Ash

Avast, mateys,

Another short story of mine. This one is a two-part story, and while I tend to think of my short stories as not that well written, I rather think of these as my 'original' works.

Here yeh go.

BASIC HERO STUFF

Stop looking at me like that. It's rude. Keep doing it and I'll bore you with a story.

I'm a hero, you know. Not one of those cheesy ones you see in those 2-D Disney movies. Hah. That stuff is cheap. No, I actually help those people that matter. My trusty quarterstaff has cracked many villians' heads in its time.

I don't usually get many big-deal occasions, but the following is probably the biggest one I ever had. It all started during my nightly rounds...

Whoosh! I sailed across the street and landed on the house opposite. As my feet touched down I threw myself into a shoulder roll and came up, quarterstaff cocked and ready to repel any assault.

Well, any assault from the front.

I had only just regained my feet when I was shoved hard from behind. I nearly toppled down into the alleyway below, but I used the momentum from the push to plant my staff on the flat roof and swing round, my feet crashing into my unknown attacker. I then launched myself on him, throwing a quick right cross and knee to the gut.

Two hairy arms grabbed mine with prodigious strength and I was thrown off. I hit the roof on my back and slid to a stop when I hit the edge. The thing jumped on me and sat on my stomach, chattering angrily.

“Since when did Jean get a monkey?” I muttered as it stared me in the face, daring me to move.

“Get off, Stone!” I turned my head cautiously to one side and saw a head poking out of the trapdoor in the middle of the roof. It slowly rose and the rest of the man appeared.

I grunted as the monkey slid off me and sat up. “Why a monkey?” I asked.

Jean smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “Fits better on a roof then a dog or cat, don't it?”

I wasn't amused. “Really. Or is it just because you have more in common with it?”

Jean chuckled. “Gave you a warm reception, didn't he?”

I stood, picking up my quarterstaff as I did so, and straightened my cloak. “So what now?”

Jean's smile disappeared. “Trouble. That stinking thief broke into my cellar again.”

I rolled my eyes. “Him? I thought he was in jail.”

Jean shook his head. “Got out.”

“And I supposed you left him a little gift?”

That smile came back. “He seemed to think the chamber pot was an antique vase. What a shame.”

“Tsk tsk tsk.” I shook my head. “Indeed.”

Jean nodded. “My favorite one, too. Too bad I forgot to empty it before he took it.”

I sighed. “So what is it really?”

The monkey seemed to be getting a little shifty. I glanced at it and shifted my staff to my right hand.

“Down, boy.” Jean pointed at the open trapdoor. The monkey obligingly disappeared into the house.

He turned to me. I couldn't see his face, but his voice had taken a slight edge to it.

“My daughter. She's missing.”

“Laurel?” I had always liked Jean's daughter. She was a pretty young maid of some sixteen years old. “How?”

“Dunno.” Jean shrugged his shoulders. “I just woke up one morning and she was gone...but there was a note.”

“Let me see it.”

Jean went down and came back up a few minutes later with a lantern and a small sheet of parchment. He handed the note to me and held up the lantern so I could see. The note was written in a flowing script.

Dear Dad,

Don't worry about me. I'm in good hands. I may even come to visit you at times.

Love,

Laurel.

That was brief. I glanced at the back of the sheet, but there was nothing there. As I was turning it back over, however, something caught my eye. Some irregularity in the paper. I held it up to the light and saw a watermark across the back of the page. Two letters.

BP

That was bad news. I handed it back to Jean.

“So what?” He asked. I knew what he meant.

“I'll find her.” I said. “I think I have a good idea of where she is now.”

Jean nodded. He knew me enough not to probe further. “Go, then.”

I touched two fingers to my brow and hurtled off.

When I reached my outpost just outside the city wall, I stopped and thought back to those two letters that had been on the back of that letter. BP. I knew what that meant, because they were the ones who had murdered both my parents and left me as a child to die.

Bloody Pirates.

My blood boiled as I thought of that fateful day of our voyage home. Our ship had just gone through a storm and, though in good enough shape, was much slowed down by repairs.

