Jon
The weather wasn't severe, but the light rain and choppy waves had soured his stomach, and even though it had been clear skies and smoother sailing the past few days, Jon had not felt well enough to eat. However, Brachen commanded him to do so, so Jon complied. He was starting to regret it, though, as he was trying not to vomit that breakfast back up over the side of the ship.
"Gods Toli, if you didn't want your rations, I would have taken it off your hands," Sylvar joked and patted him on your back.
"How are you not nauseous from that slop?" Jon asked. Sylvar just shrugged and handed him his shield, "Come, Brachen said we are to guard the family's cabin."
"What about training?" Jon asked.
"When we are relieved at sunset, we have two hours, what do you think? Sword and Shield?"
Jon shrugged, "Didn't know you were so keen on getting your arse kicked."
"By a sickly-little shit like you, Toli?" Slyvar mocked but was smiling, so Jon returned it. "Come, Evrett and Haro are waiting for us to relieve them.' Jon agreed, and they walked from the prow of the ship to the merchant family's cabins. The Pearl's Kiss was a good-sized merchant cog and had a crew of forty-five, most of which were sailors who had all but ignored the ten mercenaries on board. The captain, Draquero, was a warm man in his early thirties, with a well-worn face from many years of sailing. He was currently steering the ship with Brachen next to him, speaking on something important, no doubt. Jon passed the four other Demons that had come with them, who were currently laughing and joking. Jon tried not to feel aggrieved as all of the guard duty had been done by the initiates, training, as Brachen put it. Jon didn't complain, he just tried to get to know his fellow initiates, and it seemed to be working, albeit it slowly.
They arrived, and Evrett and Haro sagged in relief, "Thank all the gods you are here if I had to spend another minute listening to that family squeal at one another I'd…" Haro started before Brachen came up behind them and interrupted.
"Be as vigilant as ever Haro, not all assignments will be guarding someone, but they will be this dull from time to time."
"Yes, sir." Haro saluted, tapping his chest. Evrett still knew little Valyrian, and Jon could see he had trouble following any of it. So he just mirrored Haro as well and started to follow him when Evrett stopped and leaned to Jon, "The mother has been arguing with the eldest daughter all day, and the two sons keep trying to run off or try to play with our swords."
"And Marcelino?" Jon asked about the merchant.
"Quiet most of the time, sometimes gambles with the cook," Evrett shrugged, "With a family like that, I would too."
Jon nodded and took his position on the right while Sylvar took the left post. It was tedious work indeed, and Jon and Sylvar mostly spoke about their lives as Jon tried to do with whoever his partner was that shift. The overnight post was the most difficult, staying awake as the ship approached silence, and there was little light had the mind trying to play tricks. Today, however, it was mostly arguing. Jon did his best to tune it out, but it was the eldest daughter, nearly fifteen, complaining about the boy she was in love with. While the two brothers, one a year younger and the other, a year younger than that, egged her on. Thankfully the youngest daughter was only nine and was not part of the conversation. Two hours went by, and the sons, Jorcho and Rentarro, bolted out of the cabin with the youngest girl, Lintras, in tow.
The wife, Tirashia, ran out behind them and looked at Sylvar, "Mercenary, follow them and make sure they are safe." Sylvar gave a quick salute and followed the young men. She sighed and turned to Jon, "You. My daughter and I would like some fresh air, I am sure you can handle that?" Jon nodded, and Tirashia sighed and grabbed her daughter, and they marched to the upper deck of the ship, near the helmsman. It was a clear day, and the mother and daughter seemed content to ignore each other, and Jon looked at the endless expanse of the Narrow Sea. In reality, Jon knew they were only three or four days away from Pentos.
"Mercenary." The daughter, Ilarana, was speaking to him. "Mercenary!"
"Yes, my lady?" Jon responded.
"What is your name?" she asked, and Jon was not expecting that so looked to the mother who was pointedly ignoring them both, so Jon chose to answer. Sort of.
"Toli, my lady."
"Toli?" She said, giggling.
'Aye, my lady."
"That is a stupid name," She laughed and turned away.
Tirashia seemed to be paying more attention than he thought, for she rounded on her daughter, "Ilarana, apologize that is incredibly rude."
"It is a stupid name!"
