Okay, here's your next chapter. Please R&R.

*****

The sea was clear and blue, and the azure sky was broken by only a few clouds, drifting across the sky. The sun shone down merrily on the bounding waves. Skipping across those waves was a small ship.

It was very small: a single deck, a tiny hold under the deck to hold supplies in, and a single mast. It was plain, varnished wood, except for a faux gold engraving on the side: Banana Trading Co. No. 7. Any one who was new to the sea would call it a boat. Any true seaman would take one look at the captain, and call it a true ship, and one of the most grand. A vessel is determined by the captain, not the timber.

Right now the captain of this vessel was standing on the cross mast, both booted feet planted firmly on the wood. One of his hands was stretched out and grabbed onto the mast for balance. The other was up to his brow, shading the eyes. He was standing strait and tall, commanding respect.

His hair was long and back, kept in check with a ragged bandanna, and a torn triangle seaman's hat. The black hair was tied up in braids, and fastened with beads. A long white albatross feather fell across the side of his face. His skin was tan and calloused from too many days at sea.  His beard, like his hair, was tied up with beads. He wore a tanned, leather vest, with a wide leather belt, and breeches. His boots were thick and practical, and on his hands were fingerless gloves.

On his left was a rapier, and on his right was a long, curving cutlass.

He was heading across the sea for something he wanted more than life itself: Freedom. He was the Pirate Captain Morgan.

You wouldn't normally respect a pirate with a ship like the Banana Trading Co. No. 7 but at this point Captain Morgan really didn't care. He had his dignity… sort of.

And he really hadn't had much of a choice, anyway. Everyone had known he was in town, save the Banana Trading Co., who were just coming in with a shipment. So… he had just borrowed it… without permission… without much intention of giving it back… until he found a better one… which could be awhile.

He would really have rather had a ship with a better name. Something that screamed "Pirate!" Like… the blood wake, or the vengeance. But beggars can't be choosers. He would get a better boat soon, he was sure… but only a few options were open to him.

There was stealing. That was out of the question. He had a bounty on his head throughout all of Europe and the new world, not to mention most of Africa. There wasn't a single decent vessel he could steal that wouldn't bring a very large amount people down on his head. He couldn't even steal a bad ship. Even stealing this one brought down the English Navy on his tail. That had been awkward.

Then there was having powerful friends. Dangerous, and difficult. Also out. Knowing people was largely pure chance, and being in the right place at the right time. No luck there.

And that left the last. Honest work. Granted, he was making an honest living doing dishonest work. He was a pirate for hire. But then, he still had clients and contracts, and that made it feel dangerously like honest work.

However, this job seemed different. He got the feeling that his client this time was a potential powerful friend. But it was also an odd job, and very easy. Take the client to Japan. Easy, right? It was always the easy jobs that got you dead. But then, he didn't have much of a choice about this either. Besides, he was either dead, or in the powerful friend's category. Either was better than honest work.

*****

In every legend there is the place: Heaven… hell… Val Hallah… the underworld…

In every story there is the ruler: YHWH… Lucifer… Thor… Hades…

In every tale there is the messenger: Gabriel… Beelzebub… the valkaries… Charon…

Nobody knows the truth. One is right. Maybe non are… maybe they all are… nobody knows…

In every life, there is The Lady…

She does not run with war…

She does not lie in famine…

She does not lurk with plague…

She does not kill…

She does not lurk in shadow…

All this is mere fantasy.

She is Real…

The same sky that shone down on Captain Morgan also shone down on Japan. The sun glinted off the freshly planted rice paddies. Through the paddies ran a strait, dirt road with trees lining the sides off it.

Rattling down the road was a little cart, driven by a single ox. It was heavily laden with supplies. The top of a cart had a seat to sit on, but the driver was walking along beside the struggling ox, egging her on.

"C'mon, girl…" The man said, scratching her behind the ears. "It's only a few more miles… you can do this." He urged, patting her shoulder. Despite his best encouragements, the ox still faltered, stumbling slightly.

