by James Dale
Jack got his first, real good like at Danos.
The man had the look of a hardened killer. He was tall and slim, with a hook nose, wild red hair and a drooping red mustache. A wicked scar ran from the bridge of his nose and across his left cheek. He wore a vest made of tough leather, leather trousers and bearskin boots. Like most of the pirates, he was armed with a sword and dagger. The crew waited expectantly for Danos to speak but he only stood there, a thin, cruel smile on his lips, muscular arms crossed on his chest. A full minute passed and he said nothing. Finally, Tarsus broke the silence.
"If there are no challengers?" He let the question hang.
"All right," Danos finally spat. "I'll play your game."
"Step forward and be recognized," Tarsus instructed.
Danos swaggered up to the front of the crowd as if the whole affair were beneath him. He threw a contemptuous glance at Braedan, then looked up at the Tarsus and said mockingly, "I, Danos of the Northran Steppes challenge this...man's right to serve as second mate. I challenge him to a fight for second mate! That is," he finished haughtily, "if he will accept?"
The long-awaited challenge brought a cheer from the gathered pirates. The shout also brought a smile to Tarsus' lips, though not a smile of mirth but the sinister, knowing, smile of someone who knows how to shape events. With one stroke he was about to remove Cullibranos last, most ardent follower and replace him with a man twice his worth.
Braedan looked at the smirking pirate, meeting his gaze eye to eye. The man was certainly an arrogant bastard. He hadn’t understood the man’s words, but his tone left little doubt of his opinion of him. Jack could tell by looking at him his self-confidence was likely well placed. But he was underestimating an unknown opponent, a mistake which might prove costly.
"Sabaid, Dorad?" asked Jack, never taking his eyes off Danos.
"Tha ‘an t-am an sabaid, Jack Braydaon,” Dorad nodded.
Braedan slipped off his katana and handed it to his new captain. Tarsus had presented his scars to the crew, so would he. He removed his shirt, handing it to Dorad. “This one,” Jack began, pointing at a bullet wound on his left shoulder, “I got in Afghanistan. I doubt any of you have heard of it, but it’s a hard piece of ground. A Taliban sniper shot me while I was passing out gum to kids. To kids! When I learn how to curse in your language maybe I’ll tell you how my team hunted him down and put a bullet in his brain. This one on my face,” he continued though, he knew they couldn’t understand him. “Is from a knife fight in a back alley in Jalalabad. He was an Al Qaeda bastard that made bombs to blow up shoppers in the bazaar. I stuck my own knife in the bastard’s ear. This one, well, it’s from a burst appendix when I was seventeen, but it looks pretty cool, huh?” he grinned.
Several of the Seawolf’s crew grinned back.
“Most of the rest of these I don’t remember,” he shrugged. “For a while there at the end of my career in Delta, I was bat shit crazy. That’s a technical term by the way. Maybe I’ll tell you about that over beers later, maybe not. What I will tell you, is that Danos,” he said, pointing at the red-haired pirate, “Will not give me another one. Nesta Danos. Not another,” he finished.
The crew shouted their approval, appreciating his bravado. They understood not a word of his speech but his actions were clear. He had many scars, but Danos would not add to that number. Braedan turned to Tarsus and accepted his katana back. He drew Hattori Hanoz’s blade and cut a few figure eights in the air. It was light and strong, made by a master smith when swords were the measure of a man’s worth. Nothing Danos carried would dull its edge. Of that, he was certain.
It had been many years since he'd participated in martial arts competitions, where rules and honor were strictly enforced to determine the more skilled swordsman. At his peak, no one in the dojo at Ft Bragg could touch him. His last spar with his sensei, Master Aikio, had ended with his defeat of the Japanese Swordmaster. Aikio had wept. Not from shame, but because a student had finally surpassed him. That had been several years ago now. In those competitions, Jack Braedan had only sparred with weighted, wood swords. He had never drawn blood with a katana until yesterday. The melee in the forest had been a chaotic flashing of steel and fist that Braedan had survived more on instinct and reflexes than practiced forms. Though Hattori Hanzo, the last samurai to draw his katana in battle, would have been pleased with his results, there had been not much skill involved. Jack did not know what form this duel on the deck of the Seawolf would entail, but he hoped to remember enough of Master Aikio’s tutelage to keep Danos’ blade from his heart.
