The Captain's Stand

  Book One

  Chapters 01

  The water brushed along the shore as a lone body slid onto the sandy sheets with the tide. There was a long green bottle clutched in his right hand while his platinum blond hair drifted with the water. His gloved fingers released the bottle and he pushed away from the soft sand. It held firm, leaving a vague imprint, as he pushed himself onto his feet. He touched the back of his head and winced slightly. His saltwater drenched hair fell onto his white shirt as he steadied himself. His eyes moved over the area the beach arched away from him on both sides curving around a large wall of green, trees, bushes, and weeds, that rose before him.

  “Water,” he moaned out as his memory began to return. A low shriek reached his ears and he glanced back to see a massive barge in the distance while a black cannonball rocketed at the shore. The man kicked up sand as his mind quickly recalled what had put him in this position as he scampered out of the harsh sun and into the green grasses that marked the end of the beach he had washed up on. He held up the bottle that had a role of parchment in it as he slapped his head in realization.

  With His memory quickly coming back his name was Richard and was forced into serves by the Pirate Captain by the name of Brendan, he had took his chance the night before he glanced back over the events of the past twenty four hours that led him to getting used for target practice

  “My loyal crew, I have finally achieved the notoriety and fame I deserve. I am now a Pirate Lord, and have tracked down the required knowledge. And on this island, I shall stake my CLAIM!” Brendan shouted. The sun was in his eyes as he tried to squint at the Captain; the man had a long yellow coat that ended past his knees with a white ruffled neck shirt and blue pants with a wide waist line that prevented him from buttoning up the coat. His gloved hands had three rings as well as cutlass trapped to his waist . The crew roared around Richard screamed as they raised their fist into the air but all he felt was a cold burning in his chest. Brendan snapped his fingers and a white flame roared from the Captain’s hand. “Soon, I shall take you all to the top. And with you, we shall plunder the world!”

  Richard blinked as his mind kept going over the events after the little speech of Captain Brendan. Richard had kept his head down and his hands moving as time slowly crept forward until the Captain retired for the night. Richard made sure he was close at hand;

  His hands dug into the side of the rail as he moved to the open window. Brendan walked in as he stripped of his coat and approached another man who was already sitting in front of the captain’s desk waiting for him.

  “Well, what are the losses we are going to expect?” Tuk said, the man was the first mate and sported a very deep tan with dirty blond hair and an anchor tattoo that covered his rather hairy chest.

  “Most of them. This island has a lot of challenges; fear mists, cannibals, sand pits, giant rats and boars the size of houses. Not to mention, a giant stone Gargoyle. The damn thing hordes the gold and heads of failed Lords. From what I gather, there’s a blood sacrifice to the Voodoo gods at each of these alters. And on top of all that, I can’t let a single crew member I don’t have full confidence in live after reaching this island. It took a lot of work to get this chance at power; I don’t want to be hunted down for letting some small-time punk get away with the location. Tuk, I need you to make sure we have at least forty men left. Any less and sailing the ship will be a nightmare. The rest, with an exception of about five are expendable.” The captain explained as he stripped of his gloves “Stenka, would have my head if word gets out,” He tossed the white gloves into a metal pan on his desk before they suddenly burst into flames and died out.

  “Bah, blood magic and voodoo, this was so much easier when we were just small time,” Tuk growled. “But to be honest, most of the men are here because we forced them to work.”

  “If I needed a reminder, I would have asked. I know, but I can tell which ones I can afford to lose sooner rather than later. Inform the crew, we are going to need to work fast.”

  “Well, what about the Gargoyle?” Tuk asked.

  “What about him? Leave that to the fool stupid enough to challenge fairy magic,” the Captain snapped.

  “A fairy?” Richard breathed, clapping his hand over his mouth when he realized his blunder.

  “That’s more valuable than all the gold in the kingdom,” Tuk said. Richard could almost hear the drool dripping from the fat man’s mouth.

