FireSweet

Flint and a few sparks

                All was silent for a minute, the still, shocked silence of hostages suddenly released from gunpoint without reason.  We stared at Captain Mají-jalio, and he shifted and glanced around uneasily, not sure what to do with his new title, King of Pirates.

                It was Fame-jujio who broke the tension.  “TO THE NEW KING OF PIRATES!!” he roared.

                The rest of the crew picked up on the cry, “TO THE KING!” we cheered. 

                “TO THE KING!” the pirates below us echoed.

                The cheers drew the captain out of his shock.  He grinned at us crazily, and leapt back onto the railing to hang from the first ratlines.

                “Drinks are on me lads!” he cried.

                Tumultuous roars greeted the announcement.  No pirate would ever disagree with a free drink.  Obsidarian and Fame-jujio immediately retreated beneath the deck and came up moments later, holding two barrels of rum apiece.  They carefully dropped the barrels over the side, kicking down the rope ladder as they did so.  Fame-jujio returned beneath deck, other crew members following him, Xament picked up his fiddle and tore into a fast-paced melody.  He nodded his head to me, and I smiled as I watched Karius, Obsidarian, and loud-mouthed Forcan begin to drum out a beat on the deck with their steps.  All went back to how it had been before the Griffon appeared. 

                All but one detail; Mají-jalio was silent.  He should have been strutting about, crowing over his victory, title, and blade.  But instead he straddled the rail, watching both those on the ground and those on deck with the kingblade balanced across his lap.  He was holding tight to a goblet full of rum.

                I took my own goblet, full of water instead of rum, and approached the captain, sitting beside him on the rail before he could say a word.

                “You should be celebrating,” I said softly.  “Despite his insults, the Griffon has honored you with the title of King of Pirates. 

                Mají-jalio shook his head slightly, a movement that no one but me would notice.  “Do you know what the King of Pirates is?  Have you ever heard of one?” he asked.

                I looked away from him, staring at Tempest Storm, who beneath us was slopping rum over himself as he called for more.  “No,” I admitted.  “But I do believe it is an honor to be king of all pirates.”

                “Gittoran, look at me” he said.  I met his eyes, surprised to see the sudden exhaustion in his black eyes.  He looked as if he had aged ten years and hadn’t slept in weeks.  “Pirates do not like authority; they are free men who take power when they see an opportunity.  The title of king is passed to another man when the original king is killed by another.  How long do you think I will last?”

                “You will be a fine king Mají,” I whispered, trying to reassure him.  “The men respect you, and we have known for a long time that you are the best of us, the head of the most elite crew this world has ever seen.  We will help watch your title.”

                Mají-jalio ignored the comment, and looked away as he spoke, seeming to speak more to himself than to me.  “The last true King of Pirates was a man named Tharro Cirrus.  He was a great man, and was ready to fight to the last pirate for our freedom.  He took the kingblade from his predecessor, Yalton, by slitting his throat a mere two days after Yalton took the kingblade from his predecessor in the middle of the war with the North.  Tharro Cirrus was the last to wield the kingblade.  He disappeared 42 years ago when the worlds were split.  The kingblade disappeared with him.  Many after him have claimed to be king, but none of them have wielded the kingblade.”