015 – Mustaches

***

The Fleuron traveled both day and night, driven by the restless winds. The lilac tinted moonlight cast a weird glow over the sea, which took on a color like dark wine. The water frothed in the wake of the ship and came up in a spray over the dipping bow. When mists rolled over us, the moon created imperfect halos with only violet and blues bands visible.

Most of the sailors slept at night, except for those posted to watch for sea monsters. They left the weather deck deserted. I took a break from the noisy crew and my exercises to enjoy the brief spell of quiet.

Malisent appeared at the far end of the ship, looking something akin to the specters from the abandoned settlement. Her fancy silk dress made her almost glow in the moonlight. She bunched up her skirts and carried them in one arm over the wooden deck so as not to dirty the hem.

“What are you doing out here, teacher?”

“Looking for my lazy student.”

“Are going to give me more assignments?”

“No. I’m going to tell you to sleep. Rest and conserve your energy. We’ll be close to Fort Oxbone tomorrow. The Fleuron will dock there. We might meet Veylien and Gritha inside.”

“Why would they be there?”

“That’s the nearest inhabited place to the ancient citadel. At the beginning of our mission, we disembarked at the fort and prepared for the cross country expedition by hiring a few mercenaries and buying horses. It’s possible Veylien and Gritha returned there. If they couldn’t get a local fishing vessel to take them all the way to Sandgrave, they’d have to wait at the fort for another ship to arrive.”

“You and Veylien aren’t going to have a bloody showdown, are you?”

“Of course not. I’m a professional. I’ll wait until after the mission and then wring her neck.” Malisent leaned against the gunwale. “There’s a reason they sent me on this mission to the wastelands. Believe it or not, I’m not the best at subterfuge.”

“Really? I would’ve never guessed.”

“I’m a warrior. The other officers handle espionage. They deal with bastards like Slezeanor the Pompous Rake. Running into him has really made things complicated. Under better circumstances, I’d just chop off his head and toss him down a well. But his sudden disappearance might draw even more attention to us.”

“Are you sure you could beat him in a fight? He’s got a pretty fancy sword and some pretty slick maneuvers.”

“Never doubt your mistress, disciple. I don’t lose fights.”

“If you say so. Just tell me before it starts so I can find some place to hide.”

“Go get some rest. We’ll be in port tomorrow.”

***

In the morning the crew gathered on the deck of the Fleuron. They had been at sea for a long time and were eager to step out on solid land to… well, probably to do the same thing they did on the ship: gamble and drink. But at Fort Oxbone they could drink better wine and gamble with higher stakes. The sailors prepared themselves to disembark. They shaved their chins and sharpened their axes on a spinning grind wheel in case of trouble.

Captain Slezeanor came on deck. He took Malisent’s hand and escorted her to a settee upholstered with ocelot skins. He sat down next to her, and Yixigo the first mate stood by with a small box. The men lined up to receive a portion of metal coins as payment for their labors. The captain didn’t give them the money until the ship was about to cast anchor, for fear they would gamble it all away and arrive in port without a shekel to their name. The sailors stood in line as the captain handed out small pouches one at a time.

Malisent cooled herself with a folding fan. She wore more jewelry now, and carried new items, such as a parasol and handbag. Slezeanor had offered her other samples of his wares. These two reminded me of Nimblesto the goblin, who stole shiny trinkets with which to impress the girlgobs back home. And all the finery the pair of swordsmen donned were like the ridiculous hats worn by the goblin villagers, covered in shells and beads. There was something distastefully goblish about the whole thing.

The lookout gave a loud whistle. He had sighted the fortress on the horizon. From a distance it looked like a small gray brick set in the green hills. It was sobering to think that mankind only inhabited these small forts in a vast and deserted continent, tiny dots on the map. The crewmen busied themselves on deck with an air of joviality, getting things in order for reefing the sails and casting anchor.