Danos had watch Braedan’s display with undisguised contempt. The dog thought to impress the Brotherhood with a few paltry scratches? Like the rest of the Seawolf’s crew, the man from the Northern Steppes of Aralon could not understand his yapping. But the last part…the last part had obviously been an affront to his honor! And his Brothers had actually cheered! Bedegam was still grinning like an idiot beside him. He back handed the man from Galfrey out of pure rage, sending him reeling.
“I’ll not be showing you any scars!” He roared, turning on the crew. “I’ll be showing you this elf cur’s guts instead!”
Without warning, he wheeled and struck. The point of the Northman's saber flicked in at Braedan's face, aiming more to scar than slay, but Jack’s katana sprang up to meet it effortlessly. Then the ringing of steel and the lusty cheering of pirates filled the night air. The two combatants circled each other, a wild look of hate on Danos' face and grim determination on Braedan’s. Thrust and parry, slash and parry, went the two swords as they joined in a complex dance of death.
Danos fought like a hurricane, all rage and howling fury. Braedan’s movements were a chorographed dance of death. Attacks and counters flowed through him; The Lion Waking, Parting the Rushes, Wind Beneath the Branches. He quickly realized he need not have been concerned it had been so many years since his days in a dojo. In the first minute of the fight, he passed up the opportunity to kill the man twice. Danos, a veteran on many duels, soon learned he was up against a wall he could not breach. The Northman was not ready to admit defeat however, and redoubled his attacks in hopes of wearing his opponent down, knowing he had just come from a battle the day before. But his plan proved fruitless. He could not pierce the shimmering net of steel Braedan wove about himself. Danos knew the man would soon tire of playing with him, and then his life would be forfeit.
He was not mistaken.
With a move that stunned the yelling pirates into silence, Braedan caught a vicious thrust of Danos' saber on the hilt of his katana, and with a flick of his wrists, sent the man's sword sailing over the railing of the ship and into the sea. Danos jumped back amazed. He fully expected the man to advance on him now and send his head spinning after it. But to the surprise of everyone, Braedan tossed his curved sword to Dorad and wiped his sweaty brow.
"It seems I still remember a few things," he smiled grimly, turning to the red headed crew-man. "Yield Danos. I am Jack Braedan, oifigaer du Mara Maedha. "
"Thu na dhuine morde!" Danos shouted and spit at his feet. "Cuirdi mi-a mache chirdhe!"
He charged with a bloodcurdling yell, slashing out with his dagger, but struck only empty air as Braedan skipped lightly out of his path. As the enraged Northman went stumbling by, Jack caught him in a headlock with his left arm and grabbed Danos' wrist with his right hand. He tightened his hold, cutting off the man's airway, and twisted the pirate's wrist savagely, breaking bones. Danos dropped his blade with a strangled cry of pain.
"Yield," Jack hissed in his ear.
"Arrggh!"
"Now!" Jack shouted, tightening his hold even more.
Danos nodded weakly and Jack Braedan, the new second mate of the Seawolf pushed him away, where he collapsed on the deck in front of the crew. Relieved he had not been forced to kill the man, Braedan turned his back on defeated pirate and winked at Dorad. He did not see Danos reach down and pick up his dagger in his uninjured hand.
Dorad shouted a
warning as Danos charged at his unarmed opponent. As Braedan turned to meet him, a foot of steel erupted from the man’s throat. Danos eyes bulged, and his body stiffened. He collapsed with a gurgling sigh to reveal the wiry, black crewman who had spoken up for him earlier. The man sheathed his bloody sword and nodded his head at Jack, as the crew of the Seawolf erupted in cheers.
Tarsus elbowed his way through the cheering pirates to stand beside Braedan. For the second time in two days he had witnessed the man's unusual and deadly fighting skills. Once more, visions of gold danced in the barbarian's head. He bellowed an ancient war cry from the Amarian Hills and slapped Jack happily on the back.
"Are there any other challengers?" he roared.
"None!" shouted the entire crew of the Seawolf.
"Then you will have Jack Braydaon as your second mate?"
