Pirates of the Lost Treasure

"You were a terrible slave, I will find a better one. But...I do wish you well and I will remember you,"

I open the flood doors of my turbulent mind, releasing all my observations and speculations to poor into my mind, not as a string of thoughts but as a tidal wave, to hide my response from her.

QuickbladePiratecrewLadyCephiliaCaptainBlastCreepyplaceAceflirtingwithAnyapoorladShekinahGoodbyeSo there is good in her after all.

I give her one more look and turn around. Off to a new adventure. Off to slap Ace on the shoulder this time.

“Don’t take it personally Ace, she has a stronger will than anyone I have ever seen, with only the possible exception of her mother. Some backwater country once send a man with an actual Talent to make women swoon in an attempt to take over the island. The moment he tried it on her, she broke his dreams of ever having grandchildren. You should consider yourself lucky you got off with a subtler rejection.”

With Anya in the lead it took us only 15 minutes to reach the shore again. It was incredible how she found shortcuts and clearings that I had never even thought about, with a natural ease. During the entire trip I try to think of a way to say goodbye to her. She has always treated me with respect and something at least resembling kindness. She made my captivity here… bearable.

Once on the beach, I turn around to thank her and say goodbye when the unthinkable happens. They reconcile. Not only that, but she’s coming with us. This Captain Blast is truly a remarkable man. I look forward to the trouble he’s going to get us out of.

We get on the boats and on board the ship. It’s a nice ship and I have no doubt she’ll turn out to be more than meets the eye, just like her captain and crew. Blast orders the activation of the “turbine engines”, whatever that may… What the Hell! The ship blasts forward with incredible speed. The others appear to have held on to something, but I find myself flying around the deck before I find some railing or other to stop my flight and hold onto it with a strength I never knew I possessed. As suddenly as it started to move it stops again, with the island I once called home no more than a dot on the horizon. Farewell, fair cruelty.

 

Cephilia was in a foul mood from the moment they left Shekinah’s hut. She didn’t let it show, choosing instead to keep a neutral face, but this Quickblade business didn’t sit well with her. Captain Blast’s plan was to run away? They were being pursued by the fastest man in the world and his first thought was to tuck tail and outrun the man.

She wasn’t going to question the captain’s logic --maybe he knew something she didn’t-- but the whole situation stank of cowardice. And where was his mother? She certainly hoped he’d gleaned more from Shekinah’s magic ball than she had, because Cephilia didn’t recognize the town the witch had shown them. It could be anywhere. The only thing worse than running is running in circles, she thought.

Then again, Cephilia’s travels didn’t oft take her to smoky little pirate coves. She was a noblewoman and could be forgiven for not knowing every seedy little coastal retreat. In any case, knowing the town’s location mattered not if Quickblade chopped them all into tiny bits before they could get there!

This thought made Cephilia row double time, grunting like a madwoman as she slapped the oars against the waters, taking out her frustration on the ocean. She was a lousy rower; even brute force couldn’t make up for the fact that she was probably slowing them down… and that thought just made her row harder and angrier.

Although she would never admit it, this Quickblade fellow was really getting to her. We need a plan, she thought as she stepped aboard the Vengeful Maiden. That’s the first thing she’ll do, once they’re clear of the Cursed Island. Gather the crew together and have a serious strategy meeting. They had been winging it thus far, but it was time to take this seriously. Quickblade wasn’t going to go easy on them. They had to be ready for him.

I can’t die here, she thought as she hugged the mast and waited for the turbines to die down. I can’t. I won’t. I have people counting on me. I have important things to do. I owe Asara an arm. I owe father an explanation. I owe those orphans a meal and shoes and a warm fire. I have a righteous cause. People like me don’t fall to people like him. I don’t want to die!

And that’s when she realized the cold, awful truth: she was afraid. Perhaps for the first time in her life, Cephilia Lovelace was truly and deeply afraid.

A lesser woman might have swooned or given up or sat in a corner and cried herself to sleep and drowned her sorrows in alcohol. Fuck that, Cephilia thought. While the captain was ordering drinks to celebrate his newly-rekindled romance, she marched up to Ace.

Her red metal hand was a blur as it shot out, grabbed a fistful of his coat lapel, and pulled him close, putting them nose to nose. “You owe me, thief, and I’m here to collect,” Cephilia said, her piercing blue eyes cutting deep into his soul. She nodded to the rapier on his hip. “Are you any good with that thing? Or, like the rest of you, is it just there to look pretty?”

 

"Stop while your ahead," Anya snapped. "I have sworn off pirates after my short-lived romance wth that one." She jerked her chin in Captain Blast's direction and walked off.

"How many times do I have to say it," Ace said in a huff, "I'm not a pirate."

There was a firm slap on his shoulder and he turned to see Adam with a sympathetic look. "Don't take it personally Ace, she has a stronger will than anyone I have ever seen, with only the possible exception of her mother."

"Hmph, I'm never offended." Ace said with a wry smile. "I live for the chase, just like the relics."

Adam scrunched his face a little, "Well I should warn you either way. Some backwater country once sent a man with an actual Talent to make women swoon in an attempt to take over the island. The moment he tried it on her, she broke his dreams of ever having grandchildren. You should consider yourself lucky you got off with a subtler rejection."

"Maybe he would have had more luck with Shekinah." Ace laughed, "No doubt it's been a while, if you know what I mean?" He gave Adam a nudge with his elbow.

The group made their way back towards the ship, through the sweaty rainforest where the mist held and the vegetation was thick and overgrown. Trailing out onto the blackened beach Ace spotted The Vengeful Maiden, her glorious form surrounded by the mellow blue sea and the purpling sky as the sun shifted low to the left. Ace enjoyed every step through the sand and the dingy trip back to the boat, the natural beauty that surrounded them vivid and teasing his senses.

Strange new places. Lands hidden, so mysterious and vibrant and full of life, full of culture and history. Ace was beginning to regret his decision to join Blast a little less now, and as he stepped across the silky wooden deck he admired his own reflection in the floor. He was standing strong, and could just make out a smile on the abstract wooden mirror. Ace realised how genuine the smile was, touching his own face in surprise. He'd been conning so much lately that he'd forgotten what really made him happy, what really gave him a thrill.