Tirashia opened her mouth, but Jon lifted his hand, "It is alright, my lady, it is not the best of names, and I am paid to protect, not to get offended." Ilarana smiled at him, then triumphantly looked at her mother.
"Still, I apologize for her lack of manners. It is not for lack of trying," the mother said, and Jon just nodded in thanks. However, Tirashia looked at him for a moment, "You are not Braavosi." It was not a question.
"No, my lady."
"Westerosi?"
"Aye. The North."
Illarana spoke up then, "I heard a woods witch potion from the North cured the Sealord's son."
Tirashia shook her head, "It was a gift from the Stark of Winterfell."
"So I heard as well," Jon said.
Ilarana spoke up again, "I heard that Lord Stark had a son that beat a girl and her lover to death out of jealousy," Jon froze and tried to stop the blood draining from his face, "Toli, did you hear of that?" She turned to him, smiling, but it wavered when she saw his face.
Tirashia interrupted her without looking at them, "Ilarana do not be one for the gossip of kitchen maids and sailors. Tormo Fregar said that the boy saved the girl and beat the knight that was hurting her, and Tormo may be a son of an up jump criminal, but he is not a liar," Tirashia finished.
Ilarana was just staring at Jon, studying him, and Jon was starting to get nervous. Tirashai spoke again, "Toli, correct? Toli, what do you think? I am curious what someone from the North thinks of their lords."
Jon was silent for a moment then opened his mouth to speak when someone shouted, "Lōgor! mele se timpa bayraq! Elil lōgor sərkərdə!" The man in the crow's nest continued to call out, and soon the captain was shouting orders and pulled out a Myrish eye and looked starboard. Jon did as well, and he could make out only a small dot.
"Toli, what is going on?" Ilarana asked.
Marcelino arrived with Brachen and the first mate. "It is a ship, my dear, there seems to be smoke." the merchant said.
"Then we should help and make sure everyone is okay," The young girl said and looked at Jon, who looked somewhere else, not wanting to say anything.
The first mate, a quiet man named Rebryllo, spoke up, "Could be a trap captain, although it would be unusual for a pirate this far North."
Draquero continued to look through the Myrish eye, "Its Braavosi, some smoke, but it is not spreading, so someone is there, it does look like it is sagging into the water. What do you think, Marcelino?"
The merchant just stared out and said nothing when his daughter spoke up, "Father! We must!"
Marcelino looked at his daughter, and Jon knew he was conflicted, "Captain, I believe we should offer aid."
"Brachen, what do you think?" Brachen looked surprised and then looked at Jon, and Jon's eyes widened, and then, he felt something wasn't right, but Jon just shrugged. I am not a çavuş, and this is his decision.
Brachen looked back to the captain, "It is not for me to say, but we can kill whatever is there if it tries to attack."
Jon sighed, Brachen gave no answer or opinion and put the choice into their hands. Brachen was a good archer, and so were the other four that were with them. Of the initiates, they were all a fair shot with a bow but were far better with arms. All five, including Jon, were untested. The captain searched the surrounding horizon, then looked back to the ship and sighed, "Get the sailors ready, Brachen get your men prepared as you will board the ship and search for survivors."
Brachen turned to him, "Get the others Toli. You will lead the initiates to search the ship, me and my men will stay on deck to make sure everything is clear." Jon nodded and left to gather the men, a sense of foreboding following him.
As the ship drew nearer, he could make out three men making the smoke, and then another two joined them from below deck. Draquero shouted out a greeting, and one man returned it. The captain shouted out another question, "What happened to your ship?"
The man yelled out again, "Storm a few days back blew us into some rocks, we couldn't see them. Plugged up the hole, but lost a good group of sailors."
"Valar Morgulis," Daquero shouted back, and the man nodded his head. "How many survivors?"
"Twenty! Ten in bad shape lost most of our food to spoilage and ran out of the water!"
The captain nodded, "Brachen take your people and ten of my men and help those injured back over, we have room for them, but it will be tight for the next few days until we reach Pentos."
The sailors raised the sails, and threw over hooks as they pulled themselves parallel, planks were put over the side as Jon and Brachen led everyone over. Brachen ordered them to leave the spears, shields, and bows. Jon kept his dagger and sword on as he wasn't too keen on one of the sailors stealing it. Jon and the others didn't have time to take off the mail under his tunic and being hot this early, and he wasn't looking forward to carrying men over to the Pearl with the weight he already had.
