Blood of the Stallion

Chapter 3

A Pirate’s Life

‘A pirate, no matter what weapon he chooses to wield, must be able to use a knife or dagger.’

I had wanted to use my own blade, however Wargal had insisted I use one of his. We came face to face, each with a single blade in our right hand, circling one another.

‘While I choose to use my knives as projectiles, I always keep hold of one or two for close combat – as all good fighters should.’

‘Agreed!’ I grinned, watching the short man’s stance for a gap in his opening. I barely blinked and my knife went flying out of my grasp, pain seizing my hand as Wargal moved his steel to my throat.

‘Focus is key,’ he instructed. ‘Especially when so close to your enemy that a single lunge can close the gap.’

He retreated from me, blood dripping from an open wound below my knuckles. I held my left hand to it and gasped at the sting.

‘Well, what are you waiting for? Retrieve your blade.’ I turned to where my weapon had landed, silently cursing the pirate. ‘And by the way, your stance is horrendous.’

‘I’ve been told,’ I grunted through clenched teeth.

The man had seemed nice enough at first, but I soon came to realise he was a harsh instructor. Again and again he slashed at my hand to disarm me, each time cutting deeper and deeper into the flesh. He had no mercy – every time criticising my form or my grip or my movement. The repeated insults and the building pain soon drew my temper. As we started a new bout I lunged at him with blade in hand. He sidestepped quickly, his leg darting out as he tripped me and I fell face first into the deck.

‘Too impulsive!’ he scoffed. ‘Now stand up and do it the way I told you!’

I wanted nothing more than to punch the man, but I reserved myself. With each defeat I wanted to beat him more, but every time he sent my blade flying and gave me a new cut. It continued until the hour had passed and he finally allowed me to tend to my hand. The wound was thick with dried blood which was already scabbing over, but simply moving it now sent agony up my arm. Wargal threw me a soaked cloth and I draped it over the wounds.

‘Bastard!’ I cursed as the sting seeped into my hand.

‘Aye lad,’ the pirate grinned sadistically. ‘Water feels nicer, but rum makes sure the wound doesn’t fester.’

‘How thoughtful of you,’ I groaned sarcastically.

‘Tie the cloth tightly around that, you’ll probably need use of that hand for training with Gurdgrin.’

I gave Wargal a scowl, though he smiled back and helped me bandage the injury.

‘Thanks,’ I grunted, and he gave me a pat on the back.

‘You did well for your first session lad, but know your training here will be painful. If I had it my way I’d go easy on you until you got the hang of it, but Daxon calls the shots.’

I watched the short pirate thoughtfully as he took a swig from his rum and offered me a drink. Gulping it down I noticed it was strong; I must have visibly grimaced because he laughed. Wargal told me he would see me at dinner that night and sauntered off, whistling a shanty as he disappeared. I was only left alone for a few minutes before Gurdgrin showed up, still proudly holding his hatchets. He came and handed one to me which I took with my left hand.

‘You see those targets over there?’ he asked in a low, thick voice.

I gestured my affirmation, seeing a line of about a dozen wooden target stands, riddled with gapes and holes from heavy use. When he was sure I was watching, the pirate pulled his wielding arm back and stepped up to hurl the weapon. It soared through the air before burying itself into the centre of a target. I could not help but grin at the impressive feat.

‘Now you,’ he grunted simply.

My elation dropped. I was reluctant to use my right hand, but even with it I had not a hope in hell of landing a hatchet anywhere near my target. Still, I gave it heave with my left arm. The weapon spun off to the right, hitting the floor prematurely and spinning down the deck.

‘This may take a while,’ he sighed, ‘Again!’

After a dozen attempts at hitting the target, I honestly thought I may be getting worse. Gurdgrin seemed to agree as, after a severely bad shot where the hatchet spun into the air and towards the bow of the ship, he took the weapon from me. I was instructed to walk towards the targets. I obeyed, disappointed to be failing at this seemingly simple task. I turned just in time to jump out of the way of the weapon flying towards me, the metal axe-head practically skimming my face as it passed me, landing once again into the centre of a target I had been standing in front of. I held my arms out frantically.

‘Are you crazy?’ I cried, but was met with a low chuckle.

‘My friend, you are the one standing in front of a target range!’ he laughed, throwing another hatchet.

I barely got out of the way the second time.

‘You told me to stand here!’ I countered.