The man looked at the struggling ox for a little while, then sighed. "All right, girl, you win." He said, and went over to the cart. Carefully, he got out some of the things: two large bags of rice and a few quilts, and put them over his shoulders. He inverted his ox crook to substitute as a walking stick, and began plodding along beside the bovine. "I guess you and me'll be a little late to lord Gonza's, eh?" The man was a farmer, and every two or three months, he went to the local lord's palace to trade. But then again, it probably didn't matter if he was late. He had heard that the lord's daughter had just died, and he was in mourning. He probably didn't even care about supplies right now. The man couldn't stand that thought. He had a daughter the same age as the lord's daughter, and there were rumors of an odd disease spread my moths going around. What if the death and that was connected? He shuddered at the thought of loosing his daughter, or his wife.

Something caught his eye, and he turned. Sitting under one of the trees on the side of the road was a young woman. She looked to be about twenty, and had raven black hair lankly framing her face and spilling down her back. Her skin was relatively pale, and her face had a smooth, serene expression. Her face was both sharp and soft in different places, giving off the oddest look of childlike innocence, yet sensual adulthood as well. She was dressed all in black: a long black cape tumbled down her back. Her top was a light tight, although not overly so, and attached together just to the left of her shapely chest, and the edges were embossed with gold trim. The collar was high, and the sleeves came down to her elbows before letting off in long, trailing gold-trimmed lengths to hang at her sides. The top came on down, through a loose fitting thick black belt, to form two gold trimmed bolts of cloth hanging loosely in the front and back. Under the top was a pair of black baggy pants, tucked into jet black greaves. She wore black socks, and sandals. Her wrists were clad with bracers the same material as the greaves, and black fingerless gloves hugged her hands. On the ground at her side was a long, knobbed stick made of a dark black wood. She looked up at him, smiled, and waved.

The man looked down, sweating slightly, and managed to grin back. This load was getting heavy, and the ox was starting to fail again. There was no point in taking what you couldn't carry, and there was nothing to lose in being friendly.

He held up a finger, for her to wait a minute, and unsoldered his pack. Going around to the back of the cart he began to dig around in it. Finally, he pulled out two large bags of rice, and wrapped them in a home made quilt. "Listen…" He said, his voice friendly, if wearied, as he walked back around. "My ox is struggling a little with the load, so would you mind taking some of this?" He asked hopefully. "You can take the quilt to carry it in…"

The girl looked up at him. He noticed that her eyes were green, a very unusual color in Japan. She seemed genuinely surprised, and stood up. "You'd just give me food and a quilt, despite not knowing me?" She inquired. Her voice matched her face. Both adult and child at the same time.

The man seemed taken aback. "Well, if you don't want it, I can take it along…" He said, feeling a little embarrassed.

The girl stared at him for a moment, then a smile grew on her face, and her eyes narrowed happily. "No…" She said. "It's just that it is rare to see kindness so frank this day and age. Thank you." She said, taking the bags of rice, and setting them beside her pack.

The farmer nodded, and waved at her. "If you don't have any place to stay," he said, picking back up his bags of rice, and his quilt, "You should go to lord Gonza's. He's morning the death of his daughter right now, but he is a kind man, and should give you a place to stay."

The girl smiled at him, and nodded. "Thank you again." She said.

The man smiled, and continued walking down the road, moving slowly. But the ox seemed much relieved.

As they disappeared behind a bend in the road, the girl slowly stood up, and put the quilt with the rice in it over her shoulders. "How very rare." She murmured. Absently, still staring, she held out her hand. The ebony staff suddenly appeared in the waiting palm. "Very rare indeed."

Ahead, the farmer was whistling an old tune his wife had taught him. He was tired, and sore, but it was still a nice day. No point in wasting it. His topknot bounced along like a little Russian dancer, and his step developed a spring. Ahead in the distance, he could see Lord Gonza's castle. But in front of that, a little black dot was steadily growing. It wasn't long before the dot come into focus.

