Author's Note: Stuff happens in this chapter, whooooo! Soon, very soon, Part III will make the transition from light-hearted adventure story with a lot of humor dabbled in to a depressing tale of death and hypocrisy with a lot of humor dabbled in. Oh, and Abren's true identity is revealed at the end of the chapter.
XXXI: The Mutiny
The ship sailed onward and onward for a few days, going in whatever direction Abren steered it. The galley slaves slaved, the slave drivers drove, and the odd jobbers did odd jobs.
It was early morning; almost everybeast onboard was asleep. The sun had only just risen. The ship was anchored only a short distance away from shore; Conrad had decided it might be a good idea to go ashore and search for food. The searats had left a good store of food, but it was being depleted fairly quickly. Conrad would rather be safe than sorry.
Precariously perched on the top of the mast, Kleid scoured the land from above to see if she could find any good spots to land. It was kind of a useless practice; the entire place was just one long beach. There was a forest way off in the distance, but it would be a hike to get there.
Then, Kleid saw something interesting. Far away, looming out of the beach like some sort of pillar of doom, was a mountain. "Huh, a mountain, on a beach? Who'd have thought that was possible?"
"Hey, Kleid!!"
Kleid looked down. On the deck was Abren, shouting up at her. He motioned for her to come down. Kleid wondered what he wanted. Maybe he could tell her about the beach-mountain; although, for a pirate, he didn't seem to know a whole lot about pirating or geography.
The weasel carefully made her way down, cautious not to trip. After a few minutes, she landed on the deck. "Wot is it, Abren?" she asked.
Abren had rolled up his sleeves, so his paws were actually visible. "Look at that," he said, pointing at something behind Kleid. She turned around, wondering why she couldn't have stayed up at the top. It'd be another long climb just to get back up there now, and she'd probably be able to see whatever it was better anyways.
Suddenly, something hit her in the back of the head and she fell over, unconscious. Abren dropped the wooden plank he had used to bludgeon the weasel and moved onto his next destination; the supply cabinet.
Abren walked in, slowly opening the door as to not make a sound. Jeld was asleep, holding one of his two bags. Good, it wasn't the bag Abren needed. Jeld's weapons bag lay unattended against the wall. Slowly, Abren walked across the room, testing each board carefully in case it creaked. Without even any notion that Jeld might have been disturbed, Abren grabbed the bag of weapons and carefully left.
The weasel walked down to the galley, not really making such measures to make sure he was undetected. Davian, Garland, and Yugu were all asleep, as well as all of the slaves, with the exception of one: Buvul.
The paranoid stoat stared at Abren silently, his eyes darting back and forth wildly. Abren walked past him, hoping he wouldn't say anything. He just needed to get to the other side of the room now, where Garland and Yugu were sleeping.
He carefully put down the giant bag filled with weapons. There was a slight noise when it touched the ground, nothing loud enough to disturb a creature from their sleep. But Buvul heard it.
"They're gonna eat meeeeeeee!! HELP!!!"
Abren quickly dove to the other side of the room, drawing one of his many daggers from a hidden compartment in his jacket. Every creature in the galley was awakening now, confused and agitated. Yugu stood up with a start, drawing her sword instinctively. Abren forced her against the wall of the ship before she really had a chance to understand what was going on and held his knife up to her throat.
"Wot's happenin'? Wot're ya doin', Abren?" Garland muttered groggily, "Ugh… I'm gonna whip that Buvul good fer wakin' me up like that!"
"Not so loud, or I'll kill her!" Abren hissed. Garland looked at them, rubbing his eyes.
"Abren…? Wot's goin' on?" Garland whispered as he suddenly realized the predicament that was unfolding.
"I always knew we couldn't trust you," Yugu spat.
Davian suddenly began running at Abren, drawing his sword. The weasel held the knife up closer to Yugu's throat and yelled, "If you don't freeze right now, I'll kill her!"
This didn't seem to affect Davian in the slightest. The lizard kept running. "Stop, Davian!! STOP, ya stupid scalebrain!!" Garland shouted frantically. Davian skidded to a halt reluctantly.
"Good," Abren said, smiling, "Now, you're going to drop your weapons and kick them to me, you got that?"
Garland did so without hesitation, his lance rolling over and stopping at Abren's footpaws. Davian did not move. "Davian, do as he says!" Garland yelled. Davian listlessly tossed his blade over to Abren.
"Wot's goin' on?" asked Skrobb the rat, "Is there gonna be a mutiny?"
"Yes, yes there is," Abren announced, "I'm going to let you all free, and then we'll chain up those monsters that captured you from your homes and forced you to be slaves!"
