Lunar: The Legend of the Dragon's Graveyard

by DarkKnight613

The details of Kyle of Nanza's past are revealed during an all-new adventure and a quest for a sacred treasure. Rated T for action violence, language, sensuality, and crude humor.

5. He's a Pirate

CHAPTER FOUR: HE'S A PIRATE

His features hidden beneath the hood of his violet cloak, Quentin disdainfully scanned the tavern as he approached the counter. The walk to Meribia was longer than he had anticipated, and he was terribly thirsty. He cursed the fact that only the advanced classes taught teleportation as he staggered towards the bar. The sign above him read "The Hangman's Noose," an appropriate moniker for a tavern frequented by Lunar's criminal element.

As he entered and sat himself down at the counter, a jovial-looking bartender eagerly walked up to him, sensing a well-paying customer. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Ale," Quentin rasped, tossing a few silver coins on the table. "A whole pitcher."

The bartender's eyes twinkled as he snatched up the coins. "Coming right up."

He brought over a small pitcher and a mug. Quentin seized and filled the mug, and greedily gulped down the ale, for once caring less about good breeding and more about his thirst. The bartender looked at him, obviously impressed. "You wouldn't happen to be related to Kyle of Nanza, would you?"

Quentin glared at him. "Do I look like I'm related to a drunken lout of a mercenary?"

The bartender's cheerful smile vanished. "Watch your mouth, fancy-pants. Kyle happens to be a good friend of mine. And I don't like it when people talk badly about my friends, or one of Lunar's heroes."

"How touching," Quentin replied with a slight sneer. To think that in this day and age, a lecherous barbarian thief can become a hero to the masses, he thought contemptuously. "Speaking of louts, I'm looking for Captain Rathbone. I've heard he's a regular of this establishment."

The bartender's face paled at the mention of the name. "Rathbone? What in Althena's name do you want with that cutthroat?"

"That's my affair," Quentin snapped. "And I'd like it to stay that way. Understand?"

He gestured with his right hand, and a small sphere of flame began to appear. The bartender's eyes narrowed. He was used to troublemakers in his establishment, and wouldn't blink twice at throwing them out a window if they got rough, but not when they were magicians. "Over there, sitting at that table in the corner," he grumbled. "The guy on the left."

Quentin looked back where the bartender had pointed. Two men were sitting at a table in the back, mostly hidden in the shadows. But the few details Quentin was able to make out caused him to raise a skeptical eyebrow. The man the bartender had indicated to be Rathbone seemed too well dressed and refined to be a dangerous outlaw. His companion, however, had the look of a rogue about him, and he was idly toying with an exotic curved dagger with a golden hilt.

"Who's that next to him? Quentin asked.

"That's Rathbone's bodyguard, Skai," the bartender muttered. "He's from one of the Prairie Tribes. Nobody knows much else about him, except he's probably the deadliest assassin in history. He's a holy terror with those knives of his, and just as dangerous without 'em."

"And they're just sitting there?" Quentin exclaimed in disbelief. "Why isn't anyone trying to apprehend them? Aren't there prices on their heads?"

"You're kidding, right? No sane man would want to meddle with Rathbone or that assassin of his. Rathbone's a master swordsman, and I've already told you about Skai. Nobody would stand a chance against them, especially you. Either one of 'em would rip you apart just for the sport of it. If you have any sense, you'll leave him well alone."

"I'll take my chances," Quentin said coldly, trying to sound more confident than he suddenly felt. He then gave the bartender a vicious glare. "Now listen carefully. I was never here, do you understand? If I hear word of a magician asking for Rathbone, I'll burn this dump to the ground, with you inside it. Do you understand me?"

The bartender nodded sourly. Quentin smiled. "Excellent. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a transaction to conduct."

The bartender scowled as Quentin walked towards the back. "I hope Rathbone does cut your throat, you little bastard," he grumbled to the magician's turned back.

Quentin approached Rathbone's table, once again taking in Rathbone's - if it really was Rathbone - fine clothing. Surely a man of his bearing couldn't possibly be the villain everyone made him out to be. In fact, Quentin was wondering if he'd even be up for the job. How tough could he be if he needed a savage Plainsman for a bodyguard?

However, as he drew closer, the pirate suddenly noticed him and fixed him with a sinister stare. The mage stopped in his tracks and gasped as he looked into Rathbone's eyes. They were jet black, cold and oddly hypnotic. There was a ruthless arrogance within them, the eyes of a man with a natural gift for commanding others, bearing no trace of guilt or burden from the many horrors they had witnessed. Now the young mage could truly believe the man he was facing was the infamous Rathbone, and he struggled to press on and fight back the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. Skai had spotted him too, and now held his dagger in a loose grip, as if he were about to use it.