The lookout had yelled “Ship ahoy!”

When we looked up, he was pointing to starboard. Naturally all our heads followed his finger, and we saw it.

Big, completely black, and charging us like a bull who's seen your red underwear.

Our ship was a transport, not built for fighting. What men we had stood to quarters and readied their pikes. The pirates ran alongside and swung across.

Our crew was massacred. I cannot help but remember that bloody scene, those cutthroats mercilessly slaughtering anyone in their way, man, woman, and child. I remember the captain himself, a big hulking mass, drawing his curving scimitar and chopping the heads off of my parents. I remember him catching sight of me, and striding over to where I stood, frozen with fear, at the entrance to below decks.

He looked me over, his one good eye assessing my form.

“Oi, Snaggle, we need a cabin boy?” he roared at one lithe, sinewy pirate with a red bandanna over his head.

“Aye aye, cap'n.” the man replied, drawing his blade out of his latest murder and wiping it casually on his trouser leg.

He walked over to me and looked me over. “Prob'ly not this wun, cap'n. E's too scrawny.”

The captain grabbed me by my collar and threw me into the ship's boat. He tossed a waterskin and a loaf of stale bread in and cut me loose.

Bloody pirates.

I remember, as I drifted away, looking after that black ship sailing away in the sunset and cursing. Anger welled up in me, flowing over and clouding my vision with red mist.

I remember swearing to fight those who did such things as a living, to fight those who murdered for the love of it, those who stole for the fun of it.

And I remember grief overcoming my anger, burning my heart more than any anger could.

Bloody pirates!

I ran aground the next day. I was faint with exhaustion and hunger. I barely recall what happened, but I remember rough hands lifting me up and gruff voices sounding around me.

I had, I found out later, ran aground on a very large island. The people who inhabited it were hunters, who killed for food. I have no idea of their history. They listened to my story and were sorry for me. They took me in, taught me how to hunt. They showed me how to stalk the deer silently so as to not be heard, to shoot a bow so as to pierce a deer between the eyes from three hundred meters, and to fight unarmed against myriads of opponents. I achieved much proficiency with the quarterstaff, and it became my favorite weapon.

Eventually I told them of the vow I had made, to fight the scum of the earth. They were sorry to hear I had to leave, but provided me with a boat, compass, much supplies and directions to another land that lay to the southeast. It took me a while to get to, but when I at last arrived, I decided to stay in one city that needed me.

London probably still does. It's one of the biggest and strongest cities I have ever seen, with a large sea industry, strong military, and good business. Such a town, of course, attracts much crime.

I couldn't wait to get started.

I smiled as I remembered how amazed I had really been at the expanse of the city. On my first day alone I only traversed a third of the place.

Now I was one of the most feared persons in the country. Criminals call me the Boogeyman. Pish and tush. If I could haunt their dreams this city would be crime-free. No such luck. Regular, law-abiding citizens just call me the Nightwatch. I call myself Ash.

I would never tell you my full name. That would be awkward. So stop wondering.

Anyway, after my fond memories were finished, I got to thinking about Laurel. How did she get mixed up with a bunch of pirates? Why did they want her? Where were they now?

From what I knew of Laurel, she must have been forced to write that note. She would never willingly run away from her father. But what connection did they have with Jean; how did they know him?

I needed more answers. I swung my cloak around my shoulders and drew up the hood. I wrapped some cloth around the lower part of my face and was on my way.

I reached Jean's house about fifteen minutes later. His house was locked up tight, but I managed to open the trapdoor going down from the roof. I descended down a flight of stairs into a hallway. I knew Jean's room was on the other end. I went down the hallway and looked in, but he wasn't there. I shrugged. He was probably in his storeroom. He usually was. I descended another flight of stairs.

