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Corbin's Tale
Posted: 07 Nov 2006 08:01 PM |
Part One
Corbin left Port Royale with the rags on his back and a sword wrapped in rags. He returned wearing silks, and his sword hanging in a scabbard from his belt. The clothes make the man. He still remembered this lesson, one of the few he learned from his father.
His father had cared about appearances. It was the reason he and his mother were never married. Nobles of the plaza did not marry the lower caste from the lower city. Still in Corbin's eyes, his father had been a good man. He had done what he could for them until he died. His mother always had enough gifted coin to support him. The sword at his belt had been a gift as well, and with it Corbin had thus far made a living for himself. Without the clothes however, he was just another thug with a blade - in the eyes of employers at least. It paid to dress well.
His father now had lain in the ground for more than two years, murdered. He had never been open about his affairs, and on their brief, clandestine meetings little was thought about them so the murder was shocking. Corbin's family fortunes drastically changed. His mother was forced to consider prostitution. They had always felt above lower Port's squalid drama. For the first time in his life, Corbin had to think about where his dinner was coming from. Many enjoyed to see their change of fortunes. One in particular came knocking upon their door one evening in ragged leathers. |
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Corbin's Tale
Posted: 23 Dec 2006 01:27 AM |
Part Two
Mother and son shared a modest meal. Coralyn had lain a clean cloth over the table and set two scented candles upon it. Despite the meanness of the city around their hovel, she made a nice home, a place of peace within the maelstrom of Lower Port. Her femininity graced every aspect of their two rooms save Corbin's sword which leaned against the far corner wrapped in oiled rags. The knock at the door was a surprise, halting them mid conversation.
Corbin hesitated to answer the door. He was ashamed for anyone to see the meager meal he and his mother shared. Coralyn looked at her teenaged son, saw his hesitation, and was angered. Her son needed to be shamed into becoming the man of the house. With one sharp look, she stood in his place to open the door. The candles flickered. In wafted the stench of Port to mingle with their bread and soup.
"Wert I expec'ed 'en?" came a gravelly voice across the threshold. Corbin's view of the man was blocked by the door.
Coralyn glanced back at her son and immediately regretted that she had opened the door. Apparently she had seen this man before. "Not here, Raimes."
Raimes tried stepping into their room, mumbling an inquiry about dinner. Coralyn stood her ground one hand still on the door the other set palm towards him. Raimes consequently bumped into her. The two collided and twisted in the doorway. Coralyn struggled to maintain her grip on the door while fending him off.
"Jes a lil taste, lassy," he said whilst dipping his mouth to hers.
"Raimes, please," she said trying to keep a smile as she dodged his embrace.
Corbin shocked by the unseemly drama in the doorway had remained seated until Raimes came into view leaning over his mother's shoulder. The villain's hair was matted and dirty, his clothes, ragged leather crudely stitched together. His teeth were yellowed, and jumbled from past fights. Unacceptable... were the teenaged boy's thoughts as he saw this lout trying to kiss his mother. He stood, exclaiming, "Mother!" in protest.
"Har haaarrr!" laughed Raimes. He tried to speak, but lost the words in a fit of coughing. He coughed so violently he seemed on the verge of falling over. Coralyn immediately let go of the door to steady him with both hands, a look of concern for him knitting her brows. Raimes took the opportunity to pivot about her into the room.
Suddenly the status of their quiet dinner together had gone from briefly interrupted to potentially disastrous. At last Corbin realized as the man of the house that it was up to him to set order. He stepped forward with as much authority as he could muster. He spoke with a courtly tone as his father had taught him. "Please, sir, can you not see you have disturbed our dinner?"
Raimes finished coughing and gave young Corbin but one glance. "Ge' ri'tov yer poncey pup," he told Coralyn. A moment of silence passed between them before he added the title, "La'ee" with a sarcastic sneer. Coralyn was stunned into silence. Corbin was incensed.
"Look at me when I speak with you, cur," the boy commanded. Raimes ignored him, and grasped Coralyn by the shoulder to steer her toward her son. Corbin was angered further. Coralyn opened her mouth to speak, but her son had had enough. He summoned his most lordly tone, surprisingly even and commanding, "Unhand her. Now."