  “What part of immortal flying stone creature do you not get? That thing is to be avoided at all costs. I am not going to add my skull to his growing collection. Now, have the boarding party ready. I need Jerry and William all ready and armed to the teeth. Tell them to expect heavy losses,” he said in a cold tone.

  “Aye, Captain,” Tuk replied stiffly, “What about our, less than willing navigator,”

  “Her,” Brendan said, “I didn’t want to bring her, her blood is worth more in a body still breathing, nothing to be done for it, as soon as we are off this damn island and find a replacement she will be the last loose end we tie up.

  Richard tightened his grip on the wood as he watched as the captain was left alone, the captain set a bottle down as he a fished out a sheet of paper and seemed to read. Richard leaned to get a better view. Richard watched as the man set the paper down before dimming the lantern and falling asleep.

  Richard took a deep breath and tossed his shirt over his back while he looked at the bottle. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and spit it out. “Tastes like freedom,” he quipped with a half-smirk. He shoved his finger into the bottle. “Come on, you stupid piece of paper,” he grunted, trying to wiggle it free. The sun bore down on his scarred back as he struggled with the bottle. He stopped, shaking the bottle upside down as a few shadows darted above his head. He lowered the bottle and glanced around. “I have no idea where I am, where I am going and I have no weapon,” he realized, looking down at his sandals and stained slacks. “And no idea why I am talking to myself,” he said slowly, taking a deep breath and looking at the bottle.

  He took the bottle and smashed it against a tree. A map fell to the jungle floor, “Well that solves both problems.” Keeping the now broken bottle in his right hand, he picked paper up and unrolled it. “Now then, the castle is in the center. Convenient, but where am I? Trees, lots of trees, dandy. Now, let’s see; five altars are here, nope. A giant tree, village of flesh eaters and a few mountains to the north. And then there’s a bog of fear around the castle. Nothing is ever easy, is it,” he grumbled, scanning the trees.

  The trunks were thrice his arm span around. The leaves all but blocked out the sun, only letting a little bit shimmer down. The trees echoed with the sounds of birds and insects. There was noticeable consistency to the low chirping and cawing. He turned around as he walked frowning as he looked at the sun, trying to get an idea of where he was but even that did little good, despite the unusual nature of the foliage it was all starting to blend together.

  He took a step but almost tripped. When he paused to glance at his feet, he almost expected a root or something like it. “That is not good,” he admitted when he realized that he tripped into a footprint that was a lot bigger than he was. “Giant rats, indeed,” he admitted. He glanced at where the tracks led to see a lot of broken foliage.

  He kept on his way, making a mental note to keep away from open spaces. He paused a few times, trying to get his bearings but the repeat did little more than reinforce his own confusion.

  “I wish Madison was here. She could tell me where the fuck I am going,” he grumbled, dropping his hands to his sides. “Okay, new plan: find some fresh water,” he told himself, rolling up the paper and slipping it under the red sash at his waist.

  He placed the bottle between his teeth an
d dug his hands into the bark of a nearby tree. With a flick of each ankle, he began to scale the massive oak. Each hand had to dig into the hard bark while he glared up at the canopy above. He didn’t dare look down or to the sides. The day dragged by while he continued to scale the tree. Soon, he reached a branch thick enough to walk upon.

  “Well, let’s not rush things,” he said, looking down. He wasn’t sure how high he was but a fall in any case would probably not be survivable. He pushed the leaves back, finally spotting the sun for the first time since entering the dense jungle. The sun reflected off the green leaves and a long lake that tumbled from a fall as it stretched along the horizon. He pulled out the map again; there was no river or waterfall on it. “This map is practically useless,” he growled, fingers tensing around the parchment. But he released a breath and rolled it back up. “And I got hit in the back of the head for the thing, what the hell was I thinking, cause my chances are not looking any better at this point. I should have grabbed Madison’s key, that would have been more useful.”