And then Cephilia yanked him back to Earth, wrenching his collar towards her with a face that rivalled Sally's fury. "You owe me, thief, and I'm here to collect," she stared daggers into him, her eyes creasing with sharp lines. She nodded to the rapier on his hip. "Are you any good with that thing? Or, like the rest of you, is it just there to look pretty?"

Once more Ace held his hands aloft, and garbled a few strained words from tightened throat, "Ah-em... lets just take it easy now." She knows, just admit it and you might walk away with your life. "Now I've been called many things in my time, but thief has never been one of them." What are you doing!? Retract the statement, apologise and all will be forgiven. Do that. Do that now. "If you could just point out what you are referring to, I would be more than glad to prove my innocence. Sound fair?"

You are so dead. Idiot.

"Does the name 'Barnti' ring a bell? A friend of yours, perhaps?" Cephilia said as she released him and gave the man some breathing room. "Apparently not, since you left him at the scene of the crime. You'd be surprised the things a man says when you're in the midst of rearranging his facial features. Between begging for his life, he kept telling me to leave him be and go after 'the other guy.' I never saw an accomplice, thought he was lying... until I realized my brother's signet ring went missing that night and it was nowhere on Barnti's person. Trust me, I checked... very thoroughly. Imagine my surprise when, today, you laid it in the hands of the swamp witch!"

She actually laughed. "Oh, the gall! The nerve! You, my dear Ace, either have balls the size of grapefruits or a brain the size of a mustard seed. Either way, you owe me for not tearing your head from your shoulders on the spot. So, are you going to keep up this farce of innocence or will you make yourself useful and, in doing so, worm your way back into my good graces?"

Now think about this very carefully Ace, there's a smart answer here. Somewhere. Hopefully. Please choose the smart answer.

He let out a long, drawn out and raspy breath, his hand tapping on his mouth and chin and looking in all directions other than Cephilia's. For a moment he looked as though he was about to speak, but he bubbled his cheeks up and swallowed the words. Then he let out another long, drawn out breath.

"Let's say," he put up a point making finger, "hypothetically, that I may have acquired a certain jewellery item in an illegitimate circumstance." Ace smiled, whilst preparing a flinch, "Let's remember, p-purely hypothetical here.

"Now if said jewellery item had inadvertently been an heirloom of a noble family, and that certain devilishly handsome adventurer extraordinaire had sacrificed it in a bowl of magic," he took a big pause, finally meeting Cephilia in the eye, "what would that certain devilishly handsome adventurer extraordinaire need to do, to repay the debt he mistakenly owed?"

That felt like the smart answer. Was that the smart answer? He really hoped so.

Cephilia smiled from ear to ear… and that, itself, was rather frightening, considering the circumstances. “Well, that devilishly handsome adventurer extraordinaire would have to get it back,” she said cheerfully. Then the smile vanished and her eyes took on that dark, murderous quality once more. “But, since that’s impossible, I would settle for his help in my preparations.

“I’ll make this simple,” she said as her sword slid free of its sheathe. “We’re being pursued by an assassin and none among us is ready to face him. You’re good at playing the fool, Ace, so how about you try on another role: you’ll play the fastest killer alive and I’ll play the noblewoman foolish enough to think she can defeat you. Think of this less as ‘sparring’ and more as an experiment. It’s science, really.

“And, it has to be you, unfortunately,” she quickly added. “You’re not my first choice, I assure you. Adam, Billy, and that other fellow don’t seem fast enough to serve as a Quickblade analogue. Asara is… short-handed... sorry. Blast is preoccupied. And Red Eye is… napping… yes, napping.” She frowned and the anger seemed to melt away for a moment. “That just leaves you and Elva and… well, I just don’t feel comfortable playing with swords around Elva… I won’t elaborate on why, but I’m sure you know.

“Or maybe this is all an elaborate excuse to take a swing at you,” she said, brandishing her sword. “As if I need a reason.”

"Ah-em..." He breathed out once more, looking about at the hopelessness of his situation. "I, er... look, you seem like a nice and insistent noble, some would say obsessive almost - I mean it's just a ring - but I reallydon't want to fight you."

"Fight? No, darling, it’s just an experiment," She sniped back at him. “For science, dear. Science.”

"Fine, fine, fine," He huffed. "Watch the face if you can," he gave himself a few light slaps on the cheek, "and know that I won't attack you, I shall just defend myself."

“That would defeat the purpose,” she said as Ace took off his coat, walked over to a barrel and folded it up on top. She did the same, discarding her red overcoat. To his surprise, she also set aside her sword; too slow to use it in a fight with Quickblade. She was all chainmail and steel and studded leather now… and that shotgun contraption on her left arm. Hmmm….

He rolled his sleeves up of his blue shirt and held his hands out like that of a performer or magician. "Ready when you are."

“No… no, you’re not,” she said as she squared her stance.

 

Red Eye stirred at the sound of a voice raised in anger. After quick deliberations, he'd decided upon the crow's nest for his resting place; he was unlikely to be bothered while the others celebrated or whatever, and it was high enough that the sounds from below were muted with distance. ...Though clearly not quite enough.

He rolled to the edge and peered down, head resting on his folded arms. It seemed Cephilia was taking Ace to task for that thing with the ring after all. The con man (for obviously he must be, the way he was going on) was doing his best to talk himself out of it, and Red Eye was sorry to see that he was succeeding. He would've liked to see the two go head to head- Oh?

Looks like he'd spoken too soon; the two of them were squaring off. For...science, apparently? Not a battle to the death, then, but that was alright. He'd prefer it if most of these people survived for at least a little while longer.

Of course, it wouldn't do to just sit back and watch. He had the beginnings of a perfectly good feud going with Ace, and it could do with some nudging along. He glanced around the crow's nest until he found the bundle of cloth he was looking for. A waterproof sheet used by lookouts on rainy nights, it was just large enough to completely cover one person. He tucked the bundle into his coat, then began his descent.

