Manorborn: The Battles Between

Chapter 9

"I have heard the same, Beag, and the oldest one, Jaryd, the the stories I heard of him make the others pale. Some say that men who came at him from behind were suddenly blown back but a powerful gust of wind that lifted them off their feet. Others claim that when that stuff of his struck a foe, that was a flash like lightning, and the one struck fell to the deck lifeless. One sailor told me he felt as if a storm swirled around Jaryd, a storm of wind that was only around him, keeping him safe from any foe sneaking up on him as he fought."

"Who ARE they?" Beag muttered. "We know they are Manorborn, but that is a name from legend, one we thought a myth. To see them now, standing there, fighting for us, is beyond what I can understand, not even considering how they came to be here."

She looked up at Mahrmia, her face confused, wondering, wary.

"What do they want?"

Across the ship, near the prow, the three brothers were in conversation of their own.

"They do not trust us." Benjamin said, looking out to sea so as to not draw attention to the focus of their conversation.

"No, they do not. Nor can I blame them. We come to them out of the mists of stories and tales handed down from one generation to the next." Jaryd leaned on his staff, watching the crew as they worked, his face contemplative. "I do not blame them. We are the stuff of legend and fairy tales to them. They have been fighting and dying for long years without any help. Now, we come along, summoned or not, and they do not know us, what we can do, or even who we truly are. It will take time to earn their trust."

"But their trust is what we need. We cannot succeed in overthrowing Almakhadie without their help." Galen muttered, his gray eyes watching a group of men practicing their sword play as he spoke. "If we are to defeat the Master of Deciet and Lies, we will need the trust of every pirate on this ocean world, and even that may not be enough. But, without them, ....."

The blonde Manorborn shrugged his shoulders, not having to say that if the pirates did not join the war, then it was lost before it was even begun.

"Then let us set about earning their trust."

Benjamin nodded to the men at practice when he spoke, a gleam in his eyes as he looked at Galen.

"Teach them what you know, teach all of them, so that they can see it is a skill they can master as well."

Jaryd nodded, "A good plan. Let us show them that which we can do without the gifts we have, and perhaps, in so doing, we can begin to build trust."

"But first, we have the Shaiden to deal with." Growled Galen, his eyes on his hated foe.

"That is for Captain Mahrmia to do, and not us." Jaryd said quietly. "This is another step toward trust; letting those who are already leading lead. Whatsmore, they must do so, for we cannot stay here for all time. They must be able to carry on without us here."

"I believe the Captain is about to take matters into her own hands.." Benjamin nodded toward Mahrmia as she came down the steps from the quarterdeck, Beag by her side, their faces grim and hard, eyes set and cold.

Sensing what was to come, those who were on deck moved to gather around her and the prisoners.

One captain had survived the battle, and he was stripped of his red coat and hat, both burned along with the sails, for it was well known where the red came from. Now, bound like the rest of his men, he glared up at the young female captain with hate-filled eyes fairly glowing with animosity.

"Let us go, girl, or you will feel the full fury or our master and the others of our like." He snarled through his lipless mouth, displaying wickedly sharp teeth as he did so. Combined with the gray skin and slitted nose, the effect was to make him look almost demonic, and more than one sailor took a step back.

"Yer in no position to make demands," Mahrmia spoke smoothly, calmly, one hand on the pommel of her sword, the other on her hip as she spoke. Her lush lips curved in a cool smile as she spoke. "Yer ships are defeated, and you're fellow captains dead. What crew you have left is here with you. What say you to that, Shaiden?"

"That this little battle is nothing! You and your paltry pirates will soon have every Blood Sail on Maa after your hide! You....."

His voice trailed off as his eyes came to rest on Jaryd and his brothers. They had come up quietly, the crew making room for the three out of respect for what they had accomplished in that battle. At the sight of Jaryd, the face of the Shaiden captain paled noticeably.

"By Darkness no....not you....not you here...." He shook his head, the other Shaiden starting to squirm as well as they looked at the three young men in fear.

Noticing this, Beag wondered once again just how these Manorborn were. Why would such fierce sailors and warriors suddenly turn so pale with fear at the mere sight of them?

"You...you should not be hear, Midnight Slayer," the captain's voice quavered, his eyes never leaving Jaryd's face as he spoke. "This world is ours....ours!"

"This world, and every world in existence belongs to the Maker, Darkspawn."

The voice that came from Jaryd made all within hearing pause and stare. Command and authority filled the words, rolling out like distant thunder, rumbling through the air.

"Wherever there are those who oppose the Darkness, there the Manorborn may come. This world is such, and we were called here. By The Law, we have the right and authority to be here."

"Now..." Galen stepped forward, drawing Truth and Answer as he spoke. Placing them together and, before everyone's eyes, they came together, merged, and formed a glitteringly bright, hand-and-a-half sword of beautifully simple craftsmanship. "...let us have true speech."

He raised the blade above his head, point down and, with little effort, pierced it into the deck so it would stand upright on its own. Then, stepping back, the blonde young man gestured to the blade.

"Behold, Mehtseeoot, the Blade of Truth, in whose presence no lie may be spoken."

Nodding to Mahrmia in deference, Galen gestured to the now shaking Shaiden.

"Ask your questions, Captain."

Mahrmia stepped forward again, arms crossed, eyes hard, lips set in a grim line as she prepared to interrogate the prisoners. Her stance spoke of confidence and assurance, after all, she and her crew in one ship had taken down not one, but three Blood Sails, and captured one of the captains. No crew had done such before, but she and her crew had! Yes, she felt she had a right to confidence.

Until she saw the smile on the Shaiden's faces, on all their faces.

"Our Master hungers for your head, girl.' The Captain snarled, eyes hellis in their wicked glee. "We are not all that has been sent to find you."

For a moment, Mahrmia felt doubt clutch her heart.

Only for a moment.

But a moment was all it took.

The sound of cracking wood filled the air as the Leal suddenly shook and quiverd from something striking her hull on the port side.

Something big.

Very big.