Malspire

  Chapter Three

  “Smoke to starboard!” called the lookout high above me.

  I stood at the taffrail. Due to another officer's illness, I was still on duty having already passed the long cold hours of the night watch. I felt tired and hungry. Crosp was there and we tried as best we could to avoid one another. We were a few days out from Umuron and I was looking forward to some land time after a straight run from the capital. I was expecting my brother to be in the region. Ajator had left Norlan a few days earlier. It had now been three uneventful weeks at sea.

  The captain and I stepped over to the side where we did indeed see a stack of smoke like a dark smudge on the grey horizon. It was cold, and a light drizzle made the crew damp and helped the cold reach the bone. Although pleased for my waxed long-coat, even that could not entirely protect me from the constant wind and drizzle.

  “Bring us about, Mister Ardalrion. We shall investigate.”

  “Aye aye, Captain. Bring us about. Starboard, three points. Full speed Mister Brintyne,” I called. The helmsman acknowledged and spun the wheel.

  The ship came round, and the engine pounded to a new beat, the great paddle wheel at the rear of the Sea Huntress churned the water white. I made my way to the forecastle and using my officer’s glass, saw a plume of black smoke from a powered boat in the distance. It could have been a merchantman or Imperial Navy, but I had a gut feeling that there was trouble over there. We had boarded many ships in the past but here in the vast expanse of the great ocean, the small Sea Huntress - an insignificant little speck, suddenly felt like a flimsy barrier to the sucking depths and terrors that hunt these waves.

  The ship cut a sure path through the grey sea, spattering me with more spray, adding to the drizzle as she rose and fell on the waves. Slowly the distant shapes of two ships came into view. One was a steam vessel of some kind, and the other a large white sailing ship of three masts, one of which was broken. I could just make out the tiny blotches of smoke from gun shots. The powered vessel looked like she was going to board the tall ship. On returning to the captain, I reported what I had seen.

  “Clear the deck. Battle stations, Mister Ardalrion.”

  “Clear the deck! Battle stations! Run out the guns! Marines to you stations!” I called out and began to walk calmly to my cabin to fetch my arms, observing the crew as I did so.

  A boy rang the bell, and all hands ran to their stations. I saw thirty or so marines line the ship. They looked smart next to the seamen in their dark midnight blue uniforms, round helmets crested by a nasty spike, with a metal forehead plate and peak. Each had a musket which was tipped with a long, slightly curved blade. Marksmen climbed to the crow's-nest. Twenty four guns were run out, powder bags taken from storage and placed by each gun which already had shot and water buckets in place. All this happened in the short time it took me to reach my cabin.

  All officers took their places, and I returned armed with a service cutlass, which I much preferred to the officer’s rapier sword. I liked to cut, hack, stab and slash, not play dandy footsy like the other officers. Although I was inexperienced I was sure they would die fast in a true sword fight. Perhaps we would soon get the chance to find out.

  As we got closer, we saw that the steam vessel was a frigate, a little smaller than the Sea Huntress, and was indeed locked with the tall ship. I could make out a running battle on the white merchant with the defenders holding the forecastle, and the attackers making bloody murder on the rest. The powered vessel was an older style frigate with two large wheals at her rear, and I could now see that her flag was red with a white snake.

  “Pirates,” I growled. They were not as common in these parts as further south, but with the war and the confusion it brought, they could probably make a good living here now. Rumour had it that the rebels where using privateers to good effect and these probably had a letter of marque from the rebel leader Duke Valthorn.

  “I see it. Close the gun ports and make ready to board her,” Crosp said, standing resolutely, hands behind his back.

  I called out the orders, and more men came up on deck with knives, swords, clubs, spears and a few with pistols. Some had put on chain mail, while others had found shields and tin helmets. I too had put on a fine suit of chain mail under my coat, and just hoped I did not fall into the icy waters. Now I could hear the gunfire and the ring of metal. The stink of powder was in the air as was blood and fear. I saw as the enemy, who had now seen us, were trying to cut free of the merchant ship, but they were so entangled that they soon gave up and made ready for boarding instead.

  "We shall board the merchant," said Crosp frowning as he made his calculations. "That way they shan't have the opportunity for a broadside before we enter the fray, and we shall join the defenders, Mister Ardalrion. Push them back onto the frigate then keep pushing until they're either standing on water or drowning."