  He glanced down, noticing another branch not too far away. He backed up, and then broke into a forward sprint. His feet hit the branch and his arms pumped in time with his legs. He kept his pace with his eyes on the prize. His feet hit another tree branch. His footing slipped and he reached out, grabbing the branch his foot had missed. He hit the wood with a slight grunt. He took a deep breath, inhaling against the pain racking his body. Carefully, he climbed up and got back to his feet.

  Richard shook his head, taking a quick look around. With a bit less speed, he continued on for a time. With one last leap, he dove into the water. He surfaced, rinsing off the salt from the ocean. After a good shake of his head, he silently made his way to the bank and pulled himself out of the water. He leaned back over, drinking as much as he could. He coughed and relaxed after he had drank his fill.

  Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the waterfall nearby. He grabbed onto the rocks at the edge of the water fall, ready to be on his way, and began scaling up the wall rocks. After a few minutes, he found the top and slowly pulled his body up. He sighed heavily, rolling onto his back and staring up at the sun.

  “Sorry, sir, but you don’t have the required experience. However, if you are interested, we could set you up with the navy for four years and then hire you in,” a man said, giving him a bright smile.

  “No thanks,” Richard said, standing to his feet. “Thank you for your time,” he said, returning the smile. ‘Ass,’ he thought under the smile as he walked out of the office. He glanced down the street and stepped into the horse-drawn carriage.

  “Any luck?” asked Richard’s Grandpa. Richard remained silent, resting his elbow on the window sill. “I’ll take that as a no. Four years of college and three months of searching,” the older man said with a sigh. Richard looked up at his grandfather.

  “Not your fault. They just don’t want to teach me what it would take. If this keeps up, I may need to find a different line of work.”

  “I know,” he said, adjusting his powdered wig. “I wish your mother had not been so foolish. This would be so much easier if she had married. It would have made my connections a lot stronger,” he said, his fist tightening into a ball.

  “I could take up smiting, at least that would be respectable,” Richard offered.

  “Maybe, but if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I know someone who could use your hands,” he said.

  Richard looked up at the sun. That was the last time he had seen his family he had ended up working on a merchant ship which was a long trip to begin with. With a sigh, he got back to his feet not wanting to dwell on it. His pace this time was slow as he regained his breath and followed the river farther upstream.

  The water flowed along gently while Richard’s thoughts went back to his family. His grandfather, a middle class merchant of some standing, did not have the means to help him gain his own good standing. His Mom now on her second marriage and third child was having trouble with the older of his younger siblings and last he heard he had a second sister but he didn’t know much about her. He shook his head as he kept his eyes forward.

  He gritted his teeth at that thought but kept his pace stable. A few steps more and he caught sight of a massive castle. “And here I was hoping it would be a bit more manageable,” he said, releasing a sigh.

  “All hands on deck!” a voice cried. Richard dropped to his feet from his cloth hammock.

  “I need ma sleep,” he groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eye.

  “Pirates, they struck colors! All hands,” someone cried from on deck. Richard didn’t really remember any names or faces from his time on the merchant vessel.

  “I am a sailor, nae a fighter,” Richard protested.

  “Then learn,” another voice declared as a cutlass was thrown at him. It skidded down the stairs but the hard steel was a wakeup call nonetheless. The job was now a battle to live. Richard swung the blade, cutting the air as he tested the weapon. Bodies moved about while people packed powder and headed up the sails.

  Richard followed suit, holding the dull of the blade in his mouth while he checked knots and tied everything down. The sound of cannon fire filled the air. The ship shook from the impact at the hull. A barrel toppled to the side and began rolling away when Richard reached for it.

  “Tie it down!” an angry voice yelled and he glanced up to see the captain. Richard rolled his eyes at the comment but chased the barrel down. The ship rocked from the cannon fire, tossing Richard off his feet. It was deafening and dangerous as splinters and chunks of wood rained over the sea.

