by Travis Smith
Bernard scoffed and turned away, rubbing his eyes and pacing the deck maddeningly. “Our blood?” he shrieked. “Our filthy, tainted, royal blood. You disgust me. All of you. A brother from birth, yes, but you were to inherit the throne! You were to inherit the kingdom! You got the beautiful wife and the lovely royal son who one day too would inherit your birthright! And what of me? What of Bernard, a first-born, but bastardized at best!”
“Son,” Diana chimed in. She had not addressed Bernard so since he was a troubled, withdrawn juvenile. She obviously only intended to try and help the situation, but her efforts were tragically misguided.
Bernard snapped and lunged himself at her. “You have no idea who I am!” he spat in her face. With that, he turned and drove the giant sword across Robert’s throat, sending a jet of blood forth to the ship’s deck and a series of cheers into the night sky. The pirates’ glee was outmatched only by the wails of misery and disbelief from Diana.
6
The Stranger looked on in shocked, silent horror as his father’s head lolled and body collapsed into a pool of his own blood. Robert Vaga, the king-to-be, lay slain at Bernard’s feet, lost at sea on a stolen slave ship, impossibly far from his castle by the sea.
Diana choked and sobbed until The Stranger thought his head may implode.
“Set fire to the sails,” Bernard said calmly as soon as his men finished cheering his murderous deed. The pirates hastily obliged.
The Stranger hung his head and closed his eyes tightly, mind reeling as he imagined his father’s blood pooling around his knees and his wife and son being thrown into a cell on The Baron’s ship nearby. I have to get my son, he thought remotely.
“You will watch,” Bernard said, lifting his brother’s head with the tip of the White Sword.
The Stranger stared into Bernard’s face, hopelessly pleading with him in silence.
“Bootless old thing,” Bernard said, eyeing the large blade, soaked in the very blood that had forged it so many generations before. Without a moment’s pause, he thrust it into Diana’s gut, turning her dismayed shrieks into gurgling gasps for breath. With that, he tossed it across the gap and onto his ship, where it landed with a dull clang.
The Stranger’s chest heaved as he watched his mother collapse in the light from the growing blaze of the sails behind him. He looked to Bernard with broken, tearful eyes. “Brother, please.”
The three chuckling pirates behind him stepped away and let go of The Stranger’s arms, but they only fell uselessly to his side.
“The boy will grow to know me as his father. Laura will fulfill my needs and wishes until she makes herself too bothersome,” Bernard said with bored finality. With that, he drew a short-barreled blunderbuss from his waist tie and fired it once into The Stranger’s chest.
7
The Stranger awoke to a brain-scorching, blinding brightness and crippling heat. He glanced around frantically, his eyes absorbing no signals while his pupils struggled to constrict against the brilliant sunlight.
While he could see nothing but white light and wavering heat that could only be the amalgamation of the Christian Heaven and Hell, his chest was searing with nearly unbearable pain, and his bruised and battered head was stinging in waves that waxed and waned with his wavering consciousness. It was this stinging, though, the stinging of razor-edged sand in fresh wounds that opened his eyes and ears to his whereabouts and to waves that weren’t solely the ebb and flow of his consciousness.
A beach. But how had he come to be so damaged and in this vulnerable position on his hands and knees in the sand?
The waves crashed seemingly all around him, and despite still being blinded by the sudden sunlight, the source of which seeming mere body-lengths away, he was inclined to believe he’d been shipwrecked and thrown all this way in the midst of a violent maelstrom. And was that screaming he heard in the distance? If this situation were life-threatening, he’d likely be slain from the rear before his eyes allowed him to see his blood-soaked hands that swam inches from his face. And who would protect his family then?
Then he remembered. He thought, not for the first time, I have to get my son.