"Aye!" came the answer from over fifty throats.
"Jack Braydaon!" Tarsus shouted in the formal greeting of the Free Brothers of the Sea. "May you always have wind at your back and a deck beneath your feet."
"A drink!" someone cried.
"Aye!" laughed Tarsus. "This indeed calls for a drink!" and as impossible as it seemed, the pirates cheered louder.
"A drink! A drink!" they cried. "For Captain Tarsus and Jack Braydaon!"
As if appearing by some dark magic, a pirate shoved a cup filled with wine into Jack’s hands, and the celebration began. Two of the buccaneers lifted Danos' lifeless body from the deck and pitched him unceremoniously over the side of the ship. Three hours later, Tarsus and Dorad carried the unconscious second mate to his cabin as the remainder of the crew, those who were not passed out drunk on the deck, sang a song in his honor. Thus ended Jack Braedan's first day aboard the Seawolf, sailing on a sea beneath an unfamiliar moon, on a world that was either not his own or the product of his fractured mind.
* * *
"Sail!" came a cry from above in the crow's nest.
The shout brought Braedan back from his reverie. It was the first time he'd drawn dawn watch on the Seawolf, the first time he had stood any watch in the month since he'd boarded the ship. He had been thinking about many things, but mostly he had been pondering on how he had come to be the second mate on a pirate ship, sailing the oceans of a different world.
During the first few days he had had no time to stop and consider the impossibility of it all. The day after his fight with Danos for second mate, Tarsus and the crew of the Seawolf had started his crash course on anything and everything even remotely connected to sailing. With sailing lessons came language lessons as well. Jack had always been a natural when absorbing a new tongue. Most normal learners took three to six months to become comfortable with a language. But Jack Braedan was not like most “normal” people. In the full immersion of being on the ship with no other choice, Jack spent every waking moment learning new words, learning how to connect them into simple phrases and finally, after four weeks, could carry on a somewhat intelligent conversation with his fellow crewmen.
Heath, the Seawolf’s cabin boy, had taken to Jack, following him like a shadow. When he had learned just about all he could, or everything the crew was willing to teach him about sailing, Braedan began giving the young man lessons in kenjutsu to pass the time. Later, after watching him for a few sessions, Tarsus assigned three of the crew to him exclusively, and they joined Heath learning the Japanese style sword fighting. First there was one thing, then another to keep his mind occupied. He ended each day by sinking exhausted into his bunk and falling immediately to sleep, only to rise again the next morning for another strenuous workout in the hot sun.
Today however, was different. Today he had drawn the dawn watch, and that meant only half as much work and a period of scheduled rest so he would be alert for his duty. It had left him with time to think during the day and almost six hours during his watch. In that time, Braedan struggled with every possible angle to the question of what had happened to him.
He had come to accept the fact that he was not crazy, and for all practical purpose, he had been mysteriously transported to another world or dimension. In films or books, such a thing would portent some great purpose, some monumental quest. Yet, after his fight for second mate, life aboard ship had become so mundane, so normal, it was becoming boring. For the last month all he had done was learn a new language, how to rig sail, and navigate by unfamiliar stars. There had to be some reason, some purpose, he was here beyond learning how to live the life of a pirate, right? What it might be, he could not fathom. The only thing he could do was take one day at a time and meet whatever fate had in store for him. The only question remaining over which he had any control, was whether he could become completely and totally, a member of the pirate brotherhood. Could he kill innocent men for the gold, silks and jewels they carried on their ships, simply because the Seawolf was strong enough to take them? It was a question he had yet to confront. Apparently, that time had finally come.
"Slighe Raibertos?" Jack shouted at to the lookout. Direction.
"Gu port!" To port.
Jack raised his rifle scope, one of the few items he had carried with him into this world, and scanned the sea with eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the glare of the sun brightened waters. He spotted a white speck on the far horizon where Raibertos had said it would be. The ship was probably about twenty thousand yards distant. Over ten miles maybe? It was difficult to be certain on the sea.
"Comharraidhaen?" asked Jack. Markings?
"Gin cham bith a che." Answered the lookout. None I can see.
"Airgh in doigh seo?" Coming this way?