‘Well,’ Gurdgrin said, ‘Perhaps avoiding my hatchets will help you pick up a lesson on how to not throw them like a small child having a tantrum.’

A third one came racing past my head, and I turned to move. Wherever I went however, Gurdgrin did not cease with his throwing. He had half a dozen hatchets on him, and each one came within an inch of killing me on the spot. When he ran out of projectiles I shakily stormed up to him, practically frothing at the mouth.

‘You tried to kill me!’ I screamed at him.

He faced me with wide eyes, his palm resting on my shoulder. ‘Trust me boy, if I had been trying to kill you, you’d have been dead after only one hatchet.’

He retrieved his weapons and tucked them into his belt, grinning and wandering off like Wargal had. So far in this training I had temporarily lost the use of my dominant hand and had been used as target practice for a crazed hatchet thrower – this was not going well. The next instructor of mine to show up was Brongrim who carried a practice bow as he approached me. He greeted me and handed over the weapon.

‘I’m hoping this means I’m not being used as a moving target,’ I joked.

Brongrim frowned and raised a patchy eyebrow. ‘Gurdgrin?’

‘Yeah…’ I sighed.

‘Pay him no attention,’ the archer told me. ‘He’s been like that for years. He enjoys frightening people, but he would never go against the captain’s orders by killing you.’

‘His orders?’ I enquired.

He nodded.

‘Daxon has given strict instruction you are not to die during this training process – I don’t understand why exactly, but he seems to have a stake in you staying alive. Like all good things in life, I advise you don’t question it.’

That seemed strange, the legendary pirate villain Daxon had an interest in a boy from Cranwell. Peculiar.

Archery practice was much more enjoyable than the other training. I was not particularly good at it, though I did manage to hit the targets on several occasions. My hand still throbbed but the injury did not impact my fingers and so I was able to draw the bow. Brongrim seemed much calmer than the others. He made me focus on my breathing as I pulled back the bowstring, instructing me to breathe out as I released the arrow. When our hour ended I was disappointed, out of the crew he seemed the most laid back.

Finally, my fourth teacher of the day approached me – the beautiful Akaya. She bore no visible weapon so I was confused what the lesson was in, but I soon learned. Without a word of conversation, she struck me in the chest and knocked me off of my feet.

‘I’ve been instructed to train you in hand-to-hand combat.’

Many would not imagine a slim, attractive woman such as Akaya would be such a word class brawler; I imagined those who held that belief often died by her hands. She was clearly not pulling her punches as she struck me a dozen times in a few seconds, audibly cracking bones in the process. Any notions of it being wrong to hit a woman which I had previously held were quickly lost as I put my guard up and tried my best to fend her off. I had been in scraps on the streets of Cranwell, though never anything like this.

Again and again she punched hard and kicked harder. Her strikes were lightning, and no matter how quickly I moved I could not stop them. After less than ten minutes of this rushed action I was panting for breath, but glancing at Akaya she seemed to be biting her lip – almost as if she was getting pleasure from fighting me. I had met my fair share of fierce women in Cranwell, some of whom used their sexual appeal to gain control over weaker men. I was not entirely sure it was what Akaya was doing, not yet at least. I began to pick up on her patterns, and even blocked a few of her strikes. After that I began to retaliate, getting a few short punches in here and there.

But as I was becoming more confident, she stepped back and slowly loosed another button on her blouse, showing off more of the lacy red bra beneath. She stared into my eyes as she did it. I knew to her there was nothing sexual about it, it was her way of psyching me out, although I still felt the involuntary bulge rising in my breeches. Before I could figure out what to do, her fists came flying again, one hitting me square in the face. I fell backwards to the floor with a bloody nose, Akaya standing above me as she re-buttoned her blouse with a sly grin.

‘You men are all alike,’ she scoffed. ‘Small minded and easy to manipulate.’

We still had a good twenty minutes of our hour left to go, but she strode away without a single regard for the schedule. I lay there for a moment, recovering from the fight, ashamed in myself for how easily she had gotten the best of me.

I struggled to my feet, my entire body now in shambles from my day of training, and by my guess it was not even nine yet. I hobbled across the deck in the hope of finding Daxon somewhere.

‘Where ya off to little birdie?’ the cocky voice of Wes called from the Crow’s nest.

‘Do you know where Daxon is?’