As I got to the bottom and was about to place my foot on the floor, I felt a tug on my ankle. I felt my momentum begin to topple me forward – not gooooood! I face-planted on the floor, the thud seeming to shake the house. I shook my head to clear it, stood up and listened. Nothing happened, and after five minutes I was ready to keep heading for the storeroom. I got to the flight of stairs leading down underground to his basement and hesitated. I looked carefully for any more tripwires, and placed my foot gingerly on the first stair step.

Immediately a pan that looked like it had been strapped to the wall sprang outward and hit me in the face with a resounding “POOOONNG!” I fell backwards this time, and hit my head on the floor. No problem. I was made of steel. I growled and put my hands on the floor to catapult me forward. Unfortunately I forgot about the pan that was still there.

“POOOONNNG!”

I sat down sharply and held my poor tender face for half a minute. This was not amusing. I shook my head again and stood up, being careful to avoid the pan. I pushed on the next step to see if anything would happen. Nothing did. Then the next step. Nope. Same for the next, and the next, until I reached the bottom. I could see light coming from under the wooden door that was the entrance to Jean's storeroom. Voices issued from behind the door, which was open just a crack.

I was curious, but didn't want to interrupt. I placed my eye to the crack. I could see Jean and a big, rough-looking man talking in low, earnest tones.

“...thousand will do.” said big ugly mug.

“She's worth more than that! Ten thousand at the very least.” Jean replied.

“You want to keep doing business with us, you'd better accept our terms.” ugly mug growled.

“Five thousand, then. No less.”

Ugly mug leaned across the table and spoke in a low, threatening tone. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I saw Jean's face pale slightly.

“Thirty-five hundred. Fine.” He spat on his hand and held it out. The other man did the same and they shook. I was getting ready to enter when ugly mug shifted and his arm moved into the light. I froze in shock.

On his bicep there was a skull tattooed with a pike under it.

Bloody pirates!

“She'll serve you well.” I was jerked back to my senses with Jean's line.

“She seems a capable wench.”

Jean smiled. It was somehow unnerving. “She'll fetch a good price in Arabia, with her hair and eyes.”

There was silence for a second, then he added, “Oh, and I'm also sending someone after her. Kill him.”

The pirate nodded, his teeth showing in a snaggle-toothed grin. “Certainly.”

I decided it was time to move. I swiftly opened the door and shut it behind me.

I heard a shick of steel on wood and looked up in time to see a bucket of something I only like to see in cesspits plummet onto my face. The sludge landed with a sickly splet! and slowly oozed down my face. I clawed it out of my eyes and looked at Jean and his friend.

They were staring at me, open-mouthed. Ugly Mug was the first to recover. He slid a curved sword out of his sash and charged me, swinging a powerful overhand cut. I made no move to block, and as he swept down the sword I kicked out for his groin.

CLANG! His sword hit the bucket that was still on my head and slid off to the side. My foot connected at about the same time his sword hit me. Ugly mug's face contorted, his right eye squinching shut and his mouth turning a peculiar angle.

He slowly toppled over, a sound escaping his mouth that I can only say sounded like “Squeech!”

I turned to Jean. He was already charging me, fists ready and a wild look in his eyes.

I stepped forward and to the left, pushing slightly on Jean's shoulder as he rushed by. He tripped over his companion and smashed into the closed door, head first. He slowly slid to the floor and I realized he was out cold.

When they came to a few minutes later I had them both tied to their chairs.

“You first.” I pointed at Jean. “Why are you in business with a pirate and scum like him?”

Jean stared at me. “Look who showed up right in the middle of private business – the chamber pot delivery man.”

I had already washed what sludge was still on me off with a bucket of water while they were unconscious. But that stench still clung to me. It was going to take weeks to clean it off.

I made a casual cut with the scimitar. It snicked off a lock of Jean's front hair which floated down in front of him.

“No more rude remarks.” I looked both of them in the eye. “Information. Now. Answer my question, you conspiracy theorist and fail at martial arts.”

Jean slumped. Or tried to. But the ropes were to tight and he only managed to slightly move his shoulders. “I-I've been in business with them for several years. I help them with supplies, I get a share of their plunder.”

“Who was the person you were talking about?” I asked.