He halted a short distance above the deck and sat in a pocket of the sail's shadow. In the dim light of the approaching evening, he'd be difficult to spot by accident. Then he carefully turned the sheet over until it was in such a position that it would unfurl with a tug. Then he waited, eyes glinting, and watched the fighters below.

Cephilia almost certainly had this one in the bag, but Ace might still surprise them. Either way, it wouldn't be until the best (or worst) possible moment that Red Eye planned to drop the sheet on the man and turn out the lights.

 

Stumbling to my feet I take another look around the deck. It appears that this “scout party” is actually the entire crew. I’m getting more and more curious about the story behind it all. Right now, everyone is going about their business, all but Cephilia. She has a look on her face that I’ve seen on the face of every soldier I’ve ever served with at least once. A strong, cold fear of death. It is good. It is natural. It means that you will fight harder to preserve your life when the time comes. To Cephilia, it was an inconvenience. And she decided to channel it into anger, into her feud with Ace.

I move a little closer and enter a battle stance. Blowing of some steam in a grudge match usually benefits both parties, but when it turns into an armed sparring match, things could go bad fast. She turned Ace into a likeness of the enemy she fears most, which is a problem, because he really isn’t. Ace may be nimble and light on his feet, but he doesn’t come close to a man who can run on water. The “science” she claims this is for is flawed and I just hope she realises that.

I’ll stay close and play the neutral observer, making sure that both parties know I’m there. Cephilia put away her sword, so that should make things a little less dangerous. It’s also bad news for Ace though, because his face just became a primary target.

Apart from the danger, though, this is a nice opportunity to see how they fight. I know a thing or two about Cephilia’s style, but Ace is a mystery to me. Either way, this should be interesting.

 

“No… no, you’re not,”

Sally sighed. Blast had given her the job of preventing mutiny, and she'd taken the initiative to extend that to stopping any and all fights between the crew. Having found herself suddenly lacking an arm, the job had become much harder. No longer was she able to grab both of them by the ear if necessary, instead she'd have to pick one, likely Cephilia in this case , and grab her if needs be. She hoped it wouldn't come to that, but she was always ready.

She found a suitable position, against the decks railing, leaning against and examining her rifle. She decided to take stock of everything with her. One rapier, one dagger, one rifle. False wooden coins, some real coins, a bag, and two sets of silver earrings. She went below deck for a moment, returning with a section of spare rigging . "And suddenly I can't tie knots." She growled at herself, before glancing round. Doesn't Think Things Through (Cephilia) and Doesn't Think at All (Ace) were busy sparring. Actually, those two were probably inaccurate, Cephilia was hampered by her morality. Treasure hunts were not the best way to fund orphans. There were such things as business investments and donating profits. She hadn't had a proper conversation with Ace either, yet he was failing at talking his way out of things.

Possible Eye infection was watching the pair, not to mention he'd likely sabotage it. Little Lady Stabsalot was, well, Little Lady Stabsalot. That left the drunk who never came up, or the soldier.

"Hey, Mr Monologue, tie my blade to the stock of the rifle, opposite direction to the barrel." She announced, looking at Adam and holding her rapier. Perhaps he might have some use after all.

 

"Hey, Mr Monologue, tie me blade to the stock of the rifle, opposite direction to the barrel."

Mr Monologue? Well, that’s fair I suppose. I can tie a knot while keeping my eye on the fight, and getting on her good side seems like a good idea. So far all I know of this woman is that she’s right-handed, considered selling me into slavery and shot a man in the groin point blank.

Opposite direction to the barrel? Interesting choice. Rifles aren’t really my thing, but I assume she doesn’t want it to stick into her shoulder when she fires a shot. If she wants to use it as a staff weapon the balance would be way off, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. She could also choose to hold it at the stock and use it as the rapier that it is, without having to drop the rifle. Maybe she lost the arm recently and is trying to combine as many of her weapons into one so she can switch easily and tying it to the barrel probably impairs her aim. Does that make sense? I don’t know, maybe I should brush up on my elementary rifle training.

“Sure, no problem. I’m Adam by the way, we never got properly introduced. Who are you?” I take the weapons out of her hand with my left and offer her my right hand.

 

"I don't do handshakes." She murmured, still sat down, instead holding her right palm up to reveal a set of scars. "Old business partner hid razor blades in his gloves, tried to give me a handshake and was aiming for the wrist. Let's just say he isn't around anymore." She rolled her head. This story was horribly true, and as such she'd decided against it in the future. This had served her bizarrely well, having someone else try to do it before she picked up this little trick. She'd had a glove like that on her old ship, though she supposed it was lost know.

"Anyway, tie it beneath the stock. That way when I'm aiming it should go beneath my shoulder and not into it, not to mention act as a counter weight. And then I can flip it round and have a spear. That'll be most of my problems solved." Everything after the word stock was a mumble, more aimed at herself than him though he'd likely heard anyway.

That just left her with the dagger, which she'd need to find a way to conceal. She'd probably put it in her boot, that always being a useful hiding place.

 

“I see. You’ll have to forgive me, it seems I’m still a bit naive fort his whole pirate business. I can understand why someone with your experience would be also be careful with her name. Still, if you could just give me something to shout while where in combat, that would do.”

Razor gloves to slit a man’s, or even a woman’s wrist whilst shaking hands? What is this world coming to. I guess I’ll be keeping my gloves on when shaking hands in the near future. It seems she’s been through a lot though. She’s a survivor that’s survived through too many ugly things to bother with common courtesy. Far be it for me to hold that against her.

“I’m sure you’ve already realised this, but your rifle is a lot heavier than the average shaft of a spear. You’ll have more power behind a swing and stability too I suppose, but you’ll also be slower than usual. It might be worth considering to use it more like a glaive, or a Japanese Naginata, focussing on swinging too, instead of just thrusts. I know the rapier is not really suited for that type of combat, but with the added weight and reach of the rifle it might give you the edge you need.”

