The crew partied on the upper deck for hours, seemingly with endless energy. There was plenty of shouting and even some music from one less-than-talented performer.
“Oh, how I yearn to have a bit of grog myself,” lamented Augustus.
In the early morning hours, the party had finally died down, revelers passed out where they lay in a drunken stupor. While the crew was enjoying themselves, Robert had been bored to death while stowing away in the crate.
Robert had been experimenting with his abilities; his powers seemed to come from a mental projection of his will. He had managed to mend his shattered arm by returning his bones to how he remembered them.
He had also discovered he could control temperature, creating ice and fire at his fingertips, the latter of which nearly gave away his position.
When he sensed the party dying down, he left his position to explore the ship and understand where they might be headed. He stealthily entered the ship and found himself in the captain’s quarters.
There lay a large, bearded man with dark hair, his burly chest hanging out from his long coat and unbuttoned blouse tucked into his breeches. He snored loudly, a half-filled mug of grog clutched tightly in his massive hands. Robert was awestruck at the sheer scale of this specimen.
Augustus ran from Robert’s shoulder onto a table strewn with scrolls and maps. Most of the names scrawled on the maps meant nothing to Robert, except for Freistadt, to which he had no intention of returning anytime soon.
“Those ‘r well drawn ain’t they? I owed that cartographer a pretty penny for his work,” Robert jumped and the loud booming voice from earlier appeared behind him. A giant hand appeared and clamped down on Robert’s shoulder, freezing him in place in fear and surprise.
“You ain’t one of my crew, none of them r’ stupid enough to try and sneak up on their cap’n. None that ‘r still alive anyway,” said the booming voice. A blade was pressed into Robert’s spine.
“I don’t want any trouble,” Robert said shakily as he raised his hands in the air. As he did, the fabric from his armor was pulled back to reveal his skeletal wrists. The large man snatched him by the hand and pulled it to his face to inspect Robert’s hand. His large hand moved to the makeshift mask wrapped around Robert’s head and plucked the cloth off brutishly.
“A dead man stowed on my ship? Usually, that doesn’t happen after we set sail!” He bellowed a hearty and nearly deafening laugh.
Robert needed to escape. Focusing his thoughts, he heated his own hands and set them aflame while roaring with all his strength. He grasped the man’s hands while pouring all of his undead fury into the man’s body..
“I’m sorry, you tryna do something?” said the large man with a chuckle. Robert looked back at his captor in wild confusion.
“I like the fire trick, buddy! Too bad for you I’ve had these hands chopped off and sewn on more times ‘n I can count, which admittedly ain’t much.
The large man threw Robert on the ground, leaving him to fall square on his ass while sitting stunned and in pain. The large man took his saber and slid a wooden chair over to Robert and took another from himself and sat down. He leaned over and dropped his voice to a softer, but commanding tone.
“Take a seat, Dead Man,”
Robert stood up shakily and sat upon the expertly crafted chair. He had to admit, he had gotten a bit cocky following the last few encounters. It felt like he was finally starting to grasp his new powers, and suddenly, an opponent came, entirely immune to his tactics. He was floored.
“What‘r you doin’ in me quarters?” asked the large man.
“I don’t want any trouble,” Robert said, avoiding eye contact.
“Trespassin’ is a funny way of avoiding trouble,” he leaned in, grasped Robert by the mandible, and glared into his eye sockets.
“One more time,” he said threateningly “What r’ you doin’ here”
“I’m just trying to figure out who I am,” said Robert quietly.
“And the answers ‘are in the same room where I keep me knickers?”
“I wanted to see where this ship was heading,”
“And yet you neither work for me nor do I have the gold for your passage,”
“I’m… sorry. We were desperate to escape,”
“We?” The man raised a curious eyebrow and sat back, releasing Robert. Robert sighed and took a moment before speaking again, realizing his slip.
“My friend, Augustus. He lost his shop when the Knights burned it down and he fled with me,”
“The knights? Haha! I know who you are now!” He bellowed another hearty laugh. Robert flinched. He grew exponentially nervous, he didn’t know much about being dead, but so far he learned the world at large would prefer he remain that way.
“The Knights plundered me last ship under suspicion of harboring some dark mages, took nearly half me and me crew’s belongings for wasting their time,” His face grew deadly serious. The man took his saber and thrust it towards Robert’s face.
“Now why would I keep a dead man on my ship, especially one the Holy Knights are looking for? Surely you’d fetch a fine bounty,”
“Please, I’m not a bad man. I just need to make it across the sea and you’ll never see me again,” Robert pleaded.
A series of loud knocks came from the exterior door. The door was thrown open and a short, rotund man with large oval spectacles came through the door in a rush.
