Moonlight Waves

Desicions of Battle

Roman grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet.
"You all right?" He asks, looking me over for any visible injuries.
"Absolutely jolly." I answer.
"There's a proper time and place for sarcasm." He tells me.
"What better time then now?" I ask him, and he gives me the benefit of a eye roll.
Another canon ball goes careening past and heads turn in the direction they're coming from. A few yards behind our stern is the Widower, somehow caught up with us. And impossibly gaining on us.
"What now?" I turn back to Roman, my question no more than a whisper but he still hears me.
"I don't know, Sitara, I don't know." The helplessness in his voice breaking my heart. I want to help him, but I don't know what to do either. What do you do? What's the decisions you're supposed to make?
I squeeze his hand and turn his focus back to me, reassuring him with my eyes. "We'll figure something out." I tell him. "We've come this far."
He hesitates, but in the end gives me a determined nod.
Robby startles me as he places a hand on my back in greeting.
"Captain is awake." He informs us, "Weak and a little confused, but he's awake."
"I've got to go up to Ian." Roman says, "Sitara, you go with Robby."
I give his hand another extra squeeze and let Robby guide me towards the Captain's cabin. When I step inside I notice that one of the front windows next to the door has broken and wet papers lie littered around the floor in consequence.
The captain has been moved to his chair and Sam is next to him, already rebandaging his injury, discarding of the old, now red bandage.
"Report." Captain Dax demands of Robby, his voice weak but still carrying the authority of his position.
"Five injured, one unconscious and the other four cared for to the best of Sam's ability's." Robby tells him, "The Moonlighter continues to hold together and any damage she has taken has been seen to and patched. We've lost one canon, but the rest remain operational. The Widower gains on our stern as we speak."
Captain Dax gives a nod, but immediately grimaces at the gesture. "What of Captain Cutler and The Night's Scream?"
"We lost sight of them in the storm, Captain."
"Where does Callum and Ian steer the ship now?" Captain Dax asks as Sam packs up his bag and leaves the cabin to care for the other injured.
"Towards a light in the distance in the southeast, presumably out of the storm."
"What of the sandbar?" Captain Dax questions, looking out a shattered window as if he can see the sandbar from here.
"Ian steered us away from it and the waves carried us right over it."
Our Captain gives another nod, staring past us with his eyebrows pulled down together in troublesome contemplation.
"Return to your duties." He finally says, making eye contact with us again.
"Aye, Captain." Robby responds, laying a hand on my arm guiding me out of the cabin.
The freezing rain hits my face and I freeze in shock for a moment before shaking it off and following after Robby.
"He doesn't look very good." I tell Robby, motioning back towards the cabin.
"He's fine, we're all just a little weary." Robby tries to assure me, but I can see my own concern reflected back in the creases of his dark forehead.
"What can I do to help?" Jacobe asks, suddenly appearing by our sides, his eyes frantically searching over the chaos.
"You and Nereida head—", Robby starts to order, but is distracted by Mitz calling his name. Robby doesn't hesitate and runs off in the direction he's needed, leaving Jacobe and I feeling useless in the shockingly cold rain.
I look up towards the poop deck and watch Roman scurry around, giving orders here and fixing things there, continuing to guide Ian in the right direction while preparing for The Widower's approach. His blonde hair sticks to the side of his face and he keeps pulling stray pieces out of his mouth, not used to it's length. His cream tunic sticks to his thin, but still muscle toned, torso and his red sailor jacket hangs loosely on his shoulders.
He assumed the role of captain easily, the definition of calm under pressure. None of his actions betraying the fear I know he feels.
"What should we do?" Jacobe asks, looking to me for orders.
I meet his eyes, then look back at the approaching ship close enough now that I can make out body shapes and hair color. "We need to get ready. There's no doubt we're going to be fighting face to face."
"Where can I find a weapon?" Jacobe asks, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin in a false show of confidence.
I don't particularly like this man. Too loud, too arrogant, he thinks himself too funny and too smart, in another time I would have avoided him as much as I could, maybe giving him a cold cordial greeting. But standing in the middle of a storm, with canon balls flying past and the heavens flashing and pouring its sorrows into the sea, there's a connection that forms. A bond that comes from the need to survive, the need to live through these trials. We're on this ship together. We either live or die in these next hours, and we'll fight next to each other to ensure our survival and the survival of our crew mates and this ship.
I nod my head in the direction of the hull and lead him to the "weapon corner" letting him take his pick. He chooses a long cutlass and tosses it back and forth between his hands, testing it's weight.
"My uncle always told me I'd make a decision for money that would get me killed one day." Jacobe says, more to the blade in his hand than to me. "How I hate that he was right."
"PREPARE FOR BOARDING!" A shout echoes throughout the ship, only to be lost in the next roar of thunder.
I mount the steps two at a time, Jacobe behind me and other sailors joining us, coming up from below deck with weapons in their hands. Some trembling and others holding their swords in steady, practiced hands. We enter out onto the slippery deck to see the Widower gliding up next to the Moonlighter, their crew standing at the railing, ropes with grappling hooks on the end in their hands, just waiting to throw them across. Our own crew stands staggered across the deck: muskets, rapiers, cutlasses, flintlocks, weapons of the variety, held at the ready.
