Quenton asked. “I don’t know. Someone gave it to me at the bank.” He moved the empty serving plate from the center of the table and rolled the parchment out. On it was a picture of an island, some markings of natural landmarks and such, and an ‘X’ on the southeastern side of the island. At the bottom was written “BJM” David grinned. “Gentlemen, I think Corwyn has provided us with our next job. And from the looks of this treasure map, I think we are going to get to stick it to Black Jack Mulligan yet again.
    * * * * * * *
For more adventures of the Waverunner, and to find the story behind the enigmatic David Tanner, buy Blood Of The Righteous, Book 1 of the Ki Kalendeen Chronicles by J. E. Sandoval.
Fantasy Author / Tech Wizard. Raise a runkle to Lord Elrond and Radio Rivendell!!!
Panthalas
Distinguished Citizen – Lvl 9

1172 XP

A nice one ! A big one I should say but it was worth it!
hrankta
Yeoman – Lvl 10

1472 XP

Thank you!
Fantasy Author / Tech Wizard. Raise a runkle to Lord Elrond and Radio Rivendell!!!
Jaysen
– Lvl 0

9330 XP

Good job!