Bright sunlight greeted the five young people as they emerged from the portrait and, for a moment, they stood blinking in the bright glare. Then, as their eyes adjusted, they were met with a six men standing before them, holding pistols cocked and ready, their faces harsh, their hands steady.
"Who are you, and what have you done with our captain?"
This came from the man near the center of the group, a bear of man with glinting dark eyes, sallow skin, and pock-marked cheeks. He bore no hat or scarf upon his blonde head, and the snarl on his lip spoke volumes as to his intentions if he did not like the answer the Sons of the Manor gave.
Upon stepping through the portal, Jaryd and his brothers had, inadvertently, gone through before Mahrmia and Beag, effectively blocking them from view.
"Your captain's right here, Mister Hume! Now put that ball spitter away before you hurt somebody, or worse!"
Her blue eyes flashing, the Captain of the Stalwart stepped past the three young men and stood before her crewmen with a smile on her lips, Beag came up a moment later, grinning as well as she regarded men she called friends with a warm gaze.
"Captain!"
The relief on the faces of the men was evident in their smiles as it was in the relaxing of shoulders, the uncocking of pistols, and an overall more calm and placid demeanor. All six stood at ease now, two even leaning agains the gunwales of the longboat as they let out long, slow breaths of relief.
"Explain yourself, Mister Hume. Why a greeting with pistols cocked and ready? Why are you here? You were not part of the crew who came with me to this little island. Where are the ones who were first with me?"
'Back on the ship, Sir. We been taking shifts of watch while you were goine, so we'd all be ready when you came back."
"Why shifts and watches? I was only gone a few hours."
Hume looked stunned at this, shocked even. Then, scratching his head, he slowly spoke.
"Captain, you've been gone a week and two days. Not a word of a lie, Sir." Humel's voice was calm, though a touch of confusion came to his face as his captain spoke. "There's been those among the crew as thought we should leave here, thinking you were dead, Sir."
He paused for a moment, clearly not sure if he should continue, but Mahrmia caught his hesitation and her eyes flashed with unwanted knowledge.
"Who spoke of leaving most, Mister Humel? I can see it in your face, there was mutiny spoken of, right?"
"Aye, Captain, there was. It may not be my place, Sir, but it was Crow as spoke up most about leaving. He seemed, well, eager to be gone...and...well....to be captain, Sir."
"Did he now?"
The ice in the young woman's voice fairly froze the air around her as she spoke. Her face was calm, but there was violence in her eyes as she lay a hand on the hilt of her blade, her face turning to look out at her ship, HER ship, and contemplated that one she had trusted was prepared to abandon her at first opportunity.
"Well, I think it's time we go and set things right, what do you say, Mister Humel?"
The big man smiled, nodding, "Aye, Captain!"
As the crewmen prepared the long boat to set out, Mahrmia turned to her new companions.
"How can it be that a week has past? We were only with you a few hours at most! Now I have a crew talking of mutiny and a traitor among my officers! I left to find help, and all I got was more trouble!"
Jaryd listened to the captain's anger closely, leaning on his staff as he did so.
"Time moves differently in the Manor than it does among the various worlds of the universes, Captain, even for us, though it is less so in our case. We could be gone for a month and find on our return that only a few days had passed. The reverse is also true; a few hours at the Manor could mean the passing of several days, even months on another world. Such would seem to be the case here. Time does not move the same for all, I am afraid."
"Regardless, now we are here, the question becoomes how best to deal with the situation at hand." Galen's voice was strong, confident, as he looked at Mahrmia, holding her with his gaze. "We cannot proceed to move against Ahmalkadie if you have members of your crew that may prove untrustworthy; he will use them to cause issues among the crew, or worse. He is the Master of Deception, and any who harbour dark thoughts he can manipulate and twist to his own purposes through trickery and lies."
"Galen speaks true, Captain. You must have full confidence in your crew, and they in you, if you can have any hope of succeeding in what you hope to achieve."
Now it was Benjamin's turn to speak, and his rumbling basso voice supported his younger brother completely.
"I say we go aboard, give Crow what for, make sure all know who is the captain of the Stalwart, and then tell the crew our plans." Beag turned to her captain and friend. "You've always run an open ship, Mahrmia, a ship where all can voice their thoughts and feelings, either for or against you and your plans. Don't end that now. Let the crew hear you, let them speak, and even leave if they feel they must."
"This is good counsel. Beag speaks wisdom. The more open you are as to your intentions, the more you will find those who will support you, and weed out those who openy will not support you, even those who may question what you seek to do. Though the number may be less, those with you will be unified and loyal to you."
Jaryd nodded to the dwarf woman respectfully.
