Lightning sparred, thunder snarled, hail rocketed down.
There was no way he could've foresaw the tempest- it was almost unnaturally swift, overwhelming and deadly.
Captain Shanks was at the till, the feather in his hat threatening to give in to the great gusts of wind that repeatedly attacked it. His eyes were made of iron determination and his mouth spewing continuous swears against the stormy ocean.
As he sailed, he couldn't help thinking about the crimson heavens that dawn.
Red sky at night, Sailor's Delight
Red sky in the morning, Sailor's Warning.
But his beloved Island Maiden had not disappointed him before, and he did not entertain the idea that this would become her first time.
The skies were an ominous black, bulging with the weight of water that would soon be upon Captain Shanks' vessel. The horseshoes the sailors had nailed on the ship's mast jangled an eerie tune banging against each other that sent chills down Shank's spine.
He had ordered them off at the start of the voyage but the sailors had grown mutinous, uneasy. Even after listening to the Captain's raging about childish superstitions, the men had not relented, and he was forced to keep the horseshoes, jangling and all.
Shanks struggled to keep his grip on the till as seaspray splashed over him, rendering him drenched and shivering. Salt stung his eyes but he did not yield. He was the captain. She would not capsize under his rule.
Screams of terror came from belowdecks as a twenty-five footer cleared the breaches of the sides of the Island Maiden. Cold water surged through the decks, soaking to the bone. Cold. Merciless.
He must protect the Beginners. There was no way he'd let them fall to the cruel hands of the sea. They had a long adventure ahead of them and he had to do his part to ensure them safe passage to Victoria.
They had to reach there securely, they could not fall to the hands of this perilous gale, not now, not ever- but the only other way was a thousand feet over Aqua Road- a rough patch of sea. Still, it would be nothing compared to the gale.
Without a warning, rough twists of wind assailed the Island Maiden, rocking her back and forth violently like an overzealous mother. Shanks felt his heart grow heavy with dread- there was no choice, with a great amount of effort, Shanks spun the till- and the Island Maiden shifted, groaning.
The course was set. The die was cast.
-+-
"Are we going to die? I'm not ready, yet."
Cayniel whispered, uncertainty showing in his voice, clutching his sword to his chest and huddling beside me. His sopping wet hair was in my face, I entwined his cold, shivering fingers with my own and his grip on the sword relaxed. As long as we were together, everything would be alright.
Through the little light that escaped into the hold, I saw flashes of other Beginners, just like me and Cay, clustered together in trembling clumps. Some were crying, others were praying silently.
Cay was one of the latter. No one had ever seen him cry.
I held him tight- just as I did three years ago- when we were just seven.
"Cayniel! How?" I stared open-mouthed at the spot where the angry red flashes had just disappeared.
"Please, you can't tell anyone, please, Marissa, please..." Cay crumpled into a heap in front of me, shaking uncontrollably, "They'll think I'm one of the Sinister. They'll throw me out- they'll-"
I assured him I would never speak of it. I couldn't. Nothing must happen to Cayniel. My Cayniel. Even if he was one of Them, I could never turn him in.
I loved him. Later on, I would tell myself that I didn't mean it. I thought it impulsively. It was impossible.
But words spoken on impulse give a glimpse of the truth in its naked form. I held him, humming softly.
He pushed me away.
I could tell that Cayniel didn't trust me- it was in his eyes. It was as if the last Monster Card in the game that only Cayniel was playing had revealed itself. He took a deep breath and the shaking subsided. He studied me with those eyes- they were not the same eyes I had grown to love since our days of rolling down lush grassy hills, taunting and running from Snails in Amherst, laughing in the pure fun of the moment.
"Your word, Marissa." His voice carried, strong and clear, commanding.
"Cay, I promise you, I give you my word, I will never tell a soul about what happened today."
Cayniel nodded and resheathed his sword, then walked out of the Shroom Garden, leaving a single Spore left on the ground.
The very next day, Cayniel acted as if nothing had happened- and it was through a binding silent agreement that this was how I were to act, as well. Over the years, Cayniel played his own part so well that sometimes I wondered if my memories of that fateful day rang true.
Had I seen my best friend wield his sword and struck with Savage Blow?
He held his breath and I stroked his hair, murmuring the words of a lullaby that reached only his ears. Cayniel's frame seemed to fold in on himself as he quietened. Feeling his chest heave against mine, I glanced around the lurching room furtively.
One by one, those in the hold were calming down. Tear streaked faces faced the grid- sunlight was now pouring in. Golden rays danced on the wet floor, making it shine and reflect sparkles in the Beginners' eyes.
It had passed.
-+-
The Captain stood, weary and bedraggled, like a curious looking sea creature entangled on the till. A gentle sea breeze sighed into his ears, playing with his hair, and softly tugging the feather on his hat- it had survived the gale.
Everyone on the ship had. The sailors, superstitious lot that they were, were kneeling on the deck, kissing the salt-encrusted wood and fervently shouting thanks to the heavens.
The Island Maiden heard cheers from belowdecks, and the merriment echoed around the ship. A dull sense of foreboding pulsed somewhere in the middle of his chest, but he smiled, strained, unwilling to trust that nagging doubt that all was amiss.
"'O's the King of the High Seas"!
"'Tis Cap'n Shanks!"
"'O's sailed the m'ghty breeze!"
"'Tis Cap'n Shanks!"
"'O's always in command!"
"'Tis Cap'n Shanks!"
"'O's going to take us to land!"
"'Tis Cap'n Shanks!"
The crew started up a shanty as they all hurried back to their spots, raising the sails again, all the while singing and laughing.
"Ship Aho- w'ot the he-?" Someone yelled from high up in the rigging.
Shanks froze, the hair on the back of his neck rising.
A ship loomed over the clear waters around six hundred fathoms away- and even at that distance, the Captain could see something large and dark flapping its leathery wings.
It was Death in its corporeal form.
The Crimson Balrog.
TBC
First of all, I'd like to say thanks to Random, my beta-reader who is made out of awesome. A side note about sailor's superstitions: Horseshoes are said to prevent storms when placed upon a ship's mast and the little rhyme about red skies was plagiarized straight from around three hundred years ago when they still believed in that stuff. A 'shanty', in this case about 'Cap'n Shanks', is a song sailors sing during work.
If you read this far, I'm hoping you'll take that extra step and review using that handy little button to your bottom left.
I'll try and force the next chapter out of my mind by next Wednesday, but if I don't, it's probably the strain of high school tryouts.
L.A