Chapter 1 - Bellport
Lissandra awoke to the soft tune of church bells. Her eyes stung, and her head throbbed. She focused on the painted ceiling above her. It was a picture of two men. One had black hair and dark eyes. Dull eyes that seemed they'd never look any farther than what was in front of them. And the other man was leaning against a cart. This one was not as tall, and he was skinny. Around his neck was a pendant of a great silver thunderbird. It had a solid green stone in the centre.
Lissandra sat up like a deer on a warning, her head shifting from side to side. Her eyes trailed across the room. Its walls were completely hidden by bookcases stuffed with books, papers, old armour and swords.
She rose from her bed and slowly hobbled over to the bookcases. She ran her finger along the old dusty books reading their titles. She stopped at a small red book, torn at the edges and read the title aloud. 'Essil. Traitor of the South.' She looked about her and took the book from the shelf. She slowly turned the hard cover and looked at the old pages. As if on cue, the door opened, and a delightfully short, stout man with a generous smile trotted it. She hid the book in her cloak pocket.
'Hello!' The man said cheerfully. He skipped over to a little table in the corner and started pouring cups of tea. Lissandra, quite confused at this point, watched the man carefully. He turned to her, each hand loosely held a teacup. 'Welcome to Bellport, Miss!'
'Ah! Who are you?'
'Have some tea. It'll warm you up. You look cold.' The man sat down on the bed.
'Who are you?' Lissandra repeated, a little annoyed at his optimism.
The man chuckled. (Yes that's right; he chuckled) 'Fiddle is my name. Thomas Fiddle. And I am an assistant to the Lieutenant Williams.'
'Lieutenant?' Lissandra backed away from the man.
'Come, come. Do not be afraid. Ask me anything you like.' Obviously he didn't know she was a pirate, so she played along.
'What is that the painting on the ceiling for, I've seen that man before, the one with dark hair, reaching for the jewel.'
'I doubt it. The man must have died hundreds of years ago.' Fiddle laughed. 'His name was Arolas. He was a separatist. Traitor, I say. He began Piracy. Said the poor shouldn't mingle with the rich, so he started a riot. On December 8th 1313 a big riot broke loose in this city. And he was the leader. They called themselves 'the Pirates', god knows why. They created a great many ships and sailed to Bellport. Luckily, 'the Monarchs', people like us, won and drove them to the sea. Or so legend says. They rode away on their ships forever torturing themselves to hunger and death. Anyway I'm just babbling.'
'And the other man. Who is he?' Lissandra questioned.
'His name was Essil. Arolas drove him out of the city. Some deal, or blackmail I suppose. Essil was a good man.'
'He wasn't a traitor?'
'Some believe that he deserted us in our hour of need. But that was 500 years ago. Anyway, I guess a lot has happened to you, miss. It must have been awful for you, being kidnapped by those filthy pirates. Those scoundrels! Especially to be captured by one so dissolute and corrupt as "The Silver Cloud".'
'Scoundrels? No. They were kind, and almost magical. They only had a heart for freedom, like any other pirate.' Lissandra was now a little annoyed at the man.
'Ah, so they feel freedom is drinking, scurvy, stealing, and murdering, eh?' Lissandra didn't reply. 'Here, Sit down. I imagine you need your rest.' The man got off the bed and motioned for her to lye down.
Lissandra reached for a sword, already unsheathed (how convenient) that was leaning against one of the many bookshelves. She swung it up to Fiddle's throat.
'I am not the kind of person you want to mess with.' Her voice was stern, barely wavering. 'Where are they? Where is the Captain?'
Fiddle staggered, and looked at the blade held to his throat. 'Put the blade down! Explain yourself!'
'Where are they?' She repeated.
'They are dead, Miss. You need not worry.' Fiddle gave a weak smile and motioned for her to lower her sword.
'Dead? All of them?'
'Indeed, I do not know. I assume most drowned. But the captain, for sure, is dead.' Lissandra's eyes filled up with tears. She gave a hard thrust of her sword, tearing Fiddle's shirt.
'Next time it'll be closer.' She warned Fiddle.
'Please. I do not understand, what is wrong. We saved you.'
'No! You killed my crew, my captain, and destroyed my ship.' She stared directly into Fiddle's eyes. 'You men know nothing. Shallow. Shallow is your knowledge and life. You live to others expectations; you leave nothing for your own pleasure. You are what people name you. Jolly, they say, so jolly you are.
'I am the 'Maiden of the Silver Cloud'. 'Tis but a name, a title, a mere label, to sell fear into citizens to make yourselves heroes. That is the way of your world, isn't it? Perhaps it's just a simple race for power and control over the emotions and life of your fellow man? How pathetic.'
Fiddle only replied, 'And pirates? Are they any different?'
Lissandra shook her head and sighed. 'No.'
Fiddle slowly stood up, as she lowered the blade. He took the sword from her hand, and dropped it on the floor. 'You are who you chose to be.' Fiddle said as he clasped her hands in irons.
Lissandra smiled. 'Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me.'