Pull yourself together, damn it! Quentin chided himself. Whatever else Rathbone is, he's just a pirate! You're a magician of Vane! You need fear no one!

He managed to muster enough courage to complete his walk to Rathbone's table. Rathbone and Skai were still staring at him, but he did his best not to act worried.

"Captain Rathbone?" he said, trying to sound bold. "My name is Quentin, from the city of Vane."

"Good for you," Rathbone replied in a smooth, slightly raspy voice. "Is there a point to your disturbing me? Considering the way your legs quiver with fear, I do hope it's worth the effort."

Quentin smiled unsteadily, quite unnerved, and said in a low voice, "I have urgent need of your services, Captain."

Rathbone responded with an amused sneer. "Oh, do you now? And of what use can I be to one of the whelps of Vane?"

Quentin bristled slightly, but he pretended to ignore the insult. "As of this day, I serve Vane no longer. I wasn't meant to live a life of study and servitude to the Magic Guild or the sheep of Lunar. Why should I be their pawn, subject to their contempt and…"

"Are you hiring me to listen to you complain?" Rathbone growled, clearly losing his patience.

The point was not lost on Quentin. "Wealth beyond anything you can imagine is within my reach, and I need you to help me get it. And you and your crew will be paid handsomely for your services."

"I can imagine quite a bit, boy," Rathbone chuckled. "And common theft is beneath a brigand of my caliber. Now be off with you, before your knees start trembling again and you're no longer able to walk."

"This is no petty theft, Captain," Quentin said. "I'm after the treasure of the Dragon's Graveyard. And I'll share it with you if you help me."

Rathbone's eyes lit up for a second at the mention of the Graveyard, but the gleam quickly faded. "I've long outgrown fairy tales, boy. The Dragon's Graveyard is a myth that only fools insist on throwing their lives away over. And I am no fool."

"You are if you turn your back on this," Quentin said urgently. "The Dragon's Graveyard is real enough, and one of the magicians of Vane has found the way! He has a map with him, and a translated text with exact directions on how to find the temple! He'll be in Meribia within a few days, so when he gets here, you can deal with him, get the map, and we can use it to find the treasure!"

"Why not just 'deal with him' yourself?" Rathbone said. "You're also an almighty magician from Vane, aren't you? Why set us mere mortal pirates on him?"

"Unless, of course, you just don't have the nerve," Skai said mockingly, speaking for the first time. His voice was deep, with only faint traces of the Prairie accent. "Is your magic good for nothing more than frightening bartenders?"

Quentin's face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm no fool either, Captain. I happen to be quite the skilled magician. But I know my limitations, and Master Sarek is out of my league, as he is fond of reminding me. However, I doubt that he'd be a problem for you or your hired thug here, if he's really as tough as he acts."

Suddenly, Quentin screamed as an agonizing pain shot through his right hand. Looking down, he was horrified to discover it had been transfixed and pinned to the table by Skai's knife. Quentin, racked with pain, stared at the smugly smiling Plainsman in disbelief and terror. I didn't even see the bastard move!

"You'll have to excuse Skai," Rathbone said silkily. "He prefers the term 'assassin,' rather than 'hired thug.' And he just hates it when people even so much as imply he's not as efficient as he really is. You're lucky he didn't plant that blade in your neck. Now, would you be so kind as to return his dagger to him? He makes all of his own weapons, and he's especially fond of that one."

Wincing with pain, his eyes on the brink of tears, Quentin wrenched the dagger out of his hand and held it out to Skai. The assassin flicked his hand out, snatched the knife, and placed it within the folds of his jacket, faster than the eye could follow. The young mage then removed a silk handkerchief from his robes and carefully wrapped it around his wounded hand.

"Now then," Rathbone said, as if nothing had happened. "I've managed to kill magicians before, and neither I nor any of my men would hesitate about trying to do so again, even if it's one of the elite of the Magic Guild. It's not as hard as one might think if you're careful enough. But I'm not about to do so for the sake of some snot-nosed brat who would have me waste my time chasing after a myth…or maybe even walk right into a trap of some sort. So why should I trust you, let alone keep you alive?"

"I'm telling the truth, damn it!" Quentin hissed, overwhelmed with humiliation, pain, and fear. "Would I risk my life against a man of your reputation if I wasn't serious?"

Rathbone looked at Quentin thoughtfully, and then leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps you might, if you were brave enough. But courage doesn't seem to be one of your strong suits. I saw you acting tough with the bartender over there, but I don't think you have the nerve to try and hand me over to the authorities. You're not insane either. I've known plenty of madmen, and I'm good at recognizing them. So the only other option I can think of is that you are indeed telling the truth. Therefore, I'll believe you – for now. Would you care for a drink? They serve excellent wine here. Much better than that ale you were swilling before."