‘In his quarters most likely, but I wouldn’t disturb him if I were you.’

I groaned, aggravated. ‘Tell me where!’ I demanded with false confidence.

‘Don’t ya know anything about ships?’ Wes scoffed. ‘Captains’ cabins are always at the stern.’

I did not bother to respond to the pirate, instead turning and walking towards the back of the boat. Like on the main deck, there was a hatch leading down. I followed the staircase and was met with a single door at the end of it. I took in a deep breath, prepared to speak to the most notorious and supposedly villainous pirate in the world. I knocked.

‘What is it?’ the voice called almost the second my knuckles hit the wood, the tone more irritated than angry.

‘It’s me, sir…Yodrick…sir.’

A moment of silence, followed by another. Each second felt like a lifetime, stretching out as my heart pounded faster.

‘Come in.’

The words were well welcomed, though as I entered the room a larger concern hit me – Daxon did not appear happy.

His quarters were larger than mine, the foremost part of it acting more like an office. He sat behind a splendid mahogany desk, carved with a great degree of time and care. For some reason it struck me as off, a man of his calibre owning something so elegant and beautiful. I knew even as the thought crossed my mind it was a truly ridiculous thing to be contemplating. My eyes elevated to the stern bearded man before me, sat on a stool with his eyes now clearly fixed on me.

‘I did not expect you yet,’ he grunted.

‘Umm…my training with Akaya, well…it was cut short…sir.’

His eyes rolled and he gestured to the stool on my side of the desk. ‘Take a seat,’ he ordered.

‘Aye sir.’

‘And stop calling me sir!’ he spat. ‘It’s bad enough the others do it.’

‘Sorry, captain,’ I said, hurriedly sitting.

On his desk was a large book, bound in black leather – its pages old and worn. As soon as he noticed my eyes on it the captain slammed it shut.

‘You look run down,’ he acknowledged, his gaze shifting from my hand to my bloody nose. ‘With more training that won’t happen as much.’

I nodded, expecting more words which never came. Daxon slumped on his stool, his fingers interlacing above the rim of the desk as the seconds ticked by.

‘Well?’ he questioned abruptly.

I was taken aback. ‘Uh…well what? …captain.’

‘I told you I would answer your questions,’ he reminded me. ‘So go ahead and ask – I will answer what I can.’

‘Why did you let me join your crew?’ I asked out of instinct, the question coming out more abrasively than I would have liked. ‘I mean if you wanted to stop me using your name, why not just kill me and be done with it.’

‘You were honest,’ he replied. ‘You gave a valid reason, and you were truthful with me. Also, I knew from the second I looked at you that you’d be loyal. I need loyal and honest men in my crew – unfortunately I don’t find many these days.’

‘And that was your only reason?’

‘Is it not reason enough?’ He had stumped me, and his gaze was bearing into me again, ‘What do you know of me Yodrick?’

‘Only what I’ve heard in stories about you,’ I told him. ‘The stories of ten years ago – what you did.’

‘And what are those stories exactly?’

I gulped, my heart racing once more.

‘That a decade ago you and your crew sailed up to Cranwell, clearly pirates but virtually unknown. Some say you went into the first building you saw and burned it to the ground, others say you went through the streets slaughtering people – regardless, they all say a lot of people died that day by your hands. From then on you became a legend, plundering ships, killing other pirates, never meeting an enemy you couldn’t defeat.’

‘So what do you think happened, on that day?’

‘Honestly, I’m not sure,’ I admitted. ‘But I know there are two sides to every story.’

‘Is that why you’re not afraid of me?’ I shook my head, ‘Why then?’

‘Because if you were going to kill me you would’ve done it already.’

‘And that’s the only reason?’ he asked.

‘Is it not reason enough?’ I dared.

His eyes widened, the faintest of grins passing his lips. ‘Well played, but know I will not reveal the details of that day to you, at least not yet.’

‘Understood, I expected as much.’

‘And don’t get the wrong idea boy,’ he warned. ‘I may have let you join my crew for the time being, but you are still – in essence – a prisoner here. You can’t just leave whenever you want.’

‘I expected that too.’

The atmosphere felt much more settled and relaxed now, my heart no longer raced looking at this man.

‘So is there anything else you want to know?’ Daxon asked me.

‘What happens to me now?’

He stood, gesturing for me to do the same. ‘Walk with me.’

