The Black Star, Allan Deya [large screen ebook reader TXT] 📗

scared out of her wits by the prospect of being ravished by sweaty, smelly, toothless brutes she would have burst out laughing at the sudden lull that fell over the frenzied soldiers when the ship was fully in site; in fact she did giggle a little.

“It’s the Phantom Galleon.” Whispered a scared voice from somewhere in the middle of the ranks. “It’s the mother of all demon ships come to drag us to hell.”


chapter FIVE

“Be quiet you fool.” Jon hissed, “They are but humans like you and me.”

“B..But major, these are the Sundance pirates! When they strike they leave behind a trail of destruction that none can rival, even the other crews are mortified of them.”

“If it bleeds, then we can kill it.”Jon returned a little testily. It was the first show of nerves Marian had ever seen in the man.

“They say that no one has ever seen a one of them fall…or even bleed.”

“Well then today will be the first day.” Their Major said in a cold quiet voice that brooked no further dissent. “Anyone who tries to run from this battle, I will cut down myself.”

He said that with a calm and confident face but Jon himself was privy to the legend of Captain Messa and his bunch. They had never lost a crew member; they struck fast and they struck lethal. Everyone above the rank of captain in the armada was advised to run if ever they saw the Sundance pirate insignia.

“Forget numbers, forget munitions, forget the heart and skill of the column you command; if you ever see the Black Star turn tail and run.” The general had told them once in a war council meeting.

“It won’t mean you a coward; it will mean you are smart; it will not make you a lesser man; it will make you less dead.”

Jon hadn’t understood how the storm of Narina; a national war hero- a man whose exploits were as legendary as the kingdom was vast, could ask his soldiers to run from battle.

It was well known that General Genoa had faced off with the monkey king on numerous occasions and was one of the few people who had battled the scourge of the sea and come out with his life, and Jon, young and full of spirit commented on that.

The general had stripped of his jacket and turned to reveal his back. “Many of you think that I am still the legend that I was, and in some respects you may be right. But these are the results of my skirmishes with the captain of the Phantom Galleon.”

His back though wide and muscled was covered by scars and scabs of various shapes and sizes.

“Most of these I got from Messa. I should be dead,” he’d shocked them “For many are the times I have lost duels against him, but he always let’s me walk away; which is why I do not go out to sea as much anymore.”

chapter SIX

Standing on the bridge of the deck, watching death loom ever closer, Jon experienced the feeling Genoa had promised them would be there if ever you came across the Sundance pirates.

Some of the crewmen were having difficulty breathing; the stronger ones were sweating profusely enough to visibly wet their shirts; some were crying but all of them were having trouble finding their nerve. Those that had been on the sea for years called it ‘Makmende’ the spirit of the sea.

It was the force of the soul. The more hardship you overcome the bigger your spirit grows, the more you put your life on the line, the stronger it becomes- it was said. Jon knew people; politicians and aristocrats with big makmendes and he was among the marine headquarter heroes with the strongest; but what they were facing was ridiculous.

To have that much effect on so many of his men and from that distance as the vessel was at least 5 leagues from them.

“You can fight him and you may walk away but the moment you do, you will throw away life out at sea.” Genoa promised them at the end of the meeting. “I live, not because we are friends or because I am a legendary warrior. He lets me live simply because he needs someone strong to spar with every now and then.

The stronger you are, the harder he will seek you and your crew out for practice sessions.”

The Black Star drew up on their portside. At that moment it looked every bit the Phantom Galleon it had been christened. There was no sign of life on board; no sounds, no movements, no menacing souls; only that murderous spirit force.

An arrow neatly knocked the saber out of Jon’s hands.

“Major, up there.” The captain shouted pointing at the Black Star’s main mast.

Though the ship rocked and swayed to the motion of the waves there was a figure standing with absolute ease his arms across his chest on the crossbar; he stood looking down at the soldiers on the marine vessel as though they were mere insects.

The figure squatted on the mast and with effort so minimal he should have dropped into the sea, launched himself across and onto the mast of their ship. Muskets were aimed on him as he stood upright.

His mouth, the only visible part of his body, twisted upwards in what must have been meant as a smile.

“Fire on my mark.” Jon panted sweat pooling at the small of his back. There were a few bumps and thumps behind him and he turned to find his men passing out. Those who were out cold already were either on their knees or bent over, gasping for air.