  "Sir," I said. "Permission to lead the boarding party, sir?"

  Captain Eezuk Crosp turned to give me a chilling smile. "Granted, Mister Ardalrion. Granted."

  A bullet hissed past my ear. It was all I could do not to drop to the deck. The captain watched me. Another shot hit the bulwark.

  "Marines may fire," said Crosp returning his attention to the battle.

  I looked down at the marine sergeant who was waiting for the order to open fire. They were already taking aim. "You may open fire, sergeant."

  "Aim low, lads. Aim for their balls. Fire!" called the sergeant which was followed by a spark from each gun, a gout of flame from the muzzles and the deafening roll of the musket volley. Each gun spewed a cloud of smoke which was quickly whipped away by the sea breeze.

  At this range, the muskets were not accurate but there was no point in holding back and a few lucky shots found their targets on both sides. I saw two Marines go down, one dead with a dark stain spreading across the chest of his uniform, and the other screaming with a shot to the shoulder. The man was quickly dragged off to the surgeon. We crept closer. With all the gunfire, both decks where covered in stinking gunpowder smoke, and it was getting hard to find solid targets. The smoke stank, and stung the eyes. It was like a poison in the air, and already gave me a sore throat.

  “Kill the vermin. Show no mercy. I want the captain alive,” said Crosp.

  “Aye, Captain,” I said drawing my cutlass. The captain saw it and sneered at the use of such a butcher’s cleaver.

  The noise of battle was a fearful song. The screams of pain mixed with the roars of warriors. Steel rang on steel and shot punctured the melody with discordant beats. Apprehension gripped me with the sudden realisation that I was about to board an openly hostile enemy, something I had never done before in battle. In the books it was associated with heroism and glory but I knew not to trust such words, and as we crept closer I began to feel that I was right not to do so as I saw the grizzled faces and pointed blades and blackened muskets of the enemy.

  The helmsman stopped the engines and let the Sea Huntress glide closer. I ordered grappling hooks which were thrown across and pulled tight, men heaving on the ropes. The enemy did not try to cut them but instead shot at the Sea Huntress or shouted curses, and spat and jeered. Again I had to resist the temptation to flinch or duck as the shots filled the air around me. There was fighting all along the merchant but one man found the time to pull his breaches down and show the See Huntress his white arse. The fool was fired upon by just about every musket and pistol on the Sea Huntress but fortune seemed to favour the jester who quickly pulled them up and danced away.

  Had I not been so tense, I would have smiled at the show, but instead I gritted my teeth, then called, “Boarding party, make ready!” I stood in the aftcastle and intended to drop down onto merchant’s lower aftcastle together with seven or eight marines and a few sailors including Jodlin who I later learned was told by Harl to keep an eye on me. Others would cross over all along the deck, but I did not want the enemy using the aftcastle as a defensive position. With only yards to go, both sides scr
eamed at each other. Shots fired, and even a few harpoons and spears were thrown. An arrow grazed my shoulder and embedded itself in the stock of a marine’s musket. Then with a crash of timber upon timber, we were upon them.

  “Charge!” I screamed as I turned from the cover of the wooden crenulations and stepped up onto the Sea Huntress’s gunwale. It was then that the fear struck me. It had been there the whole time, waiting for its moment to bite. Now it reared its ugly head and bit hard! I was always a craven man in my own mind and it took hold of me like a crushing grip and made me falter. It was a long drop of about eight feet into a pack of braying wolves, but I was now a clear target and so had to either jump or turn and flee. I could not move; either option was too horrific to comprehend, but finally with an effort of will and a sudden fatalistic acceptance, I forced myself to go.

  Of course they were waiting and I had a bristling field of blades pointing up at me. That I was not skewered before even landing was a miracle, but I screamed wildly, kicking one blade away, and two more being robbed of my death by the chain mail before coming down with the full force of my cutlass onto a man’s head, who, without a sound simply fell dead to the deck. I too fell and rolled quickly aside to avoid the knives and blades hacking at me. One spear point nicked my ear. A blade just missed my belly. I was being kicked and stomped and had to lash out with the cutlass to make space. The blade went deep into a man's shin. He screamed and fell away. I then managed to hamstring another before finding some space. Jumping to my feet, I did not pause or feel fear anymore, or at least I felt something beyond fear. It was a rage and the only thing left open to me, so I embraced it with all my heart allowing it to overcome all conscious thought.