Lissandra awoke to the soft tune of church bells. Her eyes stung, and her head throbbed. She focused on the painted ceiling above her. It was a picture of two men. One had black hair and dark eyes. Dull eyes that seemed they'd never look any farther than what was in front of them. And the other man was leaning against a cart. This one was not as tall, and he was skinny. Around his neck was a pendant of a great silver thunderbird. It had a solid green stone in the centre.
Lissandra sat up like a deer on a warning, her head shifting from side to side. Her eyes trailed across the room. Its walls were completely hidden by bookcases stuffed with books, papers, old armour and swords.
She rose from her bed and slowly hobbled over to the bookcases. She ran her finger along the old dusty books reading their titles. She stopped at a small red book, torn at the edges and read the title aloud. 'Essil. Traitor of the South.' She looked about her and took the book from the shelf. She slowly turned the hard cover and looked at the old pages. As if on cue, the door opened, and a delightfully short, stout man with a generous smile trotted it. She hid the book in her cloak pocket.
'Hello!' The man said cheerfully. He skipped over to a little table in the corner and started pouring cups of tea. Lissandra, quite confused at this point, watched the man carefully. He turned to her, each hand loosely held a teacup. 'Welcome to Bellport, Miss!'
'Ah! Who are you?'
'Have some tea. It'll warm you up. You look cold.' The man sat down on the bed.
'Who are you?' Lissandra repeated, a little annoyed at his optimism.
The man chuckled. (Yes that's right; he chuckled) 'Fiddle is my name. Thomas Fiddle. And I am an assistant to the Lieutenant Williams.'
'Lieutenant?' Lissandra backed away from the man.
'Come, come. Do not be afraid. Ask me anything you like.' Obviously he didn't know she was a pirate, so she played along.
'What is that the painting on the ceiling for, I've seen that man before, the one with dark hair, reaching for the jewel.'
'I doubt it. The man must have died hundreds of years ago.' Fiddle laughed. 'His name was Arolas. He was a separatist. Traitor, I say. He began Piracy. Said the poor shouldn't mingle with the rich, so he started a riot. On December 8th 1313 a big riot broke loose in this city. And he was the leader. They called themselves 'the Pirates', god knows why. They created a great many ships and sailed to Bellport. Luckily, 'the Monarchs', people like us, won and drove them to the sea. Or so legend says. They rode away on their ships forever torturing themselves to hunger and death. Anyway I'm just babbling.'
'And the other man. Who is he?' Lissandra questioned.
'His name was Essil. Arolas drove him out of the city. Some deal, or blackmail I suppose. Essil was a good man.'
'He wasn't a traitor?'
'Some believe that he deserted us in our hour of need. But that was 500 years ago. Anyway, I guess a lot has happened to you, miss. It must have been awful for you, being kidnapped by those filthy pirates. Those scoundrels! Especially to be captured by one so dissolute and corrupt as "The Silver Cloud".'
'Scoundrels? No. They were kind, and almost magical. They only had a heart for freedom, like any other pirate.' Lissandra was now a little annoyed at the man.
'Ah, so they feel freedom is drinking, scurvy, stealing, and murdering, eh?' Lissandra didn't reply. 'Here, Sit down. I imagine you need your rest.' The man got off the bed and motioned for her to lye down.
Lissandra reached for a sword, already unsheathed (how convenient) that was leaning against one of the many bookshelves. She swung it up to Fiddle's throat.
'I am not the kind of person you want to mess with.' Her voice was stern, barely wavering. 'Where are they? Where is the Captain?'
Fiddle staggered, and looked at the blade held to his throat. 'Put the blade down! Explain yourself!'
'Where are they?' She repeated.
'They are dead, Miss. You need not worry.' Fiddle gave a weak smile and motioned for her to lower her sword.
'Dead? All of them?'
'Indeed, I do not know. I assume most drowned. But the captain, for sure, is dead.' Lissandra's eyes filled up with tears. She gave a hard thrust of her sword, tearing Fiddle's shirt.
'Next time it'll be closer.' She warned Fiddle.
'Please. I do not understand, what is wrong. We saved you.'
'No! You killed my crew, my captain, and destroyed my ship.' She stared directly into Fiddle's eyes. 'You men know nothing. Shallow. Shallow is your knowledge and life. You live to others expectations; you leave nothing for your own pleasure. You are what people name you. Jolly, they say, so jolly you are.
'I am the 'Maiden of the Silver Cloud'. 'Tis but a name, a title, a mere label, to sell fear into citizens to make yourselves heroes. That is the way of your world, isn't it? Perhaps it's just a simple race for power and control over the emotions and life of your fellow man? How pathetic.'
Fiddle only replied, 'And pirates? Are they any different?'
Lissandra shook her head and sighed. 'No.'
Fiddle slowly stood up, as she lowered the blade. He took the sword from her hand, and dropped it on the floor. 'You are who you chose to be.' Fiddle said as he clasped her hands in irons.
Lissandra smiled. 'Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me.'