Chapter 11: The Pirate Lords

Khyron's surprise was understandable. He rarely got letters, had never before gotten any from a pirate, and had certainly never got one asking for a meeting.

It was the 17th Sword, and he, Barim, and Wayland were sitting in the conference room of Castle Jutes, looking over the amateurishly-scrawled missive a frightened page had received from a large, burly man who'd waylaid him in the middle of the night. It was addressed to Khyron (whom it misspelled Kyrun) and this is what it said:

We mad at the rebls but we heer tha new Kyran mite b bettr thn Ikaras was. Meet Lrd Goldeye at the Besphan Cost in 3 dys and we see.

"Trying to lure me into a trap?!" Khyron snorted. "How foolish do these pirates think I am! They could have at least had the decency to proofread their bait. Do they honestly believe the Mage General of Etruria will be taken in by barbarians who can't even spell his name?"

"Respectfully, Khyron," said Wayland, "I'm not sure this is a trap."

"You mean to tell me you're taking anything a pirate says seriously? I don't think I need to remind you that corsairs are not known for their honesty or goodwill!"

"Yes, but in this case, they might not be lying," added Barim. "It was the pirates and the other natives of the isles who suffered the most grievous casualties during the last battle, largely thanks to being abandoned by the Red Shoulders. I imagine they're absolutely furious at the rebels. Additionally, news of your execution of Icarus has apparently reached them. Given how much they hated the man, killing him would put you in their good books, even if you are an Etrurian. All this makes me think this offer might be genuine."

"Even so, what could they possibly have to offer us?"

"Gaining the goodwill, or even the neutrality, of the leaders of the Western Isles would make our struggle infinitely easier, Khyron. Even if the pirates alone agreed to just stay out of our way, we'd be able to concentrate on the Red Shoulders without fear of attacks by sea. Agreeing to a meeting would be worth it only for that."

"Perhaps. Needless to say, if we do accept to meet, we'll not go in blindly. Barim, once again I leave Jutes to you. Wayland and I will take a retinue of our best men to the indicated location, in case the pirates break their word…which they probably will. We'll teach them a lesson! Come, let's make ready!"

-X-

The Besphan Coast was one of the dreariest spots on the Western Isles. Located a few miles southwest of Jutes, on the western part of Fibernia, the harsh currents and deep fog meant many careless sailors and their ships had met their end on the rocky shoreline. There were many shipwrecks and bloated, waterlogged corpses littering the area, much to the dismay of Khyron and his men. Only true masters of the sea could claim to be at home in this place—perhaps the reason the pirates chose to meet with Khyron here.

To their credit, they were prompt. No sooner had Khyron, Wayland, and their entourage arrived did a great black shape appear out of the mist in front of them. They readied their weapons, superstitiously thinking it might have been some great sea beast judging by its size, but as it drew closer and weighed anchor, the shape of large sails gave it away.

"Arrr!" called a voice from atop its second-story deck. "So yer Khyron an' 'is lil' friends, eh?"

"Correct! I assume you're one of Goldeye's men?"

"That's Captain Goldeye to ye, landlubber! But yer words be true, for we be his. We've heard a lot about ye, Khyron, an' we're more'n a wee curious. Scuttlebutt is that ye did that scallywag Icarus good. Burnt 'im right to a crisp! Would that we'd been there t' see it! We're thinkin' ye might not be an entirely bad sort, even fer an Etrurian dog. Me cap'n want's te see fer 'imself!"

To his credit, Khyron didn't lose his cool at being called an "Etrurian dog." "Then take me to him."

"Aye, that we shall. But yer lil' friends have t' stay on ground!"

"I can leave my bodyguards here. Needless to say, they'll torch your ship if you betray me, or even if I don't return to them within a reasonable amount of time, like one hour at the most."

"Haw! Don't trust us, eh? Can't say I blame ye." This was accompanied by a few shouts and a bit of raucous laughter from the men abovedecks. "Well, we wouldn't 'ave it any other way. Believe what ye want, but a man o' the sea never breaks 'is word. Me Cap'n will see t' that!"