“His wench.” Ugly Mug spoke up.

I reeled in shock. “You-you would-sell your daughter? To them? And try to get me killed in the process? Why?”

Jean shrugged. His face had no expression on it. Callous monster.

I turned to the pirate. “Where is she? WHERE?”

I must have looked like a banshee or something, because Ugly Mug hastily replied “In our ship-a mile below harbor.”

I looked at them both. “Despicable scum.”

I walked around behind them both. They struggled to see what I was doing, until they felt the scimitar edge across both their necks.

“Don't move.” I said.

“Please sir, don't kill us! We didn't mean to harm-”

“Shut up.” I said. I then reinforced my statement with two lightning-quick stabs with my thumb to hidden pressure points on their necks. They slumped, out cold.

I then remembered I had forgotten to ask Jean why he wanted me dead. I shrugged. Another time.

Five minutes later I was hurtling toward where the pirate had told me his ship was moored. I topped a ridgeline that hid a bay below London and looked down. Sure enough, there was a ship, floating at anchor just offshore.

I snaked down the sloping banks to a clump of bushes. I liked this place and went fishing here often in the daytime, so I had a canoe ready at hand. I jumped in and shoved off.

I was careful to approach the ship at an angle where the single sentry on the poop couldn't see me. I could see no light in the cabin, so I guessed they had Laurel down in the ship's hold.

I moored alongside the pirate vessel and used the anchor chain to ascend the side. I slipped silently over the ship's railing and stealthily approached the single watchman. He seemed to be dozing off, but I took no chances. I crept up behind him and suddenly clapped my hand across his mouth and wrapped my other arm around his windpipe. He flailed for a little bit, then slumped. Nighty night.

I then went down into the hold. There were two pirate guards there, laughing and taunting Laurel, who was slumped in one corner, chains around her wrists and ankles. They didn't notice me approaching.

“La, gal, but ye're a pretty one. Shouldnae fetch but at least nine thousand in the market in Istanbul, eh, mate?”

“Aye. Wut's wrong, me pretty, crying? Aw, but 'tis a treacherous world out there surely. Ye're old daddy done gone and sold ye, and that without a twinge. Ye're no-”

There was a dull thunk, and the two guards slumped to the deck, the lantern flickering out. Laurel looked up, startled.

I materialized out of the darkness and muffled her scream by placing my hand on her mouth.

“A-Ash?” She looked at me carefully and I nodded. She suddenly surprised me by throwing her arms around my neck and half-whispering, half-sobbing, “You have no idea how relieved I am to see you!”

I felt a little awkward, but hugged her back, whispering “Get in my canoe. It's moored on the starboard bow, just by the anchor chain. I'm going to scuttle the ship.”

She released me and nodded. I patted her shoulder and silently faded back into the darkness.

I went down to the brig. Apparently the ship had already been leaking a little, for there was about half an inch of water sloshing around the wooden floor. I took my staff and pressed down on the floor, until I got to a spot that had been considerably weakened by the water. I then raised my staff with both hands and brought it down with huge force. It didn't break, but weakened it further. I did the same to a large section of planking around the spot, until it was so weakened it had only a few minutes before giving way and allowing water to flow in. I then headed back up above decks. I was only just about to the hatch leading to the main deck when I heard a scream. Laurel.

I bounded up the stairs and jumped through the hatch. Laurel was by the ship's side, a pirate holding her by both arms. Stinkin' blighter. Must have stepped up for a pee.

He swung around as I cleared the hatch and saw me.

“Cap'n! Cap'n! Intruders a-!”

He didn't finish. I had already thrown my quarterstaff like a spear and it thunked him right between the eyes. Perfect.

What wasn't so perfect was that I could hear shouting belowdecks. The lights in the captain's cabin also came on.

“Get in the canoe!” I shouted at Laurel above the din. “I'll be there!”

She hesitated but did as I told her. I ran toward my quarterstaff and picked it up just as the first pirates burst out of the hatch. They were a bit startled and must have not been awake fully, because they were too easy.