I make sure the knot is tight and swing the stock against my shoulder to make sure the rapier is out of harm’s way. It is. I twirl and swing the rifle/rapier weapon around a few times to get a feel for the balance. It’s actually slightly better than I’d expected.

“Well, there you go. That should do for now.”

 

Cephilia began to slowly circle around, trying to read him. Ace turned with her, not allowing her to get behind him. Well, at least he's got the basics, she thought. He had his hands up, ready to receive her. Was he going to block, parry, or try to grapple her? If this actually were Quickblade, there would be daggers in those hands. Watch out for the daggers, she told herself, visualizing weapons that weren't there. He had the advantage of height and reach, but, being a woman, she was used to that. If he managed to grapple her and drag her down, this wouldn't end well. She had to stay on her feet, no matter what.

Deep breath. Focus. You're thinking too much. You won't have time to think when Quickblade comes, she told herself. Stop trying to read him. Just go in and let instinct take over.

She continued to circle, carefully placing one foot beside the other, sliding her boots across the deck rather than lift them and risk having her feet swept out from beneath her. She had no idea if it would actually work, but it felt right. Instinct. If nothing else, it made her feel more surefooted.

Without delay, she launched herself at Ace, relying entirely on the element of surprise. She covered the distance between them in two swift steps, with a brief stagger in the middle to throw off the timing, and led with her left shoulder before rotating, bringing a quick right fist from her hidden side, aimed at his ribs.

Ace tried to block the incoming left hand shot, and winced in pain when he was surprised with the right. Straight in the ribs. Adrenaline kicked in and in an instant he rolled his head under, barely missing the left hook follow up.

With his inertia he swept round the side in the blink of an eye, facing her back. Raising his hands up, Ace stepped away and readied himself to defend once more.

"Get on with it then." His expression had changed, the charming smirk smacked across his face gone, replaced instead by a steely focus and determination. "If you're going to hurt me, then come and hurt me." There was a strange conviction to his voice; he meant that.

"Quickblade would've dodged that," Cephilia said over her shoulder as she turned to face him. And I would've gotten stabbed in the back, she thought, but her wounded pride didn't allow her to admit it. Not now. "We both need to be faster."

She came at him again. Her footwork was marginally slower this time, but that was because she wasn't throwing her full power behind the attacks now. Less inertia, easier to change directions. Throwing her fists around like brutish clubs was too risky; he could dodge them and punish her. With shallower blows she could pull her punches, mix things up a bit, maybe throw in a feint or two to trick his timing.

Ace seemed to catch on to this rather quickly, after a failed attempt to sidestep her got him nailed in the ribs a second time. Same spot, even though the blow was only half-strength. After that, he started falling back, rather than try to sneak off to the side. You're not geting behind me again, Cephilia thought, her expression cold and methodical, like a general reading the battlefield. He was running out of deck. Soon, he would either have to try sidestepping her again... or come at her.

He was stuck in the corner now, the bannister and sea to his left, the window into the Captain's quarters on the right. Cephilia had him right where she wanted him.

This wasn't going well, Ace thought to himself. Two swift hits to the ribs had left him winded, and Cephilia was holding her position cleverly to keep him from escaping. Keeping his arms up, he pulled them in tight to his body, boxer-esque, his fists curled but relaxed. The weight and balance held on the balls of his feet, his stance light and bouncy.

"I won't fight you, Cephilia." He said, watching her closely through the gap in his arms. She masked her movement right, but drilled another body shot to the left. She was too quick, her punch hit true, but his blocking forearm resisted the brunt of it.

Even if he had wanted to hit back, she was out the way in an instance. She knew exactly what she was doing. She jabbed the face. He parried. A one, two. He rolled the first and the second clattered awkwardly into his wrist.

Cephilia broke away once more, pacing back and forth around him, stalking her prey. Beads of sweat dribbled down his face and hands, the eyes unblinking as she slink closer once more. I just need an opening, Ace thought to himself.

Ace watched slow as she moved in, leading with the left, but the way she positioned herself she was building up to feint. Eyes on the right, Ace. The glisten of the fading sun flashed dangerously across her armour as she darted in with the left, looking to hook but pulling back and throwing a swift right. Ace weaved left, the shot passing just over his shoulder and he found himself under her arm, ducked low and square on with her chest, closing in for a mighty blow.

Instead, he simply barged his shoulder into her hard and spun away from the corner.

She turned, letting his shoulder glance off. For a fraction of a second, he probably thought he'd gotten away... until he felt a cold, red hand grab a fistfull of his shirt. She would've wrung his neck, if she could have reached it. Instead, she jerked him back so hard he was nearly taken off his feet. The sound of ripping fabric and torn buttons hitting the deck was soon followed by the wet thwack of her left fist burrowing into his gut and the terror-inducing 'click' of an impotent firing mechanism.

She had been intentionally avoiding using left punches. She was saving her ammo, fighting as if the shotgun in her left gauntlet was live. Now she stared at the barechested man, dropped a few tatters of his shirt from her left hand and dusted her palms together.

"Dead," she said. Her features were stone cold as she stepped back and let him catch his breath. "Hit me, dammit, or are you going to run when Quickblade shows up too? This isn't a joke, Ace. This isn't the time to dance around and drink rum. Maybe I should turn the safety off and show you how serious I am."

Ace stood bare chested, his physique on display with his muscles tensing and his chest rising as he caught his breath. This had been hard work and Cephilia had really got under his skin, his charming silky voice now replaced with a gritty bark.

"Three things. First, I have never punched a lady and I don't intend to. Second, that was my favourite shirt. And third," he paused, breathing hard and staring her dead in the eye, "Third is, I don't share my secrets with anyone - I don't show my tricks and tells for all of you untrustworthy misfits to gain advantage." He gazed darkly around the deck at Blast and the rest of the crew. "Honestly Cephilia, what have you learnt from me, really, from trying to fight me? Because I've learnt a hell of a lot about you."