  A low creaking sound could be heard causing Richard to look at the main mast. His eyes went wide and he dove to the side in the nick of time. The mast crashed into the side of the ship, just missing him. Salt water showered onto the deck.

  “We can not repair that,” he whispered in horror while the pirate ship lined up with the merchant ship. “So I either die in a fight or take the long way out,” he said, closing his eyes as the boarding party began to attack. He grabbed the cutlass and got to his feet.

  Richard felt a shiver run down his spine as he pushed the memory away. “What I wouldn’t give for some company. I hate being alone with ma thoughts,” he muttered aloud. He couldn’t recall what had happened next on the ship. He remembered flashes of panic, swords and death. That was the day he learned what a pitiful fighter he was in any sense of the word. All he remembered now was that his blade had been easily knocked out of his hand and he had been taken captive.

  “Damn, it’s getting late,” he said, drawing himself away from his memories. He didn’t much care for dwelling on events like those. But he had learned a lot more on the pirate ship than on the merchant. He could at least hold a sword now without worrying about it being knocked away. “Shelter, this should have been a higher priority,” he grumbled.

  “Hello there,” said a cracked voice. Richard jumped, swinging the busted bottle around.

  “Oh, it’s only you,” he said, noticing a scarlet macaw. “You gave me a heart attack,” he said, relaxing a bit. The bird tilted it’s head to look at him and the setting sun reflected off of his pupil.

  “Run for your life. The fleshies are here. Yum, yum, eat ‘em up, eat ‘em up,” the bird cawed. Richard cocked his head in confusion. He heard something fly through the air and an arrow landed in a root near his feet.

  “Uh oh,” he said, freezing like a deer when he spotted half a dozen scantily clad men. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” he said, swallowing thickly. He held the bottle up, slowly starting to back away.

  “Eat ‘em up!” the bird cawed, taking flight as the six tribal figures broke into a run.

  “Shit,” he said, frowning as he bolted.

  Chapter 2 Making the Rounds

  Richard grabbed a waist high root and vaulted over it. “Aiiee!” came a war cry while another arrow sailed over his head. He raced past another tree, doing his best to weave around anything that could stop an arrow.


  “I have no idea where I am going,” he exclaimed , frowning when he remembered a comment about sand pits. “Curses! If I stop, I die. If I run, I die,” he growled, finally coming to a stop. He tightened his grip on the broken bottle. “Flight is out. Let’s try option two,” he growled, hunching forward and trying to make a smaller target of himself in case they still had arrows. The tribal men leaped down in front of him, a few with grass skirts, others with dirty pants and pirate belts. They had rusted swords and one even had a boarding axe. But they all some kind of painted mask with different expressions. “I instantly regret ma decision,” Richard thought to himself as the tribesmen began to spread out.

  They moved carefully, unwilling to strike first. Richard moved in time with them, careful to keep close to a tree. He made sure the tree was out of his way if he ever needed to pull back.

  “Keep calm,” Richard repeated under his breath. He needed to remain as calm as possible. With this many men out for his skin, a simple mistake would mean the end of his little rebellion.

  “Richard, you need to calm down.” “The world is a harsh place, Richard.” “Yeah, goodbye, kid.” “If I wanted your opinion, I would beat it out of you!” “Back to work! Roll your eyes again, boy, I dare ya!” “Thirty lashings!”

  He could feel the scars on his back tense under the skin, his old anger boiling inside him. “I will nae die here!” he roared, charging the closest man. A sudden scream seemed to stun them while he slashed the busted bottle at the enemy’s neck, spilling blood. His hand, on instinct, grabbed onto the spear he was holding. With an arm that relied more on luck than skill, Richard speared another of his attackers, pinning them to a tree while the remaining four charged forward. He grabbed the body of the first attacker and tossed it at them.

  Richard broke into a full sprint, snapping back branches in hopes of slowing down his pursuers. He leaped over another upraised root in his way. “I need something big and sharp,” he told himself while one of the natives dropped by his side. The native brought the boarding axe down at Richard’s head.