A Pirate's Life For Me [solo]

The dream was always the same. The youth had experienced it enough times to recognize it as a dream, yet he could not escape its horror.

“You’re welcome to stay here, gentlemen, but please don’t harm me, I’m a widow alone-”

“Shut it, wench!”

The shout was not not nearly as heart-rending as the loud slap that followed. Marius’ older sister flinched, and their younger brother whimpered softly. The teen hugged his siblings closer and whispered as soothingly as his shaking voice allowed. The three of them had crowded into their little home’s tiny pantry closet. They could all hear what transpired in the next room, but only Marius stood tall enough to watch through the crack between door timbers.

Their mother stumbled to one knee and then tried to rise, but the big brawny man hit her again, with his fist closed this time. She wavered and then fell heavily, striking her head on the hard edge of the cedar chest where they kept their winter garments.

“Shite, Jonas!” One of the other criminals gasped, “ya killed her! This is how we ended up in this mess in the first place…”

“She would have tried to run away,” the wide man with the scarred nose named Jonas retorted. “We shouldn’t stay here. Worse for us if we’re connected with another killing.”

Marius sat up in his disheveled bed, feet hitting the coarse wooden floor as he wiped sweat and tears from his face. His heart stopped racing eventually, but the fire in his mind wouldn’t fade. He’d be seeking vengeance for the rest of his life, until he killed the men who slew his mother, or until they killed him.

The sickening crunch of her skull hitting the cedar chest echoed in his ears as he stood up and moved to the filthy washstand to splash some tepid water across his brow. A sliver of red sunlight bled through the window hangings. Marius dried his face and set about finding a shirt. His siblings would awaken soon, and they’d need to get an early start to earn enough coin for dinner.

The day hung hot and heavy in the scatterplot city of Lyridia. Marius and his brother Tobben lurked in the demi-shade of a dirty old building. They joked and laughed as sweat trickled down their necks, keeping an eye across the street at all times.

They’d settled on a corner where the poorer section of the city where they lived merged with a rich merchant neighbourhood. At least, it was “rich” for Lyridia. The disparity in the income of the two areas made the intersection an ideal place to panhandle.

They had long since discovered that their older sister, Eliza, got the best results when she begged passerby on her own. They’d tried every combination of the three of them on a variety of street corners, and found that more people approached a young woman alone. Unfortunately, not everyone approached her for the right reasons. That was why Marius and Tobben needed to stay nearby.

“Which vintage of wine should we sample this eve, Tobben?” Marius asked his brother in a snooty voice, feigning what he imagined a wealthy merchant might sound like.

“Oh, definitely the elderberry from the year Radasanth claimed Corone,” Tobben said, suppressing a giggle. “It will pair perfectly with the Raiaeran roast pheasant the cook is preparing!”

They both gave an exaggerated laugh and then tapped their fists together. Tobben’s smile faded first.

“I am hungry though, Marius,” the boy said sorrowfully.

“I know, me too. Don’t worry, we’ll make enough to eat tonight. Look; someone is talking to Eliza now-- SHITE, that’s her signal!” Their sister had just reached out a hand and scratched two fingers down the stony wall behind her, a prearranged silent call of distress. A big fat merchant was speaking with her, and edging closer with every word.

Neither youth hesitated. They each seized a broken stone from the streetcorner and took off like two arrows from a single bow.

Marius let his rock fly as soon as they entered the street. The sizeable stone glanced off the fat merchant’s shoulder, causing him to sway and leaving a dust mark on his otherwise spotless jacket.

The man whirled around as quickly as his portly form allowed.

“Get away from her!” Marius shouted as they crossed the dirt road’s midpoint. Tobben threw his stone so hard that he stumbled and nearly fell. It missed the merchant’s head by inches and shattered against the wall.

“Thayne preserve me!” the merchant gasped in shock, “I wasn’t-” he abandoned the notion of explaining himself and fled, waddling away like landlocked walrus.

“Are you okay, Liza?” Marius asked, crouching at her side. Tobben seized another stone from the street. “Don’t, Tobben.” Marius warned him, but the boy turned and wound up.

“Take this with you, stupid sack of lard!” he roared, and pitched the rock.

The merchant turned back just in time for the jagged stone to graze his temple. He let out a wordless wail, clapping a hand over the wound and disappearing around the corner.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Marius said, standing up and laying a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

The boy was still breathing hard, and trembling. “He can eat shite,” he muttered, and swallowed a big breath. “Eliza, do we have enough for a meal yet?”

“Yes,” their sister stood up, smiling suddenly, “that wicked man gave me a silver mark.”

“A whole mark!” Tobben gasped, “why would he do that?”

“I think he meant to have it back, one way or another,” she said delicately, sharing a glance with Marius.

“Nevermind that,” Marius gave his brother a playful shove, “let’s get something to eat!”

The siblings sat in the lee of a disheveled building and ate spicy meat pies they’d purchased from a vendor two streets over. As they consumed the hot food, the crowd of passerby thinned to nothing. The sun had reached the distant horizon, and although it would still be light late into the evening, Marius felt content and lazy.

“There they are, officer!” a familiar voice cawed, “those dirty kids robbed me!”