There was a slight cheer from the crowd, but Abren quickly silenced it, looking around nervously. "Now, we got to be quiet. We still need the crew to row the ship, so we don't want to kill any of them. Not yet, at least," he said, giving a wink to Garland.
"I can't believe you'd do this, Abren," Garland muttered.
"Yeah, well, start believing. Now, I need you to get the keys and let the prisoners go. Do exactly as I say, nothing funny, or I'll kill your friend here."
Garland brushed past Davian and quickly grabbed the jingling set of keys. Quickly and efficiently, he let every single slave go. They stood up and began to chatter amongst themselves.
"Quiet, be quiet!" Abren hissed, "We don't want to wake up Conrad or the rest. Then it may turn into a fight, and we don't want that. Now, let's chain up these beasts that made you row so hard, okay?" Davian, Garland, and Yugu were suddenly grabbed by the crowd and forced into benches. Abren walked around, shackling all three of them one-by-one and chuckling slightly.
"At least we ain't dead," Yugu said to Garland, shrugging. The ferret didn't seem pleased, however. He glared at Abren angrily as the weasel latched on a set of shackles tightly.
"Yeah, at least you aren't dead," Abren repeated, a dark smile on his face, "Now, you two," he pointed at Skrobb and some other rat, "You two stay here and make sure these prisoners don't try anything funny. The rest of you, there's a bag right there in the middle of the room. It's got every type of weapon you could imagine, almost. Take whichever one you like; there should be enough for all of you. Then follow me up the stairs, but try to be quiet about it, okay?"
The released slaves went for the bag in force, ripping it to pieces. Skrobb picked up a shiny new cutlass, Reyla and her mate Karder grabbed identical sabers, Telson the ferret armed himself with a hatchet, and Buvul, timidly watching from the back, snatched a pair of bolas cautiously, as if they would rear up and bite him.
Abren held a finger to his mouth, telling the prisoners to be silent. They slowly crept back up the stairs, ready to overthrow Captain Conrad and his crew.
---
Conrad was sitting in his quarters, pondering everything. He had to constantly think of the crew's needs, even more than he thought about his needs. Now, they were heading up north. Were there any cities up north? He had asked around, but nobeast had ever been able to give him an answer to that. He had to constantly plan things out because everything was so uncertain.
He wanted to propel his little group back into the glory days that they had experienced a few seasons ago, before his sister Connerie or Wemys' brother Percival had left. The group had all been relieved when they made their departure, but Conrad knew that they had both been great assets to the group. Percival could fight any creature and Connerie could heal any wounds. In fact, the two of them were kind of a duo; Percival got injured very frequently, and Connerie could always heal him. Conrad's sister may have been a fraud of a seer, but she was a brilliant healer.
The group had changed a lot since then. Half of them had either left or died, leaving only the rag-tag crew he had now, with only three or four decent fighters. Most of the group lacked any motivation whatsoever. They simply lazed about all day, doing nothing with purpose. It had been insane to try and persuade them to go with him on this journey north. Many had complained. But Conrad had to look out for the good of the group, which wasn't always the same thing as what the group wanted.
"This is all your fault, Connerie," he muttered aloud. If she hadn't left, things would be different. She would've been able to heal Wemys' sister, which would have meant that Percival would have stayed, which would have meant that the group would have been able to stick together.
At least things looked like they were turning back around in his favor now.
There was a knock on his door. "Hey, Conrad, come out here. I need to show you something." It was Abren. Conrad had taken Abren as some sort of lucky break. Without him, they would probably be lost. The fox wondered if Abren was a good fighter as he opened to door to his quarters.
Abren was there, holding a small sword right up to Conrad's nose. Conrad looked behind the weasel and saw the twenty-three slaves, now all freed. "Um… What is going on?" asked the fox.
"We're taking over the ship, that's what," Abren replied, "Hand over your weapons- and I mean all of them- now."
Conrad sighed. This was just his luck. But, he wasn't about to try anything stupid. He threw down his two swords, his scimitar, his hatchet, and his collection of knives one-by-one at Abren's feet.
"Why're ya doin' this, Abren?" Conrad asked, his voice remaining calm, if somber.
"Revenge," muttered Abren, "That's why. Revenge. No, not to you. Those who wronged me in the past. That's why I'm not killing you or your crew. I'm going to need them later on. Chain him up."
Reyla and her mate stepped forward and grabbed Conrad. They slowly guided him down the stairs to the galley, with the escaped slaves laughing and snickering as he passed by them.