We moved back to the main deck, and Daxon rested his hand on my shoulder as he walked beside me. Wes was still up in the crow’s nest, and it seemed Mamorhah had taken over from Korhal up at the wheel. Akaya was hanging on ropes, opening the main sail as a strong wind caught us. The captain called out an order for her to get the bucket.

‘You will live on this ship and pull your wait,’ the captain instructed. ‘This means chores and occasionally more important duties. Each morning you will train your combat skills with various crewmates, and hopefully in time you will be confident enough with a weapon to be of use to us in a combat situation. Tell me, can you read and write?’

‘Only a little,’ I admitted. ‘I learned the basics from my parents, but have hardly used it since I was six.’

‘In that case you will spend many of your evenings with Varen so he may teach you.’

‘But he’s blind.’

At once I was upon my knees, holding my right cheek in pain. Daxon lowered the hand which he had used to strike me, and offered it out to me. I took it bitterly as he pulled me back to my feet.

‘I do not wish you to think of me as a cruel man,’ the pirate said mournfully, ‘But I will not have the abilities of my crew be doubted, especially not Varen’s. He will teach you.’

‘Aye captain.’

‘You will also have some time to yourself, I suggest you use this wisely. With time you will become one of us, hopefully a fully-fledged member of this crew and no longer a prisoner, although if you step out of line at any point I will not hesitate to throw you overboard.’

Akaya returned a moment later with a bucket full of soapy water and a sponge. She laid it down, winked at me seductively, and disappeared again.

‘Now for your first chore!’ Daxon hollered. ‘Swab the deck. I want the entire main deck done by nightfall. I’ll have someone sent up every hour with a fresh bucket.’

I thought he was joking, but when he walked away doubt began to creep into my mind. I glanced around, feeling lost and confused.

‘It’s simple birdie,’ Wes called. ‘You have to use the sponge.’

I cursed him under my breath as I got to my knees and began scrubbing. Instantly my training from earlier began to take a toll on me as I leant over with both hands on the sponge, moving back and forth. It was exhausting, and after an hour it became tedious. No sound came aside the crash of the waves and the occasionally mocking comment from Wes up in his basket. My hands were beginning to wrinkle, and after another hour hunger struck me. Akaya appeared for the second time since I had started to give me fresh water, though said nothing. I had cleaned a significant portion of the deck when Wes climbed down from his tower, sniggering as he purposely walked across the area I had cleaned – mud still thick on his boots from the streets of Cranwell.

‘Do you mind?’ I called out.

‘Not at all.’

He smirked, making his way to the lower decks as Brongrim appeared and took his place up in the nest. I had to go back over the area where Wes had walked, and was starting back on the rest of the deck when he reappeared.

‘Oh, not this again,’ I sighed before noticing the bucket in his hand.

‘Don’t worry lad, it’s just your fresh water. And I snagged you some bread from the dinner hall.’

He passed me the bucket and what appeared to be stale bread, grinned, and disappeared again. I begrudgingly bit into the food as I continued working. After that Akaya continued to bring my water, and I measured how long I had been doing this by how often she appeared. She looked as radiant as ever, and as the only woman on the ship she definitely drew more eyes than just mine. My muscles ached and my sleeves were wet from the water, though true to Daxon’s instruction I cleaned the entirety of the top deck by the time he returned and the sun began to disappear beyond the horizon.

‘You did good lad,’ he commended. ‘Now come on inside and get something to eat.’

I followed him below deck and through some passageways to a dining hall. One long bench was stretched out with plates covering it. It was clear from the crumbs an abundance of food was once there, although all that remained was scraps. Wes was the only one still eating as he licked dry a chicken bone. Throwing the carcass onto the table, he stood and passed us as he grinned at me.

‘Eat up birdie.’

I sat, gathering the remains of the meal and shoving them into my mouth. Daxon stayed until I was done, sitting in silence all the while. When I was finished (though still hungry) he stood.

‘Get to bed Yodrick, you have an early morning ahead of you.’

He left, leaving me with only my thoughts and an unsatisfied hunger. I staggered back to my quarters and collapsed on the bed. Within moments my eyes were drooping closed without my consent and the only feeling was exhaustion.

They flew back open in an instant as a monstrous noise washed over the room – like thunder but louder. Everything shook, and commanding cries sounded from the hallway; all incomprehensible except one.

‘We’re under attack!’

What had I gotten myself into?