Pirates of The Am’aleh Seas

[Lady Scarlet]

"Of course, Mask. Nelson, take the wheel, please."

Nelson looked at Mask suspiciously. The older man did not trust people he did not know or whose faces he could not see. Mask fit both of those and Nelson did not like that at all. However, he took the wheel anyway without a word. He could speak to Scarlet about being careful of who to talk to in private later. As mush as he distrusted Mask, he doubted she would do anything to Scarlet so soon. He watched Scarlet as she moved away from the wheel and shielded her eyes with one hand as she looked up into the rigging.

"KONO!!"

"Aye, Cap'n?" came the man's voice from above.

"Mask and I need to have a private conversation. See to it that it stays that way."



Later, as the sun was starting to set, Scarlet left Nelson to take a shift at the wheel and went in search of Marcus. She knocked on his cabin door then entered. She closed the door behind her softly and walked over to the map strewn table, letting her hips swing seductively as she did.

“So, Marcus, have you picked out a nice hunting ground for us yet?” she asked as she tossed her hat to the table and leaned over the map.


Kono grinned and saluted, "Aye, aye, Cap'n. There's a spot over on the port bow that's private."

"Thank you, Kono." Scarlet turned to Mask and beckoned. "Shall we?"

The two women went to the spot that Kono had indicated. Above them, Kono kept an eye on the area and his fellow crewmates. He was close enough to stop anyone from getting closer, but not so close that he could hear the conversation. The captain had said private. If she'd wanted him or anyone else to hear it, she'd have invited him over. Their conversation was not very long and ended with Scarlet's laughter ringing out over the deck.

"Remember this, Mask," she said as she came out of their secluded area, "I may be a pirate, but I'm smart enough to know not to put my job in danger. Right now, I have a job that will end in me having my own ship. Perhaps if you lived on the sea you would understand more what that means to me. Have a good day, Mask. I have work to do."

She worked her way back up to the wheel and stood beside Nelson.

"Well?"

"'Well' what, Nelson? It was just a conversation. There's nothing to worry about. We just need to do our jobs and then we'll have a ship of our own again."

And I'll be damned if I let that woman mess that up.



Later, as the sun was starting to set, Scarlet left Nelson to take a shift at the wheel and went in search of Marcus. She knocked on his cabin door then entered. She closed the door behind her softly and walked over to the map strewn table, letting her hips swing seductively as she did.

“So, Marcus, have you picked out a nice hunting ground for us yet?” she asked as she leaned over the map.

[Amen]

By the time Scarlet let herself into the captain’s quarters, Marcus had procured for himself a bottle of something nameless but most assuredly alcoholic. He was mid-sip when she came in, and his eyes found her hips of their own accord as she crossed the room. He lowered the bottle slowly from his lips and swallowed audibly, and then forced his gaze back to her face to avoid getting caught.

You seem to be on the hunt already, he thought to himself. He tried, and failed, to think of that as being a bad thing.

“A few,” he said at last. “Ranger sympathizers seem to stick close to the shore south of the Niema as they approach Corone, so that they can slip into coves and drop off supplies without being noticed. Then they continue on to Radasanth or whatever port they please. Come daybreak we can either turn north and make ourselves look like an empty vessel heading toward Raiaera, or turn south like a friendly ship looking for a…”

Marcus trailed off as Scarlet innocently rounded the table with her eyes on the map as if to get a better look. Once she was on the same side as the templar, though, she sat herself down on his knee while simultaneously and delicately taking the bottle out of his hand to take a swig from it, and she draped her free arm around his shoulders.

He eyed her cautiously, now so close he could smell her, but she continued studying the map as if oblivious to him and the way he pressed himself rigidly back against the chair. When she finally deigned to look at him, he cleared his throat to speak – but even then, there was something dry in his voice.

“You shouldn’t mess with men bigger than you,” he offered lamely.

[Lady Scarlet]

Scarlet laughed and shifted to be a little more comfortable in Marcus’ lap. She took a long swig of the alcoholic drink. She wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but she liked it.