  I half shouted, half grunted with effort and hacked at an arm which recoiled, then slashed at a man's head who threw himself backwards. As more men joined the fight, I began to dance around the deck, cutting, parrying, thrusting, dodging, and stabbing. I killed easily, and found that I was indeed a good fighter or at least a nasty fighter and kicked, spat and head butted as readily as I stabbed and thrust. I cut a man's arm from wrist to elbow. The man had tried protect his head. I forced the blade into another pirate's belly and had to twist and yank hard to release it from the sucking grip of flesh and blood. One ragged looking pirate tried to run a spear through my gut but I stepped aside and pulled the spear past me, forcing the pirate off balance at which point I grabbed him and bit his nose. The poor fool screeched and scrabbled frantically to be free of me, but I mercilessly bit harder and with a sickening crunch bit the man's nose clean off. Blinded by pain and stunned by my ferocity, the pirate fell on his side, face in hands, screaming in horror. I put my blade through the man's neck and left him to drown in his own blood. Why did I bite the man? I do not know - it just felt right.

  There was a mighty roar, and the deck shook as Jodlin landed in amongst the enemy. He had a shield and an overly large blacksmith’s hammer which he used to terrifyingly good effect. I saw him crush a man's skull with sickening ease. Jodlin then took a blow on the shield, turned to strike, and although the enemy tried to parry with his blade, Jodlin simply pulverised the fool. Each strike seemed to bring a pirate down. A knife stabbed me in the back which was stopped by the chain mail. This returned my attention to my own fight, swinging the cutlass round to slash the attacker's belly open.

  Soon the enemy where backing away from us, a look of fear on their faces. I must have looked like death, bent, hobbling and covered in blood with a cold, half mad smile on my face. I saw the opportunity to rout them from the aftcastle and so charged again.

  "Kill them!" I cried. "Crush the pirate vermin. Cut them! Kill them all!" I threw myself at them. Again my armour saved my life from a stab to my side. It hurt like a punch and winded me, but it did not stop my crazed onslaught. Suddenly the pirates fell back. We had taken the aftcastle, and I stopped to survey the situation. Blinking, I wiped blood from my eyes. I had taken a cut to the forehead, but did not remember how. Looking across the deck I could see the battle was not progressing well as more of the enemy joined the fight from the pirate ship. Sudlas was surrounded but seemed to be holding out. I was about to order another charge when through the smoke and noise and confusion, I saw her.

  I have often wondered about beauty. When I see a perfect flower, or the perfect sunset, or even the perfect face, I nod and think, it is perfect, but I do not admire it. There is something boring about perfection. The perfect beauty is pleasing to the eye, but it is, strangely, of no interest at all. Something close however, something nearly perfect, but flawed is something to wander at. In the broken, is something to admire. It is close but it is not perfect. It is interesting, even fascinating. There is no need to love the perfect for it is perfect. The flawed however can be loved and the closer to perfection, the greater the love can be.

  She was tall. She had hazel hair and she was striking; beautiful, but perhaps not a conventional beauty. There was something in her face and bearing that spoke of strength and confidence. Clad in a full yellow dress and a pretty white coat, she looked completely out of place in this battle and would not have looked amiss in one of the Imperial parks on an afternoon stroll with some lady friends. Now the dress was blood spattered and gunpowder stained, her hair was falling about her shoulders and she was gritting her teeth with a grim determination.

  The lady stood upon the forecastle railing, firing down on the enemy with a pistol in each hand, not a hesitation to kill. It was obvious she knew how to use them. She was exciting, brave and ruthless. I was lost in admiration for this lady warrior. She looked up and saw me staring at her. She fleetingly smiled, then withdrew to reload. Awaking from my dream, I pointed my cutlass at the enemy below. I had to get to her. I had to save her!

  “Ready lads? You four, guard the steps. Don’t let them take the aftcastle!” This was to four of the marines who were already defending the steps with shot and bayonets.

  “Go now! Go forth!” I cried as I threw myself over the balustrade, grasping a rope with one hand which allowed me to swing and kick a man down before slashing at another. I was alive with the killing and slaughter. I was drunk on the power the cutlass gave me, and the romantic notion of saving a lady from these pirate scum. The fear was truly gone now. Now I was to be feared!