The man who had shouted out to them looked worse for the wear as his clothes were in tatters, and his skin seemed pale. He reached out to a Brachen, "Thank the gods, thank the gods you are here. Yimar is nearly dead, and I promised his mother I would return him home. He is my cousin and gods I thought we would lose him. Come, come, let me take you down to them."
"Toli, take the initiates and ten sailors down below, get the injured men and let's go."
Jon nodded but pulled Brachen to the side and whispered to him, "Does something feel wrong, Brachen?" The man just shook his head, and Jon sighed, he was in his head, there was nothing to worry about here.
Jon allowed one of the other men to guide the fifteen of them down below deck. Jon whispered to the other initiates, "Something feels off, hands-on your daggers."
Evrett was sweating and seemed nervous, and the other three seemed to feel it, and they kept their hands to their sides. Below deck was dim, with the only light coming from the entrance they just walked down. Jon could still hear one of the survivors speaking with the four remaining Demons and Brachen, and the clarity of speech became more muffled as they made their way to the injured sailors.
It smelt like mold and death, and Jon had to fight not to gag from the stench as they walked through what Jon assumed was the cook's or healer's quarters. There was old sand on the floor, congealed together with dried blood. Jon saw more marks of blood on the small makeshift cots. "How many died?" Jon asked out loud to himself.
"Too many," someone said behind him, and Jon startled at the sound. Jon turned to see the man who had a cousin named Yimar, standing behind him. "I forget this old lady creaks and cries with old age and injury."
Jon only nodded and continued to follow the line of men into the crews' quarters.
The hammocks were all up, though most were empty but swaying with the rocking of the tides. Shadows shifted and merged as the faint light of the three lanterns near the infirm were moving back and forth in sync. Jon listened carefully at the wood flexing and shifting, and then he heard the moans of the injured men.
Most were wrapped and bandaged heavily with soiled linens. A few sailors made their way over to them to start and pick up the injured men that the survivor leading them to. The sailors went to the ones that seemed worse off, the ones that weren't moving too much.
There were ten that seemed critically injured or desperately in need of care, and the ones that seemed awake would be left for the next trip. The sailors had grabbed three of them and started to walk towards Jon and the other survivor.
Jon turned to the leader, "Which one is Yimar?"
The man paused for a moment, "Sorry?"
"Yimar, your cousin?" Jon asked.
"Ah! Yes, he is that one over there," Jon turned his head.
"Sails!" Someone above them started shouting, and Jon turned back to the man behind him and saw a glint of light reflected in the palm of the man's hand.
Reflexes, born from intensive training, forced his left up down to block the strike and stop the knife which tore into his tunic and scraped against the iron rings of mail on his left shoulder. Jon's own knife was already through the man's jaw, passed the mouth, breaking the bone of the skull and piercing the brain. It happened so fast, Jon didn't even think, as the man's eyes were wide in surprise. Jon killed his first man. He stood there, staring at the man for what could have been minutes but were mere moments. Jon felt the blood flow and covered his right hand. He ripped out the knife with some effort and what must have been either tongue or brain. Jon's blood was pumping through his body, and Jon turned to the rest of the men.
"Tele! Ossēnagon zirȳ! Trap!" Jon yelled and turned to see Haro stabbed through his throat and Evrett struggling against his man, the sailors were screaming in pain and fighting their attackers, and the lantern was knocked over alighting a hammock. Jon saw the supposedly injured men stabbing the sailors, and Jon jumped towards the man that killed Haro. The man looked up, but was not quick enough to stop Jon's knife from going through his throat, Jon stabbed twice, and bright blood sprayed over the cabin. Jon grabbed the knife out of the man's limp hand and threw his own at the man who had stabbed Evrett in the chest. The blade buried itself in the man's arm. Jon ran over and finished the attacker off with his knife.
Another man with a bandage over his eye came at him, and Jon blocked the fist and kicked the man back when someone else tackled him, Jon hit his head on the deck but brought the knife up and stabbed his attacker in the stomach. Once, twice, three times. The man tried to wrap his hands around Jon's throat, and Jon felt panic, but Jon kept stabbing and stabbing and stabbing the man over and over again, and the pressure on his throat let up as the smell of blood and shit threatened to overwhelm him.