Momentarily succumbing to the boy's authority, Raimes let go of Coralyn. Low born, he was accustomed to taking orders. Then looking the boy up and down, he was in turns embarassed and angry. Corbin had yet to reach his full height. His jaw was delicate, and shoulders lean. This boy was nobody to take orders from. "Shaddap, welp! Yer gonna haf ta make me."
He slapped his hand down over Coralyn's shoulder and gave her a shake.
Corbin lost his head and rushed the bigger man. He was quicker than Raimes had anticipated and landed a blow to the man's chin. He figured that would settle it, but the teenager was not strong enough to knock the man out. Raimes backfisted Corbin reflexively. Again Corbin was quick, but the blow caught enough of his ear to stun him. The next knocked him to the floor. The kick to his head settled matters.
Raimes slammed the door shut and threw a handful of coins on the table. Coralyn snatched them up to give back to him. She shouted protest, "Get out of my house!"
Raimes' tolerance was gone, and he took her forcefully to her bedroom. "Ay've had enoff o this, an none o wot I caym fer."
* * *
Corbin awoke later on the floor. He heard shouts outside and wimpering and grunting in the back room. They were nothing to the pain in his neck nor the throbbing lump above his eye. He tried to stand and bumped the table disturbing the candles. The dancing candlelight further disorienting him. Still he managed to stagger upright before losing the contents of his stomach to the floor.
The shouting passed their door outside, but the commotion in the backroom persisted.
Corbin swayed across the room toward his cot. His eyes settled on the rags about his sword, and before he got his bearings he began unwrapping the blade. The fog cleared when he found himself in the middle of the room holding the weapon with both hands. Eventually the noise in the backroom settled down. His mother softly cried, and Raimes emerged from her bedroom with an ugly smile on his face.
The older man was tugging up his pants as he stepped out into the room. He almost walked right into Corbin's sword and promptly dropped his drawers.
"You've had your chance to leave, Raimes."
He wanted to, but could not summon a laugh with his pants around his knees. The boy before him was but a shadow silhoutted by the candles on the table behind him. Raimes' eyes gravitated to the sword between them glistening like a liquid flame. It was hypnotic, beyond real. He tried breaking the spell, speaking, "Outta my w-"
Corbin pulled the sword up through Raimes' voice box. Raimes stumbled forward mutely. He caught the downstroke in the back of his neck, and fell like a slaughtered ox. Coralyn rushed out of her room to find her son standing over the dead man. A dark pool grew outward from the cut in Raimes' neck. She took the cloth from the table and wrapped the wound.
Her words skimmed over his consciousness, "..drop him off the pier."
Corbin stood staring. His first kill on the floor.
"Son?" Coralyn grabbed him by the cheeks and looked into his eyes.
"Mom?"
"I need you to help me take him out of here. Understand?"
"Yes, mom."
Together they wrapped him in the cloth and dragged him out. It was late. They saw no one on the way to the wharves. The rain washed away the stray drops of blood left upon the cobbles. From the deck at the start of the nearest pier, they dropped Raimes in the sea. Corbin watched the body bob just beneath the surface, refusing to sink. The surf pushed Raimes to the shadows of the wharf. Coralyn tried to pull her son away. He would not come.
"Look at what I've done, mom." He turned to her with tears in his eyes. He tried to say more, but nothing came.
"Corbin. I love you." She pulled him to her and held him in the rain. He wept. Then at last, they returned home to clean the floor. In the alley outside their home Coralyn spotted a street walker. She pushed Corbin in ahead of her.
"Rough one, Coralyn?" the whore asked, laughter in her eyes.
Coralyn paused looking back at her. She nodded, then closed the door. |
Famous last words:
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Corbin's Tale
Posted: 24 Dec 2006 04:13 PM |
Part Three
Life took a turn for Corbin the night he killed Raimes. In some respects he grew up. In others he remained childish. The boy had a gentle soul and probably always will, but one expects a gentle soul to bloom into compassion and wisdom. Coralyn had always thought her son would become an artist or a priest. He had the hands for it, such fine hands. He lost the heart the night he murdered Raimes.