Quentin was surprised by Rathbone's sudden friendliness, but he nodded eagerly. Rathbone signaled a waiter, who brought another mug and a bottle of wine. Quentin gulped down the wine, which helped him to relax a bit. He breathed a deep sigh of relief at Rathbone's cordiality and possible cooperation. But although he felt more at ease, he remained on his guard, especially from Skai.

As he drank, Quentin examined Captain Rathbone closely. He was younger than Quentin had expected - surely not older than thirty. He was tall, lean, well-groomed, and strikingly handsome, with chiseled features, dark brown hair, and a trim goatee. His skin was lightly tanned, and bore none of the physical scars that a lifetime of banditry and violence often leave behind, except for a small scar on his left temple. His loose-fitting black clothes were of the finest quality, as was the black and red tabard he wore over them. A heavy sabre hung from an ornately decorated baldric. He could easily pass for a knight or a nobleman, rather than the most notorious outlaw and pirate on Lunar.

But Quentin was no longer fooled. He was beginning to understand how such a man as this had gained such notoriety and commanded such loyalty. The man had a natural commanding presence, and an evident capacity for absolute ruthlessness. It was this combination that had obviously allowed Rathbone to carve a bloody path to the top of Lunar's criminal underworld, outstripping all of his rivals and evading the most earnest attempts to capture him. Even in Vane, which had rarely concerned itself with the outside world, rumors of Rathbone's audacity and ruthlessness had spread like wildfire over the years. With a loyal band numbering in the hundreds that fought as well as professional soldiers, Rathbone's name had long ago become synonymous with terror, and was often used to justify the dangers of venturing outside of Vane to adventurous young children.

He then turned his attention to Skai. He appeared to be the same age as Rathbone, although you could never tell with the Prairie Tribe. His tanned skin bore several multi-colored tribal markings, and his spiked black hair was cut short, which was unusual for a Plainsman. He wore a brown animal skin jacket over simple black clothes, and a bone talisman on a slender gold chain. A brace of small throwing knives was slung over his shoulder. His lithe body was tense, and he reminded Quentin of a cat ready to pounce. The bodyguard's dark eyes were riveted on him, and Quentin doubted he'd be able to complete a spell of any sort before one of Skai's knives struck him down.

Meanwhile, Rathbone was doing some pondering of his own. He was still skeptical that the fabled Dragon's Graveyard actually existed, and even if it did, it wasn't like he really needed the money. Years of criminal activity had allowed him to build up a massive fortune. Besides, it was the violence and mayhem he truly enjoyed, and the fear and terror of him that came with it, and wealth was merely a by-product. On the other hand, to be able to claim a share of the Graveyard's treasure and survive whatever dangers lay within would only increase his already formidable reputation. Assuming Quentin was on the level, of course.

Rathbone drank down another cup of wine before speaking to Quentin. "Before we proceed any further, let's get business out of the way. You said our payment would be a portion of the Dragon Diamonds, yes? How much of a cut are you offering?"

Quentin smiled. "For you and your men…how does ninety percent sound?"

The offer actually managed to astound Rathbone. "Perhaps I was wrong. You are insane. Such generosity among scoundrels is almost unheard of. Why are you willing to part with so much of your prize?"

"Several reasons," Quentin said. "First, it's a cut that I'm sure would satisfy you, and make you less likely to kill me over the small share left for me. Second, if the stories are true, ten percent is more than I could possibly spend in a lifetime, no matter how hard I try. And third, this is a dangerous mission, and you and your crew will be doing a lot of the dirty work. It's only fair that I make it worth your while. So, do we have a deal?"

"Not just yet," Rathbone replied. "I'd like some more details first. Will…Sarek, is it? When is he to leave?"

"In a week, if I heard correctly."

"Will he be traveling alone?"

"No, he's just playing chaperone," Quentin said. "He's escorting the governor's daughter. The adventure seems to be her idea, but I'm not sure why. Probably thrill-seeking."

Now Quentin had Rathbone's complete, undivided attention. "The Governor's daughter? Jessica de Alkirk?"

"Yeah, that's right. One of the Five Heroes who supposedly beat the Vile Tribe. It sounds like her plaything, Kyle of Nanza is coming with her. How that drunken boor got to be a Hero and Lady de Alkirk's fiancé, I can't possibly imagine."

Rathbone didn't answer. He didn't even seem to be paying attention to Quentin's rambling. He just sat there, his expression completely blank. Skai glanced at Rathbone, confused by his captain's sudden change in demeanor. "Captain? Are you okay?" he asked cautiously.

A tense moment later, a crafty smile appeared on Rathbone's face. "All right, Quentin. We're in. And I have a plan on how to obtain the map and get rid of Sarek and his traveling companions."