Marius looked up and saw the fat merchant approaching swiftly, backed by two guardsmen with short cudgels.

“Shite,” he breathed, and then added “run!” only slightly louder.

The siblings took off down the alley, skirting dusty debris and loose timber. The sound of the hustling adults chased them all the way to a tall fence. Marius leaped up and grabbed the top, hoisting himself high enough to see over the top.

“It looks safe,” he said, dropping back to the ground, “Liza, you go first!” He and Tobben formed a platform with their hands and helped their sister vault safely over the fence. “You next Tobben,” Marius braced his feet and put his hands together, “go on--”

Wham!

The air rushed out of Marius’ lungs as something struck him hard in the side. He felt bile rise in his throat as he curled up and sank to the ground, paralyzed by the pain emanating from his liver. A second blow from the cudgel clipped his shoulder as he fell, knocking him down in the dirt.

“No!” A distant voice shouted. It sounded like Tobben. “Get away from him, bastards!” A scrabbling sound echoed across the alley, and then Tobben cried out in pain. Three adult voices mingled over his for a moment, and then there was only silence.

Footsteps retreated as Marius’ vision cleared and he began to get some feeling back in his legs. His side still throbbed where the first cudgel had landed, but he no longer felt the rising urge to vomit. He rolled over to try to push himself to his feet.

“Tobben…” his younger brother was laying in a growing pool of blood, eyes glazed over. Poisonous tears carved furrows down his cheeks as he gripped the boy's hand and whispered his name over and over. It did no good. They’d killed him.

“I’m sorry Marius, I can’t stay here any longer.” Sadness swelled in Eliza’s voice, but her lips formed a resolute line.

“You’re going to leave me alone?” he asked, more horrified than surprised. He’d lost his mother and Tobben in Lyridia, while living in that damned little house. How could he possibly stay on his own?

“You don’t have to say,” Eliza said, seeming to read his mind, “you can go anywhere. You could come to the floating city with me, maybe even find work as a groundskeeper at the Sisterhood chapter house.” She reached out to touch his shoulder. “I know it’s not an exciting life, but it’d be safer and better than what we had here.”

“Here we have each other,” he flinched away from her and took a step towards the door, “up there you’ll only have your gods. Go suck Y’edda’s tits then,” he swore, “I need a drink.”

“Marius,” his sister scolded as he stepped outside, “you know I don’t like you spending time with that--” her final word cut off as he slammed the door.

The youth trudged through the muddy streets, a light autumn rain slicking his hair and dropping a chill down the small of his back. Marius shivered as he reached the fish-smelling wharf and slipped into a tavern called Freebootin’ Al’s Folly.

None of the patrons took particular notice as he wound his way through the teeming tables to the bar at the back of the room. Although he was the youngest man there by a good few years, they still considered him a man.

The bartender gave him a curt nod and reached backwards to rap on the office door before returning to the never-ending task of washing tankards. Marius settled himself on a stool and sighed, elbows rested on the bartop. His face sank into his palms and he rubbed his temples in rough circles, trying to feel something other than overwhelming dismay.

“Ahoy there laddo,” said the only voice he wanted to hear, “what be yer’ troubles today?”

The former pirate beckoned to the bartender with his oaken cane. “Trevor, be a prince and pour young Mari a tot of grog. He looks like he could use a double!”

The bartender gave his boss the same curt nod he’d shown earlier and passed Marius a small but brimming horn of the sweet, spicy, watered down liquor. The youth tipped his head back and drank the beverage in three long gulps.

“Ahhh,” he gasped as the grainy cinnamon and coarse rum stung his throat. “Thanks, Al.”

Freebootin’ Al smiled until his eyes twinkled and his gold teeth shone. He slid a scarred hand down past the handle of his cane, which was carved to look like a figurehead in the form of a curvaceous woman. In a practiced motion he must have performed a million times, the buccaneer hooked his peg leg with the cane and hefted it up on a footstool as he sat in a padded chair.

“Yer’ always welcome here, boy. Now load yer’ troubles up and shoot ‘em out that canon yeh’ call a mouth!” The tavern’s proprietor twisted around and pulled a pitcher of grog off a low shelf, foregoing the need for a tankard.

Marius sighed again, suddenly wishing he had something left to drink. Rather than meet his mentor’s gaze he looked at the faded sifan finery the former pirate still favored. As he had done many times in the past, he poured out his problems. The one-time corsair listened, nodding sagely from time to time.

“... what do you think I should do?” Marius finished, feeling like he’d spilled his guts.

“Listen and listen well me laddo’,” Al was busy rolling a cigarette in his palm. He popped it between his lips and produced an Alerian fire-starter to spark it alight. “If there be one thing every young man needs, it do be adventure.”

“Adventure?”

“Aye,” the wizened man tapped his cane on the top of the bar, “now then, don’t think I gave yeh’ that grog for free. It’s time to sing for yer’ sangria, boyo!” He shouted the last sentence, and a small cheer went up from some of the regular patrons.

Marius sighed, but their deal had been established long ago. He drank for free so long as he performed the sea shanties Al had taught him. He stepped to the small stage in the corner of the room and picked up a lute from its stand, tuning it with deft fingers and humming the tones to warm his voice.