"Hopefully. However, I'd like the Knight General to accompany me as well. As one of our leaders, he needs to attend this meeting as well."

"Knight General? I ain't never heard o' no—ah, sea's blood, it's just one more Etrurian. Couldn't hurt. Come aboard!"

-x-

After boarding, Khyron and Wayland were led belowdecks by a bunch of rude, hooting, scruffy-looking corsairs through the internal corridors of Captain Goldeye's interior of the ship, as could be expected, wasn't a pleasant place. It smelled of sea salt and sweat, and it was also dark and dank. After a few minutes, however, they came to what they assumed was the captain's cabin, guarded by someone they didn't expect.

Khyron felt his jaw slacken for a moment when he saw the young woman standing protectively in front of the large wooden door with the distinctive golden skull handles. Just an inch taller than he was, she seemed ever taller as she glowered down on him with a pair of bright but angry green eyes. Her full, bright lips (they were colored red, and Khyron hoped it wasn't blood) were curled in a sneer which made her otherwise-feminine face seem threatening more than inviting—which, he supposed, was the point. She had long, straight orange hair, the bangs of which fell just over her surprisingly small breasts. Those breasts weren't covered with much: Just a piece of white cloth wrapped over her upper torso accompanied by a long, dirty, bloodstained black skirt which covered her knees and a pair of black, high-heeled shoes with gold buckles.

The moment she saw them, her scowl deepened.

"So," she snarled, "This here be th' mighty Khyron everyone's been talkin' about? Don't seem like much to me!"

Khyron was too disoriented at the sight of an unexpectedly pretty lady pirate (she was good looking, even with her small chest), but fortunately, Wayland, for obvious reasons, would be much less taken by her charms, and covered for his friend commendably. "Don't underestimate him, milady. He's much tougher than he looks…something I'm sure others have said about you, hm?"

She paused for a moment, an unreadable expression that seemed something like fury crossing her face. Khyron and Wayland both blanched, wondering if the Knight General's quip had just gotten both of them killed. Once again luck was with them, for the exact opposite happened: The rage on the woman's face was replaced with a smile, and she let out a loud, rolling belly-laugh which seemed most unfeminine.

"Haaarrrr, har har! Got a mouth on ye, deckwipe! Most men can't last a second with me, but ye seem t' have a wit as sharp as me sword! What's yer name?"

"Knight General Wayland, at your service." Both he and the Mage General kept themselves from letting out obvious sighs of relief.

"So let me guess, yer here to see the capn'?"

"Yes."

She laughed again. "Haw! Well, afore y' do, let me give ye some advice. I know 'im well, after all, bein' his daughter an' everything!"

This surprising admission was enough to break Khyron's spell. "W-what?! Captain Goldeye has a daughter? You?!"

"Aye! What are ye, blind? Sailors all o'er Elibe fear th' name of Sea Witch Junit as much as they fear 'er father!"

"Y-yes, we can see that," stammered Wayland, again coming to Khyron's rescue. "You, uh, certainly take after your father. So what were you going to tell us, again?"

"Well, after what happened at Jutes, me old man's in a mighty bad temper. Only reason 'e even agreed t' meet with ye is t' stick it to those Red Shoulders. That don't mean 'e likes ye much, though. And if he's mighty angry now, ye don't want 'im even stormier than 'e is already! An' the one thing, th' one thing which makes 'im angrier than anythin' else is fear."

She leaned forwards, the expression on her face growing even more vicious. "That's m' advice to ye, little mage. Don't show 'im an inch o' fear when ye get in there. Won't be easy—m' dad's a big man an' he's known fer some big deeds. Impress 'im, and he'll be a strong ally. But if so much as a blink gives yer heart away, he'll take yer head off yer shoulders w'out a second thought."