“Oh, but I like my men to be bigger than me. Besides, I'm well able to take care of myself."

Marcus relaxed beneath the pirate, however slightly, and politely took the bottle out of her hand again. "You've proven that," he admitted with the ghost of a grin, "but I didn't know I was your man." He took his own swig to water his throat, watching her from the corner of his eye all the while, and then he swallowed and said, "What are you up to, Scarlet?"

"Up to? Why do I have to be up to anything to want your company?"

She ran a finger delicately down the length of his arm, admiring the strength she could feel beneath the skin, to his wrist then took the bottle back for another sip. "Besides, wouldn't you like to be mine? At least for a little while?" She winked with a devilish grin. "I hate strings as much as the next person, but a little fun here and there does the body good."

Marcus suppressed a shiver at the lingering sensation of her touch, and hid the struggle by reaching to slip the bottle out of her grasp again. He swirled the liquid for a moment before taking another long drink, maybe to steel himself, and then he met her eyes again. "Ah, but strings don't concern me. What concerns me is knives, when I least expect them."

"Understandable, but here is where you need to understand the desperation of a pirate without a ship." She caressed his face softly with her free hand, turning him to face her as she looked directly in his eyes, "You have promised me a ship in return for my help in this silly war. Why would I jeopardize that by causing harm to my employer? If it makes you feel better," she added impishly, "you can search me for weapons..."

Marcus' gaze lingered for a long moment before he broke it with a dry chuckle and he hesitated in thought before taking one long, last drink. Maybe it was the alcohol or the heat - and it was getting hot in the close confines of the captain's quarters - but Scarlet thought she might have made the hardened killer blush. He lowered his arms to his sides and let the empty bottle drop and roll across the floorboards, and his eyes returned to hers before dropping to her lips where they stayed, and his voice dropped an octave when he said, "You don't hear 'no' very often, do you?"

"No, not really," she grinned and leaned in toward him, "Remember what I said earlier today about a kiss being only the start of how it felt to be at sea again? Perhaps you'd like to know what it really feel like?"

"Yes," Marcus said with shallow breath. "I think I would."

She leaned in closer and softly kissed him as she wrapped one arm around his shoulders and slid the other alongside his cheek. She shifted to be sitting sideways in his lap as she deftly traced his lips with her tongue.

He melted into her with a relieved sigh as their lips met, and then he began to search her for weapons. Thoroughly.

She moaned lightly as his hands searched. He would find only the daggers in her boots and the sword at her hip, but that was more than fine. She thrilled to his touch as their movements became more and more intimate and pleasurable. This was turning out to be an even finer first night back out to sea than she could have hoped for.

[Duffy]

Duffy’s night on the other hand was going considerably worse than expected.

“I hate fish…” he grumbled, prodding the mushy contents of his wooden alms bowl with a bent, almost useless fork. Having to sing, quite literally for his supper had been ungratifying and embarrassing enough. It was entirely his fault for daring to wager his stew, dumplings and beer on a game of cards. He could here the rest of the crew still laughing at his expense.

Being rewarded with everyone else’s slops was too much.

It had taken a fair few leagues, one too many over port side vomiting sessions and several hours of hard wood scrubbing to wipe the smirk off the bard’s face. The sea shanties and seagull calls had been endearing at first, everything he had come to expect from a life at sea from all the tales and scenes he had lived his fantasy through over the years.

Reality, however, was tragically different.

“I really, really hate fish…”

He scooped a second mouthful in, knowing that he would need all the strength he could scrabble together to conduct his little gambit. It tasted of two things; the first was a fine, grainy salt, the sort Ruby might have used on potato chips fried in garlic oil. It was a subtle resemblance to salt, though, one produced by nature and ground into the fabric of the sea itself. The second was sea salt, a crunchy, salty explosion on the tongue, both tastes caked in ice cold and bloody flesh.