"What plan?" Quentin asked eagerly. The idea of killing Sarek appealed to Quentin almost as much as getting his hands on the treasure of the Dragon's Graveyard. He was tired of being put in his place by the old man.

"First, let's not attack Sarek in the city. It would draw too much attention for one of the teachers of Vane to be murdered, and his companions would be suspicious of his disappearance." Rathbone's expression darkened. "Especially Kyle of Nanza. He'd suspect foul play immediately."

Quentin snorted derisively. "So? Let him suspect all he wants. I'm willing to bet the only thing that drunken oaf knows how to track down is a bar."

Rathbone's eyes narrowed. "You'd lose that bet, boy. He's certainly not intelligent by any means, but he's 'street smart,' and I must admit he can detect foul play quite easily. Don't make the mistake of underestimating him."

"You sound like you know him personally," Quentin said disdainfully. "Are you another of his admirers?"

"Hardly," Rathbone scowled as he pointed to the scar on his temple. "He gave me this three years ago, when he threw me and my gang out of Nanza and took it over himself. I ran that town for years before that brat ousted me. I've spent the time since then improving my skills with the sword so that if ever we met again, it will be my blade that leaves its mark.

"But never mind that for now. As I was saying, my suggestion is that we strike at sea, leaving no witnesses. That means not only does Sarek die, but so will his traveling companions and the entire crew of their ship. Nobody will think anything of their disappearance. After all, this is a quest that nobody has returned from."

The suggestion disturbed Quentin, but he nodded in approval. "Very well. How many men can your ship carry?"

"I have no ship at the moment," Rathbone muttered. "It was damaged beyond repair in a storm a few days ago. But I just happen to already have a plan in motion to procure another ship, and by a pleasant coincidence, the timing of my caper will coincide with yours. We're going to commandeer the Dragonheart."

Quentin was astounded at Rathbone's audacity. "You're going to steal the Meribian Navy's flagship?"

"Of course," said Rathbone casually. "I need a ship worthy of me. It's fast and durable, and it has magical resistant charms built into it, so we need not worry about our vessel being destroyed by a magic spell. Best of all, it's currently in the shipyard, scheduled to depart this very week on a secret mission to follow up on rumors of marauding pirates - rumors I spread myself just to provoke such an action. Nobody will think anything of it when it suddenly disappears from the docks. I happen to know which night it's going to be leaving, and the strike has already been planned for then. So your timing is most fortunate."

"But do you have any idea how much security there's going to be?" Quentin gasped. "The dock patrol surely won't leave that thing unprotected! And won't the soldiers and crew be on board?"

"Skai can easily dispatch any force assigned to protecting the ship by himself," Rathbone replied, maintaining his nonchalant tone. "As for the military personnel and crew on board, they will be dealt with by me and my men. But you don't need to concern yourself with those details."

Quentin felt increasingly uneasy. Eliminating Sarek and his companions is one thing, but an all-out massacre wasn't what I had in mind. "Doesn't the governor have any other ships that could follow?" he asked, just so he wouldn't have to think about the mass murder to come.

"None that are any match for the Dragonheart, so there's no risk of pursuit. Even if anyone were to suspect foul play, there's no chance we could be followed, between the Dragonheart's speed and my crew's navigational skills. Once we've seized the ship and disposed of its crew, I know a secret cove we can hide the ship in. It's not far from Meribia, and we can see the Meribian docks from there, every ship that enters or leaves port. I've often used it to pick out my targets, and I once hired a magician – now deceased – to obscure it so that only my men and I can find it. When Kyle's vessel sets sail, we will follow at a careful distance and strike once we've left Meribia waters. We'll get the map from Sarek, and send the lot of them to the bottom of the sea."

Quentin began to rise from his seat. "Well then, it seems you have it all planned out. I'll send word once I learn the exact date Sarek is to set sail."

But before he could walk away, his injured hand was suddenly seized in Rathbone's iron grip, and the pirate captain's eyes were blazing. "If I find out that you are lying to me, or that you have misled me in any way, shape, or form, I swear by Althena that you will live long enough to regret it," the pirate hissed. "Have I made myself clear?"

"Y-yes, Captain."

"Good. Now go. And do be careful on your way home. It's a dangerous world out there."

Rathbone released Quentin, who rushed out of the tavern as fast as he could. Not for the last time, the young mage wondered to himself what he'd just gotten himself into.

-x-x-x-

"Do you think he's serious?" Skai asked Rathbone after Quentin left.

Rathbone nodded as he sipped his wine. "He's an idiot and a coward, but he's serious. Besides, treasure or not, we're still going. I have a score to settle."

"Kyle of Nanza?"