"What have I learned? Nothing," she said. "But I have confirmed what we all already knew: behind those witty little quips and that shit-eating grin is a sad, cowardly little man whose taste in shirts is almost as horrifying as his willingness to abandon his allies to save his own, worthless skin. Hello, Acey dear. Nice to finally meet you, the real you." She tossed her golden blonde curls and laughed in that haughty, condescending manner in which only a noble could. He wasn't the only one showing his true colors right now.

"Untrustworthy? Ha, that's rich coming from a man who tucked tail and ran, leaving his 'friend' to suffer at the hands of a psychopath in a red hood," she said. "Next time you think you know something about me, remember I am that psychopath. Bluff all you want. The day I decide to break you, your mouth won't save you and neither will whatever knowledge you think you've gleaned here today."

"Fine, you want the truth?" He said in a huff, "I am not a psychopath. I don't try to get myself killed like the rest of you, nor do I want to. I'll flirt with danger, but anything I can walk away from is another win in my book."

"The hallmark of a man who flirts, but cannot commit," Cephilia said coldly. "If you haven't found something worth dying for, you're not truly living. Coward."

Ace stomped back over to his coat, picking up the pistol and rapier and carrying his equipment under his arm. "Not every problem needs violence to solve it, you know. That's smarter than swinging blindly." He was tired and the anger was subsiding, his voice softening a little. "There is more than one way to solve this Quickblade problem." Ace slowly made his way towards the stairs down into the hull.

"Not this one," Cephilia hissed at his back. If everything she knew about Quickblade was true, he was a ruthless killer who stopped for nothing. When he arrived, there would be no reasoning with him, no redirecting or bribing him. He would cut through their tricks and defenses and bear down upon them like a force of nature. Then again, people said the same thing about the Red Widow... and they would be mostly correct.

 

I’ve always scorned people that talked about the beauty of a fighting style or battle. When I wield my sword, no matter how gracefully I wield it, it is never beautiful. I wield it with the intention to kill and that is always terrible. Necessary, but not to be made into an object of affection. This battle was different. The beauty was not in the technique or form, but in seeing a different side of two people that they did not like to show.

Ace put it into words himself. “I am nota psychopath. I'll flirt with danger, but anything I can walk away from is another win in my book.” He likes to act tough and he has a strong pokerface, but he also has a strong set of moral values that he buries under layers of suave and charisma, but that may be the true defining element of his character.

Cephilia showed she can be ruthless when she feels cornered. I’ve had the pleasure of watching the Red Widow in action before, but that was nothing like this. To her, this was a subconscious fight to the death. She showed her fear, but she also proved she could stay cool in the face of it.

They feel anger towards one another now, but I feel like I’ve gotten closer to the both of them just watching this fight. They may not believe it now, but I think this was a good learning moment for them. And not just in how to defeat Quickblade, or each other.

I slowly walk up behind Cephilia, but make sure not to startle her.

“If you truly want to be as prepared as possible when facing Quickblade, come talk to me some time. I may not be as fast as him and I may have had a very similar training to yours, but I have fought with a fair share of people faster than me. Your style is impressive, I doubt I would survive an encounter with an opponent like you, but I have some experience that might help you.” And then I have to add, almost like an afterthought: “And remember, you don’t have to fight him alone.”

 

Captain Blast was preoccupied with Anya while the others conversed and sparred. Blast was sitting on a barrel and Anya was perched on his lap and their heads were close together as they giggled and whispered to each other. Billy Bones brought up the rum and they filled wooden mugs, knocked them back, and filled them again. After his fourth toast, Captain Blast noticed the fight and watched with avid interest, laughing and hooting. Anya giggled and stroked his chest, while Billy Bones glugged more rum and looked severely depressed.

But when Blast realized that they were fighting to train for Quickblade, his expression soured. As the impressive fight ended, he gently removed Anya from his lap and stalked up to Cephilia and Ace. Even though he had drunk his fair share of rum, his gait was steady and his speech wasn't the least bit slurred.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he growled at them. "You do not fight Quickblade. You do not challenge him. The only option is to run...and hope something else gets him before he gets to us." This was the most serious they had ever seen him. The playful shine in his eyes was gone and it was replaced by cold, bleak despair.

Anya walked up behind him and put her hands on his broad shoulders to comfort him. "What is a Quickblade?" Anya asked, looking around at all the pirates. Ever since they had left the Cursed Island, she had dropped the Evil Witch's Daughter act and was infinitely more approachable and friendly.

 

Sally tried to clap her hands together, as if seeking to remove a layer of dust from her hand. Instead, it looked more along the lines like she was trying to slap the air. "Time to deal with some petulant children." With that she looked up at Red Eye, spotting him still in the rigging. "Hey, want to help me deal with those two, you grab Ace, I grab Cephilia, and then we have some fun getting them to suck it up and get along."
If that failed there was always intimidation. Red Eye was the one most acquainted with the underworld, meaning he could aid in coercion, if he was willing of course. Ace would likely know some of her previous names as well, though Red Eye had been around longer and had been in some similar areas at the same time, it being a miracle that they hadn't run into each other.

 

When they were outside Shekinah's hut, Elva had been stunned by Asara's compliment. That girl never stopped surprising her. Just when Elva was plotting Asara's death, she turns around and tells her she looks good with her hair chopped off. Elva had tried to play it cool, shrugging and looking away, but she couldn't help but smile.

Now that they were back on the boat, Elva stood off by herself, sitting on the guardrail and staring at her hands. She ignored the fighting and the talking, all she focused on was her hands and how different they felt. Everything about her felt different and it had started after Shekinah tapped her forehead. Before, Elva had only heard the voices of the spirits as a low whisper, but now it was as clear as day.

"Elva, Elva...bring me over...I can help you!"

"No, Elva, bring me over...I'm older and wiser than she is!"

"Forget both of them, Elva, I am the strongest spirit on the Other Side..."

Elva couldn't take it anymore. "STOP IT!!!" she screamed at the invisible chorus. They actually did stop for a moment, but then they started up again, all together. They were even louder than before, and Elva could barely hear herself speak over the deafening cacophany. Finally, she yelled, "Fine!" and flung out her hands. All of a sudden, silver-blue light blossomed all around her hands and her large eyes shone like beacons.