The only thing that kept him sane was the sight of several other pirates, all equally as salty and bloodied as his supper sat huddled together in clichés in the bowls of the ship. With the night sky making labours impossible save guard duty and rigging, they had been allowed a few sparse hours to retire before dawn came and the needs of the ship called them up into the breeze. Though they had taken to his songs in the daylight, the night returned the bard to obscurity, and he remained silent, save his occasional grumbling, observing the others to try and pick out weak spots in the otherwise unbreakable loyalty to the new captain.

Marcus Book was Duffy’s crooked heel in a long race to victory. He had not expected him to appear, least not with such bravado and stoicism. He had witnessed the man’s performance, strength and guile once before, long ago. He had not pictured the paladin to be the pirate sort.

He piled in another spoonful with puckered lips.

They were far from the Cell now. Their next encounter would hold in the balance more than the title and glory of a thrilled crowd.

Out on the Am’aleh seas, they were going to fight for the freedom and fortunes of the Rangers of Corone.

Duffy would eat seven more barrels of fish to see that through to the end, Marcus Book or no Marcus Book.

[Amen]

Marcus woke in a strange bed with his head swimming, and laid still a moment to get his bearings. A warm body shifted against his, a smooth cheek rubbed against his bare shoulder, and the whirlwind of the last few days’ events came back to him. He guessed it was the very early morning, based on the anemic blue glow filling the room.

There was a distantly familiar and smile-inducing ache in his lower abdomen, and the room was full of the smell of sweat and sex. Scarlet. Through the haze of alcohol and deep sleep, he might have thought her a wicked dream, but his arms wrapped themselves around a blessedly real body.

The oil in the lamp was spent and the room was dark, but Book’s eyes gleamed and he saw everything the shadows tried to hide. That usually disturbed women that spent the night with him, but not Scarlet. There were white leggings draped over the back of the chair, and a feathered hat on the table. He vaguely recalled ripping something delicate, but that hadn’t bothered her either.

There was a small voice, deep in the back of his mind, full of warning, demanding apprehension and regret. It was hard to listen. When his hands started roaming, exploring, she woke with a quiet gasp, and that was only the first of many pleasant noises.

***

The sun was just breaking the horizon above Corone to the east when Marcus Book emerged on deck, and the sky promised an overcast and gloomy day. Book didn’t care. He was barefoot and naked from the waist up, letting the morning’s cool breeze dry the sweat from his shoulders.

Windlark was quiet, the deck sparsely crewed and the sea calm. The crow was ascending his nest with a spyglass strapped to his waist, and the man they called Nelson was giving the ship a thorough examination, starting with the anchor line. Marcus started in on his second apple of the morning, giving the ship’s functions a once over before turning his gaze thoughtfully out on the horizon.

Fulgar emerged from below decks shortly after, bleary eyed and dry-voiced, but his mind was clear and set – much to Marcus’ chagrin. “I took you for a smart man,” Fulgar said humorlessly.

Book sneered and waved him off dismissively, then took another bite out of his apple. It was sweet and the air was sweet and he liked the chill after the heat of his cabin. “The crew…” Fulgar began.

“The crew is mine,” Marcus said. “It’s your job to keep it that way. You know, speaking of the crew, something’s been bothering me. There was a man yesterday on the original crew. I feel like I know him from somewhere, but I can’t…”

“Ho!”

Fulgar and Marcus craned their necks to regard the lookout, who was pointing out north and toward the coast of Corone. “Ship!” he cried. “Anchored just off the coast, too far for unloading.”

“What colors?” Marcus shouted back.

“Corone. And Raiaera on the lesser!”

Marcus smiled hardly, tossed his apple overboard, and slapped Fulgar on the shoulder. “Wake the boys and get these fucking sails up before the sun is really out. We just found our first mark, and they're still in bed.”

[Lady Scarlet]

Scarlet waited a few moments after Marcus left the cabin before she rose from bed. She stretched and smiled to herself as she sat up. Nelson would not have approved of her antics over the last several hours, but he would get over it. She had greatly enjoyed herself and was confident that Marcus had as well. She pulled her clothes on quickly, donning her hat last as she stepped out onto the deck just in time to hear the flags called.

“Most excellent,” she murmured to herself as she quickened her pace. Already Fulgar was calling orders and she added her own.