Jacobe and the other sailors behind me, move past me to find their place to fight. I walk closer to the poop deck and meet Robby and Roman coming down the steps. Roman holds out my trident to me and I take it into my hands, somehow it feeling heavier in my hands with the knowledge of what it is I might have to do with it.
"Maim if you can, but don't hesitate to kill." Roman tells me, his hand closing over mine where it holds the trident. "They won't hesitate."
I swallow a lump in my throat and nod in understanding. Holding eye contact with the boy I love for as long as I can in the last few suspenseful moments we have before the last battle of war breaks out. I raise my hand and use my thumb to push a wet, stray hair from his face and let my hand linger there. He uses his other hand that's not wrapped around my other one on the trident, and presses it against his face, placing a kiss in the palm of my hand.
And all too soon, we let go of each other. Stepping back to face the enemy, the only thing keeping us from our happily ever after.
The suspense was barely there before there is a battle cry from both ships and The Widower's crew starts swinging over on ropes from their ship and throws the grappling hooks over our railings— some missing their mark and others finding a hold.
Our crew cuts as many ropes as they can, but they miss a few and the pirates who have swung over have diverted their attention. Musket fire rings out from both ships and the canons below us vibrate the wood beneath my feet, at this close of distance it tears gaping holes into the sides of The Widower and our enemy returns the favor, rocking the Moonlighter back as the storm rocks us forth. Too many sounds fill the air, too much to look at, too much to avoid.
A pirate swings across the gap between our ships and lands nimbly on his feet in front of me, his braided beard surprisingly not moving with his little stunt.
I raise my trident in defense, but the pirate barely has a chance to step towards me—his eyed target—when Robby fires his musket and the pirate's chest is opened and red blood spills out, covering his shirt. The pirate's eyes open in shock for a split second before all light leaves his face and his life ends as a crumpled heap of a red fountain on the deck of a merchant ship, surrounded by those who have no time to stop and mourn for him.
I look at Robby, who physically shakes off what he's just done, and moves to reload his musket and find his next target. To my right the clanging of swords catches my attention and I turn to find Roman engaged in a sword fight with a toothless-man-of-a-wall wearing a bear fur vest.
  I turn away from their battle just in time to see my own battle approaching with an axe raised above his head. My body reacts before my brain and I'm shocked by how effortlessly I lift the trident, slide his hand between it's two points, and twist. My opponent screams in agony as the axe falls from his hand and clatters against the deck. He clutches his sprained (or broken) wrist to his side and he looks up to meet the end of my trident connecting with his face. He falls over backwards unconscious. A noise behind me makes me spin on my heel and I lift my trident in time to defend myself against a pudgy, little pirate with a rapier. He's skilled with a sword and I stumble backwards a few steps as he keeps me on the defensive, but a cry of agony from someone across the ship grabs his attention for a split second and that's all I need to swing the end of my trident against the side of his head. The sound of bone cracking and the vibration that spreads up through the trident makes me feel sick.
I move towards the railing where pirates continue to swarm over the side, an unending flow of men, women, weapons, and bad hygiene. A man starts to swing across on a rope, with his musket raised and pointed at Weldon. As he swings by me, I don't think, I plunge the trident into his side. I can feel as the metal breaks through warm flesh and I can see the moment my weapon and I take his life from him. The pirate instantly looses his grip on the rope and falls to the deck, I pull my trident back out from his side so as not to be dragged down with him. He becomes just one more bloody body who lies injured or dead on the deck of the ship.
I look across to the Widower and make eye contact with a man who stands at the poop deck, casually leaning against the railing of his ship as if he hasn't a care in the world. I wipe the rain water from my eyes and don't break eye contact with him. He has a close cut yellow beard and matching yellow hair that sticks out from beneath his hat in a gnarled mess. From here I can see the damage years of sun has done to his skin, deep wrinkles and a very tanned complexion, and yet he can't be very old. He wears a long brown coat and a dark blue tunic, a blue feather sticking out of his hat to match it.
This has to be Captain Nico, who else would look so calm and even happy amidst death and bloodshed?
Something behind him catches my eye and I look away from him, focusing on the form cresting the wave behind him. A wood form with torn sails and a battered hull, but an ever determined fierceness to it. The Hangman rises up over the wave and it might be my imagination and my relief to see them, but I could swear there's a golden light shining behind them like a halo.
Their bow crashes back down into the water, and the waves split apart for them as they charge towards The Widower.
I look back at Captain Nico who's turned to see what has caught my attention and see him noticeably freeze for a second before shouting orders at his crew. Half of his men split off from the attack on us and run to the other side of their ship to start firing at The Hangman. I scan the water behind our ally's ship for any sign of The Night's Scream but see nothing but the forces of nature in their rightful place.
A pirate comes running at me and I swing my trident like a big stick and knock him in the gut, he doubles over and trips backwards over the railing, falling into the dark abyss of sea between our two tethered ships.