Rathbone nodded coldly. "Being drummed out of Nanza in and of itself was merely a mild inconvenience. One that still earned Kyle a death sentence, but a trifle nonetheless. But to be beaten and humiliated in front of all Nanza by a child…you can't even begin to imagine what that felt like. Even now, I can still hear people laughing at me, mocking me for being beaten by a punk kid. Once I dispose of Kyle, I will finally be able to shut out those voices forever."

Skai frowned. "Still, this will be a lot of effort to go through just to get Kyle. Why can't you just stab him in the back or something while he's in Meribia?"

"You don't know Kyle," Rathbone replied. "As I told Quentin, he's not exactly bright, but he's not someone that can be taken off-guard. And taking him on in a straight fight would be so dull and uninspired. After what he put me through, it's not enough for me to kill Kyle. I need to destroy him. Shatter his pride and his confidence beyond repair. And the best way to achieve that is with the death of his beloved Jessica."

"Jessica?" Skai shook his head. "I don't understand."

"For all your talents, you don't have much imagination, my friend," Rathbone replied with a laugh. "Despite Kyle's hedonistic past, he truly does love Jessica de Alkirk. He's her knight in shining armor and she is his faithful lady, and all that romantic nonsense. If Jessica were to be killed while accompanying him on a quest, it would be the perfect way to balance the scales, having him know he failed to protect that which was most precious to him! I'd let him live long enough to savor the pain of his loss before finishing him for good. And this expedition to the Dragon's Graveyard is an excellent opportunity to do this, far away from the eyes of her father. As far as the rest of Lunar is concerned, Kyle and Jessica will be just two more fools who vanished into the great beyond searching for a fable."

Skai grimaced. "In other words, we don't get to take credit for the kills?"

Rathbone laughed. "Skai, surely you don't believe I'm foolish enough to advertise that I killed Mel de Alkirk's daughter and future son-in-law? I'd spend the rest of my days looking over my shoulder waiting for him to find me and tear me apart."

"Hmmph," Skai snorted with a disapproving scowl. "If you ask me, it's a waste of time to take out such a prominent target if nobody knows it was you."

"Is that the famous pride of the Prairie Tribe warriors talking?" Rathbone said, somewhat amused. Anyone else who would dare argue with him the way Skai was would have already been dead by now, but Skai's loyalty - and friendship - had earned him the right to speak his mind.

"It's not just about pride," Skai replied. "It's about maintaining a reputation. Imagine what kind of infamy you'd gain by killing two of the Five Heroes!"

"And imagine how long it would take before the other Three Heroes hunted us down," Rathbone replied. "Not to mention Governor de Alkirk himself. My ego wasn't that badly damaged by Kyle that I need to publicize my role in his death to them. As long as Kyle and Jessica die at our hands, I'll be satisfied. In fact, I'll even delegate the task of eliminating Jessica to you, if you don't mind. I don't like the idea of personally killing women, not even ones that can fight back. But you Plainsmen don't share that sentiment, do you?"

"Not in the least. You know that there are many warriors among our women, such as Fresca, and when we fight, we don't spare anyone. Besides, it's not often I have the chance to fight someone of Jessica de Alkirk's caliber."

"You'll get to face her soon enough. Now, how many men do we have available, and how quickly can we get the word out to them?"

"We have about three hundred men, all within two days of Meribia at the most. They're probably looking forward to some action."

"Well, they'll be getting plenty of it. Send the word out immediately. If our information is correct, the Dragonheart will be leaving in four days. That's the night we strike. Whatever else we may get out of this venture, at least I will finally have my revenge."

-x-x-x-

From his vantage point on top of a stack of wooden shipping crates, Skai watched carefully as the dock sentries continued their patrol of the docks and the ship. It was almost four in the morning, late enough that the docks would be otherwise deserted, and the taverns and shops would be closed. The rest of the Meribian Navy was on patrol elsewhere, leaving the Dragonheart alone in the shipyard. A large force of soldiers and the ship's crew were on board, but everybody except the night watch would be asleep by this time.

He could tell that the sentries weren't being too vigilant tonight. The pace of their footsteps on the pavement was slow and sluggish, and he could make out low murmuring and short bursts of laughter. The deck of the Dragonheart was completely cleared except for a trio of sentries. He shook his head in disapproval. The Meribian guards should know better than to let their guard down. They probably think it's impossible that someone would dare try and commandeer their precious ship. Unfortunately for them, I live to do the impossible.

He briefly glanced up at the sky, and smiled as he beheld the starless night. Even the Blue Star above was obscured by a mass of dark clouds. The loose-fitting black clothing he now wore was designed to help him blend in with shadows, and a dark night like this one would render him almost invisible. Skai had already memorized the locations and route of the patrolling sentries, so he didn't really need any light to see by.