“Cap’n! Privateers on the morning horizon!” said the short man
“Looking for an easy target eh? We’ll give em no such thing,” The Captain stood up with vigor. “Rouse the men, they’ll have to sleep off their booze another day!” he laughed. The short man bowed and ran off to fulfill his orders.
“You there!” he aimed his saber at Robert once more “I’ll strike a deal with you Dead Man: defend the Lady of Hope and I won’t feed ye to the sea! So long as you don’t go sniffing around me quarters again…” he lowered his saber to the side and extended his free hand to Robert.
“I be Captain Barnabus Morrison,”
Robert paused for a second, then stood to shake the bear-like paws of Captain Morrison.
“Robert Blackstone.”
The privateers made their move just as the sun rose in the east. It was a small squadron of three ships, clearly intending to catch the Lady in the blinding beams. Two ships raised sail, splitting up to flank the Lady’s port and starboard sides.
The crew was a hardy lot. Even by Robert’s witness, these men had drunk way too much ale to be standing, yet here they were, sober and ready for combat. Grizzled men manned the broadside cannons with a disciplined demeanor, the cannoneers waiting for the opportune moment to get the approaching ships within range.
Robert stood on the deck with anticipation, hand on his saber. The quartermaster had been kind enough to scrounge up a new outfit for him: a free-flowing white blouse with some breeches and sturdy leather boots, a second-hand metal chest piece, and a leather collar liberated from a Victorian marine. The quartermaster nearly lost his breakfast while tossing the rotted leather armor to the waters below.
Robert was shocked to look upon his naked body for the first time since he awoke. Bits of mummified flesh still clung to his bones, somehow not been eaten away by the carrion birds on the battlefield. He knew he was dead but looking upon his exposed pelvis and ribcage truly pounded in the fact that he was no longer a human.
The distant ship turned to the side, taking a moment before sending a weak volley from her portside cannons tumbling through the sky towards the Lady of Hope. The crew on the upper deck took cover, though only one of the cannonballs had managed to make any contact with the ship, tearing a small hole in the lower sail.
Before the crew could stand up, the flanking ships took their shots, firing their broadside cannons at the Lady, turning the upper deck into a fury of smoke, dust, and splintered wood.
Amid the carnage the Captain stood tall on the bridge of the ship.
“Full sail ahead!” he bellowed.
The wounded crew dropped the sails and let the fury of the wind pull the Lady at an astonishing speed.
“Bosun, 15 degrees starboard! Starboard cannons, prepare to fire on the nearest frigate! Light a fire right on that bountiful ass of hers!”
The Lady turned sharply and let loose a fury of cannon fire directly into the aft of the closer of the ships as they zoomed by. The struck ship buckled and sank as its belly took in water rapidly, the foremast pitching up towards the sky and being pulled to the waves below.
The flanking ship had turned back around and aimed its port-side cannons. The Lady and the privateer ship faced off with tension, the crew waiting for the moment to fire or be fired upon.
“Full stop! Portside cannons, destroy that vessel!” shouted Captain Morrison
The sails dropped with the anchors and the Lady slowed with a jerk. The opposing ship had fired too soon, and its shot zipped harmlessly in front of the Lady and splashed into the ocean. The Lady and her crew set sights upon the attacker and let loose with a powerful volley.
The privateer ship was struck directly on its starboard side. Pockets of wood and metal exploded from the ship as it began to fill with water on one side, dragging it to the depth below. The crew of the Lady of Hope cheered at their victory, and hoots and hollers echoed among her decks.
The fanfare was silenced with a loud crash from the aft of the ship. The final privateer had snuck up on the Lady and rammed into her rear quarters rather unceremoniously. Most of the crew was thrown to the floor with one or two sailors in a particularly unsteady position had fallen overboard.
As the crew scrambled to regain its normality and face the forgotten threat, the privateer frigate pulled along the starboard side of the Lady. Large harpoons attached to corded hemp rope shot into the railings and were drawn taut. Already the brigands on the other ship had positioned themselves to board.
Robert drew his saber with haste. He still didn’t know much about swordsmanship, but even he should be able to get a few lucky strikes.
A squad of riflemen appeared from behind the railings on the enemy frigate. Robert watched as they took aim and fired, one of the rounds sailing through the cloth under his humerus. The boarders took advantage of the volley of fire and crossed the ropes to board the Lady.
The boarders set themselves upon the Lady’s crew, dropping from above like a falcon pouncing upon his prey. Several of the crew were struck by the scimitars as the boarders dropped. Robert lunged at a nearby privateer and stabbed him square through his back, bloodying his saber.
He saw the Captain surrounded by two of the brigands on the bridge. The captain expertly parried the both of them with his own gigantic scimitar. One of the privateers dodged a slash, ducked, and tried to strike the captain from inside his guard. The Captain grabbed the raider by his sword hand, gave it a quick snap, and headbutted the man square in the forehead, all while blocking strikes from the other raider.