As we approached, the first mate rushed from the bow of the ship. He interrupted the captain’s and Malisent’s idle conversation with urgent news.

“Captain! There’s a ship in sight. A sleek cutter beating windward. It’s the Double Daggers.”

Slezeanor hopped out of the seat. “Then we’ve caught up to her at last. Ring the alarms. All men to their stations and prepare for action.” He shouted to the men, “Sorry, lads! Shore leave’s been canceled. We’ve got better entertainment for you today, and a ripe goose to plucked.”

“What’s happening?” Malisent asked.

“I am truly sorry for this inconvenience, my lady.” The captain removed his hat and bowed deeply to her. “But we must postpone ferrying you to shore. Duty calls.”

“Piracy, is it?” Malisent said with a sneer. “So much for being an honest merchant…”

“Ha ha. One could look at piracy as the noblest form of trade, my dear. Where one trades blood and arms for gold and silver. And it’s a business that allows a swordsman to employ their special set of skills.”

The crewmen ran up the Fleuron’s flag, a field of gold with a rose of purple.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

Malisent said, “They’re pirates. Sea-robbers. They’re going to board that ship, battle its crew, and take her as a prize.”

I should have figured there was murder and crime involved. The people of this era had gone mad. It was one thing to see violence done on wickedly mutated species like trolls and goblins, but seeing normal looking humans fight disturbed me far more. The thought of violence didn’t bother the sailors; they looked more glad to get a chance to fight than they had been for shore leave. They readied their hand axes.

The Double Daggers sailed against the wind, coming toward the pirate ship. When the people aboard saw the rose flag flapping in the breeze, they altered course. The pilot of the Fleuron spun the rudder wheel to meet them. The two ships moved in parallel with neither one pulling ahead.

Half the crew stood ready on the port side, clutching grapples attached to long lines. They meant to hook the other ship, so that it couldn’t get away, and then reel it in. Once the two ships locked together, the crews would fight.

The pirates slowly gained on their prey. They shouted threats and taunts across the rolling water. On the other vessel, the other crew prepared for a battle as well, arming themselves with pairs of long daggers.

When the Fleuron came abreast of the other ship, the pilot swerved hard to port, crashing the hulls together. A tremendous shock ran through the deck, nearly knocking me off my feet. The pirates launched their grapnels, hooking onto the gunwales and stays and any other solid projections. The desperate sailors on the other side worked to cut the lines and free themselves from the sinister trap.

The pirates began to board the Double Daggers. They leapt the gap between ships. This was a dangerous undertaking. One man made a running jump off the side only to be intercepted at the midpoint by an enemy sailor’s long wooden oar. With his flight arrested halfway across, he dropped down through the narrow gap and disappeared in the foaming water. There was no time for a rescue. He was left floundering in the sea as the two ships sailed on without him. That was the first death among many.

The pirates outnumbered their foes three to two. They had numbers on their side, but more importantly, they had a magical swordsman. Captain Slezeanor jumped across and took control of portion of the deck, after which the pirates put down a gangway and spilled over in greater numbers.

From where I stood as a spectator, the two groups looked almost identical. The pirates all had giant sideburns and carried sharpened hatchets, whereas the defending sailors all grew outlandish mustaches and stabbed with daggers. Those minor traits served to distinguish them from each other in the chaotic fray.

The captain lead his men from the front. He used his glowing blade to slice a path through the enemy. Their daggers sparked and split into pieces. Their severed limbs spurted blood. Normal humans could not meaningfully resist the powers of a magical swordsman and could at best delay their deaths by a few moments before falling lifeless to the blood drenched deck. An even battle became no challenge at all when adding a swordsman to the balance.

Combat raged across the top of the ship for several minutes, and then the pirates went below deck to root out the remainders who cowered among the cargo. The pirates took the leaders of the other group captive, tying them up with ropes and placing gags in their mouths. When the battle died down, they began tossing the corpses and the severely wounded overboard. The floating bodies formed a long line in the wake of the ships.