His only concern was that there were more sentries than he had throwing knives. He never carried more than eight with him, not including his special dagger, and there were seventeen soldiers on patrol tonight. Three of them were stationed on board the Dragonheart itself. However, he knew plenty of other ways to kill a man besides using his knives. He'd spent his entire life learning them all.

Skai breathed slowly, fighting against the flow of adrenaline within him. He had to remain calm, take his time, and wait for the right moment to strike, or the attack would be discovered too soon. But he wouldn't have it any other way. Although he could take anyone on in open combat, he enjoyed using stealth and cunning, striking from the shadows. It was a different kind of challenge that required different skills from hacking away at someone with a blade, and a much more difficult one. More planning and strategy was required, not to mention sheer nerve. There was the risk of discovery, of carelessly giving one's self away to the target before making the kill. So much could go wrong, and that made it all the more exhilarating when he succeeded.

Skai closed his eyes, took three deep breaths, and then his eyes flickered open again. It was time.

He slid a throwing knife out of his shoulder harness, and aimed for the sentry posted on top of the Dragonheart's mast. Not only did that particular guard have the best view of the shipyard, but he was also armed with a crossbow, and hundreds of yards away. It would be a difficult throw, and the odds of success in killing the guard instantly without drawing attention were astronomically high.

But Skai was a warrior of the Prairie Tribe, and he cared nothing for odds. He focused, drew his arm back, and let fly with all his strength. The blade soared through the air and struck the sentry square in the throat, cutting off any possible scream. Skai sighed with faint relief that he had not fallen off the mast onto the deck of the ship. The two soldiers patrolling the deck soon came into view. Seconds later, they too were dead, each with a knife in their chests. There was nobody left alive on the deck.

Skai grinned with satisfaction. Three guards were down, and nobody had suspected a thing. Now the rest had to be dealt with, and it was time to get their attention.

Skai leaped off the crates, hardly making a sound as his feet hit the pavement. Two guards on the dock near where he was positioned were walking side by side. As they turned their backs, Skai let fly with two more blades, each finding their mark. Their deaths would attract attention from the other dock sentries, as they were meant to. A few soldiers had run up to the bodies and were now scanning the docks for their assailant. They huddled together, standing back-to-back, grim expressions on their faces.

Skai knew that the guards wouldn't call an alarm or send for backup. Arrogance was a trademark of the shipyard patrol and the Meribian Navy. They'd want to deal with those who killed their comrades personally, rather than call for help.

Well, they're welcome to try. How did losers like these make it into the Meribian Guard? Governor Mel must really be lowering his standards. Maybe I ought to file a complaint.

He hurled another knife towards one of them, scoring a fatal hit to the heart. The remaining guards paled, and Skai could tell that his strategy of picking them off from the shadows one by one was having an unnerving effect, which is exactly what he had in mind.

One of them whispered to his companions "Spread out and stay quiet! Find the intruders, however many there are, and show them what it means to mess with the Meribian Guard! The rest of you, watch the ship!"

Skai fought back a laugh as a cluster of four guards split up and started prowling through the maze of crates and cargo holds. Yeah, come on, guys. Show me what it means to mess with the Meribian Guard.

He listened carefully for the sounds of the sentries' footfalls. Their armor made it difficult for them to move silently under the best of circumstances. His speed and agility allowed him to dart behind the stacks of crates without attracting any attention, and pick off two guards with his remaining throwing knives.

He then drew his dagger, and listened carefully for any signs of movement. The remaining guards were trying as much as possible to avoid detection and to take Skai unawares. Too little, too late, the assassin thought.

He heard the scraping of leather against stone pavement from the other side of the crate on his left side. He leaped into the air, snatched the edge of the crate with one hand, and vaulted his body on top of it. He then dropped behind the guard and stabbed him in the back before he had a chance to react. Three down, one to go.

A crossbow bolt suddenly whizzed by his face, imbedding itself into a nearby crate. The fourth guard was armed with a crossbow, and was already reloading his weapon. Skai was impressed that the sentry had managed to sneak up on him like that, but not with his aim. You should have hit me with that shot. Now you'll never get another chance.

He sheathed his bloody knife and ran towards the archer. The guard had finally managed to load and aim his crossbow, but before he had a chance to fire, Skai was upon him. With inhuman speed, Skai grabbed the crossbow and twisted the archer's arm back so that the bolt was aimed at him instead. The crossbow fired, killing the soldier with his own weapon.

Skai looked down at his work in satisfaction, and calmly walked into the shipyard, out into the open. The time for stealth was over. There were still seven guards left, and they might be ready to swallow their pride and call for backup, or alert the soldiers on board the Dragonheart. He had to take down them out immediately before they started listening to common sense instead of their egos.

The soldiers charged towards him and quickly encircled him, pointing their spears at him menacingly. "Don't move," one of them growled. "You haven't got a chance."