It was another woman, this one slightly younger. She was dressed in a white haori and red hakama, and carried a bow strapped across her back. Her hair was long and black and lush. It gently fell down her back, then was tied into a thick tie with white cloth, then on down to her hips.

As they drew closer, he could see her face was sad, and her brown eyes downcast. Her features were sharp and compact. The sandals on her face dragged on the road.

Well, there was no cure for the frowns like a big smile, his wife always said. He fixed a big grin, and nodded to her as the passed.

It happened like lightning. The woman looked up. So did the ox. Their eyes met, and suddenly the ox reared. The farmer, surprised, fell backwards, and his eyes widened in horror as he saw the large bulk of the ox towered towards him. The scream that escaped his lips was short lived as the sound of snapping ribs echoed down the road. Everything went black.

*****

The farmer awoke; he stood up, and shook his head, attempting unsuccessfully to clear it. He looked around trying to get his bearing. He hoped the ox was alright. It would be horrible if he couldn't make the delivery. His family depended on those supplies.

Thank Gods! The ox was lying on the side of the road, chewing grass thoughtfully. No real damage.

He turned around, and saw the woman. She was holding a glass vial of sacramental waters, identifying her as a priestess. That made sense. Probably a miko, as well, if she was carrying a bow and arrows. She was sprinkling the water over a bloody thing lying on the ground. Had someone died?

He rushed over to see what had happened, then starred as he passed through the woman. That was decidedly not normal. It couldn't possibly be… could it?

He walked to the woman, slowly this time, and looked down. He lay on the ground, body snapped at an odd angle, and blood on his lips and face. The farmer looked up from his own body, and swallowed. Ahhh… He said. His words sounded, but carried no substance.

"hmm…" Said a smooth voice from behind him. He turned around. There was the girl from before, clad all in black. She was looking at him. Not through him, but at him. "Interesting. It takes most people a long time to figure it out." She said simply, smiling at him.

He swallowed. I'm dead. He said simply… facing the fact.

She nodded. "Was it as bad as you thought?"

He blinked, and looked down at himself. His outline was beginning to fade. Not really… He said. He looked towards the priestess. She was saying a prayer over his body. Probably because I've been laid to proper rest.

The woman snorted. "I've never really understood that." She said. "Having water sprinkled on your carcass doesn't really affect anything. Why do you humans always feel better after it's happened?"

The man thought about this for a moment. It didn't make much sense now that he thought about it… He shrugged.

The woman nodded. "That's what many say." She said. "So, any questions before you go?"

The question 'go where?' instantly popped into his head. The woman's smile increased sardonically.

The spirit looked at her, and smiled. I don't suppose you could make sure that rice gets to Lord Gonza's? He asked. Just tell him to make sure that the stuff I get for it goes back to my family.

The woman's eyes widened, and she smiled, this time warmly. "I'll make sure it happens." She said, patting him on a quickly disappearing shoulder. Thinking a moment, she took the rice off her shoulders and handed it to him. "You're normally not allowed to take anything with you, but you're hardly normal."

The spirit shook its head. "Keep it." He said. "I heard you were a skeleton. I think you could use a good meal." His voice faded, and so did he.

The woman blinked, and thought for a moment, and turned around, towards the ox. The priestess had finished her rights and set fire to the body, cremating it. She was moving on down the road.

The woman walked over to the ox, and petted its head. Slowly, she willed herself visible again, a simple process. "Not normal at all." She murmured.

*****

Okay, a few Author notes. I would like to give credit where credit is due. Both Morgan and Death are my characters, however, I give thanks to Pirates of the Caribbean  for Morgan, and Terry Pratchet for Death. Both were mainly inspired by those sources, along with a few others. however, they are not direct copies. They are in fact my own characters.

Also, please, please, please review. I need reviews to keep going, so please, just take two minutes to leave your appreciation. Remember, Reviews + constructive criticism = inspiration = more quality = more writing = faster updates.

Please, if you are reading this and not reviewing, please leave one. You don't even have to log in. just take a minute to review. It's not that long. Please… (Whimper… whimper…)