  When I landed, I instinctively ducked and felt the wind of a mace pass over my head. Swinging round with my blade, the mace came back again and knocked the cutlass from my hand. Then a boot kicked me in the face, sending me reeling back onto the deck. The man was dressed in leather armour with a round shield and helmet. He had a thick tangled beard and long greasy hair. There was something of the Northmen in him. I could only make out a glint of crazed eyes under the shadow of the helmet but I saw his rotten teeth, as leering, the pirate moved in to kill me.

  "I am the slayer!" the pirate growled with a strong Northman accent. "I am the end of your worthless life and I have seen you, little man." He struck out with the mace.

  Rolling to one side, the mace just missed my head, crashing into and splintering the woodwork instead. The man stank of rancid fat and was probably covered in the stuff as protection from the cold and rain. I had to roll again to avoid another blow. Then the Northman pirate began to kick me with heavy boots. I tried to get out of the way. I tried to crawl, but the pirate just kept kicking and stomping. Each bone crushing blow sent shots of pain through my already battered body. One connected with my groin and I felt dizzy and faint with the hurt being dealt me, and prayed that it would stop. Then, when the Northman thought I was subdued, he raised the mace again.

  "Die well though you have not fought well, Empire man. You'll serve me in the afterlife and be the cleaner of my arse. Prepare for the halls of my fathers!"

  I was going to die. I panicked and gripped the deck, half blinded with pain and blood, but well aware of the weight of metal about to crush my skull. The drumming in my ears was deafening, the agony of my beaten body, too much. It felt like the pirate must have broken one or more of my r
ibs. It was then that my fingers felt something; a bit of wood? I did not know but I gripped it and threw myself forward in desperation, hoping perhaps to put the attacker off balance. I lunged and thrust the bit of wood under the shield with all the strength I could muster. Perhaps I could wind him or at least get inside of the blow. The pain of the sudden movement shot through my hurt body and made me scream. To my surprise, the item I was holding went deep into the groin of the Northman pirate with surprising ease, and the death blow the stinking pirate was mustering faltered high above my head. He looked at me in puzzlement and anger. Warm blood trickled down my arm and I pulled it back to see that I was holding a wickedly long and slender gutting knife which had a gentle curve and proved the perfect weapon to get in and under a shield. The man collapsed, groaning, dropping the mace with a heavy clatter.

  Looking round, I got to my feet and had to dodge attacks from all sides. The battle was still faltering, although Jodlin now made it to my side and cleared some space for me with his cruel hammer blows. One of which finished off the Northman. Stumbling, I found my cutlass, and went at them again with cutlass in one hand and knife in the other. They proved a combination fitting to my style of fighting and I slashed at the throat of a man I had unbalanced with the larger blade. I instantly forgot my hurts and revelled again in the fight, tasting blood in my mouth. The spray of blood covered me and I had to admit, that I enjoyed the sensation of being a killer and being in command of both life and death and not just the weakling brother of a greater man for once, my near death encounter forgotten in an instant.

  I looked to the Sea Huntress. Although hard pressed, no more men were committed from the Imperial and Ardalrion frigate. Their job was to protect the ship if I failed, and failing we were. There were just too many of the pirates, and they didn't care to protect their own vessel, but flooded over in full, ferocious force. Then there was the ripping crack of a musket and pistol volley, followed by the roar of a charge. The defenders on the forecastle had been given the chance to organise themselves and now joined the fray. This put new strength in my men's hearts as they re-doubled their efforts and pushed hard with steel and shot. The enemy were now being hit from three sides and some began to pull back to the pirate ship.

  I saw then the man who must be the pirate captain, adorned in jewels, gold and finery, with a ridiculously thin and frail rapier and pistol. The captain stood upon the pirate's bulwark issuing orders, and egging his men on. Then he saw me, and for a moment seemed a little undecided, but then obviously thought that as the only enemy officer in the melee, I would have to do. He put his pistol away inside his coat and raised his sword to point it at me. I nodded, recognising the challenge and fought my way towards the enemy captain, as the captain did likewise towards me. The pirate captain seemed to kill with surprising ease, parrying and thrusting his blade deep into his victims. He showed the quickest of smiles when finally we met, looking down his nose at me.