"Oh, Conrad," Abren suddenly said. The fox stopped, and turned his head back. "We didn't really go north, like you wanted. We went south the whole time. So, we're almost at our destination: Salamandastron."
"You're kidding," Conrad muttered, "You're goin' to all be slaughtered. Regner's horde was routed by them, an' so will you."
Abren smiled. "Of course not. Regner's horde took out most of the Long Patrol anyways. There's only a very small amount of them left. All it takes is one finished blow, and Salamandastron will be ours. Not to mention, I brought along a hostage to barter with. Meet Gerry."
Abren pointed at a young mouse that was been restrained by two of his new soldiers. The mouse was gagged and tied, and was kicking and thrashing wildly. Conrad could tell that Gerry had been one of the slaves that they had freed. The fox was about to say something, but Abren motioned at Reyla and Karder with his paw and they forced the fox down to the galley.
---
Conrad sat in the very last bench, chained next to Weltsnout, who was muttering angrily about how stupid his captors were. All sixteen members of his crew were in there, chained together in pairs, just like how the slaves had been before. Garland and Yugu, Jeld and Tadds, Rebule and Lersot, Wemys and Limptail. They were all talking and whispering amongst themselves.
"Wot d'ya think's gonna happen ta us?" Jeld muttered, "Ta think, I was jus' talkin' wit' him the other day, almost played cards wit' him, too. I betcha if I had, he'd have cheated. Stupid weasel."
"Ah, shut up," Murkeye shot, "It'd jus' be a dose of yer own medicine if he did cheat. When am I e'er gonna get that medal o' mine back? Y'know, the one ya stole?"
"I told ya, I don't cheat!" Jeld insisted.
"Stupid weasellies, ya can never trust 'em," Weltsnout announced, mostly to himself, "I oughtta stomp all o' those dumb slaveys. That'd teach 'em!" He balled his chained paws into fists.
"'Ey, don't start sayin' bad things 'bout weasels," Curvetail shouted from the back of the room, "Ya might hurt my feelings." He made a fake, forced sniveling noise. Crowley, who he was chained to, gave him an annoyed push.
"I can say wotever I wanna say about weasellies!" Weltsnout snapped, "Now, shut up! I'm second-in-command, okey dokey? That means ya gotta lissen ta me!" He turned around and spat in Curvetail's direction.
"Ya ain't second-in-command o' nuttin', now," Crowley muttered, "In case ya haven't noticed, we've kinda been overthrown. Now we're jus' galley slaves, like they were before." He motioned at Skrobb and the other rat with a paw.
"Ah, can ya all jus' shut up?" Skrobb remarked, "I'm tired of hearin' ya yappin' yer mouths off all the time. Ya didn't hear us talkin' a whole lot when ya forced us ta be yer slaves!"
"Wait, if Weltsnout's not second-in-command anymore, does that mean I'm not the head odd jobber?" asked Swiss. Skrobb beat him over the head with the hilt of his cutlass, and he shut up quickly.
"Be quiet, ya fools!" Skrobb yelled, "Now, here comes Abren."
The weasel descended the stairs majestically. He had shed both his oversized hat had his huge eyepatch, revealing that both of his eyes were in complete working order, and traded his goofy large boots for much smaller ones. In one paw he held the whip for the slaves.
"Why'd ya wear all those large clothes in the first place?" asked Rebule, who had always had some sort of fascination with the overly large hat and eyepatch, "If ya were just goin' ta take 'em off anyways?"
Swiftly, Abren cracked his whip. A bloody red line appeared on Rebule's face, across the eyes. He clutched his head in agony, whimpering and crying. His partner, Lersot, looked at the injured ferret nervously.
"I had to keep you off guard, to answer your question," replied Abren, the end of the whip floating to the floor, "You were more likely to trust a creature who looked funny than one who looked serious and intimidating, as I naturally am. So, I had to put up a charade to fool you."
"Well, we weren't actually fooled," Curvetail exclaimed, "Most of us saw right through you. Most of us." He glared at Conrad. The fox didn't notice, however.
"Don't you fools learn?" Abren muttered to himself. He cracked his whip again, this time at Curvetail. However, the weasel had been anticipating this, and held up his chains. The whip, instead of striking Curvetail's face, wrapped around the chains. Dejected, Abren pulled the whip away. "Anyways, it certainly worked on the right creatures, as I was able to pull off the rebellion without a hitch."
Curvetail put down his chains, satisfied that he had beaten his captor. Suddenly, though, Abren lashed out his whip again. Curvetail wasn't prepared this time, and the whip hit his face mercilessly.