Witnessing the mass murder from the safety of the Fleuron had horrified me, yes. It had not, however, evoked in me any overpowering emotions. I didn’t cry or vomit or pass out. The scene of carnage seemed too unreal for that, like a painting or a movie. Mainly it made me feel a sort of dismal regret, not just for these victims, but for the fact all mankind had fallen to this state, and that events like this surely happened countless times between my death and resurrection. This was a normal event here. Sideburns versus the mustaches.

I sat down on the bench next to Malisent.

“So is this the kind of thing swordsmen exist for? Mass murders?”

“Didn’t the Ancients have wars? No? Sounds dull,” she said. “But I can tell you that battles grow larger than this minor skirmish. This is nothing. In a real war, troops meet on the battlefield in the thousands and clash for days on end. Swordsmen serve as champions who lead the troops forward and inspire them to greater acts of valor.

“But big fights are not a swordsman’s true purpose. The number of weak foes one cuts down doesn’t matter. For us, martial glory comes from defeating a powerful enemy in a one on one duel. That’s how you prove your mettle.” She snapped her folding fan shut and thrust it forward like a knife.

“It’s madness,” I said.

“Maybe it is. But wait until you’ve had a taste of that madness. Then you may understand the siren song of the blade.”

“Are you going to join the pirates then?”

“Never. This operation is a trifle compared to the Void Phantoms. Common sea scum.”

“Now we know why the captain didn’t judge us for being in a heretical cult. He’s a criminal too. A murderer. That should make things easier for us, right?”

“Not so. Mutineers and pirates may steal gold, but they can never return home to spend it. Their crimes force them to live as outlaws at the fringes of civilization. The Fleuron won’t be able to stop at a port in the country of Sandgrave, which is where we need to be.”

Bodies splashed in the sea until the deck of the Double Daggers was clear. The impact had cracked her timbers, letting a small amount of water into the hold. The crewmen transferred the handful of living prisoners and the most valuable cargo to the Fleuron. The seized ship could be sold for coins at a later time, so the pirates did not abandon it. The Fleuron would tow her behind at the end of long cables while the first mate and two crewmen stayed onboard.

“Come. Let us celebrate!” Slezeanor announced. “We will drink to our victory and pour libations for our brothers at arms we left behind. This day will be remembered for years to come and gain the Fleuron the reputation she deserves.”

The crew hauled over many clay amphora of wine and wooden casks of distilled liquor. The Double Dagger had been well provisioned. It had stores of salted meat, sugared fruit, dried herbs, jackfruit, and three live boars ready for slaughter.

“My lady, Malisent. Would you be so kind as to accompany me? You shall be the queen of the feast.”

“Of course,” she said, warily accepting the hospitality of our host.

Being Malisent’s brain-damaged student, no one took much notice of me. I kept to the wings as the pirates gorged themselves and drank excessive amounts of booze. The victory celebration commenced.

***

The fear, excitement, and tension that preceded a deadly battle had to be dissipated when it was over. So the men purged their emotions with strong drink and revelry. Captain Slezeanor the Peerless Rake played a stringed instrument for his men who stomped out clumsy dances until they tumbled over.

At twilight, gray clouds obscured the sky and a light rain drove the crew below deck. The pirates continued to celebrate. They dressed up the prisoners in women’s clothing and put mops on their heads as makeshift wigs. The victims had to watch their enemies’ cruel victory feast while tied to wooden posts. As the riotous celebration continued into the night, drunken pirates passed out one by one and slept soundly wherever they had fallen.

I did not feel like celebrating. And I no longer desired to travel in the company of these sea robbers and killers. On the weather deck, with my stick in hand, I observed that the usual lookouts for sea monsters had quit their posts to join in the fun with their friends. No one kept watch. Onboard the Double Daggers, Yixigo and his two helpers were nowhere to be seen.

This gave me the perfect chance to steal the stolen ship and sail away to freedom.