His brain was again flooded with deafening sounds and startling images of his past flight: the narrow escapes and risky defeats of evil and mythical creatures set against their getaway by the souls of the evil dead; the feel of his wife’s embrace during times of woe and elation; the cries of his infant son as he was unfairly brought time and again into and out of harm’s way; the kind and loving support of his mother along the way; the invaluable assistance of his father’s warrior instincts; the wails of anguish from his mother as her husband’s last breath was stopped mid-exhale …
His last coherent memory was of his own death.
Chapter 15:
The Final Straw
1
Eugene had just sat down for breakfast when he heard a knock from his cabin door. He stood unsteadily from his chair and hobbled over to the door to find Maria Vilsen and Robert Forlo standing outside. The old man opened the door and stood in a sternly expectant silence.
“We’re very sorry to bother you, sir,” Maria began.
Eugene grunted in acknowledgment.
“But have you heard from John?” she continued. Robert stood silent and expressionless behind her.
Eugene raised one bristly eyebrow but said nothing.
“We fear he may be in danger,” Maria said. “He came to us for help. We went to meet him last evening, but there’s no one in the jungle between here and the ship. We fear that he may be captured.”
Eugene closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh. “Come in,” he said. “Tell me yer tale whilst I eat me victuals.”
2
“John came to us seeking our aid in rescuing that … The Stranger. The man who came here from Reprise,” Maria said.
Eugene nodded and held a small melon up to his guests.
Robert shook his head. “Thankee,” he grumbled.
“No, thank you,” Maria said. “We were to rendezvous alongside the trail that leads out to the beach from this your cabin, but we walked the entire trail and back, and there is no sign of anyone.”
“What was to happen at yer tryst in me jungle?” Eugene asked.
“Well, I’m not sure,” Maria admitted. “John was the one with the plans.” At this, Eugene smiled ever so faintly. “We made him a large ladder and placed it up by the falls, so we think he plans to lure the pirates into a dead end there with that … that monster.”
“’Tis not a monster,” Eugene said pertly, looking up from his small bowl of sliced fruits, “and ’tis not to be trifled wiv. Come.”
He stood from the table and leaned onto his knotted old cane.
“Oh,” Maria said, she and Robert following suit.
“Lead me where yon ladder’s hid.”
3
Maria and Robert led Eugene from his cabin and off the trail into the thicket. The going was slow, as the old man travelled at a sloth’s pace on his cane, especially uphill through the densest regions of the jungle. When the sun had just risen above the horizon, the trio heard a rumbling roar as the punisher beast awoke in the distance. Maria glanced uneasily at Robert, but Eugene gave no indication that he was concerned.
Moments later a cacophony of shrieks and crashes echoed throughout the jungle. Maria stopped in her tracks and glanced back at Eugene.
“Get on!” the man urged. “I’ll find me own way.” He flapped his hand at the pair, who promptly took off sprinting up the hill.
4
By the time Maria reached the ladder, a small group of pirates had made their way along the top of the cliffs and were looking down at the clamor below them. She couldn’t see what was happening beneath this towering tip of the ridge, but chilling screams of mortal agony were emanating from down below.
Ten pirates stood before them, each with their back to the couple. Maria nudged Robert and pointed to two of the men who were farthest from the ladder.
He nodded in understanding and drew his sword.
Robert, a large, burly, bearded man with a quiet disposition sprinted with an even more unsettling silence. Even if the chaos below were halted, the men would never have heard him coming. He collided with one pirate from behind sending him sailing over the edge of the cliff and into whatever horrors were waiting below. Without missing a beat, he swept his leg under the feet of the next nearby man, bringing him back upon his rump, sword still hanging uselessly at his side. Rather than gutting the vermin, he shoved his boot into the man’s side and sent him too tumbling to his gruesome demise. By the time he reached the third pirate, the group had realized what was happening and began drawing their weapons, but the third pirate was too slow. Robert’s blade struck his before he could lift it and steel himself for battle. Robert swung his arm in an outward arc and sent the man’s weapon spiraling off into the abyss. The unarmed pirate stared wide-eyed at his assailant while his comrades rallied behind him. Before they could unite, Robert sank his blade into the man’s gut and flicked his collapsing body over into the abyss.