At this, finally, Khyron regained his bearings. "Fear?" He almost chuckled, contempt matching Junit's in his voice. "I've faced down worse than a two-bit pirate, woman. Much worse. If fear is the only thing he's concerned about, you can consider him part of the Etrurian Expeditionary Force already!"

Even Wayland wasn't expecting Khyron to say something like that, but none could contest the conviction in his voice. Junit herself was taken aback, her tough demeanor giving way to surprise—for just a moment. "Why, y…" she stammered, and the men around her readied their blades, thinking they'd cut the Mage General up for his insolence. Instead, their lady leader simply tossed her head, allowing her dirty orange hair to fan out behind her like a flame, and then stepped aside, bidding Khyron to enter.

"Okay, landlubber," she smirked, "Think yer a stranger t' fear? Let's see how big ye feel when ye face down me father!"

Khyron dignified that with nothing more than a grunt as he walked up and threw the doors open.

And ended up feeling slightly small.

Beyond those doors was a massive chamber he would have expected to see in a castle, not a ship. Easily as large as the Great Hall of Caerleon, it was filled with tables, chairs, and cask after cask of alcohol (the cheap pirate's drink called "grog"), all under a chandelier filled with hundreds of small white candles (which would likely torch the entire ship if it were to fall). The room was chock-full of hundreds of pirates who were drinking, swearing, and boasting, but all of them keeping a respectful distance from the largest table in the center of the hall at which Goldeye sat.

The man was massive. Almost as big as Paptimus had been, and just as well-muscled, a head entirely covered with bushy orange hair (along with a smiliar beard) sat atop a thick, veiny neck. In his left hand he held a mug which he quaffed with a mouth full of black, rotten teeth, and in his right he held the handle of a gigantic axe that seemed to be larger the Khyron was, its blade emerging from the mouth of an ornate silver skull set atop its haft. With a sigh he finished his drink and stared down at his new guests, allowing them to understand why he was called "Goldeye." His left eye seemed to be clear and healthy, although the green iris was surrounded by tinges of red, as if he hadn't been sleeping well. His right, however, was covered by a distinctive golden eyepatch with the design of an eye etched onto it.

Upon seeing the pirate, Khyron smirked. There really was nothing to worry about. He may have been small compared to Goldeye, but he had been small compared to Paptimus as well—and was still alive, while Paptimus was dead.

Wayland, for his part, didn't seem as calm as Khyron, but he kept his composure nonetheless. This was a very good thing.

"Ahoy! Now 'ere's a catch!" the captain boomed in a voice that sounded like rolling gravel, "What 'ave we 'ere, mates? Fresh landmeat fer our bellies?" This was greeted by a floor-shaking chorus of laughter from the gathered pirates all around the room.

Khyron wouldn't allow himself to be—or just plain wasn't—intimidated. Ignoring the few gasps and shouts of surprise, he simply marched right up to Goldeye's table, Wayland following close behind, and sat himself down at the seat in front of him. "I am Khyron Caerleon, Mage General of Etruria and the new lord of Jutes. I was told you wished to meet with me following the death of Icarus. Well, here I am. So, out with it! What is it you want?"

"Oy, that's the greatest cap'n in all th' seven seas!" exclaimed one pirate nearby, clearly quite shocked. "Show 'im some respect!"

"Wise words," growled Goldeye. "I be mighty nice t' even let ye show yer scurvy face on me own ship." He tapped the handle of his huge axe menacingly. "Ye'd best hold yer tongue, boy, lest ye face me blade rather'n me words!"

"I've faced down worse," said Khyron determinedly, "and I've no qualms about facing down you if you wish! Now, do you want to talk or fight? Either way, do not waste my time!"

Goldeye's single good eye widened, and it seemed the eye on his eyepatch might have done the same. He almost dropped the mug in his left hand and his grip tightened upon the axe in his right. A hush fell across the entire room as the pirates anticipated him slicing the impertinent mage in half…

And then was broken by Goldeye's hearty laugh.