Each cut to Raimes' neck drew a question from Corbin's heart. What would the gods think of him? What place is there for a murderer in society? He had no answers. These questions unanswered rattled about inside of him like stones. They bruised and beat him. In time he became numb to them, and this numbness became an answer in itself. The importance of the gods to him diminished. His desire to escape the villainy of Lower Port however intensified. He needed to make a place for himself in Society. He feared sharing Raimes' fate - to die in squalor.
Regardless of fears, Corbin was the man of the house now. He had stepped up once to the role and Coralyn expected him to keep it. The man of the house should inspire respect. Sometimes he had to demand it, yet respect was not readily forthcoming to a pretty boy in rags. He needed other means, and the sword was his vehicle. He trained. He put all of his budding, unformed talent into training. He took to it well. The weapon became part of his identity.
Coralyn's profession continued to draw the wrong sorts to their house. Corbin ensured that whenever he was home none crossed the threshold, his father's blade a barrier to them. Corbin loved his mother. He denied that her prostitution earned a significant portion of their income. He played up in his mind all income she earned from baking pies, and whatever he managed to earn. In truth he earned little. He did not take well to physical work. He felt it beneath him. He taught sword play when he could, but he was no master. Who would pay for lessons from someone so young? His charm did convince some that he was worth it, but not many, not enough.
In time, Corbin could no longer deny what his mother did to support him. He grew angry. He hated Lower Port. It was devouring them, and he felt powerless to escape. He particularly hated the sailors that came and went as they pleased. He hated the thought of those dirty men, filled with drink, fallling upon his mother. Yet those thoughts were often thrust upon him. Coralyn performed at the Crossed Cutlases. Her voice was said to be almost as luxurious as her long black hair. Her singing though beautiful was a secondary draw. The sailors came to see her dance, and the hope that if they threw enough money at her that perhaps she would give them more than a mere song and dance. For Coralyn it was a safe job. With the art of suggestion she earned more for herself, than resorting to falling on her back. Corbin did not see things the same way. He saw the public display as shameful. At night he lurked at the entrance to the pub with his oversized sword slung from his belt, and a cape thrown rakishly over his shoulder.
The sailors got used to Coralyn's bodyguard son. On occassion one pushed his luck and challenged Corbin. Those were the fools. If they hurt him, they were certain not to have a chance with his mother. On the otherhand, he was very quick with the blade and enjoyed humiliating an opponent. Many sailors earned a few ugly scars along with the ridicule of their shipmates. Corbin learned to use this to his advantage. Many of these fools feared losing status among their shipmates more than losing their lives. He practiced the art of the humerous insult, and used it like a weapon. He ridiculed them in front of their friends. Usually the fight was over when the laughter began, his challenger's status threatened before he even drew his blade. And if the man attacked, he was almost always too angry to be dangerous to anyone but himself and thus fodder for further humiliation. Corbin enjoyed putting them in their place.
This was before Corbin met Thorvald. Thorvald was a wily captain who had managed to evade the silver runners nearly everytrip through their waters. The burns to the right side of his face marked the exception. They had taken his good looks, but could keep nothing else. He was notorious in Port for his heroic escape from Ribald island with a stolen ship and the remains of his crew. He was respected by all that knew him, and his reputation struck fear in the hearts of his enemies - most of them anyway. Corbin paid little attention to these tales.
Thorvald left the Cutlasses late one night speaking of Coralyn with a shipmate. Corbin overheard the comments and took offense.
"What lady would have you, Pretty Boy?" Corbin asked. He leaned against the outer wall of the bar, cape pulled away to reveal his sword.
Thorvald turned to the young man astonished by Corbin's pique. He said nothing, merely assessed him. Thorvald's companion was also quiet. They had both been through too much to be bothered by someone so young.
Corbin pushed himself from the wall to stand lightly on his feet. "I think you are better suited by what you can find in the street."