Maria made a mad dash for the ladder while Robert distracted the crew. She would have to hurry so that she may help her love before he was overwhelmed. He’d already taken care of three men by the time she reached the ladder and lowered it to John Tompkins, who shouted, “It’s here!” to the silly man he was hell-bent on rescuing.
Maria glanced at Robert while John yelled for The Stranger to follow him up the ladder. Robert was retreating into the denser areas of the trees while the seven remaining pirates encroached on him.
“Hurry!” she called down to John and The Stranger, whose blade was locked with another pirate’s down below. “A few of them are still up here! Robert can only hold off so many!”
5
When they heard her voice, two of the pirates turned to face her. One nudged another next to him, and the three broke away from the group and raced toward her.
Maria retreated to the tree line to lead the men away from the ladder. As they approached, she swung her blade high and ducked nimbly behind a large tree. Pausing a mere moment, she crouched and twirled low, close to the ground, around the opposite side of the tree, effectively flanking the encroaching men and slipping her blade into one’s side. The man groaned and fell to his knees as Maria stood back upright to face the one remaining man before her.
She gasped and glanced around in search of the third man, but the pirate in front of her swung his sword in a downward arc. It crashed into her own and brought her to her knees.
“Ye highfalutin’ bitch!” the man growled as his mate fell at his feet.
Maria looked to her rear to find John Tompkins at the top of the ladder, leaning forward to help The Stranger up. The third pirate approached him slowly from behind.
“No!” she yelled, standing up from her knees. She ripped her blade back from the pirate’s before her and spun in a furious circle, crouching again as she twirled and arcing her sword upward across the unsuspecting pirate’s chest, his blade still held high at the ready. “Look out!” she called to John as the pirate stumbled backward, swearing and profusely bleeding from the long gash across his chest.
But it was too late. A pirate behind John drew his cutlass and buried it deep within the man’s side.
6
Maria reached John’s murderer before the simpering fool had a chance to turn and face her. She crashed into him, sending his sword flying, and her momentum carried them several steps away until they both collapsed atop a boulder and went rolling down the slope on the other side, finally coming to a stop in the dense brush.
“You bastard!” she screamed at the unarmed man on his back in the underbrush. The shit-eating grin had been wiped from his murderous face, and he held his hands in front of his face in an attempt to protect it from Maria’s assault. She threw down her own weapon and leapt upon the man with her bare hands. “You just murdered a good man!”
Tears stung her eyes already as she brought both fists down again and again against the man’s face. His hands absorbed some of the blows, but not nearly enough.
Blood flowed from the pirate’s nose into his thick, matted beard. “Ye ditzy bitch!” he croaked, spraying blood from his bleeding lips.
“You worthless, oppressive, diseased plague!” she screamed, pounding her fists into his face with each insult. The man eventually grew faint, and his arms dropped to his side, leaving his face unguarded to the attack.
But Maria did not stop. She wept and spat abuse and swears until her hands bloodied and her tears and snot dripped into the mess beneath her. The pirate’s head turned to a squishy mass of broken bone and gore, and still Maria pounded away.
7
Eugene crested the hilltop to find Maria kneeling and weeping by the ledge and Robert consoling her as much as the standoffish man could. He sighed, as he knew very well who lay beneath them. He glanced around the clearing once and found naught to his surprise.
The Stranger was nowhere to be seen.
“Get ’im to me cabin,” Eugene said as he approached from behind. “The man still breathes. I got all ye’ll need inside.”
Maria glanced up, her face streaked with blood and tears. “But it’s too far,” she lamented. “He’ll never make it.”
“Go!” Eugene growled. He never took his eye off the distant horizon, though obscured completely by the trees. He knew precisely where The Stranger had gone.
8
The Stranger looked up when he heard footsteps coming out of the nearby trees. He’d come so close! Just a few more moments of untying, and he could be on his way. He couldn’t afford another setback now.
Eugene stepped out of the thicket and leaned upon his cane in silence.