"Gwaaaaahahahahah!"

For the second time that day, Khyron and Wayland tried to hide their sighs of relief. It seemed Junit truly had taken after her father: They were both equally impressed by shows of bravery…and shared the same belching laugh.

"Haw! Th' kid an th' old man was right about ye, Khyron. Ye gots fire in yer belly an' steel in yer eyes, even if yer a shrimpy mage. Same t' you, Mister Quiet," he said, nodding towards the Knight General. "Who should I call ye?"

"Wayland, Knight General of Etruria.

"Wayland? Fine name for a fine man. Didn't even flinch when I looked at ye! Definitely a damn sight braver th'n that worthless Icarus, or any other worthless 'Trurian I've ever laid eyes on! I'll not gut yet just yet, lad. Nay, methinks ye deserve t' be th' first mainlanders t' set foot on Cap'n Goldeye's decks as friends!"

"Much appreciated," said Khyron impatiently, "Now, I…wait, who are the kid and the old man you're talking about?"

"Oh, a'most slipped me mind! Lemme show yer friends to ye!"

He clapped his hands, and the crowd of pirates parted to allow two people to make their way forwards from the back of the room…two familiar people, one dressed in a mendicant's cassock, the other, taller and older, carrying that strange instrument Khyron knew was a guitar.

"Serapino?! Levin?!" Neither Khyron nor Wayland could hide their obvious surprise, and though they were surrounded by laughing pirates, neither Serapino nor Levin could hide their delight at seeing their friends again.

"Quite a story 'ere," laughed Goldeye jovially. "These two're why I even thought o' meetin with ye. Met 'em when we pulled into port at Asfer a few weeks back. No plunderin'—we steal only fr'm 'Trurian dogs, not our own—but jus' some fixin' up an' a lil' bit o' whorin'. Whattdya know, one o' me boys got 'imself injured, but that lil' shrimp o'er there managed t' fix 'im right up!" Another guffaw. "Taught me all magic's not useless, eh? In return f'r 'is kindness, we let 'im and 'is friend travel with us for a lil' while, and whaddya know, th' old man's a damn fine singer!"

Levin smiled bashfully at the compliment, as Goldeye continued. "Well, 'e gave us a few tunes 'bout you, 'f all people! Sung 'bout some Civil War an' 'ow Khyron was th' bravest and th' boldest man in all o' Elibe. Not long after, I 'eard 'ow ye burnt Icarus to a crisp, an' I thought there be a mite o' truth in it. So I wanted t' see fer meself!"

"Well, now you have," said Wayland. "So what do you think?"

Goldeye chuckled again, "I'll say this: yer words make it seem like ye've got courage worthy o' Durbans himself. Let's see ye back 'em up. Not on me precious skipper, acourse, but at a place more t' me likin'!"

"You're testing us?"

"Aye. An' I'll give ye somethin' good if ye pass."

"Your alliance?"

"Nah. I ain't that in love with ye. But if ye show me you've got fire in yer belly and skill t' match, me an' me mates'll show ye the same respect we show any man of the Isles: On our word as sons o' Durban, we'll not give ye any trouble in yer battles."

Khyron was about to ask what that meant, but Wayland figured it out. "So you'll rescind your support for the rebels and be completely neutral in our struggle?"

"Aye. We'll give ye no help, but no hurt either."

"That's the best offer you'll get from them," said Levin thoughtfully. "I would accept it if I were you, milords."

Wayland nodded, but Khyron had the final say. And after a moment of consideration, the Mage General gave it:

"…Alright, "Captain." I'll play along with your little game. What's the test?"

The pirates and bandits cheered, many of them taking more swigs of grog (and getting even drunker in the process). Goldeye, for his part, let out a laugh that sounded more like a belch—Khyron could see where his daughter inherited that.

"Harrr! I knew ye wouldn't disappoint me. Alright, laddy, here's th' plan…"

-X-The Lair of Kelles-X-

If this truly was the abode of some terrifying magical beast, it certainly didn't look like it.