Jon forced the man off of him and tried to get up but slipped on the blood. Jon looked around wildly at the bloodbath, most of the attackers were dead, and one was trying to crawl away while bleeding all over the floor. In anger, Jon unsheathed his sword and stabbed the man through the back of his skull.
He had killed a man. He just killed multiple men without a moment's hesitation. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins. Jon felt sharp, alert, and the violence he incurred on these now dead men made him feel...
Jon turned to survey the others, and the smell hit him in full, and that feeling of battle evaporated into nothing, then transformed quickly into horror.
Haro's throat was a bloody mess, and Sylvar had a knife through his eye, and his other was open wide but lifeless. Vimeras was bleeding badly from the leg, and all but three sailors were dead, and the three bore one injury or another. Still, they were finishing off any of the attackers that were still somehow alive and begging for mercy. None came.
Jon knew the sailors had their own knives, and he thought they had suspected a trap like he had. One of them was an old Summer Islander who just gave Jon an approving nod. Jon swallowed and nodded back to the man. The smell of smoke wafted past him, and Jon saw that the hammock was alight.
They were looking at Jon, and Jon tried to think about what to do. He heard shouts from above and men yelling. Jon looked around and saw Evrett looking at him with wide eyes, blood flowing out of his chest and mouth. "Vimeras, get the sailors some Evrett's, Sylvar's and Haro's weapons and get them up on deck and help Brachen. Now!" Jon yelled the last bit as Vimeras nodded shakily and limped through the cabin, the smoke starting to overwhelm him. Jon sheathed his sword and dagger and crouched next Evrett.
"J-Jon," Evrett stammered out, "J-J-Jon, I think," He swallowed, "I-I think I'm dying."
"Shut up, I'll get you out of here."
Evrett started crying and coughing blood up, "I don't want to die,"
Jon grabbed him and hoisted him onto the shoulders as Evrett cried out in pain, "Shut up, Evrett, you're not going to die."
"I-I do-don't want to go, I don't want to go." Evrett sobbed out as his blood fell down Jon's back. Jon followed the others and made his way through the crew's quarters, coughing as some smoke filled his lungs. He saw one of the makeshift cots in the cook's quarters and laid Evrett down. Evrett was breathing shallow fast and grabbed something hanging around his neck. "P-p-ple-please Jon, I d-don't w-want to go." His eyes widened in panic, "I wa-wanna g-go home, I wa-nna go ho-home. P-please." The blood garbled in his throat, and Jon could only stare as his friend's eyes were wide with terror, and Jon just grabbed his friend's hand. Evrett coughed up more blood, choking while his lungs filled, and Jon was helpless as tears prickled.
Then the light left Evrett, and his only friend stilled.
Jon felt numb as he closed his friend's empty terror-filled eyes gently, then grief and rage starting to overcome him. Jon stood and took one more look at Evrett and grabbed his sword and unsheathed it, and moved to exit onto the deck. Their way was blocked by one of the sailors that was now lying dead at the bottom of the steps. Two bolts protruding from his chest. The last three men just looked at Jon for guidance, fear written on their faces. Jon peeked his head above the stairs to observe the deck.
Something whirled past his head as a quarrel buried itself right above him, and Jon ducked back below deck. The smoke was making it difficult, but Jon had seen two of the Demon's archers dead, as well as the other three men that had lured them there. Jon thought quickly as the three others stared at him, Vimeras and two other sailors were looking pale and tired, and Jon knew they needed to move soon. "There are crossbowmen up there. I do not know how many, but it looks like it came from near the helm." Jon was trying to think. "Is there another way up there?" Jon asked.
A sailor, the younger of the two, nodded, "Served on a ship like this, if we move through that passage and up, we can get close, maybe underneath them."
Jon nodded, "Vimeras, wait for our signal." Vimeras gave a small nod, breathing heavily and grimacing as he tightened a piece of torn tunic above the wound in his leg. Jon nodded to the old sailor and then moved quickly with the younger one. They made their way through the petty officer's quarters, and climbed up, and slowly opened the door, and saw four men shooting with crossbows. They were aiming at the Pearl's Kiss and loosing quarrels at the remaining crew. One of the men stood up to release when an arrow pierced the man's skull, and the man fell. Jon looked at the young sailor with him, waiting for the sound of the remaining men's crossbow latches to release. Jon unsheathed his dagger and held it in his left as they waited.