“Run up Corone colors! I want to get in good and close before they realize who we really are! Kono!”

“Aye, Cap’n?” the man’s voice came to her from above as she made her way to the helm.

“What can you tell me about that lovely merchant?”

The Fallien native smiled, “That be it, Cap’n. A merchant. She be too far away to be unloading, but is sitting too low to be empty. Can’t see her weapons from this far away.”

“Let me know as soon as you can see how well she’s armed. And have my colors ready.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n!” the small called out as he disappeared back up into the rigging.

Scarlet took the wheel and turned the Skylark onto a direct course for the merchant. She aimed to get her ship just within cannon range. As they drew near, she ordered Nelson to tell the boys her rules for an attack.

Nelson took a deep breath and his voice boomed across the ship as he made the announcement.

“Listen up, lads! There be absolutely NO killing unless the Lady says otherwise. No one takes anything for himself. ALL loot will be divided up as seen fit by those that are in charge. In case ye forgot, that be Lady Scarlet and Mr. Book. Failure to adhere to these two simple rules will be result in the loss of your share o’ the loot and incarceration in the brig until we dock or the powers that be allow you to return to you duty. Now, ye scallywags, smile all nice like, we’re about to start ‘negotiations.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nelson,” Scarlet said as they drew alongside the other ship. “Mr. Book, would you care to begin the negotiations?” she said with a smile for Marcus.

[Duffy]

Duffy Bracken knew a thing or two about negotiations. There was a right way to do it, and then there was a wrong way. He, in keeping with his new found position as the lowest of the low, decided to keep his mouth firmly shut. He did not want to jeopardise the strangely enigmatic combination of learned warrior and boisterous pirate queen – they, despite his earlier reservations during the transition from beleaguered crew to steadfast union, were the perfect sort of tutors to educate the bard in the ways of the sea. He rested his hands on his hips, cocked his head to the breeze, and gazed out over the railing at the luckless ship they were swiftly gaining on.

“Not so sure about you, though,” he added with a mutter, turning back to the one named Mr Nelson. Whilst there was nothing particularly wrong with the dapper gentlemen that practically served as Lady Scarlet’s sword arm, voice, and all round manservant, anyone who put a dampener on Duffy’s vocational experience was going to be a thorn in his proverbial side. “If someone tries for me, and does not get the point of my riposte,” his smile faded, “accidents happen.”

One of the other crewmen overheard him, and tried considerably less to stifle his laughter. With a jostle and a reach, Duffy bumped fists with him, and smiled back at the toothy grin which only made him more confident things were going to go well in their supposed ‘negotiations’. Of course, just because they were going to go ‘right’, it did not mean there would not be a few twists and turns in the path to that success.

“You a new landlubber?” the pirate, seemingly well versed in the parlance of a sea going, continued to grin, as if he did not quite know what else to do.

Duffy shrugged, “I am new to this ship,” he lied. To justify his answer, he unsheathed his blade, and with a floral flourish, he twirled it through several accurate rotations before he tucked it back into his belt without looking to see where he was sticking it. The steel hilt flashed in the salty air, and the light of the prospective new future gave it vibrancy.

“What sort of ship ya from, then, mate?” the salty and tuna stained breath hit Duffy in the face, and he had to balk to step back out of the disaster area. “Pirate, slaver, or?” the wet, matted hair of the bard’s new ‘companion’ slapped against his neck as he cocked his head and rasped.

Duffy, thinking as quickly as he could on his already aching feet replied with gusto, “a ship that makes a show of itself to the world,” which, given the playhouse’s reputation, was as close to the truth as he could manage without shooting himself in the foot. “Now, let’s watch this show, what’s your name?” his accent began to fade, and the anachronisms of the pirates slowly wore him down into the street runner he had been in his youth.

“Jackson,” the pirate replied, resting his hand on the hilt of his cutlass, and turning his crooked gaze back to the approaching ship.

“Duffy,” the bard replied curtly, “of the Prima Vista.”