"Are you sure this is the place?" asked Khyron as he, Wayland, Levin, and Serapino stood near Captain Goldeye, looking down at what seemed to be an ordinary cave set into one of the many mountains on the western coast of Fibernia.

"Indeed it be," came Goldeye's reply. "Thar lay Old Kelles, Thrice as tall as a man, made o' stone which even me mighty axe canna scratch. I wants ye t' sneak in there, get past 'im somehow, an' steal one o' 'is stone teeth. That'll show me yer a man worthy o' th' islander's respect."

"A monster's teeth, eh?" Khyron glared at the big man suspiciously. "Are you trying to trick me?"

"A man o' th' sea ne'er breaks 'is word. On me own life I'll swear t' keep th' peace between ye an' me pirates if ye succeed. I'll even put in a good word for ye with th' warrior clans. But ye have t' prove yer worthy o' me favor!"

"I believe you can do this, Lord Khyron and Lord Wayland," said Levin calmly. "But perhaps you'd like some encouragement? Serapino and I can accompany you, if you'd permit. His staves and my songs might prove useful."

"M-me too?!" Serapino yelped.

"Of course. You wouldn't want to be left out of the fun, would you?"

Serapino did not look at all convinced, but he didn't protest. Wayland, however, didn't know why Levin had volunteered. "I'm grateful for the offer, but what help do you think you would be?"

"My music does more than sound nice. You might find yourselves a bit faster, stronger, or braver with my notes in your ears. At the very least, I can take care of myself, lords. No need to worry about my old age."

Goldeye shrugged. "Well, since yer the ones 'o spoke fer Khyron an' Wayland, 'tis only fittin' ye stand by 'em."

"Well, if you think you can help, you may, but be warned we won't be looking out for you," harrumphed Khyron. "Let's go, men!"

-x-

For the first few minutes after they'd entered the cave and began to descend into its depths, they didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. By the light of their torches, the reddish-grey stone seemed like that of any other cave. The further down they went, though, the stranger things became. First, the corridor became larger and larger. At first, they had to bend down, then they could stand up straight, then the tunnel became too large for their torches to fully illuminate. At the same time, they started to need their torches less and less. Veins of magma began to show themselves in the walls and under the party's feet, giving off both light and uncomfortable heat. They could see now that the roof of the tunnel was at least fifty feet above them—very impressive for just a humble cave.

More worrying were the skulls and bones—some of animals, while others very clearly of humans—littering the ground around them with increasing frequency. Something was definitely down here, alright.

Soon, they caught sight of a bright red light in the distance—likely where Kelles was waiting for them. As they neared, they saw it was the entrance to an even larger cavern—an absolutely massive one.

It was a huge chamber containing what seemed to be a veritable sea of lava. Floating in that sea was an island of stone, shaped roughly like a circle, and from its center rose—or more accurately, grew—an outcropping of red rock shaped almost like a throne. And on that throne sat the lord of these caves—the stone giant Kelles.

He was shaped roughly like a large, muscular man, save for being much, much larger—he looked to be nearly 30 feet tall when standing, and he could have been even bigger, given how he was hunched over. His body was reddish-grey, colored the same as the stone in the cave around him, but entirely smooth and flawless, as if he were a statue crafted by a master sculpture (which he may well have been, originally). When he looked up at his new visitors, they could see his head and face were extremely handsome, as if they had been modeled after an Adonis, albeit one without a beard or any hair on his smooth, shiny grey head. The only thing that gave away the creature's true nature were his eyes. They were red, glowing orbs in his black sockets, pulsating with some eldritch, unknown magic and radiating malice.

Even Khyron and Wayland, for all their bravery, took a step back when, with a rumbling growl, the stone giant got to his feet. As he raised himself to his full height, he never took his eyes off the four small morsels in front of him, and his stone lips curled into a sneer. This let his guests see his teeth—a mouth full of jagged grey fangs, sharpened to vicious points. Khyron thought that was too much, as Kelles could just swallow men whole, from the size of him!