The sound of cords snapping forward went, and Jon and the sailor burst through the door. Jon yelled as he swung his sword at the closest crossbowman and buried the blade in the man's neck and stabbed the next men in the eye with his dagger in two heartbeats. Jon turned to see the sailor had killed one crossbowman, and then a bolt split his skull.
Jon wrenched the blade free and moved, but the last man was filled with two arrows. "Vimeras, GO!" Jon shouted and turned to see Brachen and one of the archers aboard the Kiss, draw and loose above him. Jon's eyes widened when he caught five more crossbowmen on the upper deck, and Jon jumped to the side and rolled as two bolts missed him by a hair's breadth, one even popped the mail on the side of his torso.
Jon got to his feet and climbed up the stairs when two men rushed him with axes drawn, crossbows discarded. Jon stepped back down the steps, forcing them to advance towards him on equal ground. Jon looked briefly to the right. Vimeras was trying to get back to the Pearl's Kiss but had been hit with a bolt-on his already injured leg, so he was dragged roughly across the gap.
Jon parried the first swing, and stabbed his knife through the man's armpit but was unable to tear the blade free. Jon moved to put the injured man between himself and the next attacker. Jon head-butted the wounded man and threw him into his uninjured counterpart. Jon advanced, slashed and cut the throat of the second man and kicked the ax out of the first man's hand and stabbed down through chainmail piercing his heart. Jon took a deep breath, the adrenaline pumping through his veins again as was that feeling.
Jon took a deep breath, grabbed one of the axes in his left hand, and then moved back up the stairs to the remaining three crossbowmen. Two were dead, and the last had an arrow in his leg.
"Rehm! Kostilus nyke yalvarmaq ao!"
Mercy? Jon, filled with rage, went over and buried the ax between the man's eyes, Jon took a look and thought of his friend, dead below deck and spit on the corpses of the slain at his feet.
The main deck was smoking now, the fire must have spread, and Jon looked around for any other pirates.
"Toli!" Brachen yelled out. "Toli! If you are alive, get back over here. We need to leave!"
"I'm here! I'm here!" Jon yelled as he made his way down from the upper decks.
Jon coughed and moved his way back onto the planks and fell onto the deck of the Pearl's Kiss, sucking down air, unable to breathe. Jon sought out his fellow fighters and sailors, and some were injured, but many were dead or dying. Jon slumped to the ground and looked at his hands. They were covered in blood, and they were starting to shake with fear as the elation of battle was wearing off. Jon turned to the deck and vomited.
"Toli!" Brachen grabbed his shoulders and lifted him to his feet. His Cavuş then coughed and wiped the blood from his mouth, "Toli, we need to disembark, three more ships are coming." Jon looked where Brachen was pointing, Jon's heart sank when he saw one oared galleass and two ships with a combination of triangle and square sails, with three masts each bearing down on them.
"Where the fuck did they come from?" Jon asked.
Brachen coughed again then spat blood onto the deck, "I am not sure, but it doesn't matter." Jon finally looked at Brachen and saw the bolt buried into his left side, at least four inches deep. Jon looked back up to his commander, who was grimacing, "You and Vimeras are the last ones left, I don't have long," Brachen coughed, slumped onto Jon and tried to steady himself, "Gods dying is painful." Jon started to move him to sit, but Brachen waved him away, "Go to Rebryllo, the captain is dead, get your orders and get us out of here."
Jon looked around, there were only fifteen sailors left, including the cook and Rebryllo, Jon rushed over, trying to stop his hands from shaking. Rebryllo looked at him with fright, Jon looked at himself, he was covered in blood and Jon was now acutely aware of it starting to dry and stick. "Mercenary, follow Fyro, do exactly as he does." Jon nodded then heard the first mate, now captain, yell out, "Get the planks off and sails down, cut the planks loose! We need to move, move now!" Jon followed Fyro, the old summer islander sailor who helped Vimeras back over onto the Pearl's Kiss.
Jon only now noticed Fyro was tattooed over his face, but now was not the time to ask of such things, and Jon just followed Fyro. They helped get the mainsail down as Vimeras hopped on one leg, and with one arm uninjured. Vimeras worked swinging his sword like an ax to get rid of the planks and ropes tying them to the now burning ship. Soon they were moving, but it was slow, too slow. Jon continued to work, but everyone turned to see the three ships. They were slowly growing in size, and the galleass was ahead of the other two, oars dipping into the water, slicing through the sea, each stroke bringing them closer to their doom.
