Captain Fury: Pirate of Berk

15: Hunter and Hunted

Hunter and Hunted

The crew had been on tenterhooks around Fury since Dragon Island, unsure what he would do next. They had irrevocably exiled themselves from the pirate haven and had a number of powerful and very unpleasant parties after their leader. Both the Svens and Halvard had grumbled incessantly-though never in the Captain's hearing-that he would lead them to rack and ruin but none had taken up the repeated offer to disembark and choose a new ship.

In fact, Fury had been utterly dismayed that his warning had been rejected and that Arild had been put in danger-again. Deep down, under years of hardships after his exile, there was still the kernel of the boy raised to be the next Governor of Berk and after hearing the mantra 'a Governor protects his own' for as long as he could remember, Fury had tried to do just that. But as he was a pirate, he had tried to give them a head's up: he had just forgotten pirates weren't normal people. Most were just regular guys with little choice of career and turned to the life through necessity but some of them really enjoyed inflicting misery on others-the face of Alvin the Treacherous came to mind irresistibly at that point. But they were all bone-headed, independent and too stupid to listen and he knew Drago was coming.

But the boy was his greater concern. Heather had snatched Arild and planned to put him in slavery under her brother to pay him back. Fury knew something of Berserkers-they were neighbours to Berk, after all-and he knew full well how cruelly they treated slaves. His mind wandered back : he had met an escapee once, a very thin and terrified man, his body horribly scarred and maimed by the incessant punishments he had earned from his unreasonable and cruel master. In Berserk, a slave counted as less than human...probably less important even than a horse or hunting dog. And she had planned that fate for his son.

He blinked. His son. The concept was so incredible that he couldn't believe it himself. A single act of kindness to someone who had reminded Fury of his own disowned and exiled self had brought him a person who loved and trusted him without qualification, without fear and without hesitation in the face of danger and severe duress. A person who looked at him with hope and expectation, who listened to him and who idolised him. And who he knew he would die to protect. And he really really regretted dragging the boy along on this mission because it was horribly dangerous and he doubted he would get out alive. He had plans to get the crew free but he wasn't at all sure that he would get away and he hated the idea of orphaning the boy all over again.

He peered at the letter in his hand and sighed. As part of his plan, he had rendez-voused with Trader Johann and Trader Maxim and offered them deals: they would no longer be his targets if they delivered letters for him and allowed him to look over any correspondence from Berk. Both men had seen the intensity in his emerald gaze and had agreed, preferring the deal to the extremely efficient and repeated raiding they suffered. Of course, the crew had looked on him in surprise but Fury had merely tilted his head and explained that a man didn't shear his sheep too often if he wanted a good harvest of wool. Fishlegs had looked at him suspiciously and that night, he had decided to speak to his Captain.

So during late watch, when he saw Fury leave his cabin and slowly walk the decks, the big First Mate slowly walked up to him, offering a cup of ale. With a nod and a half-smile, Fury had accepted. Fishlegs stared ahead for a long moment at the moon reflected on the sea, the broad ribbon of the milky way arching across the sky and the panoply of stars glittering against the night.

"Good visibility," he said. Fury cast him half an eye.

"Worst opening to a conversation ever," he said with a sigh. "I know you want to talk to me about something, Fish. I can see you fidgeting and you've looked nervous all day. I'm not an ogre, am I?" Fish sighed and he toyed with his mug.