"Mmmm…what is that I smell?" Kelles' deep voice, sounding almost like an avalanche that spoke, was enough to make the ground tremble. "The scent of man? It's been so long…so very long…" He smacked his stone lips. "Are you sacrifices to fill my belly? I'm so hungry, oh, yesss…."

Khyron readied his Elfire tome and Wayland his sword, but neither of them had any delusions that they'd be able to so much as scratch the beast. Levin, however, had another solution.

"Oh, great and mighty Kelles," he said, stepping forwards, much to the surprise of Wayland, Khyron, and Serapino (and to the latter's fear). "Yes, we have come to give you your tribute. You are, after all, the mighty Kelles, undisputed master of the Western Isles, the greatest creation man has ever given life to. But before you satiate your hunger, may we give you the other half of your tribute?"

"Ohh…? What else is there? I need only food…"

"We have composed a song in your honor, O glorious god of stone. Surely you would like to hear it, to whet your appetite for your coming meal?"

"Ho…ho…" Kelles clapped his hands in amusement. "Singing food! How interesting. Give me your music then, little morsel!"

Levin was more than happy to. As his friends gaped in amazement, he unslung his guitar and began to sing, strumming along a happy tune as he did so.

All hail Kelles, lord of stone; the glory of the Isles is his alone…

"Haw! Haw! Haw!" Kelles was clearly pleased, clapping his huge stone hands as he laughed. "I like, I like! More, little man! More!"

Levin happily obliged, continuing his song, but also increasing its tempo.

Not a man who can match his might, for death meets all within his sight…

"Haw! Haw! Haw!" Kelles liked this even better. He liked it so much he got up and began to dance. He jerked and shimmied, and the men in the cave could barely keep their feet as the ground trembled and shook as if being hit by an earthquake. Levin didn't stop, though. He sung even louder and sped up the music's tempo even further.

Throughout the land let it be known, that all bow before his throne…

In return, the mad stone giant speeded up his dancing, convincing Khyron and Wayland that he would bring down the entire cavern over their heads. As he did, however, Levin looked pointedly at Serapino and nodded. There had apparently been some sort of agreement made between them before they'd encountered Kelles. It took Serapino a moment to notice, but when he did, he immediately readied a long golden staff Khyron recognized as a Sleep Staff. Levin had not stopped playing or singing yet, though he'd maintained the pace of the song, and as a result Kelles was too consumed in his dance to notice what was happening around him. He didn't even notice the fine blue powder falling down upon his body. He only noticed that he was getting tired.

"Oh…hmm….good…music…" The shaking of the ground began to lessen as his movements slowed. "So…sleepy…" The red glow in his eye sockets dimmed, and he let out a loud yawn that sounded almost like a roar before slumping down to his knees, making the ground shake with an ear-crunching THUMP, then falling forwards with the same, crashing down to the floor where he lay prone and still.

Khyron and Wayland couldn't believe what they just saw. "I…is he dead? How did you do that?!"

"Not dead, just asleep," said Levin. "Come, let's pull one of his teeth, before he wakes up!"

"How?" Wayland pondered. "Those teeth are made of stone, just like he is. Maybe an Elfire spell would blast them out, but…"

"Let me try," said Levin, surprising them once again. Before anyone could react, he marched up to the sleeping giant's head and knelt down, placing his guitar on the ground. With one hand he gripped the satchel on his back, taking it off and holding it in front of his chest. Come to think of it, Khyron, Wayland, and Serapino had never seen what he kept inside that backpack. They had always assumed it was just traveling supplies. Whatever it was, it had more than a bit of magic in it. Levin began chanting, in words too low for Khyron to make out clearly but that he suspected were Draconic. He pointed the finger of his free right hand at one of Kelles' teeth, and from it a beam of red light lanced towards the giant's mouth. With masterful precision, Levin drew the beam around the tooth, burning straight through the stone. Khyron was amazed—even his Elfire spell would have trouble burning through stone like that, and he certainly couldn't do it with that level of precision. But Levin was able to cut out one of those fangs from the thing's jaws like it was nothing.