I was on them in seconds. I knocked the first two out with well-aimed blows from my quarterstaff. The third I merely shoved in the chest, and he toppled down the hatchway with a scream, knocking all his comrades off the ladder in the process.

But there were two hatches, and the pirates were flowing out of the second one. Too many. I took a quick look over the side, preparing to get in my boat, and stopped.

It wasn't there.

I saw Laurel and my canoe drifting further and further away from the ship. She was frantically waving her arms at me.

“Come on, Ash!” I heard her shout.

I turned and ran up the poop, about-facing as I reached the head of the stairs. The captain was right there.

He made a quick side-cut with his cutlass and flicked it into a stab when I deflected it. I as quickly sidestepped. He was carried forward by the momentum of his thrust, and I grabbed his wrist and pulled him further toward me, further off balance.

Or so I thought.

As he came closer, I saw a wicked grin on his face and realized I'd been suckered. His thrust had been a distraction, a ploy. As I pulled him closer, I saw he was holding a dagger in his left hand, which was now thrusting at me. There was no way I could avoid it.

Suddenly, however, he staggered, and his dagger went harmlessly past me. I didn't know what had happened, whether he had tripped on a nail or what, but I didn't have the time. I kept pulling him toward me, and kneed him in the groin. He stiffened.

All the din ceased. In the silence, I heard something.

“Squeech!”

The captain slowly toppled backwards, down the stairs. As he hit the bottom, the ship shuddered. The pirates looked in amazement at their captain. Someone even broke wind, in shock. Maybe they just didn't think he was that fat.

But I knew what had happened; the wood I had weakened in the brig had given way, and the ship was settling lower and lower in the water.

I took the moment while they were distracted and jumped overboard. I soon reached the shore and stood up, watching the pirate ship sink with screaming pirates on board. Some tried to jump off, but the whirlpool effect created by the sinking ship sucked them under. I turned away just as the ship disappeared beneath the bay surface.

Laurel was walking towards me. Dawn was beginning to break, and in the gray light I could see she was tired. But no less beautiful, however. Her blonde hair blew with the ocean breeze and her blue eyes reflected the waves of the sea.

I bowed as she halted in front of me.

“It is a pleasure to see you safe, Laurel.” I said.

Laurel smiled and laughed. “Not from no consequences to yourself, I fear.”

I looked down at my dripping wet clothes and sighed. I could still smell that bucket of waste on me, even though I'd just taken a dunk.

“Aye,” I sighed. “This cloak is my favorite. It's going to take ages to get it clean. And my boots...? They cost me a fortune!”

Laurel laughed again. “Indeed, their former owner must have made you pay dearly.”

I shook my head vigorously. “No, he actually gave me a broken nose and black eye as well as the boots...” I looked at her. “Stop it!”

She threw her blonde tresses over her shoulder and smiled.

The day had already begun when I escorted her into her house.

“What will you do, now that your father is a criminal?” I asked.

“His steward will run his old business for me.” she said. “He is trustworthy, I know.”

I nodded, relieved. “Then I will get Jean and his pirate buddy and turn them over to the police.” I glanced at Laurel. “Would you like to talk to him? I left him in the basement before I went for you.”

She hesitated, then slowly nodded. “Yes, I would.”

I lead the way to the stairway down. “You know,” I said, stopping at the head of the stairs and turning. “I've been thinking – what will you do when you are...of age?”

She smiled at my euphemism for 'marriageable'.

“I have thought of that too. I have some ideas...” She trailed off as I looked at her expectantly.

“You know,” I said again, very slowly. “I would be happy to settle down somewhat...if I had a...”

My words were cut off as she leaned closer to me. I looked deep into her sea-blue eyes.

“I would love to.” she said softly.

Her lips brushed my cheek, which turned bright red as she retracted. I smiled at her, feeling light as a feather. “Great.” was all I could think of to say.

I turned and put my foot on the first step.

Wait a-

“POOONNNGGG!”

I looked up at the still-vibrating pan.

Stupid monkey.