Thorvald was amused. "A'roit. Are ye off'rin' yeself 'en?" And with that he adjusted his belt for effect. He and his companion chuckled. Corbin reddened, and Thorvald pressed on. "'ow much fer my fren an' me?" Reflexively Corbin drew his sword. The speed of it surprised Thorvald, and stopped his shipmate's laughter.
Corbin realized he had stepped over a line and tried to regain control of the situation. He set the sword to a low guard and smiled. "I do not believe that you can afford this dance." He tapped his lead foot to the rhythm of the music inside.
"Le' me be tha judge o tha'," Thorvald returned Corbin's smile. His shipmate brandished a heavy curved blade. Thorvald held the man back. "Wait," he whispered, "Thas tha boy's mutha in tha bar." He then took the cutlass from his friend. He then turned back to Corbin, "How bout jes a dancin' less'n?"
Corbin's pride was too great to refuse, and so he found himself dueling with the infamous Captain Thorvald. During the course of the duel two more of Thorvald's crew came to watch, and shout encouragement. Corbin soon realized he was out of his depth, and feared for his life. The captain was strong. Corbin was tiring quickly. And the man had moves. Corbin used the greater length of his sword to keep the captain at bay, but the man had a habit of knocking his guard aside.
"Yer quick. I'll give ye tha'," the Captain said between clashes. Corbin took the moment to breathe. "But yer naw quick enof to 'scape 'ese streets." Corbin jabbed as quickly as he could to catch Thorvald off guard. The Captain just managed to deflect the blow to his heart. He laughed. "Yah yer quick. An I kin see tha' ye ain't got tha sense to know 'en yer beaten." Thorvald continued the duel with Corbin, pushing the boy to exhaustion. "Thars anotha way if'n ye wanna pravide fer ya ma."
"Corbin!" Coralyn cried. The two men paused in their duel.
"Yer boy's a goo' blade, Cora. No nee ta worry fer im." Thorvald backed off. Corbin did as well attempting to veil his desparate attempts to breathe. Thorvald turned to Coralyn. "We wos sharin' less'n's. Nothin ta worry bout."
"Thats... right...," Corbin managed between gasps.
"Goo' man," said Thorvald patting him upon the shoulder. He then handed the cutlass back to his shipmate.
"Well," Coralyn began. "Thats nice then." She turned to Corbin. "Would you please walk me home, Corbin?"
"Wai' jes a minit. Would ya?" Thorvald walked over to them with a radiant smile. He had once been a handsome man. "I'd like ta finish me talk wit Corb'n 'ere." He dismissed his crew back to the ship. When they dispersed he approached mother and son with a small sack of coin. "This es fer tha less'n." He smiled as he handed the money to Corbin. Neither mother or son were in a position to refuse.
They thanked the captain and turned to go.
"Thars more'n tha'. Corb'n yer a goo' blade, an ye kin make a betta livin, a livin fer tha boths o ya."
Corbin looked to him with hope in his eyes. Coralyn sensed where the conversation was going and shook her head almost imperceptibly from side to side. Not my boy, she thought.
"Ship out wit me a tha en' o tha week an I'll give yer ma yer first sal'ry advanc'd. two unerd coin." He looked them both in the eye then smiled. "Thin' et ova. I nee a prentice wit yer will.'" He tapped the side of his temple, then took his leave of them. "Cap'n Thorval' at yer s'vice. I'm master o tha Selkie."
Corbin and his mom argued that night over what to do. In the end there was nothing for it. The boy was going to go one way or another. Coralyn gave her permission. The coin kept her off the streets and for that Corbin was happy. |
Famous last words:
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Corbin's Tale
Posted: 27 Dec 2006 04:18 PM |
Part Four
Corbin learned much about sailing from Captain Thorvald. At sea his growing skills as a sailor were more valuable than his skills with the blade. The Selkie was a fast ship and it had to be. The Western seaboard was rife with pirates, and the Captain was too shrewd a man to risk unnecessary battle. He outsailed his enemies whenever possible. Even when escape seemed impossible the Captain often had a trick up his sleeve. The crew whispered half jokingly that he must be the consort of Vilyave given how the winds favored him. Vilyavean or not, when at sea he put his faith in his crew, and demanded from them the utmost discipline.