Jon himself was nearing his limit; his sweat glands were on overtime while his lungs seemed to be falling asleep; assailed by the ever increasing pressure.

“Utterly useless captain, this crew of yours.” Jon heard from behind him and turned to find the figure already on the deck standing over the figure of his captain, who was on one knee.

“Well at least you can still hold on to your weapon. I will commend you for that and then kill you anyway.”

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Jon hissed hurling a chair at the pirate’s back.

“What’s this? A man who can actually stand my spirit; this is indeed a surprise!”


chapter SEVEN

Because he would have trouble in a mobile battle, Jon raised his musket first and fired wide off the mark. The figure edged slowly towards him and did not even flinch when he raised the firearm for a second shot; nicking his cheek.

“I see your aim is improving- but then again I am not ducking, am I?” it taunted.

“Why don’t you come a little closer and then talk all that rubbish you sea dog!” Jon challenged.

“I like this one, really I do like you.” The man told no one in particular using his gloved hand to parry Jon’s saber slash. “Especially your commitment to this ideal you call justice. If I didn’t know any better I would say you were my good friend Genoa’s seed.”

Using his free hand to yank the dagger out of Jon’s thigh, he remarked. “On this sea there are very few real men. Gone are the days when setting out on voyage was a fete of wonder and bravery.

Now we have all these weather people who tell you when and where to set sail. And a barrage of soldiers trained to handle most situations. Throw in a horde of staff that makes the journey on water a floating paradise and you give us sea dwellers a bad name.”

Jon reached for his other dagger and swiped it at the figure; who in turn let the blade pass through his two middle fingers only to stop the tip of the blade from piercing his eye at the last possible moment.

He slapped Jon’s arm away and admired the intricately curved ivory handle and the exquisite workmanship. He sighed when Jon reached over for it and stood up.

“I really did like you.” He said gesturing to Jon’s bleeding legs as he stood upright. “It is not often that you will find a man willing to put himself through that kind of physical discomfort in order to overcome psychological anguish.

But our lines have been drawn in the sand; you want this beautiful blade back yet I covet it. In the world we live in that means we must do battle for it.” He switched the angle of the blade and raised it above his head.

“Such a pity; a few more years and I would have probably let the old general retire.”


chapter EIGHT

When the hand touched his arm, he reacted instinctively; exactly as years on the sea and street had taught him. He let go of the blade he was holding and instead used that same arm to twist the hand holding him, throwing it's owner into a fast wide spin all the way around him; the momentum of which had the person careening off their feet.

Even as he tried to get through the shock of someone being completely unaffected by his makmende to the point of sneaking up on him, he wondered how such a worthy adversary would be so light and why they were not putting up more of a fight.

For sure this technique having been perfected through many years and even more battles took into account and countered all possible human reaction; whether instinctive or taught, but the victim’s body itself usually put up some form of resistance.

As the opponent flew away from his body, he let go for a split second; just long enough to somersault onto the deck and snatch up the blade he had dropped. Before legs could connect with wood his hand was again upon his adversary; this time in a vice like grip around the neck with the gleaming blade in tow.

The blade stopped a hairsbreadth from her throat. She saw his eyes go wide a split second before she saw that his arm was restrained by a whip.

“Cap’n just because the lady don’t know how to make a proper meal or keep a clean house is no reason to kill her.”


chapter NINE

There were flashes of colour and whispers of movements as pirates arrived aboard the Marina.

“Aw Captain, you didn’t leave any for me! But you promised.” came a too young and definitely female voice.

“I know Karin, I know but I didn’t fight them see; I haven’t even unsheathed my blades.”

“No fair Uncle J, you know you’ve got makmende; and you promised, you promised.” The little girl said, stomping her feet.

“Okay darling okay, you can kill one of them then.”

“Really, you mean it uncle J? I want the strongest one; a fair fight.”

“Oh, I see” the whip man said coming up behind her.

“What does that mean?” she demanded.

“Nothing, nothing- you can have the strongest one.”

“You wouldn’t!” she said narrowing her eyes at the two, “Yes you would.”

The one they called captain smiled, the other shrugged.

The girl threw her short sword down in indignation, “How the hell am I supposed to become a pirate if you keep interfering in my fights?”

“Don’t say interfering