In front of her, a glowing doorway opened in mid-air and a mystical being made of shimmering purple energy stepped through. It was tall and willowy, with large eyes, a welcoming smile, and long flowing hair, dressed in a sheer purple dress made of light. It looked just like Elva, but stretched out and all grown up. The spirit leaned down and reached out with long fingers to pull Elva's headscarf off her head. Underneath, there was a silver tattoo of a crescent moon that glowed softly.

"Elva Silvermoon," the spirit said in the kindest, most compassionate voice imaginable. "Do not hide your mark. You come from a long line of mystics, the Silvermoon Clan. You are the heiress to great power and responsibility. Be proud."

Then, just as quickly as it came, the spirit turned and walked back through the doorway, as graceful as a song. There were other, lesser beings trying to push through; they were so weak that they couldn't even form a body, they just looked like wisps of smoke. The tall spirit simply waved her hand and they were all blown away by a powerful wind. The spirit stepped through the doorway and it disappeared with a sharp crack! Elva's hands and eyes stopped glowing, and the silver crescent moon on her forehead dimmed, but it still glowed softly.

"Grandma," Elva whispered. Now she understood. Before, she could only bring over lower-level spirits. Now, she could bring over spirits with real power, higher beings like her long-dead grandmother, Venita Silvermoon. Elva cracked a smile and stared at her hands again, this time with awe and wonder.

 

“If you truly want to be as prepared as possible when facing Quickblade, come talk to me some time. I may not be as fast as him and I may have had a very similar training to yours, but I have fought with a fair share of people faster than me. Your style is impressive, I doubt I would survive an encounter with an opponent like you, but I have some experience that might help you.” And then I have to add, almost like an afterthought: “And remember, you don’t have to fight him alone.”

“I know that,” Cephilia hissed, a little more harshly than intended. “I never intended to. I just don’t want to be the weak link when he shows up. I don’t want to be the thing that gets any of you killed.” Her features turned dark, the anger building again. “Which is why it pisses me off that anyone on this ship could be as self-centered as that… that… coward.”

She was at a loss for words, but it was quite clear she was referring to Ace, and couldn’t summon forth an expletive strong enough to describe how she felt. ‘Coward’ would have to do. Since he wasn’t here to defend himself, that was probably for the best. It seemed awfully dirty to go on talking about him behind his back, twisting the dagger.

She was about to go on when she realized Captain Blast was approaching. Cephilia straightened and faced him with the cowed look of a child who’d gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Captain, I can explain-”

"You don't know what you're talking about," he growled at them. "You do not fight Quickblade. You do not challenge him. The only option is to run...and hope something else gets him before he gets to us."

She opened her mouth to retort, but quickly thought better of it and shut up. Then, after a pause, she tried a different tact.

“Such as…?” she said to the captain, cocking her head to the side. She truly did want to know. ‘Hoping’ something got to him before they could was not her idea of a plan. But throwing an obstacle or two in his path was something she could get on board with.

“We’ve faced a king and his royal wizard. We faced a legendary swamp witch and made off with her daughter,” Cephilia said, with a sweeping gesture toward Anya. “We faced a sea monster and got away with our lives. I disagree that Quickblade can’t be beaten… but I gave my word that I would follow your orders to the best of my ability, so I pray you have a plan that involves more than ‘run and hope,’ sir. Truly, I do.”

 

Captain Blast stepped closer to Cephilia. "You're not a good listener, are you?" he said through gritted teeth. "Quickblade has slaughtered villages. Killed legendary warriors. Taken down empires. He's way out of your league, out of all of your leagues." He glared around the boat to include everyone. Billy Bones just scowled and continued drinking, seemingly not bothered or too melancholy to care.

"I've gotten in his way a few times and I barely made it out with my life," Blast continued heatedly. "The only reason I've survived for so long is because Billy Bones always had a vision whenever Quickblade was coming and I made sure I was somewhere else, and Quickblade has been locked up for a few years, giving me some freedom. But now some idiot has let him out or he's escaped. Now do you understand? He has a personal vendetta against me and he won't stop until I'm dead."

Anya humphed and went to stand by Cephilia. She put her hands on her hips and struck a defiant pose. The dangerous glint in her eye, the one she had when they were on the Cursed Island, had returned. "Well, I'm with Cephilia. If this Quickblade wants some, he can get some." She nodded to the Red Widow in a gesture of comaraderie.

Captain Blast frowned and crossed his arms, but he didn't speak, as if he was too angry to form words.

 

“I know that. I never intended to. I just don’t want to be the weak link when he shows up. I don’t want to be the thing that gets any of you killed. Which is why it pisses me off that anyone on this ship could be as self-centered as that… that… coward.”

That’s right, spit it all out. Give words to your fears and frustrations. Rationalize them. Process them. I’ll listen.

“You don't know what you're talking about, you do not fight Quickblade.”

So the captain has faced him personally and confirms the stories and legends. There is more hope then, than he would like to believe. Anya sides with Cephilia, an interesting pair. The daughters of my two masters, side by side. It’s nice to see Anya away from her mother’s grip. I wonder what kind of person she’ll become.

Drifting off, focus.

“Captain, with all due respect, we don’t need you to tell us he’s out of our league. Cephilia has already argued that case for you. But if you fought him and lived, that means there’s hope. Ace is right when he says that you learn from your enemy through fighting him. You have the information we need to confirm or deny the rumours we’ve heard about him and supervise our training. If he is really as legendary as you say, he will catch up to us eventually. When that happens, I would rather be prepared than caught with my pants down. Sir.”

 

“Aha! Why didn’t I think of it before,” Cephilia said with the exuberance of someone who had just made a major scientific breakthrough after long hours of slaving away in the lab. Halfway through Adam’s suggestion she became very pensive and thoughtful, and now it became clear why.

She was going about this entirely the wrong way. Instead of trying to train her body and get to know herself better, she really needed to know more about Quickblade. She thought she knew plenty; there was no shortage of stories and legends about the man. But what she really needed was a firsthand account from someone who had witnessed his handiwork.