The Captain turned his attention to his attacking opponent, of whom he swiftly secured the man’s neck in his iron grip and lifted him to the sky.
“Hoho! You think you can claim this ship? I admire the swell in the trousers needed to come after Cap’n Morrison!” bellowed the Captain. He clenched his fingers, effectively crushing the raider’s neck. Captain Morrison laughed as he swung back his arm and launched the gasping rogue off the ship and into the cold grave of the sea.
After a display like that, Robert felt he had to do something to impress the Captain, lest he wind up like the two raiders he had just witnessed. Robert examined the scene. The crew was engaged in minor scuffles of their own. The Lady’s crew was a seasoned bunch and their sword fighting reflected that. While they had not been as quick as the Captain, they had dispatched many boarders and looked like the tide was turning in their favor.
As more boarders slid across the ropes, Robert had a crazy idea run through his skull. He climbed the central mast to where a large harpoon was well lodged within the oak. A boarder slid towards Robert, who then held out his saber, impaling the raider and sending his body falling to the Lady’s deck. He then pulled himself across the rope, a difficult task against gravity’s natural pull, but soon found himself hovering above the enemy ship.
“Sire! A boarder has made his way to our ship!” shouted one of the swarthy rogues.
The raiders below turned their attention to Robert as he clung to the ropes, anxiously readying their swords. They gathered around beneath him, waiting for him to drop. He hung upside down and considered his next moves.
He released his grip on the ropes and dropped toward the deck and waiting swords. As he fell, he remembered the chill of a cold winter wind and channeled that force outwards. He made his landing, the force of his memory willed into the present blew the encircled privateers backwards with fury. Snow and ice clung to their faces, as they struggled to regain their footing.
Robert felt another memory. He recalled the sensation of the heat of a bonfire upon his face and hands, the flames kissing his hands with the change of wind direction. He focused that imagined heat into his left hand, his sword guarding with the right, and unleashed an inferno from his skeletal fingertips. The fire barely missed its target, instead igniting the main sail which quickly spread to fill the canvas.
Scimitars were thrust towards Robert, who parried the blades and struck back with another blast of fire. A privateer ran up to Robert and slashed down towards his neck. Fortunately, the leather of his new armor deflected the blade and Robert slid his saber into the privateer’s unguarded chest.
Robert removed his stuck saber and flicked the blood towards an attacking raider. The blood caught him in the eye and reflexively he reached to cover his face. Robert slid the saber through his opponent’s abdomen and his blinded foe collapsed into a pool of his own blood.
Robert let out an arrogant laugh. It felt good to kill these evil bastards. He didn’t know what it was, but every life he claimed felt like ecstasy. Every drop of blood he spilled fed something he didn’t even know hungered within him.
More raiders came at him. Once he got into the rhythm, it all became simple. Dodge, parry, slash, fire blast, dodge, parry, stab, ice blast. Half a dozen men lay dead at Robert’s feet, their blood driving him into a frenzy.
The world became a red blur, a flurry of blood and steel flying in front of his eyes. He could feel some of the privateer’s blades making contact, yet it did not stop him. He hungered for more death.
A privateer, a young and desperate-looking man came at Robert with his scimitar. Robert easily knocked the blade aside and pushed the man to the ground. Robert bore down over the young man. All he wanted to do was open his skin and feel the sensation of his arteries spilling their contents. He drew his saber along the young man’s skin, cutting lines into the surface of his flesh. He aimed his blade toward the young rogue’s chest, and as he made the motion to stick him in the heart, Robert felt his own head disconnect from the rest of his body.
A gnarled hand clenched Robert by his temples. His skull was turned around and he stared into the eyes of his attacker, a bearded old man with sun scarred skin and dirty gray braided locks. He wore a large tricorn hat and was blind in one eye, a slash cutting through the right side of his face.
“You’ve killed enough of my sailors, dead man,” the scar-faced man spoke, his raspy voice low with hatred.
“Please! I’m sorry! Spare me!” Robert pleaded.
“A rotting corpse asks me for mercy? No, your kind deserves to be returned to the grave, I’ll be happy to send you there,”
Scar-face dropped his scimitar, took both hands, and squeezed upon Robert’s skull. Robert had difficulty feeling the pain but could feel the immense pressure crushing his bones. Out of reflex, he screamed. Scar-face laughed and clenched harder, his calloused fingers pressing deep into Robert’s head.
Blood splashed Robert’s cheeks. Scar-face’s head was ripped from his shoulders and his body toppled over, releasing Robert’s skull. Scar-face’s own head fell across the deck in a twisted expression of surprise and agony, settling to meet Robert’s gaze as his healthy eye glazed over.
“Haha, that’s two you owe me lad!” came the deafening but familiar laughter of Captain Morrison.