"Th…that's…how can you do that?!" Khyron gaped, utterly shocked. "No mere musician could do something like that, you…you spoony bard!"

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve," Levin grinned, handing Khyron the massive, heavy tooth. "Traveling bards don't often live long lest we do. Now, quickly, let's get out of here!"

It was good advice.

"Rrrr…" Everyone in the party knew what that rumbling noise meant when they heard it along with the stirring of stone on stone. And by this point, they were too experienced to spend even a moment being surprised. Instead, Khyron, Wayland, Serapino, and Levin quickly bolted straight to the cavern's exit the moment they saw Kelles beginning to wake up.

Even their head start might not have been enough, though. "Rrr….Rrrrah!" The ground shook as the stone giant got to his feet. "Graah…tricksters! Little mice! I'll kill you all! GrraaaaHHHH!"

The ground began to shake again, as Kelles picked himself up and began the chase. His 'guests' were running as fast as they possibly could, but since he was so much larger than they and his strides proportionately longer, he was catching up very fast.

"We…we're not going to make it," gasped Serapino. "He's too quick!"

Khyron and Wayland said nothing, for they knew he was wright. They didn't stop running, though. Neither did Levin. Instead, the bard began…singing.

It was a different tune this time:

A taste of haste,

'Gainst a giant disgraced,

Run on, friends, lest our lives we waste!

Fleet feet,

A steady beat,

Run on, friends, and death we'll cheat!

Without stopping, Levin's friends saw a blue glow surround their bodies, and more importantly, and to their astonishment, their feet began to move much, much faster! Kelles roared in frustration as his prey suddenly picked up speed, matching his and then outpacing him entirely. Not even Khyron was certain of what sort of enchantment the bard had placed on them, but neither he nor anyone else were going to question it. They rushed through the twisting caverns, gaining hope as the ceiling above them grew lower and lower, and more hope as they heard Kelle's roars recede in the distance behind them.

Of course, they didn't stop. Only when they saw the light of the cave's entrance in the distance, and only when they'd reached it and burst out into the open, gasping and panting as if they'd won the most grueling race of their lives (which they had), did they finally relax, taking a moment—several moments, in fact—to catch their breaths.

"Ahoy!" laughed Goldeye as he saw his friends rush out of the cave. "Runnin' away, are ye? Bah, I'd had higher hopes—"

He stopped immediately when Khyron, still huffing and puffing, raised his prize in the air.

"I'll be…by Poseidon, ye did it! Ye actually did it!" Goldeye made no attempt to hide his amazement. "Not a man's ever got the best of Stonelord Kelles afore, not in five hunnerd years!"

"So does this mean…" huffed Khyron, "…that you'll keep your word?"

"Aye, a thousand times, aye!" laughed the pirate. "Ye've done somethin' no man o' the Isle's succeeded at 'till now! F'r that alone, ye've my respect, even if yer an Etrurian dog! Alright, Khyron, ye've got yer wish. Th' pirates o' the Fibernia'll not raise a single blade 'gainst yer men.

"Now," he laughed, and to Khyron's surprise the big pirate draped a beefy arm around his shoulders. "A day like this calls fer a feast! Back t' me ship!" He held up the huge tooth in the air. "Time t' test out me new knife! Or fork? Bah, I'll figger it out when I get there!"

"W…wait," gaped Khyron in astonishment, "All that trouble…all that trouble and you're going to use that tooth as an eating utensil?!"

Goldeye just laughed again, and even louder this time. And Khyron's protests were drowned out by the laughter of his three friends as they made their way back to their new ally's ship.

::Linear Notes::

Haha, hope this chapter brought back good memories of old-school fantasy adventure stories :D Also, check out my new blog at .com :D