The Key: Sails and Tide

Chapter 10: The Rebellion

Referred to as Strong House, the Ghost' store was the most important place on the ship. It housed both tools, arms, food and supplies...almost occupying a full deck of the vessel. It was planted a deck to the lowest. A thick hard framed door, carved by expert artisans, thorough and true in their trade, from an oak tree. It kept safety of the chambers.

But it would only be commanded open by the key, for which now laid Elreals command.

Four armed men stationed daily at this point was to summon its guard.

The sea was calm, the gentle breeze told the sailors had nothing to worry about, save from their usual routine.

Slapping his face into his open palm, he cursed his luck. Ander knew had their been a tempest, the sailors would be muddled by the turmoil and even so the store most vulnerable.

His lips twitched for his misfortune. How would he have known the commencement of such plan would seem awry? His bitter luck was yet leading them unto a deadlock-their success was merely held on a single thread.

But the man was a willful fellow, so setting aside the thought of incredulity he yet mustered all his courage.

He could be thrown in prison for this, or worse killed. But he had made this very plan for days to just give up now. In his heart, he was paying his due service to the mariners of the ship.

It was barely a month the cruel Goor had tormented them. But his fall had only bore another - a potential one to be precise.
From Anders brutal judgement, Elreal was no more different from Goor; ambitious!

He had proven this theorem rightly by his speech to the sailors merely days back.
The Ghost was a transit vessel, but Elreal, like Goor was seeking to change the course of the ship for his own self gain, neglecting even the opinion of the mariners. He might have successfully washed the heart of majority of the men; but Ander knew better. He was too smart to be manipulated by such words. His mind was as sharp as a knife; keen to discern insincerity - or rather, when truth wasn't absolute.

He stomped slowly his feet on the ground, while slapping softly his laps, producing the soft thud - it was how he dealt with his anxiety.

Looking behind him he caught the wild gazes of the desperate men who were on his crusade. Sheltered in the shadows of the darkened bend, their urge blossomed. Their eyes flashed dark with intent and purpose -cruel one. But no one was yet to die; still, these desperate men in heart were resolved to tear mountains down - do what they have to to seize that layer even if death be the price.

Watching the sequence of the moving guards, Ander was yet to make the call for his men to storm in. Brusquely came collapsing his thought, when the hatch flung open, ushering a new figure on deck. Amber eyes flashed in audacity, cheekbone defined as his confidence. Brown hair neatly packed in the black bandana - Ander knew absolutely who this man was. Dierl --an old shipmate.

Stepping through the hatch unto deck and pacing for the Strong House, the new man had the backing of two other men.

This was crazy!

Ander considered the entirety of this new development not just insane - preposterous. More men to only harden their task. Their plot was collapsing even before execution.
Was mother fate all along against the will of their heart and was seeking now the absolute time for a betrayal.
Ander yet spat instantly at the thought of fate - the man had been a sailor for a reasonable time to think fate cared, nor did he care for what she thought.
Dierl paced away from the hatch through large strides. From Ander' assessment, he was merely down to run routine in his new seat as security head of the Ghost.

Such impeccable timing!

The rebellion leader knew if the new ship man lasted any longer on this corner, their cover would be blown. If so, a skirmish in a head to head confrontation couldn't be evaded. What were mere knives and wooden batons against rifles and pistols. The element of surprise was sure to be their most potent weapon.

They had to make the strike at once!

"The deck has been absurdly quiet, there hasn't been much movement around." One of the men on post made response to Dierl' inquiry.

While he spoke, Dierl's gaze was unwavering from the deck' darkened bend. Abruptly he began walking pass the still speaking man, tending closely towards the darkened bend.

What he now was hoping to see remained mystery to even his mind. All he knew was he was moving at instincts bidding.

"Herk_" Dierl's words barely escaping in entirety his lips, like a bolt of lightening, suddenly swept came the razor edge, slicing his intended speech -- almost reaching to his throat. A second further and the blade would have had its cause on him.

In a split second he ducked wildly, allowing the flying piece take a new target. With a brutal precision it knocked clean one of the lamp stand, banishing instantly its light.

Such accuracy, Dierl could only quickly reason that he was not the true target.

Another wave of whooshing air bore another propelled piece. This one more precise than the first. In a blink, struck the last stand, declaring insane darkness. But like wild fire and preceding strangeness chased the insanity -- guttural cries and strong stomping feet's.

The absurd actions declared trouble-and without warning, Dierl's men broke out in fire. Wedged at the end, Dierl"s scream was barely enough to halt the panicking men.

Suddenly broke the cold in the room as guards tried to fill gun powder. Merely seconds at this, and the real charge came bringing forth the silhouettes.

In a blink they were all over Dierl and his men. Muddled by everything, Dierl was yet in struggle, straining his vision wild as he combated furiously two silhouette. A bitter cry from one of them by Dierl's strike, provoked his retreat only to bore two more men. In a breath the still fighting Dierl found himself enveloped by the silhouette's; encompassed duly by their mystery. A great number indeed.

A knock to the back of the strong man's head sent the fighting man to a stunning state as he sunk down -- his strength waned bitterly. The current Dierl was feeling more loathe than fear.

In a snap came the hiss, as in rubbing two edges, and the calm glow on the stick pursued closely, filling the darkened room. Though only but a little match stick, before the eccentric darkness, it was mightier than the moon.

Cruel, detestable gazes surrounded him. Desperacy clearly a common factor. Almost as if he had never met with the figures the light helped forge. Searching through the anxious men, alas he found a familiar face.

"Ander!" He called in disbelieve.

"Hmm!" The man confirmed his words with a mischievous grin first, then...his instant rush of mouthful air stream followed, provoking back the darkness, as he exiled the golden glow. But so pursued the next insane act. In the darkness came another knock to Dierl, no more blinding his vision, but his consciousness in totality.

Ander had delivered his cruel justice!