"I see why Captain Mahrmia trusts you, First Mate Beag; you are wise and know your crew."
Beag ducked her head shyly, shaking her head. "I just know my captain, sir, that is all."
"Don't sell yourself short, Beag. You've a sharp and seeing mind, as I've said before." Mahrmia put a hand on her friends shoulder, smiling down at the woman who was both physically and mentally stronger than most of those on the Stalwart.
"Captain! We be ready to sail!"
Humel's voice called out to them, breaking through their moment of counsel.
"Prepare yourselves, my friends, I've no idea what we may find on board my ship." Mahrmia said, loosening her blade in its sheath and checking her brace of pistols to see they were ready. Beag did the same, while Galen loosened his own blades, and Benjamin shifted his war hammer in its bach sheath so it was ready for him to grab at a moment's notice.
Jaryd simply nodded, "Lead on, Captain. The Manorborn are with you."
"Maker guide us." Mahrmia said softly as she lead the group to the longboat.
As the craft neared the huge ship, the tension in vessel was almost palpable; each was focused on the Stalwart as she loomed closer and closer, wondering what they might find, and trying to be prepared for whatever might come.
Quietly, subtly, Galen reached up to the silver ball on the chain around his neck. The markings and tracings on it created the sense that the shape of an eye was imprinted there. Indeed, this was the Eye of Seeing, Chazon, a gift from his lady, Abhain the Lady of Waters as a replacement to the eye he had lost to the blade of the Midnight King. Now, as he gripped it, he softly spoke it's name.
"Chazon."
Immediately, he could see so much more than human sight. He saw the swirling of light under the waves and in the air, small yet vibrantly glowing forms of beings invisible to mortal eyes; sprites who lived on this world, dancing and playing in the air and water that they helped to maintain and control. Looking down into the depths, he could see huge forms glowing form within as they moved through the dark deep in the motinos and lives the Maker had given them. It was beautiful harmony and unity that was designated of old by the one who forged the worlds, and Galen felt himself longing to join in, to lose himself in the beauty of it all.
But, he had tasks to do.
Gazing at the ship, he placed his hand on Jaryd's shoulder.
"There is Darkness on the Stalwart. I see many who have ligh fillng them, but there are others who have a conflict within them, and more than one who are fully consumed by darkness."
Overhearing the words, Mahrmia turned to look at the blonde haired young man quizzically.
"How can you see that, Manorborn?"
Galen gestured to the silver necklace around his neck.
"This is Chazon, the Eye of Seeing. It allows me to see more than most. I can see within a person, see their soul's focus and leaning, and tell if they are for Light or Darkness. As well, I can see through illusions and deceit's cast by those who serve Darkness."
Nodding to Stalwart, he continued, "Of your crew, there are more than a few aligned to Darkness. My guess is that your absence caused several to turn, yet there were some who have always served Darkness."
He met the Captain's eyes as he spoke again, "I have no doubt you can think of more than a few among your crew who seem to enjoy violence and are difficult to hold back during conflict due to their wanting to cause pain to others. In them, the Darkness is strong."
Her only response was a sharp nod of her head to acknowledge the truth of what was being said.
"Ahoy the longboat! Who be with you?"
The call came form a tall, lean, dark clad man leaning on the railing high above them.
"Who be with you, Mister Humel?"
"It be the Captain, Mr. Crow! She returned, and First Mate Beag as well! And they brought help!"
Galen focused on the man, Crow, as Chazon glowed softly beneath his blouse. The girm understanding on his face was all any on the longboat needed to see. But, he simply nodded as Jaryd looked back at him.
Crow was possessed by Darkness, as were the dozen or so men near him.
"Good news, Mister Humel! We'll get you aboard right away!"
A rope ladder was dropped over the side for them to climb. This was common practice, yet the danger was clear to all; while mounting the ladder they would need to hold tight and would not be able to have any weapons in hand. The moment they put hand to rung, they would be all but in Crow's power.
"Let me go first, Captain." Beag said, her intentions clear. No crew member was going to get near her friend without going through her first.
"No."
Galen was moving before any could stop him. He had hand to ladder, and was halfway up the length before they fully realized what he had done.
"What is he doing?! He'll be caught for sure!"
Jaryd and Benjamin both smiled at Mahrmia's outburst.
"Our brother does very little without a plan, Captain. He seems impetuous, but his actions are usually well thought out. He has a quick mind for strategies and such. We have learned to trust his actions."
Jaryd's voice held a touch of amusement as he watched Galen all but fly up the rope and vault the railing with such agility that his appearance startled Crow and the others as he dropped to the deck as easily as if he were stepping off a set of wide and sturdy stairs.