Jackson curled his lips into a fig like and soaked snarl, “I’m of whatever ship is blood stained and cutthroat enough to take a name from another.”

With that glittering title stuck firmly in Duffy’s now fearful throat, he remained watchful, and waiting, for the word of Marcus Book to set about a blaze on the deck of the Pirates of the Am’aleh sea’s new vessel.

[Amen]

Someone brought him his coat and his boots, and Book donned them right there on deck without taking his eyes off the Windlark’s prey. His thoughts, initially, were toward negotiations, and he did not think they would be difficult. The Lark was full of bloodthirsty sea dogs fresh from a long stint on land, and they looked it. There weren’t many merchant ships at sea in those days that could take in such a sight and consider the odds good, even during wartime.

As the merchant ship loomed larger and larger and the time for action came ever-nearer, Marcus found his thoughts drifting again toward Scarlet. Like any good fighter, he was thinking two or three moves ahead, and he began to foresee a troubling eventuality: The Windlark was over-crewed, and Scarlet wanted nothing more than her freedom. If they took this ship, she’d want to captain it. There was a morning in his future, not so far off now, in which he’d awake to find his lover and second ship gone before the sun came up.

Marcus let his eyes wander briefly over the crew, a mismatched and heavily-armed gang thumbing their blades and sharing a brief moment of camaraderie before the storm. Nelson’s words rang in his ears, voicing Scarlet’s preference to avoid bloodshed. If Marcus defied her wish and ordered the crew to slaughter everyone and burn the boat, he could buy himself time. She would be angry with him, maybe, but she wouldn’t have a choice but to stay. He could placate her if he had time, and there would at least be a chance for more sweaty nights and hair that looked like fire and smelled like saltwater. Book set his jaw, deciding his course then and there, and thought ahead to burying his face in her–

“Look alive! Port side!” Fulgar roared, breaking the reverie. “A second ship!”

A murmur went through the crew, and Marcus followed Fulgar’s gaze out to the port side. There was an islet there, in the middle distance, with a spine of tall trees, and from behind them emerged a manmade sea monster. At that time the Am’aleh Seas were a quieter place, largely free from Alerar-built cannons, but there were exceptions. In more prosperous years, before the civil war broke out, Corone’s assembly had seen fit to build hulking galleons – dreadnoughts armed with cannons to patrol the coastline. The second ship was one such galleon.

And it was flying Ranger colors.

“A trap,” Marcus muttered to himself. “It was a gods-damned trap.”

The merchant ship was close enough now that Marcus could hear her crew laughing and jeering as the galleon swung about, bringing its broadside to bear.

“Aidan’s Revenge,” Fulgar said bitterly. Only he and the lookout had eyes sharp enough to see the name painted on her side at that distance.

“Hard to starboard, Scarlet,” Marcus said, pointing in the appropriate direction. He struggled for a moment with the nautical terms, fighting an internal battle between the warrior, leader, and captain in him. The warrior won, and he abandoned any attempt at the correct parlance. “Steer away from the coast; take us out to sea at an angle away from them. Give them the smallest possible target and we might survive this. Maybe.”

Nelson was screaming for full sails, and the crew was scrambling, putting their blades back in their sheaths. Fear had fully replaced the thirst for blood in every one of them, and more than one man screamed when the first cannon fired. The first shot was short as the galleon was still too far off for any sort of accuracy. The second shot promised that the danger was still real, as the cannon ball soared not more than six feet overhead between the sail and the deck and bounced harmlessly off the water’s surface on the far side of the ship.

“Get your heads down!” Marcus shouted as he took stock of the situation. The Windlark was fast and Scarlet steered her well, but a steady rain of lead balls would follow them relentlessly out to sea, and the threat of a lucky shot was very real.

With a long stretch of sea between himself and his foes, Marcus Book was helpless, so he stood on deck seething, glancing between Aidan’s Revenge and Scarlet at the wheel, and he waited to see if he was going to live or die.

He decided he was making a bad habit of putting his life in the hands of a pirate, painfully alluring or not.