I know that these deaths, these murders—no matter that I'm defending myself—will haunt me to my dying days. A constant regret that will never leave my mind nor soul, but I push all of my morals and humanity away. If I hesitate, I will become the ghost that haunts their mind.
A canon ball rips a hole into the floor beside me, sending wood splinters and me flying, I helplessly tighten my grip on my trident as if that'll break my fall. I land on my back with a cry of agony, pain starting from my spine and spreading to the top of my head and tips of my toes. A new pain registers in my left forearm, a sharper kind of pain that burns. I roll my head over and grit my teeth as I see a splinter of wood sticking out of my forearm. Not a large piece, but big enough to cause everything to become dizzy and for me to feel as though I'm on the verge of unconsciousness. Blood spills out of the wound and stains my clothes and the wood beneath me.
I roll my head back over to stare up at the sky and try to push past the pain, that's when I notice it's stopped raining. Dark clouds still hover over us and lightening lights up the dark sky, but the constant pour of rain has been cut off.
"Sitara!" I hear my name shouted in panic.
I should move to let him know I'm okay, I think.
But that's harder to do than I thought. I press my lips together in concentration and roll onto my right side, the pain in my backside slowly fading but the pain in my arm increasing. I push myself up with my right hand still clutching my trident and make it to a sitting position.
"Come on, sweetheart, get up and walk it off." I'm told.
I look up to see Captain Cutler standing over me with two rapiers in her hands. Her hair is slowly coming out of her braid and blood—that doesn't belong to her—is splattered across her clothing.
I look past her to see The Hangman has been tethered to the other side of The Widower and sailors and pirates cross over and convene to fight on all three decks. Roman keeps looking my way, but is otherwise engaged in a sword fight with a grinning pirate.
"Aye, aye, Captain." I answer her through a grunt of pain as I try to stand.
"Woah, woah, hang on." She says, setting me back down on the deck.
She tears a long piece of cloth from her tunic and just as effortlessly turns on her heel and stabs a woman with matted dreadlocks and missing teeth before she can fire her musket at us. She sets down her rapier on the deck and grabs onto my forearm, giving me an apologetic look before jerking the piece of wood from my arm. I scream in pain and squeeze my eyes shut as they spill over with involuntary tears. She quickly wraps the wound tightly with her torn piece of tunic before more of my blood can spill out. She ties the two ends of the cloth together with a tight jerk and helps me to stand.
"Hang on just a little while longer." She tells me, readjusting her grip on her rapiers. "It's almost over."
"We're winning, right?"
"Our odds aren't good, but they aren't bad either." She tells me, turning away and immersing herself back into the fray of the battle.
I send my trident into the first pirate near me and watch him fall to my feet, he clutches his leg where I stabbed him and I step over him to let him lie there in pain. Injured is better than dead.
I favor my left arm against my chest and fight as well as I can with one hand.
To my right something catches my attention but am distracted as I just barely deflect a dagger thrown at me. I stab the spikes of my trident into the dagger thrower's foot than use the end of my trident to knock his chin up, a stomach rolling crack sounding as his jaw moves unnaturally to the left.
I look back to what had caught my attention to see Captain Dax dragging Sigrún in shackles up the stairs from below deck. She's fighting against his grip but he's clutching the back of her dress so tightly there's no chance of her wiggling out of his grasp.
  "Captain Nico!" Captain Dax bellows.
Those closest to them stop fighting to look and see what he's hollering for.
"I have someone you want!" He yells again, making his way through sailors and pirates alike who have stopped to watch his progress towards the railing of the ship.
By now everyone has stopped fighting, only a few on the Hangman's deck have yet to see what's happening.
Captain Nico comes closer and stands at the railing of his own ship, saying nothing but casually sitting sideways on the railing. I see his whole attitude as a play towards a power move, a show of indifference, but his outward appearance wars against the look of fear in his eyes.
"Let's come to a truce," Captain Dax says, holding a musket against Sígrun's head. "I've seen enough of my men die today."
"What do you propose?" Captain Nico asks, his voice smooth, as if he's asking him if he likes sugar or milk with his tea.
"I give you your sister back alive and you surrender yourself. Your crew and your sister I'll let go with their word that they'll leave my island, and my sea, and they go back to the shores they came from, never to return again." Captain Dax tells him.
"And if I refuse your proposal?" Captain Nico prods.
"I'll shoot your sister." Captain Dax says, his face stern with no sort of emotion on his weathered face.
Captain Nico laughs, a long overly-drawn-out laugh, as though Captain Dax said a really bad joke. I look across the ship to make eye contact with Captain Cutler, she looks a little worried but more interested than anything.
"I don't think you will. You're not the kind of man to shoot an innocent girl." Captain Nico finally says after he gets over his fit of laughter.
"She's hardly innocent and if it means saving my men's and other, truly innocent, lives—I'll do what I must."
"You're bluffing." Captain Nico responds, a devilish looking grin across his bearded face.
Captain Dax doesn't bother responding, but the sound of the musket cocking says enough.