The Stranger put his hand on his sword and glanced up and down the shore. “Are you alone?” he asked at last.
“Think on what yer doin’,” Eugene said.
“Don’t ignore my question,” The Stranger demanded. “I am no longer your prisoner, and I will not be subject to your maddening riddles. Stay out of my way.” He stepped onto the dock and drew his blade.
Eugene hobbled forward as he spoke. “I made a mistake lockin’ ye up ’n such a way.”
“Apology accepted,” The Stranger growled. “Now stand back.” He swung the sword and sliced through the hawsers, deciding he couldn’t spare the time to untie them all at this rate.
“Ye cain’t leave like this. Ye’ve a quest o’ great import.”
“I have been kept here far, far too long,” The Stranger warned, holding his blade in an outstretched arm. “Do not try and stop me.”
“I must do me very best,” the old man said apologetically. His lips worked tightly beneath his long white beard, and he grasped his cane with a second hand, clearly debating what actions he was prepared to take.
“Do not!” The Stranger warned. Light tears of frustration stung his eyes. “Believe me when I say that I will slay you, old man. I will find my son.”
“Ye’ll never find ’im in this state. Ye’ve good in ye, I c’n see, but yer soul’s black as the bottom o’ that sea.”
The Stranger shook visibly. His sword’s tip was nearly touching the old man’s beard.
“Ay’s a man back ’ere,” Eugene turned and pointed his cane shakily back toward the falls, “a man who’s schemed fer ye, who’s fought fer ye, ’n’ now who’s died fer ye. Ye left ’im fer dead, when ye’s the reason ’e lay slain t’ begin with.”
That was it. That was the final straw.
The Stranger dropped his sword and shoved the old man backward into the sand. He wrenched the cane easily from man’s grasp and tossed it as far as he could along the beach. It took every ounce of will not to bash the man’s head in with it.
“He died because of you!” The Stranger roared. “You think I asked for any of this? I didn’t ask for my family to be slain! I didn’t ask for my son to be taken! I didn’t ask for my kingdom to fall in the first place! Since I awoke on this cursed is
land with a musket ball in my chest, I have been beaten, chased, imprisoned, drugged, and traded off to another band of pirates by you, and I didn’t ask for any of it!” He pointed into the distance. “I don’t know that man, and he does not know me, but he went far out of his way to see that I made it to this shore safely, and it seems that you want to let that be in vain!”
Eugene lay wide-eyed and fearful in the sand. The Stranger reared a fist and thought better of it before planting it squarely in the geezer’s mouth.
“And something tells me you sent John after you sold me off to a crew of pirates.” He dropped his hand to his side and stood back up. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, old man, but if you try to stop me again, I will end your life.”
The Stranger turned, cut the final rope binding his new boat to the dock, and pushed the vessel off of the shore.
9
The Stranger ignored Eugene’s babbles as he drifted farther and farther out to sea. The old man hobbled upright and crawled his way over to retrieve his cane to stand fully erect.
“Yer damning yer quest!” the old man yelled as The Stranger stared stolidly at the distant horizon.
The morning sun was suspended above a fiery red sky. Somewhere amidst those flames lay the ruin of his kingdom. A desolate dystopia run by Baron Bernard. A shell of his city in which he hoped to soon reclaim his wife and son.
Eugene limped frantically up and down the shore, imploring The Stranger to stay his quest and return. “Ye’ll never find yer son!”
I have to find my son.
The Stranger sailed into the horizon, free at last, free in this new life to begin his quest and rescue his family. Eugene’s ravings grew fainter and fainter until they were naught but empty tones echoing across the ever-expanding distance between them. The Stranger thought he could make out one last warning, whisking softly into his ear like the murmur of a loved one in the dead of night.
“Ye’ll end up in Hell!”
The Cave:
Final
You will suffer an eternity in this blackness.
The Stranger closed his eyes as the tar reached his chin. His arms were suspended above his head as he sank. When the substance reached his lips, he breathed one last deep breath and thought of his son.