She thought that was impossible: no one faced Quickblade and lived, right? Wrong. There were at least two people who had. One was standing right in front of her, and the other…

“Who captured Quickblade?” Cephilia asked, stepping closer to the captain. “And how? You say the man can’t be beaten, but someone already has. You’ve seen how he fights and Billy has seen how he… kills.” She gave the dwarf an apologetic look; she knew this was probably a touchy subject for him.

“The information we need exists,” Cephilia concluded. “And we have the manpower to do something with it, if you are so inclined. Aren’t you tired of running? I thought you were a legend. Or are you just a man, who fears men… for that is all Quickblade is, a man… and men can die.” She paused, fearing she might have crossed a line when she challenged Captain Blast’s legend. Nevertheless, she added, “Ending him would send quite the message to your mother, wouldn’t it. King Roger, too.”

 

Captain Blast exhaled a long, frustrated sigh and threw up his hands in exasperation. "You people don't listen!" he groaned. Then he shook his head and answered Cephilia's questions. "It was a calculated sting. The Royal Spies figured out what inn Quickblade was staying at and they bribed a servant girl to steal Quickblade's sword while he was sleep. Then King Roger sent in fifty of his best men, plus the Royal Wizard and the Royal Witch, to subdue Quickblade. Even without his sword, Quickblade killed most of the soldiers or horribly mutilated them."

Blast paused to take a breath and then continued. "I heard that the Royal Wizard and Royal Witch were pushed to their limits and were close to passing out when they finally caught him. Now, if that doesn't tell you something, that those two powerful Talents almost failed, then I don't know what will!"

Captain Blast yelled the last part in Cephilia's face, then he turned to skulk back to his barrel. Billy Bones was staring into his mug, not responding to anything. "Well, how did you escape him, then?" Anya snapped at Blast. "All the times you've ran into him?"

"By the skin of my teeth," Captain Blast growled before knocking back the rest of his rum. "And if you must know what I meant by "something else getting" Quickblade, I'm hoping a Kelpie will be attracted to him enough to try to snag him. Kelpies chose their pray based on two things: physical beauty and legendary status. Quickblade should be damn near irresistable to them."

 

"And if you must know what I meant by "something else getting" Quickblade, I'm hoping a Kelpie will be attracted to him enough to try to snag him. Kelpies chose their pray based on two things: physical beauty and legendary status. Quickblade should be damn near irresistable to them."

“So let’s not leave it to chance.”

This actually makes really good sense. I’ve heard quite a few things about these Kelpies from Shekinah and they just might do the trick. This crew might have defeated one of them, but Quickblade is alone. If he is put into that Kelpie trance there will be nobody to draw the Kelpie’s attention away from him. He’d be helpless.

“It won’t be easy, but we might be able to put them on his scent. From what I’ve gathered you already pissed off one Kelpie before reaching Cursed Island. If we let her find us again, we can try to plant Quickblade’s image into her head, hopefully intriguing her enough to go after him and maybe even share it with her kin. Quickblade travels alone, if he gets caught in their web, he won’t be able to get out.”

 

Down into the underbelly of The Vengeful Maiden Ace went, each step laboured and heavy. The breathing was shallow, his body drenched in sweat and his hand slipped a little as he tried to catch his balance on a nearby wall. Pausing for a moment to rest Ace slid a hand to his ribs and winced at the touch, feeling around to understand the damage done. Thankfully no broken bones, but no doubt there would be a lot of bruising.

Cautiously he made his way through the dark and creaking hull of the ship, relying on his sense of touch to lead him to his room. Eventually Ace made his way to his door and pushed it open with a loud lurch across the wooden floor. There was solace here: a small square window on the starboard side nicely framing the setting sun, a wooden desk with an unlit candlestick and a quill in an ink bottle, a varnished chest of drawers and a rather plush single bed pushed into the corner.

Taking a load off on the bed, Ace found himself rather taken aback by its softness and comfort, scrunching his hands into the bedding and mattress. The quality of the stitching in the quilt was exquisite, while the craftsmanship of the carved wood in the bed posts had real artistic appeal. This boat is full of surprises Ace thought to himself, spying his eyes around the room before slumping the rest of the way onto the bed with arms spread wide.

"Women. Am I right Sly?" Ace said to no one in particular, and a small grin crawled across his face. It was good to have a little peace and get away from the madness up top, and though he could still hear muffled arguments on deck they did little to disturb him now.

The day had been strange and fraught with mystery and revelations, including the magical encounter with the Swamp Witch Shekinah, and his discovery of the little known Cursed Island. That was new to Ace, and to a lot of people. It was not on any official standard issue map he'd ever studied.

In fact, Ace thought sitting up from his bed, it was note worthy enough for... no, it wasn't relevant to Firebrand's treasure. Yet... it had been a rather testing day, and considering he was already talking to Sly, it felt right to at least have a look.

He started from the bed and moved to the chest of drawers, opened the bottom draw and pulled out two small glasses and a half empty bottle of whiskey. Crossing the room he dropped the items on the desk mid walk, continuing towards his coat and picking out his pistol and a journal. Returning to the desk, he placed the pistol on the right and the journal in the middle, pulled himself into the desk chair comfortably and poured two neat half glasses of whiskey.

With a gentle clink together, Ace raised a glass and shot a forlorn smile to the sky. "Cheers."

He sipped his drink and turned his attention to the journal now placed in front of him. The cover was thick brown leather worn and faded, speckled with blood and most noticeably, pierced with a hole right through the middle. A perfect circle in the centre, which had badly torn and frayed the edges around it. Ace put his drink down and placed his hands at the side of the desk, both inches away from the journal. His hands clenched into the wood, the fingers digging into the grain and he breathed a heavy sigh with his eyes closed.

Opening them he watched himself flip the journal open slow, the dirty yellow pages crackling like flames in a fireplace. The ink scribbles were legible in passages, but the wound through the centre of the book had destroyed the majority of information. Ace sighed and found himself reading over old pages, most now memorised and burned into his mind.