[Lady Scarlet]

Scarlet’s eyes widened as the galleon came into full view then let loose a string of curses as she spun the wheel hard. She heard Marcus’ orders for fleeing, but did not need them. There was no way the Windlark would stand a snowflake’s chance in hell against that monstrosity. She took no time to bellow orders to Nelson, or anyone else for that matter. He wasn’t her first mate just because he was like an uncle to her. The man was a good sailor and been sailing longer than she’d been alive. He knew exactly what she would do in a situation like this and she smiled as the older man’s orders started taking effect.
The sails billowed out and the Windlark began to show just how worthy she was of that name.

CRASH!!

Scarlet resisted the urge to look to see what damage had been done. Instead she kept her eyes focused on the horizon and how close the Aiden’s Revenge was to closing in on them. Her voice rang out across the deck as she called to her first mate, “Mr. Nelson, damage!?”

“Just railing, Cap’n!”

A relieved look passed briefly over her face as the news reached her ears. Railings were not nearly as important as the hull, masts, or sails. She glanced back and saw that ever so slightly they were beginning to pull ahead of the galleon.

Lady Luck don’t fail me now…

Gradually, the distance between the Windlark and the Aiden’s Revenge became so great that even the long-range cannons were falling short. However, Scarlet refused to let anyone relax until the Revenge was no longer visible.

Kono came down to hang on a rope beside her, “Cap’n? Cap’n, that galleon is gone. She couldn’t keep up.”

Scarlet nodded, grateful that they’d escaped. “Mr. Nelson!”

“Aye, Cap’n?”

“We can slow down a bit now. The galleon has given up the chase. We’re clear.”

A raucous cheer went up from the crew as each heard her announcement. Scarlet beckoned to Nelson, “Take the wheel please, Mr. Nelson. Mr. Book and I must figure out where we’re heading next.”

“Aye-aye, Cap’n,” he answered with a relieved smile and began bellowing out orders. Kono quickly went back up into the rigging, doing his share of work, while Scarlet went into Marcus’s cabin.

One thing bothered her greatly: They had been flying friendly colors, so what had given them away?

[Amen]

Scarlet found Marcus in his quarters, along with five or six other men of the crew in a bustle. Book was giving orders to each in turn, and by the time he finished with the last of them the first returned again, so that after ten minutes the number hadn’t changed.

“Did you find her?” he was saying now.

“No sir,” the crewman said. He was young, red-faced, wide-eyed, and sweaty. “We searched every inch, every crate, every corner, just as you said. Mask isn’t on this boat. A few saw her last night, and that was the last time as far as anybody can tell.”

Marcus was silent a moment, and spared the lady pirate a glance before giving his orders. “Tell the crew to pair off,” he said. “Every man is to have a partner, and will not leave his partner’s side until I give the order otherwise. Advise the men that if their partner leaves sight for more than a second, I want to hear about it.”

“And Mask, sir?”

“If anybody puts eyes on her, detain her where she is and call for me. And tell Fulgar he’s paired with Kono, I want him in the nest.”

The crewman gave a nod, motioned for the man he decided was his partner, and then removed himself from the room. Marcus doled out other less important tasks to the remaining men, and then sent them to find partners and get on task. The tone suggested he had a plan nobody would like.

“Everybody on this boat owes you a life,” he told Scarlet when they were finally alone. “And they’re going to owe you another before the day is out, I think.”

Her eyes asked the question, and so Marcus shrugged and went on: “I have Fulgar and Kono in the nest looking for that galleon, with orders to keep in touch with you and Nelson at the wheel. I want you to turn us around and catch up to it. I want to follow it home.”

She opened her mouth, but Book shook his head before she could protest. “We have a traitor on board, or we had one. They must have spent the night setting up a trap to make an example of us. Either it was Mask and she has some method of getting on and off the ship undetected, or it was somebody else and they dealt with her. Either way, the Rangers will be one step ahead of us if we wait. Aiden’s Revenge is a big ship, a dangerous ship, and she’d get noticed unless she has a lair – somewhere to hide. We’re going to follow her home.”

"And then," he said, "then we're going to steal her."