"Tha!" Yes, Raibertos answered with excitement.
"Thua tighinn chun a port, Laurel,” Jack ordered. Helm, come to port.
"Than," answered Laurel, the navigator Lars' brother, with a smile.
"I think we'll have a look,” Jack said, lowering his scope. “Things have been a little boring around here lately."
"Aye Mister Jack," Laurel grinned. "Turning to port."
"What have we got?" asked a voice from the foot of the quarterdeck.
Braedan looked down to find Tarsus. "It's a ship captain," Jack replied. "Wake before noon and you will see interesting things. We turn to meet her. Up for some excitement? You run a boring ship."
"Curse Dorad for ever teaching you the Common Tongue," growled Tarsus. “Cease your babbling for a minute and let me clear my head.”
"Aye, sir," Jack grinned. He had quickly learned Tarsus was never in a good mood in the morning, especially if he was hung over, until he had chewed out one of his crew.
"Where is she?" Tarsus asked. Braedan pointed to the distant white speck.
"She's headed this way," stated the seasoned pirate.
"Indeed.” Jack nodded.
"By the south breeze," Tarsus said, losing his broadsword in its scabbard. "I think we may see a little action before the morning's over."
Tarsus slapped Braedan on the back, then walked over to the ship's bell. It had been over four months since the Seawolf had seen any action and a month since Cullibranos' ill-fated treasure hunt. The crew had been growing more restless with each passing day. He had promised them riches and adventure, and all he had delivered so far was crew drills and a bit of fishing and swimming when the waters were calm. Tarsus had put out to open sea after leaving the Ailsantain behind. He had taken the Seawolf beyond any shipping lanes and driven his crew hard out here where there were no distractions. When he thought them ready, he slowly guided their path toward more traveled waters. After a month of nothing to do but train and grow restless, the Seawolf was ready to jump on any ship that crossed their path and pound out their built-up frustration. Hot blood raced through Tarsus' veins, and the battle lust of his barbarian race surged within his heart as he rang the ship's bell, summoning the crew. Seconds later the deck was filled with pirates.
"Dorad!" Captain Tarsus shouted above the milling throng.
"Aye," the man from Doridan yawned sleepily as he mounted the quarterdeck. "Wha
t's all the ruckus?"
"Would a bit of mayhem clear your foggy head?"
Dorad's eyes snapped open. He too had been growing restless. "That it would. Do we have a ship?"
"We do," grinned Tarsus. "Can you mark her yet?" he shouted at Raibertos.
The pirate squinted a few minutes more as the crew of the Seawolf waited anxiously below him. He opened his mouth once as if to speak, then closed it again and looked some more. Finally, he seemed sure of himself and replied, "She's flying the colors of Annoth or I'm a land locked dirt farmer."
Braedan whistled in admiration. Even with his scope he could still only make out a white speck on a vast field of blue. "Here,” he said, handing it to Dorad. “We have no need of it. Raibertos has the eyes of an eagle. "
"There are no sharper eyes on the sea," agreed Dorad. "Save perhaps those of Captain Alnordel Half-elven of the Laughing Dragon."
"To your stations lads!" Tarsus shouted, stirring the idle pirates. "We still have some time before she marks us, but when she does, I want everything ready! Whether she runs or fights, it will not matter today! She's ours! I can feel it in my bones!"
Tarsus had the colors of Annoth run up the mastline, a common ruse of the brotherhood. The banner was a white sailing ship, symbolizing their sea power, on a field of yellow, the color of their royal family. In the lower right corner was a golden sword, a tribute to the Highsword Seaguarder, lost to the depths of Aeralnen Widewater centuries ago. Although the ruse would be of little use once the ship came within hailing distance, it would serve its purpose until the Annothian vessel was too close to make an escape.
Pirates scrambled to their stations when Tarsus gave the order, and so did Jack. As second mate, he was the weapons master of the Seawolf and his duties required him to be many places at once. He ran to his cabin to don his scalemail and belt on his sword, then went below deck. Graybeard the Armorer was already passing out throwing spears and steel helmets. Leaving that to him, he began stringing the longbows that would be given to the ten archers who would be protecting the boarding parties. He also gave the men a quiver of twenty arrows.