  “Your name?” he demanded.

  “Officer Malspire Ardalrion, at your service,” I snarled, heaving in air.

  The captain looked me up and down, and did not seem impressed. “Captain Charmio Yorlwig,” he then said by way of introduction. “You are Imperial Navy and yet you dress like a pig herder. I wish to fight a proper officer, where is your captain?”

  The haughty bastard was already getting on my nerves. “Captain’s rutting with the cabin boy, so I’ll have to do.”

  Yorlwig raised an eyebrow and again turned up his nose. I didn't know where he came from or why he thought he was so high and mighty but I wanted cut that swiving maggot down to size. “You dress like a dandy milk maid, now put up and defend yourself, you pirate worm.” I said, trying to anger the man.

  My words must have cut deep, for before I could even blink, the pirate captain’s sword whipped up to cut me on the chin as though he were slapping an upstart. Captain Yorlwig then stepped back, and readied himself for the duel. I wiped the blood away, and realised that I was probably out of my depth, but what could I do? I had accepted the challenge and then added to it by insulting the man. Yorlwig smiled thinly as though he knew my thoughts, so I simply lunged at him. My only chance was to break that thin blade with my butcher’s steel and be quick about it. The pirate parried, but rather than take the weight of my blade, he turned it away, then flicked his sword round, cutting my coat, but the chain mail robbed the blade of my blood. Yorlwig looked disapprovingly at the mail, then I attacked again, and again Yorlwig parried, following up with his own attack.

  Captain Yorlwig took to lunging at me, hoping to penetrate the mail, which would not be hard with such a fine point, or else swiping at my face and neck which I often had to parry with the gutting knife. With every attack, Yorlwig was getting closer to cutting me, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the pirate captain ended my life with a lightning cut and a spray of crimson blood. It was tiring work as we danced round the deck. The others were still in full fight, but mostly managing to make way for us. There was one moment when I got slammed to my back by a pair of men at each other’s throats, and the pirate captain could have easily ended things for me, but instead stepped back, offering this soul the chance to get to my feet. I did so. The arrogant fool, thought I, but was only just in time to jump aside as Yorlwig again lunged, then danced away from my clumsy hack. Yorlwig lunged again, and again I tried to smash the rapier blade, but still failed.

  The deck was getting slippery with blood, and with the buffeting of bodies, and heaving of the waves. It was hard to keep one’s footing although the dandy seemed to have no trouble. I was tiring. Yorlwig was playing with me and I wheezed as I took deep lungs full of air. More blood was getting into my eyes and I wished I had nails in his boots, and I wished it would rain properly, not just this incessant drizzle. I wished I was stronger, faster and cleverer than this bastard.

  In my anger, I drove forwards again, but this time slipped, my left boot sliding out in front of me. Captain Yorlwig saw his opportunity and lunged. All I could do was turn my left shoulder to the captain and the blade pierced the mail, skin, muscle, and stopped on the bone. I screamed with pain as I wrenched myself to the side, and brought my cutlass, down hard on that damned blade, shattering it into many pieces, then with my left arm now free, swung round again with the gutting knife. The pain of the broken blade’s shards scraping on bone made me scream in agony. The pirate captain stepped back, the hilt of the broken rapier still in his hand. He looked utterly disgusted. It seemed to be my appearance he could not abide, and it was true; I must have looked like a horror - wet and bloody, my hat missing so my matted hair fell before my eyes, my back bent, and my face purple and blue from being kicked and beaten.

  Yorlwig stood for a second and looked as though he was going to turn away, when a long, curving line of red blood appeared across his neck. Sighing, the man looked up at the grey skies, and the cut opened wide to pour a wave of crimson blood down his fine clothing. Yorlwig was saying something. I did not know what. Perhaps some farewell to a distant loved one, or a curse on the gods for being defeated by a cripple. I would never know for Captain Yorlwig's legs gave way and he fell dead upon the deck adding his blood to the pool round my feet. I looked at the knife I had found and kissed its bloody blade for twice saving my life.