"Your turn, Captain." Benjamin said softly. "Then Beag, then I, then the rest of the crew with Jaryd coming up last."
"Why does your brother come last?" Beag spoke, clearly feeling some form of resentment for the seeming special treatment afforded the eldest of the Manorborn.
"So I can rescue you if need be." Jaryd said with a small smile.
"Rescue us? With just a staff? There are 300 crew up there armed with cutlasses, daggers, dirks, pistols and more. How will you and your staff stop them?" The dwarf asked derisively.
"If needed, you will learn the answer to that question, First Mate Beag."
The clam assurance in his voice left Beag wondering just who this oldest son of the Manorborn was, but she did as she was bid and mounted the ladder after her captain.
As she reached the top, Beag was only mildly surprised to find a good score or more of those she once considered friend holding pistols aimed at her. The rest of the crew could be heard below decks; shouting and calling out curses upon those they had trusted as she dropped to the deck. Her face went dark and grim as she reached for her weapons, fully prepared to take a few wth her before she died.
"Hold, Beag."
Mahrmia was there, on her knees, weaponless, hands bound behind her back. Next to her, looking completely at ease, though he was bound as well, knelt Galen, his swords gone, but his necklace still around his neck.
"Hand over your weapons, First Mate." The Captain said, shaking her head when she saw her friend working her hand toward her pistol. "Give them up, Beag. Please."
She knew Mahrmia was right, though it galled her to give up without a fight. With a soft snarl, she slowly undid her belt and handed over her weapons.
"Thank you, Beag." Crow smirked as he watched the dwar give up and be bound then forced to kneel next to her captain.
Benjamin and the longboat crew also gave up without a fight. Even Jaryd seemed to give up with hardly any resistance.
Despite herself, Mahrmia was wondering if she had made a mistake putting her hope in the Manor. She was seeing very little to impress her at this point.
"The Stalwart is now truly ours!" Crow shouted as those loyal to him cheered and jeered at their captives in triumph.
"Aye, you have her, but can you keep her as Captain?"
Galen's calm question caused Crowt to pause in his exaltation. He turned to face the young man, boy really, with a smirking snarl on his lips.
"I can keep her, and be captain, for long as I wish, boy." He waved his hand over the gathered crew around them. "No one here dare challenge me for the right of captaincy. No one would be fool enough to."
"Ahh...I see. So none of your crew will challenge you, right?"
"Aye. They all know I can beat anyone on this ship with blade or fist. I've done it once, and I can do it again."
And there it was. The crew followed him not out of loyalty, but out of fear. Clearly, he had had to fight for his right to be their leader, and he had succeeded.
Galen shrugged, nodding as he accepted the statement.
"Well, then, you are the Captain, that is true."
Crow smiled a cruel triumphance as he nodded, arms crossed as he looked down at the boy before him.
"Aye, and you will address me as such if you want a chance of living, boy."
"Just one small point, if I may?" Galen smiled a knowing grin."There is now new crew aboard, crew that you have NOT beaten yet."
Nodding his head toward his companions, the youngest Manorborn continued. "I count almost a dozen new crew members, and you have not beaten any of us. Why then should we call you captain?"
"I beat you. I took your weapons as you came aboard. I beat you."
But Crow sounded less than sure as he spoke, and several of those following him were clearly speculating on the truth of what Galen had said.
"No, you disarmed us. There was no fight, so you cannot claim to have beaten any of us."
Now Crow saw the trap Galen had laid for him. The look on his face showed he knew what was coming as he uncrossed his arms and looked down at the boy grimmly.
"What are you saying? Are you suggesting I should fight you all to prove I should be captain?"
Galen scoffed at the thought.
"Of course not! That would be ridiculous. However..." He met the usurper's eyes boldly, locking his gray eyes onto Crow's dark ones.
"...I challenge you for the right to be Captain."
The trap was sprung and Crow was caught. He could not deny the challenge, that would be seen as weakness and make the crew less inclined to follow him, or worse, seek to try to overthrow him if not kill him.
He had to accept the challenge and face Galen.
Uncertainty clouded the mutineer's face for a moment, this was not what he was expecting to happen! But, a moment later he laughed a sharp, cruel chuckle, looking down at his challenger confidently.
"Eager to die, boy? Fine! I accept your challenge. As you challenged me, I choose weapons." He thought for a moment, glancing at Galen's blades, then nodding to himself.
"Your blades show wear that indicates you have some skill with them, so I will choose..." He looked the leanly slender young man up and down, judging size and likely strength, then smiled wickedly. "...fists."
The crew chuckled in evil appreciation; seeing the boy beaten to a pulp by a man known for his skills with fist and foot appealed to them.