The Captain retrieved Robert’s cranium from the blood-soaked floor and placed it back upon his fallen body, which immediately reanimated, the control of his body and digits returning with a rush.
“Well done! I think that’s the lot of em!”
The invading privateers lay dead. Some of the Lady’s crew had boarded the enemy ship in Robert’s wake, cut through the remaining defenders, and began to loot the spoils of their conquest.
Thanks, Captain,” Robert said shakily. He had nearly died again, and at the height of his hubris too. He was grateful not to join those he’d slain within the realm of the dead. He had a lot to think about.
“This is my friend, Augustus,” Robert said, pointing to the rat that had run onto his shoulder.
“Aye, I’ve never met the gentleman before but I’ve done plenty of trading with your company, Sir Augustus,” Captain Morrison leaned down and shook the tiny paw of the merchant.
“It’s a pleasure, Captain! I’m dreadfully sorry we stowed away on board your fine vessel here; however, we were in a dire situation,” said Augustus shyly.
“Not a problem, not with good Robert here. Ya did a fine job defending the Lady of Hope. I’ll not be feeding you to the sharks after all!” The Captain laughed his Captainly laugh and took a swig of brandy.
“Ya said ya were lookin’ to make it across the sea?”
“That’s correct. I think I might have lived in the North before I died. I don’t have much to go on, but at least it’s something. A friend of Augustus said I might find some answers in the Victorian Empire,” Robert explained.
“Ya might not want to mess with those lads, considerin’ the lack of meat you’re packin’. They aren’t nearly as accepting as yer old Captain, haha!”
“I don’t think I have much of a choice,”
“Well sorry to say, the Lady and her crew ain’t allowed on their shores anymore. Some business about some courtesans, a donkey, and a twenty thousand gold unpaid bar tab. In any case, we fought some guards and now the whole customs division of the Empire knows to keep a look out for our banner,” the Captain shrugged “Fortune may be showering her generosity down upon ya though, lad,” Captain Morrison pulled out a chart detailing the continents and islands scattered through the vast ocean.
“We be carrying a certain set of valuables to a peaceful little island town called Coconut Bay, ya might be able to find someone to take ya to Vicky lands,”
“Oh, it’s been ages since I’ve visited! Robert, you absolutely have to try their tropical spirits!” Augustus paused and looked back at Robert’s skeletal visage. “Then again, maybe you’d be more suited to other island delights,”
Robert and Augustus sat on the stern of the ship looking at the lovely full moon surrounded by her twinkling stars in the night sky.
“Makes you feel a bit small, does it not?” Augustus asked philosophically.
“That’s impressive, you’re already pretty small,” Robert chuckled at his joke.
“Small in stature yes, but large in ambition my friend!”
“How are you holding up anyway? I know you must be hurting after losing your shop,”
“Yes, I started that store 20 years ago with Reginald and now they’re both gone,” Augustus sighed “The Golden Feather was merely a material item, and surely it stings to have lost my store but I would give it all away if dear Reginald were among the living once more,”
Augustus grew somber for a moment. Robert didn’t know much about the anatomy of rats but he looked as if he were about to fall to tears. Augustus sat quietly for a moment, then collected himself and regained his chipper attitude.
“Tell me more about you Robert, you said you were able to reclaim some memories?”
“Not really, more like sensations. It’s like I know what things are like from experiencing them; I can remember the sensation of it, but I can’t remember the actual event itself,”
Robert splayed both of his hands in front of himself. With slight concentration, he lit his right hand with flame and summoned ice spikes from his left.
“Oh my, you certainly are getting the hang of things!” August exclaimed in awe.
“There’s something else,” Robert extinguished his hands and stared deeply into his metacarpals.
“I have this hunger inside of myself, almost like an addiction. I felt it when I saved you and again when fighting those privateers. It’s like I crave their blood,”
“Well, the living and the dead have never had the highest compatibility for cohabitation. Most of the undead I’ve encountered have been mindless husks who just want to devour anyone in their path…” Augustus caught himself and clarified his words “Not that you are a mindless husk, my boy, I’m sure there are others who are just like you!”
“That’s what I worry about,” Robert stood and paced around the deck
“There was this young man I came across on that ship, hell he was more like a boy. I keep seeing his face, scared and shaking, barely able to hold his sword. I could have just killed him there, but I wanted to hurt him, I wanted to spill his blood,”
“I’m sorry, Robert,” Augustus crawled up Robert’s arm and patted him on the shoulder.
“If it’s any consolation, I think you are a good person. I haven’t encountered many friendly skeletons in my time but you’re the best so far!”
“Thanks, Augustus. I wish I could pay you back for your kindness,”
“That’s the thing about friends. You don’t take kindness, you give it willingly. You don’t owe me anything, dear boy. Your companionship is more than enough,”
5711 Writing 