  The battle lasted only a short while longer. Once the pirate captain was dead, the enemy soon lost the will to fight, and began to drop their weapons, some begging for mercy. I ignored the cries of pain and pleading, and stepped over the fallen and wounded towards the forecastle, passing the bloody but living Sudlas who grimly nodded at me. I wanted to see the woman again. I wanted to know she was unhurt, but she was nowhere to be seen. Climbing to the first tier of the forecastle I then walked straight into her and she looked me in the eyes.

  “Never seen a man with such bright eyes before,” she said, then ripped some cloth from her dress for a bandage. I hated my eyes. They were not the pretty blue of my brother's but sharp, harsh, cutting, sickly in my own
reflection.

  She was confident, even cocky. I liked her. She had lost her pistols and was now looking after the wounded. Her dress was a mess of blood and ripped to tatters. Her left shoulder was bare and grazed.

  I just watched her, so she said, “Are you an officer?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your name?”

  “Ardalrion. Malspire Ardalrion at your service.” I bowed wincing a little.

  “Of House Ardalrion?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am Veinara Havlon. Thank you for coming to our rescue.”

  I looked around at the horrible carnage. I wanted to say that it was a pleasure but it would have been a lie. It was awful, yet exciting. A waking nightmare, yet I could not deny that I enjoyed defeating this enemy and conquering my fear. It was by far the most terrifying experience and also the most exhilarating one of my life. I could not find the words so she smiled again and said, “I would have been a prisoner, or dead, or worse if you and your crew had not arrived. They came out of nowhere.”

  “Miss Havlon, you are unhurt?” I presumed she was not married and happily she did not contradict me.

  “I am not, apart from a few bruises. You’ve taken quite a beating I see.”

  “It's nothing,” I lied. “It looks worse than it is.”

  “Would you allow me to clean those wounds?"

  I hesitated. I did need attention, but was uncomfortable with the idea of her touching my deformed body.

  "It is the least I can do."

  "I would be honoured," I relented.

  She led me to a section of the forecastle where a sail was being jury rigged as a temporary cover were some of the wounded could be seen to. After sitting down upon a crate, she took clean water from a wooden bowl and began to remove the blood from my head and face using the strip she had ripped from her dress. I wondered what had become of my hat, not knowing when or where it was lost. We did not talk for a while. I was wound up and shivering from the rush of the battle and needed to calm down. Her touch was gentle and caring. She seemed to take great pains not to hurt me. Closing my eyes, I felt instantly at ease with her closeness. It was a new experience to be touched by a woman who was simply caring for me, who wanted to heal me.

  "Have you seen many battles?" she asked after a while.

  "Not like this."

  "You fought well."

  I did not answer. I had not fought well, but did not want to contradict her.

  "I saw you fighting the captain. I knew you would win the duel."

  "I was lucky." I could feel her warm, sweet breath on my forehead.

  "You could say that of any man who wins a duel."

  Opening my eyes, I had to blink away some water. When I could see again, she was close. So close, I could have kissed her. Then behind here, I noticed Harl together with Jodlin. Both men seemed unharmed. Harl nodded and Jodlin just grinned. I tried to ignore them.

  "What's your destination?" I asked her.

  "I am travelling to Norlan together with my father," she said with a big smile. "He wishes to find a wealthy husband for me."

  "He has high hopes for the city?"

  "Yes, but I don't. To be honest, I'm not ready. I am young and I have yet to see the world!"

  "Not much to see."

  "Oh?" she mimicked my stern expression. This made me smile. "We're farmers. My father owns a stretch of land on the western shores of Malolia. We're not poor but my father thinks he can find a better match in the city. At least that is what my father hopes for," she said. "I just want to see the city and its attractions that I have heard of for so long."

  "There is little worth seeing in Norlan," I said. "It's big, cramped and smells funny." The city was to my liking, but these days, I yearned for the sea or country whenever there.

  "What about the theatres, museums, libraries? Culture? Surely as the very heart of the Empire it is overflowing with art and architecture and music?"

  The city had all that, it was true, so I just shrugged, then winced when she placed her hand on my bent back, not from pain but the shame. She did not seem to care though, or at least she did not show it.

  Veinara had finished cleaning and bandaging me when Captain Crosp reached the forecastle of the merchant, carefully stepping over the pools of blood. He was escorted by two marines who took up position behind him as he stopped in front of us. "I wanted the captain alive!"

  looking up, I fought the urge to point out the bloody obvious which was that the man was trying to kill me. "My apologies, sir. I had hoped he would yield but I made a clumsy stroke and took his life."