During his first few days aboard the Selkie, Corbin struggled to keep up the pace. The work was hard, and he had a great distaste for manual labor. He still thought of himself as a princeling and that this sort of work was beneath him. This attitude did not last long. Thorvald made it clear that it was intolerable.
"If'n ye wan'ta see yer muther back walkin tha streets, keep wit yer loafin," he threatened.
Corbin intially protested. "Captain. I pledged you my sword, not-"
"Ye pledged yer s'vice, mate." The captain shoved a mop into his hands. "Ge' to it!" he commanded. Corbin set to swabbing the deck as best he could. The captain watched a moment. The boy put an effort into looking good at what he did, but it would take him time to adjust to the rolling deck at sea. Corbin had a weak stomach. At least with a mop in his hands he could clean up his own mess.
Once the boy found his sea legs, the work became much easier for him. He even enjoyed it. When the Captain found him dancing across the deck with a mop humming sea chanties, he knew Corbin was ready to learn more important skills like coiling rope, setting knots, adjusting the rigging, and so forth. Each task was like a new game, and as he mastered these tasks, Corbin gradually grew into a new sense of self. He discovered a sense of pride in his work that he never expected to find. Everything he did was for his mother. He began to associate her with the ship, and cared for the Selkie as he did for Coralyn. Likewise as master of the ship, Thorvald became like a father figure for him.
Thorvald became like a father to Corbin in another way. Perhaps this had been his motive all along. Whatever the case, during each docking in Port Royale, Thorvald and Coralyn became closer. She did not speak to Corbin about her relationship with the Captain. Thorvald was also careful to treat Corbin the same as he treated the rest of the crew, and so it never created a problem for the boy with his other shipmates. The arrangement worked out well for everyone. Coralyn was well taken care of. Corbin favorably employed. And the crew enjoyed the Captain's improved humor. Thorvald and Corbin both agreed to never speak with Coralyn about the dangers they faced at sea.
The western run between Port Royale and Midor was extremely dangerous. In time Thorvald and the Selkie seemed to be the only independent ship to make the run successfully. All the others apparently paid tribute or gave allegeance to the guilds of Port Royale for protection. The relationship was unclear to Corbin as the Captain never spoke of it with him, and the crew only repeated rumors heard in the taverns. The result of this situation however was clear to all. The Selkie was the leading target of every pirate and low life of the Inner Sea. Despite the Captain's skill as a pilot, the crew was forced a number of times to repell boarders. The utter chaos of these clashes was terrifying to Corbin, but he learned to master his fear. He was lucky and fought his way clear through the maelstrom of blood, burning pitch, and steel. Not all of his shipmates were as lucky. He lost friends, and found himself after two years aboard the Selkie to be one of a handful of veteran survivors.
Although his years aboard the Selkie had given him his manhood, and allowed him to provide for his mother, he eventually wearied of it. The cameraderie kept him on, and a sense of loyalty to the captain. But this became strained when two of the veterans left the ship, Garn, a sturdy half-orc, and Alaric, the same sailor who had accompanied Thorvald on his first meeting with Corbin outside the Crossed Cutlasses. Alaric had been with the captain for a particularly long time. There were some firey words between them when Alaric left.
On his way out Alaric whispered to Corbin, "Vilayave dunt favor the cap'n no mo' I tells ya. Git out while ya can, Corbin."
Corbin took the words to heart, but it was too late. That night as the ship lay in anchor off the Ladriel Coast, one of the new recruits set the ship on fire. The same man, a wizard it turned out, had earlier climbed to the top of the crowsnest and signalled his comrades with a flare. They were Silver Runners come to take the Selkie back. While the crew was distracted by the flames, the pirates boarded. Several of the crew were killed before the rest realized what was happening.
The Silver Runners would have had the ship intact were it not for the Captain. He leapt amidst a gang of boarders from the rigging above, yelling, and lashing out at them like a whirlwind. He cut to left and right with his short, heavy blade. Several pirates fell screaming with their hands over their wounds and their insides leaking out. The others recoiled, broken and shaken. His efforts allowed the survivng crew to rally.
