Avast, page 3
Tyler shook his head; Robert could see now a fresh scar across the man’s cheek that hadn’t been there before. “No-Nails tried to commandeer the ship when he came back without you – we were bein’ gone at by the towers something awful, so most of us just let it ride til we got clear. But out on the water, we set to talking and something in his story didn’t hold up, so we told him to get stuffed. Somma his men, though, fought and we lost a lot of the crew. We threw him and his die-hards off the ship and sailed around for a bit til we started running low on stock.” Tyler shrugged. “We didn’t know where else to go, so we came back here.”
The three men they’d sent over the water dropped down off the far rail, and the men who’d snuck into the belowdecks all burst up onto the deck at that moment, startling Tyler into a moment of stunned silence.
His expression changed to an impressed smile. “You woulda had us, sure enough, even if I’d had a crew along,” he conceded.
Robert chuckled. “So why’d you send all the men into town, then? You should’ve known it left the ship vulnerable.”
At that moment, two shots rang out at the far edge of town, followed by a pause and a third shot.
“That’s the all clear,” Mitchell nodded to Robert. “The militia was faster than I expected.”
“You don’t understand,” Tyler corrected. “We didn’t come here to steal.”
Robert and his lieutenant exchanged a pair of confused glances.
“We came back to surrender.”
Sure enough, the militia leaders reported in a few minutes later to confirm that the pirates had gone ashore and gathered in the town square, milling about in plain sight with their guns and swords on the ground in front of them.
The pirates were painfully undernourished, and several of them were actually quite ill and dehydrated. To a man, they swore to leave behind the life of violent piracy and offered to assist the town in whatever way they could.
Robert had the clever idea of utilizing them as a naval defense for the various trade ships that came and went from the Nikada bay, a decision which over the years to come would prove financially advantageous for the town.
Soon after, Robert was given a position of authority within the town, and moved into a beautiful home with a bedroom view that overlooked the town and the bay, all the way past the Shadow’s Fangs and into the blue horizon.
It all seemed….too good to be true.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The dreams had stopped coming to him while he slept. Robert woke lightly as the sunlight crept in through wind-stirred curtains and Miriam stretched beside him, the nearness and warmth of her skin sending a contented thrill across his body. This, he thought, is a good morning.
He kissed her lightly on the cheek as he slipped from her embrace and left their bed, crossing to first throw a thin robe around his shoulders before walking towards the balcony of their apartment. His gaze fell on a desk by the doors, upon which sat a strange pair of goggles. His hand reached out, as if out of habit, and picked them up so he could look at them.
Strange thing. Why do I keep it, he wondered?
He looked through the lenses, and immediately yanked the goggles away, wincing in discomfort. Really distorted, these things; they don’t even work. He set them back on the desk, making himself a mental note to throw them out later as he parted the curtains and stepped out onto the balcony.
The sunlight was descending down past the tall cone of the always-smoldering mountain that rose to the east of the town, and creating countless glimmers upon the tips of the waves in the bay. Only a few clouds dotted the sky, tall billowing puffs that looked as if they were made of cotton. It was indeed a good morning, Robert thought to himself. He combed his fingers through the short hair of his head; this feels so much better than that tangled mess I’d worn before. Why had I let it grow out so much in the first place, he wondered?
His eyebrows furrowed together. There had been a reason, hadn’t there? It had once seemed so important, like it meant something, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
Like a strange itch he couldn’t quite scratch, he tried to think back over the years he’d grown it out. Years? Had it been years? It seemed like he’d been in the town for years, but that couldn’t be correct, could it?
He began thinking back in his mind over the events that had happened since his arrival in town, working backwards.
He and Miriam had been married… had that been just yesterday? Last week? Last month? A year ago? It was hard to remember, now. How had they met? Oh yes, he’d been shot.
Robert blinked, surprised. He pulled his robe open just enough to look at his chest, and saw no scar, no wound, no indication of a wound. Was I shot? But I…remember it…don’t I?
And who shot me? Why did they shoot me? That doesn’t make…sense, does it? People don’t just go around shooting people, do they?
His eyes rested on a ship with black sails that stood moored to the far dock of the harbor. The Monkey’s Duffel, that’s right, isn’t it? Was that my ship? Is that why they call me Captain?
A stream of memories began to pour out and through his mind, and a hint of dreams already forgotten stood beside them. What does it mean? Who was that? Was that me? Where was I, and how did I get…?
“Here you are, lover,” Miriam said, sliding up behind him and reaching her arms to embrace him from behind. “The bed’s too cold without you.”
Instinctively, he turned his back to the docks and his lips sought out his wife’s perfect mouth. They kissed; he breathed once more, taking in the scent of her and exhilarated in the rush of sensations her touch brought to his skin.
She led him back through the curtains, away from the balcony, back to their bed. Thoughts of dreams or pirate ships or absent gunshot wounds vanished in the intoxication of her touch, her kiss, her breath and her soft moans of delight.
This was the memory that mattered, Robert decided.
The other memories – whatever they were and wherever they came from – were pale and lifeless against the reality of this world.
A faint crackle and hiss faded in the back of his mind; something called a video game at last powered off, as Miriam’s kiss enveloped him, and vanished into the ether to which all discarded thoughts go.
To be continued in Chapter Three of “Into the Dust”; The Lily or the Tiger
About the Author: Ren Cummins
The adventure began around the time a few astronauts were nancing about on the moon. There may have been off-roading, there may have been golf; but all I saw was one giant leap for mankind. I was reading comic books and dreaming of when I'd get to grow up to be Spiderman. The tales of heroes, old and new, infected my otherwise somber way of thinking, and what came out on the other side resolved itself into a love of adventure.
I wish I could tell you that it was a direct path from then until now, but I've embraced the tangents of my life as fodder for material, from such relatively mundane (and disassociated) occupational interruptions like working as a hotel manager, music studio engineer, Middle Eastern drummer for bellydancers, and a crisis response manager. I've even picked up a few foreign languages, which fed right back into my love of English.
Rumors persist that I may have invented some sort of time machine. But... that's another story for another time. See what I did there? Heh.
* * * * *
The Ren Cummins Amazon Page
www.renwritings.com
Twitter: @rencummins
About the Author: Kiri Callaghan
Kiri Callaghan was born a "3rd" on a station set in deep space where she was trained in the ways of the Jedi. Her training concluded when she joined a crew of smugglers piloting a Firefly class ship that tended to travel to new worlds and new civilizations. In her travels, she battled darkspawn, saved countless princesses, ruled kingdoms, acquired some phat lootz, and was pretty much in short, the 'chosen one.'
She may also really just be a writer obsessed with sci-fi, fantasy, books, and gaming, an actor and director with a BFA in Theater from Cornish College of the Arts and an amateur clothing designer and seamstress. But that's just a rumor, and you really shouldn't listen to those.
“Bard” by name, she has dedicated her life to storytelling through multiple mediums, whether it be by stage, film, photography, song or written word.
To stay updated on her upcoming projects and events or more or less peek into the madness that lies within, you may find her at the following locations:
www.kiricallaghan.com
Twitter: @kiricallaghan
https://www.facebook.com/KiriCallaghanWrites
Ren Cummins, Avast