  "A clumsy weapon in clumsy hands, Ardalrion! Stand to attention when I speak to you. Damn your manners man!"

  I reluctantly and painfully got to my feet and found the captain watching Miss Havlon.

  "May I present Miss Veinara Havlon of Malolia, Captain Crosp of the Imperial and Ardalrion Navy frigate Sea Huntress," I said.

  "Charmed, m'lady." Crosp bowed and I saw his gaze fall down to her breasts, more drool forming at the corner of his mouth. "I trust the dogs did not hurt you?"

  "They did not get the chance Captain, thanks to your brave officer and men."

  Crosp ignored the comment. "We shall be sailing in convoy to Umuron. Can I offer you my cabin for the short trip?"

  "That is very kind of you Captain Crosp, but my father and I have a cabin and I am sure we will be safe enough now that you are escorting us."

  "Your father?" said Crosp, looking disappointed. "Of course."

  Crosp left us and an elderly man, probably in his late sixties or early seventies sidled up to Veinara. "Was that the captain, my sweet?"

  "Yes father. It was." She then stepped aside and said, "This is Malspire Ardalrion, father. The officer who saved us."

  We shook hands. "Lord Ardalrion at your service." I rarely used my title, but suddenly felt I should.

  "Lord?" said both Veinara and her father.

  "Yes. I am the son of Duke Ajorion Ardalrion."

  The old man quickly forgot the captain. "I've heard of you. Read about you in the papers."

  "Nothing bad I hope."

  "Can't remember. I am Guthan Havlon and this is my daughter, Veinara Havlon. She's not married and not a bad cook. She don't mind a bit of honest work, but she can be stubborn and has a taste for fine clothing and expensive books."

  "Father!"

  I could not suppress a smile, liking the honesty of the old man.

  "Please forgive my father. He has no sense at all."

  "I'm getting old my darling. I have to marry you off soon or I'll not have done my duty before I feed the worms."

  I waved it away.

  "Our thanks, Lord Ardalrion," said Guthan. "I fought as best I could but to be honest I was left to reload the pistols mostly. No strength left in these arms. No speed."

  "You did well, father," said Veinara proudly.

  The old man shuffled off to find a task. There was not much more Veinara could do to help me. I decided that my ribs were not broken as the pain was abating and had no trouble breathing.

  "Well, I must return to my duties. Thank you for your kind attention."

  "It was a pleasure, my lord."

  "Please, call me Malspire."

  She smiled and I forced myself to turn and return my attention to the pirates. Making my way over to Captain Yorlwig’s cabin, I had a good look around. The cabin was tastefully done with fine furniture, and charts as well as a wine cabinet that had already been ransacked. The draws had all been pulled out of the desk, and any valuables taken. The paperwork and maps however were left strewn across the floor. Captain Crosp would undoubtedly send men to gather it up for the Secret Servants, the agents whose task it is to gather information and intelligence. I, using my cutlass, began sifting through it. There amongst the piles of paper, and scrolls was one particular scroll, with a fine looking ribbon and broken seal. Plucking it up, I unravelled it to discover that it was the marque of the enemy navy granting Captain Yorl
wig rights as a privateer. I quickly rolled it up and put it in my inside pocket just as Qenrik entered the room with two marines. Qenrik never liked me, but got on famously with the captain. Qenrik was just a snivelling turd in my eyes. The officer was quick to bully the enemy captives once they had surrendered but had been nowhere in sight before the fight. I ignored them and left the cabin with my token, imagining one day hanging it on a wall to tell of this day's victory.

  Eventually, together with the pirate vessel as prize, the Sea Huntress took the tall ship in tow, and set sail for port. The captain of the sailing ship had been killed in the fight, so it fell to me to stay aboard her, and insisted that Veinara and her father join me for dinner each of the three nights it would take to reach port. When I had told Captain Crosp that I needed experience aboard a tall ship, the captain agreed and seemed only too pleased to be rid of me. If Crosp had suspected that my wish was to be with the lady, he would never have approved, but the captain was thinking only of his prize money and the little extra status the capture would bring him.