Firebrand's treasure is not a myth. De Deddas Lantra is real.

Part of him still grazed through the journal in the hope he would glean some new information, something he'd missed or a connection that could be made. But the words had not changed, the letters all still the same. There were detailed sketches broken up by the bullet hole. One sketch that he could just about make out was a ziggurat, another was a dark and brooding figure with a skull upon its face, the ink scratched in darkly, and an arrow pointing to it with the words, "Blood Goddess?". The page after saw multiple sketches of fierce figures in loin clothes and what looked like human skin worn on their bodies.

Ace continued flicking whilst nursing his whiskey, reading through Sly's notes with wonder and pride, as if he'd seen them for the first time. There was so much content in the book, so much of one man's life filling the pages inside... but all of it lost forever because of one gun shot. There was even a detailed drawing of Captain Firebrand that had been swallowed up by the hole, the chipped wooden table all that Ace could see.

"I will find this." Ace said softly.

A creak from behind. With supernatural speed Ace pulled the journal in close to his bare chest, whilst snatching the pistol and aiming fast at the door behind. His eyes stayed focused and alert, quickly noticing the slight gap in the door.

"Hello?" He said with stern uncertainty.

 

Cephilia sighed and walked away, slowly shaking her head, while Adam was still speaking to the captain. If it really did take that much to stop Quickblade, she agreed with Blast: it was best to just avoid such a man. To do otherwise was to flirt with certain death.

Still, the idea that any man could be that powerful left an awful taste in her mouth… a taste only rum could wash out. Cephilia was more of a champagne kind of gal, but when on a pirate ship one does as pirates do.

She could not hide her disappointment as she picked up her sword and roughly shoved it back into its sheath on her hip before gathering her red coat and draping it over her shoulders like a cloak. She was about to head below decks and find a dark corner to brood in, maybe sketch some blueprints for Asara’s new gun-arm or tinker with her gadgets and armor. Maybe even find Ace down there and vomit up this apology she’s been choking on for the last few minutes. She knew she should, just wasn’t sure if she could.

Instead, she paused, loitering by the stairs for a moment as if overcome with a crippling case of indecisiveness. After a long pause, she spoke in a low voice, barely audible at first.

“H-how do you do it?” Cephilia said, turning to face Captain Blast one last time. The question was very much like a plea or a cry for help. “He’s hunted you for so long. How do you live with that constant shadow hanging over your head? Just give me something to do, captain, other than wait to die.”

 

Elva was distracted from playing with her new abilities by the lively conversation the others were having. She quickly discovered Quickblade was the topic and how to avoid certain death. She watched quietly at first, uncertain what to say or do, but when Cephilia made that desperate plea, in that quiet tone, Elva felt her heart break for her. Cephilia was tough, but she wasn't like the other pirates, she wasn't cold-hearted and grizzled from too many fights, she still cared about living or dying.

Elva started to run in Cephilia's direction, but stopped and turned to look at the red scarf on the ground. Should she put it back on to cover up the glowing crescent moon tattoo on her forehead? Elva plucked it off the ground, stared at it for a while, and then tossed it over the guardrail into the churning waters to be lost forever. Then she turned and dashed to Cephilia's side, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. She offered Cephilia a friendly smile and turned to Captain Blast to wait for his answer. Elva was also curious about how their handsome captain kept from giving in to despair, knowing that Quickblade was bearing down on them.

 

"Hello?" Ace said with stern uncertainty.

Red Eye eased the door open, his palms open in mock surrender and a wry smile on his lips. "Old ships are the worst, aren't they? Can't get more than half an inch without something creaking or snapping out from under you."

He leaned in the doorway, oozing smugness, and rested his hands in his hip pockets. There was a slit in the one over his pistol through which he could slip his left hand, and he did so now. Something told him Ace was unlikely to actually kill him here, but who knew? You never could tell what someone was going to do once their mask started slipping.

"Quite the show you and Miss Cecilia put on up there. I was tempted to step in, but believe it or not the two of you made things so interesting I didn't feel it right to interrupt. Of course, our quartermaster has other opinions. I've been tasked with retrieving you that she might have a word with you and your sparring partner.

"You'll forgive my rudeness in not announcing my presence. You seemed to be having a personal moment...?" He allowed his eye to drift pointedly the journal Ace was clutching. "Quite a neat little trinket you've got there. Anything to do with that Sly chap you were just chatting with?"

 

Ace's eyes narrowed at the mention of Sly and he gripped the pistol tighter. Slowly, still keeping his stare on Red Eye, his face softened and he put the pistol back on the table. He'd done enough fighting today and wasn't in the mood to argue, though he would have preferred to stay in peace in his room just that little while longer.

"It's just a book from an old friend..." Ace lost himself a little, staring down at the battered journal in his hands. In a flash he opened the desk drawer and put the journal in, before slamming the drawer closed. "...it's nothing important."

Ace took a long moment staring at the desk drawer with eyes a little watery, unbeknownst to Red Eye. He heard another creak from behind and stood strong, taking his hand and subtlety wiping away the tears in his eyes. Making his way to the chest of drawers Ace pulled out a dirty white shirt and turned to Red Eye to speak, but swallowed his words as he followed Red Eye's stare. He was looking at Ace's stomach, low on the abdomen, where there was a deep scar. Ace had many scars on his body but Red Eye noted this one was something different, a piercing blow that had left its taint to linger, blackened veins surrounding the wound.

Ace laughed, albeit a little nervously, "Picked that up in Chol'luga," he lied, "Trust me when I say their whores are made of nasty stuff, and this is what happens when you get on their bad side."

Still a little unsure what to do, Ace quickly tossed the shirt on his body and tied the bindings, before adding his coat on top and putting his pistol away. He downed his whiskey and threw Sly's one out the window but kept the glass. The bottle and glasses were cleared and all that was left was for him to do was grab the journal from the drawer, and put it deep within his coat. Finally turning to Red Eye, he said, "Shall we? Please lead the way."