The battle was bloody. It seemed the crew of the Selkie would prevail, but for the wizard in the crowsnest raining magic upon them. A bolt of acid from above punched a hole in the Captain's shoulder. Corbin leapt into the rigging with a brace of daggers determined to kill the wizard. The crew fought defensively to protect the Captain. Meanwhile the fire spread unchecked throughout the ship.
The wizard did not see Corbin coming. Once the captain was hit, he searched his scrolls for a spell to put out the flames. Corbin leapt over the side of the nest and cut him. The wizard would have fallen there had Corbin learned to fight as dirty as the other sailors. Unfortunately Corbin had a penchant for the dramatic, and expected a proper battle between the two of them for all to see. The cut was only a superficial wound to get the man's attention. The wizard wasted no time in casting his next spell. He and Corbin struck each other simultaneouly. Corbin hammered the wizard to the floor with the pommel of the dagger. At the same moment a bolt of lightning leapt from the wizard's fingers blasting Corbin and half the crowsnest clear of the ship. The young man landed in the sea with an unceremonious splash.
Corbin struggled to keep his head above water despite his wounds. Something heavy dragged him down. The weight was his father's sword. He let everything else go attempting to save it. His boots. The brace of daggers. A sack of coin. But still he was at risk of drowning. Normally he was strong enough to swim with such a weight, but the lightning had weakened him too much. Nevertheless he refused to let it go, and risked drowning. Luckily he was saved.
As the Selkie burned, a handful of the crew fought to one the Silver Runner's vessels, a modified whaling boat with several oar locks and room for twenty. Corbin desparately called to them as they rowed to the distant Ladriel Shoreline. They pulled him aboard. Before losing consciousness, Corbin saw the Selkie explode. A crate of firebombs had caught fire. Captain Thorvald went down with his ship. |
Famous last words:
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Corbin's Tale
Posted: 06 Jan 2007 05:19 PM |
Part Five
With great satisfaction, Corbin paid Natana for the return trip to Port Royale. Just one month ago he had not imagined that he would have found the means. When the Selkie had exploded, Corbin felt like he had lost everything. Captain and ship went down together. He watched his livelihood burst in flames, and the only decent man to love his mother since his father died drowned beneath the waves. Corbin had been totally at a loss. Yet here he was with a sack full of coin, and a stylish purple cloak about his shoulders.
Natana accepted the coin and called a skiff to shore from the Aegea.
As they waited, Corbin and his companions looked each other over. Corbin was the only one displaying his wealth. The others preferred their sailor's garb. In their experience, hiding your wealth discouraged robbery.
"What're ya plans 'en ye 'turn ta Port, Corb'n?" asked the one called Frog, one of the few deckhands to have survived the Selkie.
"To see my ma."
The others laughed at him, and added their own ribald comments to one another, describing how much they would enjoy seeing his mom too. Barge, the other surviving marine, was particularly raucous.
Corbin did not laugh with them. "I want to be free of this," he said. "I want to set her free from it."
The others told tales of what they would be setting free when they docked in Port. Only Frog caught his mood. "What ye mean free?" Frog asked.
"Free of pirates and pimps. Free of thugs. Free of the brutality of the streets and the sodden ilk of back alleys and rotten piers."
Frog thought that over while strumming his upper lip with his tongue. They watched the skiff slowly make its way toward them. "Ye canna be free o dem things, Corb'n. A seaman alwise has tha pirates ta wary 'bout."
"I finished my time before the mast, Frog."
The others hearing this stumbled to a pause in their own conversations. After one moment of silence they all jumped in with their protest.
"Thars a'ways anuthar ship," said Barge to lead off their comments.
"Yah! Ye ne'er done b'fore tha mast!" agreed another.
"Ya canna leave thee sailor's loif, Corb'n."
"What'll ye do 'en? More'n at T'easure 'untin'?" asked Frog.
Corbin was unmoved by them. "Perhaps I will," he said. "It worked out well enough for us, didn't it?"
"Thas bullocks!" Barge fumed. The others grumbled.
