The Key: Sails and Tide

Chapter 4: Two guns, Twelve blades and a Bow

Time seemed to slow ominously. It was in fact tormenting. The faint sound of footsteps heated his enthusiasm. This was the hour to expect his comrade. But where was he?

Elreal corked his ears to the ceiling. The sudden creak on the ships wooden wall told someone was coming. He found very little time to adjust. The door came open without hesitance.

Terror hit through his bones as a blacksmiths mallet upon red steel. His troubled heart howbeit came slowly to peace as he took sight of the intruded personality.

"You should tread carefully next time." Zar unveiled his presence.

Simeon wasn't worried by it all. He stretched out his hand quickly. "Did you manage to find it."

"Aye. Not an easy task though." Zar put a weary look as he put down carefully the sac. Series of clings affirmed the metals the pouch housed.

Untying the sac, the trio joined hands in revealing the content. A smug smile crept on Elreal's face as the steel weapons glistened by the candlelights bidding. His compatriots shared same self impressiveness.

But Simon's demeanor changed bitterly for the first time that night.
"Things don't just go missing like that," he sighed. "They may begin to suspect. Its the perfect time to strike."

Elreal's eyes danced from the stolen weapons to the faces of his anxious allies. He knew Simon was right, but the reality of their endeavor stared him in the face. 

He took a count of the arms with his eyes -- twelve blades, two pistols, and Zar' bow, buried somewhere in the vessel. It wasn't enough. It was suicidal. Three men against a host of seafarers, toughened through tides and sails.

Even if they could convince a number of men onboard the ship to join their cursed effort, their arms weren't enough. No less thirty swords were sure to stand against them.

"Aye. We have to." Elreal finally agreed with a deep exhale. His companions shared in his bitterness. They both knew what it entailed.
But they had to face reality. Elreal had to face reality. This wouldn't be his life -- not after what he had been through, and now to become slave to a maniac. He and his mates would be damned if they didn't stand up against the mad man. This was his orchestration.

So far, Goor was meeting up to their speculations of being insane and a worst dictator. He and his mates had taken the Ghost...they would guide her as they deemed fit. With ruthlessness and insensitivity.

For weeks they had been faithful to the sufferings forced them by Goor. The trio wouldn't take it anymore. They waited for El'real's final verdict...even El'real himself waited. 

"What say you Elreal?" Zar tore his fantasies. With folded arms to his chest, the soldier waited for an answer.

"We've gone over the plan, again and again. Say the word and we would put it to action. If we prevail, the gods honor us, and if we don't, then we are cursed." Simon said as he rest his back on the wooden wall.

Elreal couldn't be rash. Timing was as essential as skill. They had been on this plan from the first day of Goor's ascension. Fortunately for them Goor feared their presence at the upper deck, so duty down deck was theirs. It yet provided them opportunity to strengthen their contrive. They couldn't blow it up now with poor judgement.

The saddening thing of it all was that, one's he'd thought friends were in fact aligning with the lunatic. How did Dierl and Jerther live with themselves?

Elreal tried to speak, but paused. His mates sensed his disposition with keen consciousness. The atmosphere did shift strangely!

Giving neither of their minds the glory for a right deduction, Zar dashed for the silhouette. With few desperate grab of paces, he was next to the intruder, and by a swift tackle, upon him, his blade was drawn out in a breath. Caught by the torch of the room, it gave the tool a savage glisten.