Skai only sneered as he grabbed one of the spears just below the tip, tore it out of a sentry's hand and killed him with his own weapon. The others all thrust their spears at him, but Skai sprang up and managed to land on a soldier's extended spear, using it as a springboard to launch himself outside the circle of soldiers, to the astonishment of the sentries.

Then it was Skai's turn to attack, keeping all six surviving guards at bay with his purloined spear. They tried to encircle him once more, but Skai was too nimble to be caged in. No matter how many attacked him at a time or from what angle, Skai was always able to parry and return the attack. His movements, both graceful and ferocious, were too quick for any of the guards to keep track of. It was as if he was moving in multiple directions at the same time.

Skai's stolen spear, however, could only take so much punishment. After impaling two more guards, it finally took one blow too many and snapped in two. Skai scowled with disgust and tossed the broken fragments aside. The final four sentries sensed victory, and charged forward to finish the Plainsman off.

Skai only smiled, and stopped the first of the oncoming soldiers in his tracks with a snap-kick to the jaw. The force of the blow broke the man's neck, and he crumpled to the ground. Skai then pounced at his remaining assailants, dodging their spear-thrusts in mid-air, and staggered two guards with a split kick. Before hitting the ground, he'd managed to kick the fourth guard square in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him gasping for breath.

The two guards who were still able to stand approached Skai cautiously. They had no time to retrieve their spears or draw their swords, not against a man who could move as fast as Skai. They raised their arms defensively, hoping to defend themselves unarmed. But Skai was a master of barzel-yad, a powerful martial arts style developed by the Prairie Tribe. In less than fifteen seconds, Skai had finished off his opponents with a lethal barrage of punches and kicks.

Elated from his victory, Skai noticed one of the guards, the one he'd struck in the solar plexus, crawling towards the ship, presumably in a last-ditch effort to raise an alarm. Skai flipped a dead soldier's helmet into the air with his foot and gave it a powerful kick. It sped towards the guard, smashing into the back of his skull with lethal impact.

Skai looked around. All seventeen guards were accounted for: all of them dead. There were no signs of anyone else around, and it didn't seem like anyone on the ship had heard or witnessed the fight on the docks.

He then made a strange screeching sound, similar to that of a bird. It was the signal for Rathbone and the crew that the security force had been eliminated, and it was time to attack. He stood alone in the darkness, waiting for his captain to arrive.

Moments later, a horde of rough-clothed figures quietly emerged from the darkness. This was no ragged band of mongrels and thugs, but an army of ruthless pirates and mercenaries, sworn to live or die at Rathbone's command. Over the years, Rathbone had forged them into a well-trained, disciplined fighting unit that made them the terror of Lunar and a match for any force. All of them were armed to the teeth, and ready for battle and blood. They also each wore a black and red armband on their right arms, Rathbone's colors. Captain Rathbone marched in front of them, his sabre in hand and a predatory gleam in his eyes. He wore a black hooded cloak with a red liner over his clothes, and it streamed behind him like a pair of demonic wings.

He examined Skai's handiwork and nodded in approval. "Well done," he whispered to the assassin. "Dispose of the bodies and keep an eye out for Quentin. We'll finish up here."

Skai nodded and vanished into the shadows. Rathbone then turned to his men. "Get the grappling hooks ready and remain silent."

The pirates surged towards the ship, hauling powerful grappling hooks with them. They latched them on to the Dragonheart's railing, and silently climbed aboard the ship. Captain Rathbone was the last to board. His men waited for him to board before starting the killing.

Rathbone drew his sabre, and his eyes seemed to shine with a sinister light. "Leave no one alive," he hissed. "Attack!"

Eager for bloodshed, the pirates swarmed throughout the ship, killing anyone in they came across. Many of the sailors and crew were asleep, and they were slaughtered in their hammocks without mercy, but enough of the remaining soldiers onboard were awakened by the sounds of the massacre to raise an alarm. They managed to get weapons and fight back, determined to defend the ship with their lives and take as many pirates with them as possible.

The battle was soon joined, a desperate band of soldiers against an army of vicious pirates. Rathbone himself was in the thickest of the fight, surrounded by an eerie crimson aura. A few of the more experienced combatants recognized it as Fighter's Fury. The longer a battle lasted, the stronger and faster Rathbone became. Combined with his natural strength and skill, Rathbone was able to hack through sailor and soldier alike with little resistance.

A burly man with red hair and beard and wearing an admiral's uniform fought his way towards Rathbone. "You'll not take this ship while I live!" the admiral proclaimed.

Rathbone responded with an icy smile. "Then I'll take her when you're dead."

Wasting no more words, Rathbone slashed at the admiral with his sabre. The admiral was a skilled swordsman, and he defended himself as best as he could, but within less than a minute, Rathbone's blade transfixed his heart, killing him instantly. Rathbone paused to smile down at the admiral's lifeless body before returning to the fray.