Corbin was the most articulate amongst them. They had imagined that with him they might have found good terms on their next ship. Corbin had also elevated himself to Thorvald's first mate. He was sure to find a good ship. They had all hoped to benefit from association with him. The row out to the Aegea was uncomfortably quiet. Barge stewed on his anger. Corbin and the others considered their separate futures.
Later in the cabin below decks, Barge could hold it in no longer. "I a'ways knew ye fer a ponce!"
Frog chided him, "Le' et go, Barge!"
"No," he said. "Ee seems still jes a boy. If'n ee wonts ter be a man, ee neets ta larn loya'tee." He then turned on Corbin. "Wot ye be say'n ter that, Ponce!"
Corbin gritted his teeth. So many times in the past he had been quick to return the taunts and humiliate a man with the flat of his blade. That would not do here. He wanted to make a new life for himself, but he had no plan. He might need Barge's friendship someday.
He gave Barge a hurt look. Best to give the man some satisfaction. And he answered indignantly, "Loyalty? You teach'n me?"
"Thots roit, boy. We men stick tagethar. Ye neet ta larn that!" Barge walked up to Corbin's cot and loomed over him with an air of brutish superiority.
Corbin laughed bitterly. "I need ta be learnin this then? Learn it from you, teacher man?"
"Yah!" Barge gave a self-satisfied laugh.
Corbin then sat up. He wanted his feet under him. Barge's violent temper was well known amongst the crew. At last he said, "Then teach me what you know."
The big sailor was momentarily taken aback. Then the anger followed in a rush. He would not let Corbin make him look the fool. He threw his fist at the young man's nose. Corbin tilted out of the way. Barge stepped forward with a hook from the other hand.
Corbin caught the force of the blow with his left hand, but it sent him tumbling off his cot to the floor. He was bruised but up on his feet in an instant. The other sailors looked on shocked. In any moment Corbin would cut Barge open with a knife. They had seen it before. The young man always had a long dagger on his belt.
"Is this your lesson then?" He faced Barge empty handed, his guard down, and chin jut forward.
"Thas roit!" Barge took the opportunity for an uppercut.
Corbin stepped out of the way. This was the moment. The others watched in anticipation. Corbin was fast. They rarely saw the knife before he struck. In a blur, Barge went down. The big man had let his rage get the better of him, and had stepped off balance. Corbin took advantage of the opening, grabbed Barge by the shoulder, and set the man down in the same cot he had just been knocked out of.
Frog looked on with concern. But there was no blood. No knife in the big man's belly. The fool was just flailing about like a turtle on his back. Corbin's hands were still empty.
"Loyalty?" asked Corbin rubbing his bruised cheek. "You call that loyalty?" Corbin flicked the dagger from his belt and threw it. It landed well away from Barge embedded in the bulwark of the ship near the knotted rope of the cot's tail end. Barge and the rest were silent.
"You nearly took my head off, ruffian!" Corbin wore an expression of haughty indignance, lifting his nose to Barge and closing his eyes. He held the pose until the cabin was filled with laughter. Soon Barge laughed with them.
"Let me give you some advice from a loyal friend," Corbin said extending a hand to help the man up. Barge took it. "You better watch who you call, Ponce." They clasped shoulders and dusted off.
Frog fingered the knife in the wall. "Now tha's loyalty," he said with a lopsided grin. "Look a tha'!" They all knew that it could have been in Barge's gut instead. No one said anything of it. They told tales instead of their days aboard the Selkie until arriving in Port.
Corbin was eager to see his mother again. She would be worried about him. She was always worried. He had saved enough money to keep her safe for awhile. He thought of the haul he had inspired the others to bring up from a den of goblins. Eventually it would run out. He still had yet to formulate a plan to deal with that problem. There were ruins near Port, reputed to be just as full of loot.
He stood on deck thinking it over. Port Royale's wharves came into view through the mist. "Something will turn up," he said. |
Famous last words:
Mykal> it's my new wireless router.
* > Mykal has quit (Ping timeout)
Vulpina> Hey!! IRC didn't boot m.....
* > Vulpina has quit (Exit: DarkMyst WebChat) |
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