Galen's acceptance of this choice may have surprised Crow, if he had been paying attention. His composure was surprising to Mahrmia and Beag, as could be seen in the looks they directed at the young man. Being the closest to him, the young captain leaned over to urgently whisper in Galen's ear.
"Don't do this! Crow has killed a dozen men with his fists alone! He loves to beat his opponents to death with his fists! I have never seen anyone, man or woman, live who faced him with fists."
"Well, we shall see what the Maker intends for me then, won't we?"
Galen rose to his feet, nodding to the sailor who cut his bonds. Then, as Crow had, he removed his blouse and cloak, baring his upper torso. In doing so, he revealed a body toned and leanly muscled, like a sleek coiled whip ready to strike out at any moment with speed and strike equal to that of a cobra. It was quickly evident to all that though he gave up strength to Crow, as well as reach, he might have the advantage of speed for, as he flexed and stretched for a moment, the fluidity of his movements again put the onlookers in mind of a whip coiled and ready.
"Maker guide me." Galen prayed softly as he moved into positon, hands up before him, palms open, body loose by ready as he watched Crow move into his own pose; legs spread and fists up.
Crow's cruel smile spoke to all his feelings that he was going to enjoy this.
The bigger man made the first move, lashing out with a flashing fist aimed at Galen's jaw. Had it landed, it likely would have rocked his head violently, if not knocked him to the ground.
But Galen's head was not there.
As the blow had come, the young man had shifted his stance, ducked the blow, and moved his arm to deflect the strike; pushing it aside with his forearm so it passed by his shoulder without touching him. At the same moment, Galen's hand shifted and gripped Crow's striking arm by the shoulder. A shift of his hips, a twisting of his torson, and the larger man was tossed head over heels to crash to the deck as his younger foe moved back into positon and waited for him to make his next move.
Crow rolled to his feet with a snarl, fists up and ready.
"Pretty move, boy, but you'll have to do better than that."
"We shall see what I can do, then."
What followed was a flurry of punches and kicks, throws and blocks that left both men bruised and bloodied, though Crow was clear receiving the wost of it. The big man was soon staggering on his feet a bit, while Galen still seemed fresh and un-wearied. The younger man's eyes were bright, steady, and he even seemed to be smiling as they met, clashed, and backed away.
Mahrmia could not help but think that Galen was simply biding his time, waiting for Crow to make a move he could use against the larger man and end the fight. This thought made hope flare in her chest that the youngest Manorborn might actually win the fight.
Crow could sense he was no longer in control of the situation. Somehow, in some way, this boy, this slender youth, had taken control of the fight. No matter the blows, the strikes, punches or kicks he did, Galen seemed to be unfazed. Even when he accomplished a hit to the youth, he felt as if the boy had intended to allow the blow through. It was not that he had bested Galen, it was that Galen allowed the hit so as to put himself in a position to do a more decisive strike on Crow. This was a tactic employed by well experienced fighters; allowing a blow so as to gain an advantage.
Where had such a young man learned that?!
No matter. Crow was going to crush him.
The bigger man moved in, his fists flashing towards Galen's head, his eyes murderous in their intent. His desire, his need, to kill Galen was clear in his twisted and snarling face, eyes ablaze with hate, and bared teeth. This boy, this whelp had shamed him in front of those who had feared his strength until now. He was going to break his enemy's bones, shatter them, and destroy him!
Galen saw the animal rage that suffused Crow's face and knew that moment he had waited for was before him.
As the mutineer moved in, the Manorborn shifted slightly, arms moving to block the blows form his fists. An instant later, Galen knocked Crow's arms to the sides, leaving him open and exposed.
Crow saw it.
He knew he was defenseless.
And in that moment, he knew he was going to die.
There was the crack of breaking bone, and suddenly Crow's limp body was tumbling over the gunwales and down into the sea as Galen stood victorious, looking at the gathered crew staring at him. He met their eyes, his own steady, calm, ready for action and held each for a moment.
The crew of mutineers were stunned. How had a boy, barely on the verge of manhood, defeated a man who had beaten each and every one of them? It seemed impossible!
Without saying a word, Galen walked over to the pile of weapons laying on the deck. He selected his two blades, Truth and Answer, and drew them. Then, blades shimmering in the light from the two suns overhead, he moved into a position with both blades held before him in ready positions and, smiled.
"Who's next?"
For a moment, they stood there, one boy-man facing well over a score of mutinous, black hearted pirates. The numbers were against Galen, and everyone knew it.
Then, as one, the Dark-hearted sailors ran to the railing and jumped into the ocean. A few swam to the longboat, but most just started swimming for the shore of the small island just off the starboard, the island of the portal.