"Like you expected me to let you off that easily," Abren sighed, shaking his head, "Now, as I told your former captain here, we're heading off to Salamandastron."
"Wait," Kleid interjected, rubbing her head, "That mountain I saw… It was Salamandastron?" She suddenly held up her paws, realizing that Abren would probably whip her.
Abren did not, however. "Yes, that was Salamandastron. Oh, and I'm sorry I had to hit you so hard. It was a necessary measure, you see." He smiled gently at her.
"Uh… Okay…" Kleid replied, glad that she hadn't been whipped but not really liking Abren's advances.
"Anyways, the reason you are still alive is because I will need you to lead my charges against the tattered remains of the Long Patrol," Abren announced, "Well, most of you. There are some that I'm going to let go, right now, because I… need you. The rest of you, I really couldn't care less." He shot a quick glare at Curvetail.
"Well, who're ya gonna let go?" asked Limptail eagerly. The whip cracked on his face, leaving a bloody smear.
"Not you, that's for sure," Abren snapped, "Now, listen up, because for a few of you, this is your lucky day. We still need a cook, so I'm letting Murkeye go. Kleid as well. And Wemys. Let's see… who else…?"
The weasel looked around. Wemys was a little confused as to why he was being let out, but didn't say anything. Jeld piped up, "'Ey, Abren matey. How 'bout ya let me go? We're mateys, right?"
"Yeah… No." The whip cracked on Jeld's face. Abren walked past him without giving a second thought. The weasel walked past each bench, examining the members carefully. He then walked past the bench with Swiss and Davian on it.
Swiss wasn't saying anything, but he was raising his paw ecstatically and had a goofy grin on his face. Abren couldn't help himself. The whip cracked again, and Swiss suddenly screamed in pain. "Davian, I think I used to know some of your friends. Kalzmar and Corzon, correct?"
"You know Kalzmar and Corzon?" Davian suddenly exclaimed, "They were general, like me. General for King Kirrent. Where they are?"
"Dead," Abren replied, "Killed by the Long Patrol. You can go, too." He continued walking past the benches, as Skrobb and his partner let out the creatures Abren had said to. Finally, Abren came to the first bench, with Garland and Yugu on it.
"Ehh… You can go, also," Abren announced, examining Yugu carefully, "You don't look too bad. Easy on the eyes."
"'Ey!" shouted Garland, "Wot d'ya mean by that?" The whip cracked, and Garland shirked back, bleeding.
"You are all pretty slow learners," Abren sighed, coiling up his bloody whip. He turned and began to walk up the stairs.
"Abren, why did ya let me go?" asked Wemys suddenly. The weasel turned around. Wemys was a little afraid that he may get whipped.
"Back when I was still in control of my horde, your brother was the captain of my guard," replied Abren briefly, "The best fighter I've ever met, he was. Except myself, of course."
"You led a horde? You knew my brother?" Wemys exclaimed, "Who exactly are you?"
Abren walked back down the stairs. He turned to Jeld and asked, "Do you still have those cards? I need them for a second."
"Will ya let me go if I give 'em ta ya?" Jeld responded indignantly. The whip cracked again, creating a bloody red "X" on Jeld's face. The stoat quickly grabbed the deck of cards from his pocket and threw them to Abren.
The weasel sifted through the cards quickly until he found the card he wanted. He held the card up to his face for a few brief moments, and then threw both it and the deck onto the floor. The cards flew everywhere as Abren turned and walked away.
At the top of the heap of cards Abren had thrown down was the card he had held up to his face. On it was a picture of a weasel that looked exactly like Abren. Underneath the picture, in a glossy, fancy font, were the words "Regner the Magnificent".
Second Note of Authorness: Yeah, Regner's STILL not dead. This is kind of a joke in itself that the stupid dude keeps dying and coming back to life. Oh, and if you want an explanation as to how Regner survived, you'll have to wait until next chapter, where the second of the two flashbacks in this story awaits. It's really a simple explanation that's basically based around Ballantyne's screwy priorities, but whatever.
One other thing, note how Conrad manages his little gang like one would manage a business. Conrad kinda turned out funny, because I basically chose his name at random, but I later found not one but TWO reasons why it fit. One, there's the obvious "con" in his name (although that really applies more to his sister than him, but whatever...). Second, there's this story called "Heart of Darkness". I haven't personally read it, but from what I gather, it's about slavery and stuff. Oh, and in case you don't know, it's written by a guy simply named Conrad. I think. As I said, I'm not an expert on the subject, like I am with Lord of the Flies, Catcher in the Rye, mostly anything Shakespearean... So, I really don't know how well the name fits.