It was a valiant attempt by the remaining crew, but it would be minutes, not hours before they were overtaken.
Jon continued to work, pulling ropes, tying knots as he shadowed Fyro. Fyro, however, kept muttering, "Sio tena, Sio tena," Jon didn't recognize words but knew it was the language of the Summer Islands. Jon wasn't sure how much time passed, but when he looked back at the galleass it was close enough to see the figurehead, the damaging ram was below the water, waiting to puncture their hull and drown them all.
"Get down!" Rebryllo shouted, and Jon slammed to the deck with Fyro as three scorpion bolts flew through the air and one embedded into the deck, another skewered a sailor, impaling him into the mast and the third took a man at the leg.
Jon looked on in horror, and Fyro grabbed him, and Jon allowed the old sailor to lead him below deck, and suddenly the sky was full of crossbow quarrels. Jon saw Rebryllo hit twice in the chest, Brachen was already dead but was hit again, and Vimeras was struck in his shoulder. Fyro followed him down and turned him around. "Take off mail." Jon didn't understand, but Fyro grabbed at him and started to take off his mail hauberk, his helmet and everything else until he was in a bloody tunic and breeches, "Kill soldiers, keep sailors, make a row."
Jon shook his head, "No, I will not be a slave, I will die a warrior."
Fyro shook his head, "You young, can escape, me old, they kill."
Jon shook his head again, but Fyro was giving him food, "Eat. No food for a time." Jon tried to eat the stale bread and ration of salted beef and had to force it down as Fyro placed it in his arms.
Suddenly, the sound of bolts falling stopped, and Jon knew their attackers were close. Jon stuffed the rest of the food in his mouth. Fyro then gave him a cup of watered ale, and Jon swallowed quite a few servings, then looked at Fyro, who put on the bloody mail, helmet and scabbard. Jon put a hand on his arm and gave him a confused look.
"Too old, to be slave again," Fyro simply said and then pushed Jon to the ladder to the deck. "Raise arms, surrender," Fyro instructed, and Jon climbed the ladder to see the galleass was less than two hundred feet away. Vimeras was bleeding heavily, and all but two of the sailors were dead or dying. Jon just knelt and put his hands in the air and shouted, "Obūljarion, surrender!" Jon waved his hands and cried out the same thing over and over again. Two crossbow bolts were sent to his feet and skittered down the deck, and Jon scrambled backward to the amusement of the pirates who jeered him.
The pirates hooked the ship and drew the galleass close, soon planks were put down, and pirates streamed over, boarding the Pearl's Kiss. Jon looked to see the rough-looking men, a mismatch of persons, some could have been Westerosi, but most had to be from the Free Cities or beyond. Jon continued to yell surrender, and the other two sailors that were alive did the same thing. One of the men prodded Vimeras, and his injured comrade, barely moved. Then the man poked again, and Vimeras raised his dagger to slash the leg, but the pirate only tore his throat with a knife.
The man who looked in charge studied his sailor, who was almost stabbed and laughed, "That is why we make sure they are dead!" The man spoke Valyrian with an accent different from Braavos, but Jon was not sure which. The man motioned to the rest of the pirates, and they started stabbing the dead and dying sailors, ensuring their death and then scavenged for any valuables. Once relieved of their possessions, they were thrown overboard. The other pirates chuckled, and then the man in charge looked at him. He was an ugly man, with a broad nose that had been broken, and had a scar that took part of his lip, although his brown beard was grown to try and hide it. The man looked at Jon, "You boy, is there anyone else on board," Jon stayed silent, but the bearded man struck him. When Jon looked up again, he was hit twice more, and Jon felt his nose crack, and blood streamed down his face. "Anyone else?"
Jon nodded, "A few crew," Jon wheezed and spit out blood, "below deck, and a merchant and his wife and four children." This made the man smile, "The whore houses in Lys love children!" The man yelled out to his men. The pirates whooped in agreement.
One of the men shouted out, "Not until we all get a turn!"