  To my surprise Veinara seemed to enjoy my company and I tried my best to be the city gentleman women expected of a naval officer. I felt clumsy and unintentionally rude, but she laughed at my gaffs and made light of my fumbling attempts at etiquette. Now, for the first time in my life, I wished I had listened to my tutors regarding such things. I wished I could take a leaf from my brother's book and effortlessly charm my guests with polite banter and topical conversation.

  "So you have a twin brother?" Veinara asked. She was dressed in a simple light green dress with a dried cornflower at the neckline.

  The three of us had eaten well and were now enjoying a dark wine that Willan had found in storage.

  "I do. His name is Ajator. He is the heir to the Duchy of Ardalrion and an officer like myself aboard the Grand Oak."

  "Are you close?"

  "Yes. It would not be an exaggeration to say that he is not only my brother but also my best friend. Probably my only friend," I added.

  "Not your only friend." She smiled. "If I may be so bold."

  "And a good cook," Guthan added hopefully. Veinara shot him a glance.

  I did not know what to say. I had made a female friend. It was a new experience for me. She made me smile, and I made her laugh. We talked long into the evening and I never once thought of touching her or approaching her in any manner other than gentlemanly. Of course her father was ever present.

  That night I could not sleep and ended up taking the watch until the early hours again. In my mind, I kept going over the evening's talk and felt childish for letting my imagination run wild with ideas of sweeping the striking Veinara off her feet. Something about her was exciting. Was I falling in love? The more I saw her, the more beautiful she became.

  The next evening was much the same. The old man sat mostly quietly while Veinara and I talked of anything and everything under the sun and moon. It transpired that Veinara's mother had passed away some five years past leaving Guthan with six sons and a daughter. All the sons were married off, and now Guthan just had Veinara to deal with.

  On the last evening before reaching port, I felt sad that the perfect arrangement was soon coming to an end. I was enjoying the sensation of commanding a ship and enjoying even more the company, and so forced a brave face and entertained my guests as best I could, even having Willan clean himself up.

  "You're a rogue, Lord Ardalrion," Veinara said with a laugh after I had told one of the lighter tavern jokes I had heard – the one about the moon fish and the lost hermit crab.

  "Malspire. Please, you must call me Malspire. If I am a rogue then you are maiden warrior of old. I saw how you handled those pistols up on deck."

  "My brothers taught me. I can handle a sword too if need be. They thought I should be able to protect myself."

  "And I agree with them whole heartedly."

  Veinara thought for a second. "My brother's would like you. They're land workers. Farmers at heart with hands like shovels and chests like barn doors. They like the simpler things in life. They have little time for lords and ladies, but you I think they would like. You're not like any lord I have ever met before."

  "No? What do you think, Miss Havlon? Am I to your liking too?" I asked tentatively.

  "Of course. You are my knight in shining armour, come to save me from sea monsters and pirates."

  "I thought I was a rogue?"

  "Oh that too," she smiled.

  Her father sat snoring in his chair at the dining table. The lanterns cast deep shadows around the captain's cabin. The food was good with fresh fish, meats and vegetables as well as another fine wine. The previous captain liked to dine well. I knew I had been clumsy in my manners. I knew I had the looks of a mongrel and the clothing of a boor, but perhaps this woman could see through such things. Perhaps she had seen something in me that she could learn to love? I felt foolish for even thinking it, but never before had a woman, so striking and handsome shown me any form of affection freely and so happily. The night ended very late. Mister Havlon had to be woken, and in his sleepy daze thanked his daughter by kissing her on the cheek and saying, "Goodnight Falinda, dear."

  With a tear in her eye, Veinara explained that Falinda was her mother. "He dreams of her at night," she said.

  Not knowing what to say, I felt guilty, for all I could think about was embracing this last private moment with Veinara before the night ended.

  "Thank you," I said clumsily.

  "For what?"

  Her father left the cabin to find his own bed. Veinara wanted to go with him but she hesitated. I felt the need to say something noble or clever or intelligent; anything that would leave a lasting impression on her. Anything that would make her think well of me.

  "I mean. Thank you for your company," was all I could think of.

  "It is we who should thank you."

  There was an awkward silence which ended when Mister Havlon opened the wrong door to some other cabin. Veinara could wait no longer. She quickly kissed me on the cheek, and thanked me one last time before leaving the cabin for her own. That kiss struck me like a hammer and I would remember it forever. I remember it now like it was yesterday.