The massacre was over in a mere few minutes. Despite a valiant effort, every last soldier, crewmember, and cabin boy was dead. The pirates were now weighing down the bodies and dumping them into the sea. Rathbone stood at the bow of the ship, relishing his victory. He enjoyed combat more than any spoils of war, and the fact that he had triumphed over the illustrious Meribian Navy made the victory even sweeter.

Skai approached him on deck, with a visibly shaken Quentin. "Our friend finally decided to show up, Captain," he said.

"So I see," Rathbone replied. "Glad you join us, Quentin."

Quentin looked around, horrified by the carnage surrounding him. He thought he was going to be sick. "The crew…are they all…?"

"Don't look so surprised," Rathbone said. "This was part of the plan you agreed to."

"I…I just didn't think it would be like this," Quentin whispered, breaking into a sweat.

Rathbone sneered. "No? Then perhaps you should be on your way, if you don't have the heart for killing, because there's much more to come. I'm sure we can easily carry on without you."

"No, Captain," Quentin muttered. "I'm still in."

Skai looked disappointed as he surveyed the dead bodies. "You couldn't have saved any of them for me?"

Rathbone chuckled as he cleaned the blood from his sword. "You had your share for one night, Skai. Is there any indication that someone heard the fight?"

"None. Either the docks are completely deserted, or nobody wants to risk their necks on account of their curiosity."

"Excellent. What were our losses?"

"The crew put up an impressive fight. According to Brock, seventeen of our men were killed, and some were injured."

"That many? I think they need to spend more time training," Rathbone remarked sourly. He then gave a slight shrug. "No matter. I'm sure we have more than enough to deal with the treasure hunters. Anyways, the important thing is that the Dragonheart is ours, our pet mage is here, and we're ready to get underway."

"Hey! This guy ain't dead yet!" a pirate announced, standing over a wounded guard. "Don't any of you scum know how to gut a man properly?" He laughed harshly, and raised his sword to finish off the doomed man.

"Wait!" Rathbone cried. He leered at Quentin, a strange, sardonic smile on his face. "Follow me."

Rathbone led Quentin over to where the injured soldier lay on the deck. "Kill him," he said to the magician.

Quentin's already pale face turned a ghastly shade of white. "What?"

"Kill him," Rathbone repeated. "You act like you're one of the bad boys, so let's see how bad you really are. Prove to me that you deserve to come along with us on my caper."

This was the last straw for Quentin. "What do you mean your caper?" he screeched, too outraged to be intimidated. "This whole thing was my idea! You're just here to do the dirty work! I'm in charge here! I…!"

Rathbone suddenly seized Quentin's robes, his usually cold dark eyes now blazing with rage. "I am in charge now, Quentin!" he hissed venomously. "I give the orders! You told me everything I needed to know, and there fore you are now useless to me. You remain alive only as long as you obey me and find some ways to make yourself useful! Now, I order you to kill this man, and if you do not, I will kill you! Do you understand me?"

Quentin nodded frantically, feeling like his heart was about to explode within his chest.

"Then do as I say! Kill him! Earn your life and your place on this crew!"

His whole body trembling, Quentin raised his arm over the soldier and muttered a spell. "Barak Mavat."

A streak of lightning shot from his hand and struck the sailor square in the chest. He howled in pain as the electricity tore through his body, and then lay still.

Rathbone stared at the corpse, and then back at Quentin. His eyes were now once again cold and lifeless. "There's no turning back for you now. You're one of us."

He stalked away to oversee the departure of the Dragonheart. The pirate who had tried to kill the wounded soldier chuckled nastily at Quentin's horrified expression and clapped him on the shoulder. "It gets easier after the first time, lad. By the time Rathbone's done with you, you'll be able to snuff a man without a second thought."

Quentin moved away from the pirate and stumbled to the nearest railing to keep himself from collapsing to the deck or breaking down into tears. He was no longer in charge of his own scheme. He had been humiliated and cowed by his own hired help with just a few harsh words, and reduced to a quivering servant in front of Rathbone's entire crew. He should have tried to strike down Rathbone and his assassin with his magic, but he'd probably have ended up dead before he could complete any spell.

To make matters worse, he was a murderer. He had just killed a man in cold blood, and not all the Dragon Diamonds in the world could make him forget that. He'd heard tales from Mia and her loathsome companion Nash about the battles they had fought, but he had no idea what it was actually like to kill a man, let alone murder him while he lay helpless.

I didn't know it would be like this, he thought to himself, almost on the verge of tears. I just wanted the treasure of the Dragon's Graveyard. How many people are dead tonight because of me? And how many more to come? By Althena, what have I done? What have I done?