The man in charge laughed out loud to that, "Take the wife, virgin child slaves get four times as much, then you can buy as many turns as you want!" This got a loud laugh, and the man who he assumed to be captain, pointed to five men, and they went to the cabins. He indicated with his finger to six more, "Go find the rest of the crew, kill them all." Jon gulped, and the man came over to him and the other captured sailors, one of which had a bolt in his calf that Jon had not noticed. The man in charge looked at all three of them, "My name is Ventarro, I am the captain of this small fleet, and my two caravels will be here soon enough. You are now my slaves, my slave master will determine if you are worth being-" He was interrupted by shouting below deck and from the cabins as well as the wife, sons and daughters were all dragged out, and Jon noticed the blood on Marcelino's wife's dress. "The merchant?"
"Tried to stab me, knifed him," one of the pirates said and shrugged.
Ventarro sighed, "Very well, the spirit of the contract is fulfilled at least, Salhar understands these things happen." Only three of the six came up from below the deck.
"What happened to you?" Ventarro asked.
"Crazy old fucker in mail attacked, killed Sil and Vyn, I took his head. The cook and three others were hiding, killed them all, but one killed Wym."
"Could none have been captured?"
The three men shrugged, "You told us to kill 'em all."
"I did, didn't I?" Ventarro gave a quick laugh, "Very well, where was I?" Ventarro asked, but Jon knew no one would interrupt him. "Yes, my slave master, Ryjar, will determine if you should live, Ryjar!"
A thin, tanned man with a well-groomed beard and black mark on his cheek came out of the galley quarters with a calm demeanor and made his way to the Pearl's Kiss. The man had mismatched eyes, one black and one milky white, and looked at the captives and then the captain. The captain nodded, and Ryjar moved first to the sailor with a bolt in the calf. He took a quick look at him and drew his knife and cut his throat. The sailor fell forward as the blood drained from him and onto the deck. Ryjar motioned with his hands, and two sailors grabbed the body, dragged across the deck as blood still trickled out of the neck, and threw him overboard.
Jon saw Ventarro speaking to another pirate and pointing to the hull, soon ten pirates were below deck again, and Jon was sure they were looking for valuables.
The children wailed, and Ryjar ignored them and moved to the next sailor and eyed him, "Oar." The sailor was shaking and then thanking the man profusely and was hit across the face by a pirate, then led away onto the galley. Ryjar then moved to the wife and nodded to the pirates that held her, and they spread her arms wide. Ryjar cut and tore her dress away, and her nakedness was exposed, and Jon looked elsewhere, trying not to let fear saturate his being.
The pirates all cheered and jeered the woman, drowning the sobs of all of Marcelino's family. Jon continued to close his eyes, and Ryjar was silent for a long while before he spoke, "Cheap whore, a field hand, nothing expensive, but still worthy of being sold." Jon opened his eyes but wished he didn't as the captain was looking lustfully at Tirashia.
"Take her to my cabin then! You boys can have her after!" A cheer went up, and the woman sobbed harder, and Jon's last bit of grief and rage was finally overtaken by fear.
Ryjar did the same thing to the daughters but spent more time looking and studying their bodies and Jon felt bile rise in his throat, while the pirates cheered wildly. "Lys would pay good money for these girls, unspoiled, of course." A groan came from the men, but the girls cried all the same.
The captain kept a jovial smile, which made his face more horrendous, "Quiet your moaning, these two will increase our bounty, and for your 'sacrifice,' the first whore in Lys is on me." This got a loud cheer from the men.
Ryjar went to the two boys and looked at both of them, he pointed at the eldest, Jorcho, "Oar, most like, if we can't sell them in Lys." Then he looked at the boy, Rentarro, "Whore, maybe, still, easy to sell if we want."
"Oar til then?" the captain asked.
"Not if we can avoid it, he might die," Ryjar said as he made his way to Jon. Ryjar studied him, then felt his hands, his shoulders, and prodded him and checked his teeth. "He would have been pretty enough for a whore house, but you broke his nose." The captain smirked at him, and Ryjar continued in his impassive observation of Jon, "How old are you?"
"Ten and six," Jon lied.
"Hmm, he is a soldier or has trained as one. Make him a galley slave for now, maybe sell him if we break him or to the Pits if we don't," Ryjar said to Ventarro.
"Soldiers have spirit, they are tough to break," Ventarro said.
For the first time, Ryjar's expression changed, but only slightly and Jon felt his blood chill, "My friend, you know I enjoy a challenge."