by Pete Draper
They shivered in the chilly breeze, the nettles huddled together like penguins. They poked between the boards that were nailed to the patched-up old building. The walls were dented and scratched, it must not have been worthy of rebuilding after the Battle of Levac City.
Cassi sat with her legs dangling over the dock, head in hands. The crew were enjoying themselves on the deck. Her deck. She kicked her legs a little, thinking about what they could do with no ship; how they could safely get Samia and Doriya to the New World.
“Why would anyone help us?” Cassi sighed to herself. “What have we ever done to help anyone but ourselves?”
She thought about Samia and Doriya; even that was for the money. The cold wind slapped into Cassi’s cheek; she hated the Green Sea, now she’d probably be stuck here a while.
“Maybe I was too selfish,” Cassi said. “Maybe we deserved this.”
She leaned her head back, looking up to the sky for inspiration. Gianlo had already helped enough.
“Sorry about my friend.” The handsome, blonde-haired man sat beside her. Even sat down, he was head and shoulders taller than Cassi
“He is… sceptical. See, he only takes a side when he knows it’s the winning side.”
“That is no way to live.” Cassi looked at the man’s perfect, smooth face.
“Oh, I know, and I cannot live that way myself, I need some… excitement.” He leaned closer.
Cassi backed away a little. “Well, help me out then, this fight will be rather exciting I’m sure. Maybe you’ll get to use those muscles of yours.”
“It must have been tough, losing your papa’s ship.”
Cassi nodded, not breaking her eye contact with him.
“My papa still lives in Kataly,” he said, looking off at the sea to the east. “He cannot leave the house; he cannot remember what day it is.” His shoulders drooped. “Half of what I earn, I send back to him.” He wiped a tear from his cheek. “When you spoke earlier, it made me think of my papa. Without him, I am nothing.”
A sad smile filled Cassi’s face when the man stood. He had only come to comfort her. Kind words mean nothing when they aren’t met with kind actions.
The man offered his hand, his palm was the size of a saucer. “Let me help you up.”
Cassi took the outstretched palm, climbing to her feet. He was so tall, nearly as big as Murta, and looked strong too.
“My name is Hermo,” the man said. “I shall help reclaim what is yours.”
Cassi’s jaw dropped. She tried to gather some words; nothing came out but a gurgle. She managed to blurt it out the second time, some of the words came out much louder than intended. “Thanks Hermo, I am Cassi.”
Cassi knew she was a good judge of people after all.
“Once we take back your ship, I can convince my friends to join us,” Hermo said, a comforting smile filled his lips.
“Guess we should return to Cassi with our tails between our legs.” Carilyo rubbed his face and scratched his scalp. He was so tired. He still had the shakes, and nausea. Withdrawal was hitting him hard.
“Don’t fret Carilyo.” Murta nearly ripped the shoulder out of Carilyo’s socket when he pulled him to his feet. “It was always a longshot.”
Together with Roxy, they meandered down the dock back towards Cassi.
“Hey!”
“It’s your friends from earlier.” Roxy peered at them.
They turned; Carilyo could just make them out. Chubster and his crew stood menacingly down the dock.
“If this gets uglee,” Murta said. “Yous two run. I can hold them off.”
“No chance Murta. I’d never leave you behind.”
“Hey!” Chubster shouted again. He gripped a bottle tight in his hand, strolling towards them.
The gang approached, must’ve been ten of them. One burped loudly when they were close. They all had bottles or glasses in their hands and vicious looks on their dirty faces.
“Le’s have it then, Katalian scum.” Fatty smirked to himself, he had a wide frame, but tiny shoulders. Maybe Murta could take him while Carilyo and Roxy fought the rest.
Carilyo gulped, anticipating the pain of the inevitable bottle over his head.
“Leon!” The tanned-skinned man roared, hurrying after the rest of them.
“Whatcha want Drax?” Leon demanded, thrusting his hands up in frustration. “Can’ you see I’m in the middle of somethin’?”
“You’re really going to beat on some down-on-his-luck sailor?” Drax said. The black mohawk on his head wavered when he looked from Leon to Carilyo. “You get a kick out of that?”
“So whad if I do?” Leon’s eyes flickered from Carilyo to Drax. “You hate Katalians as much as I do.”
“But I don’t beat on someone unless it’s a fair fight.” Drax licked his teeth; standing between Carilyo and his friends. “You want to fight some Katalians, let’s help him out. How long have you been out of work Smit?” He looked at the runt of the pack.
The man burped loudly into his hand. “As long as I can remember,” Smit replied in a squeaky voice.
“Maybe he’ll give us a job when this is done.” Drax stared Leon down. “You love the sea as much as I do Leon.”
Leon nodded with his irritated eyes shut tight.
“So let’s get back out on it,” Drax gestured with a fist to the others. “I’m sick of being stuck in Levac City with nothing to do but drink the night away.”
“Me and my sister pay pretty well,” Carilyo offered.
“That they do.” Murta nodded in agreement.
“Alright.” Leon held the bottle up threateningly. “But you bedder have plenny to drink on your ship.”
Carilyo winced. Have I swapped one set of brigands for another?
The Battle of the Prince’s Arms
Laughter, chatter and people having a great time filled his ears. The smell of alcohol relaxed Carilyo’s withdrawal. The smell of smoke made him feel sick. Damned smokers.
The bar was brimming with people. Perfect. Through all the bodies, Carilyo made out Taylan and Barolos talking to one another with a beer in their hands. The crew had shoved a bunch of tables into the middle of the room and were all sitting around them like they owned the place.
A sqaud of Rockland marines were sat in one corner. A bunch of local revellers were sat at tables over the other side, though they didn’t look the fighting type.
“When you’re ready,” Roxy stepped towards a lone Rocklander near the bar. “Give me the signal.”
Carilyo nodded. Roxy talked to the man, putting on her sweetest puppy-dog eyes. She giggled at something he said, those Rocklanders supposedly had the most attractive accent.
Carilyo and Murta blended into the throng of Levacians. One of Leon’s men drunkenly stumbled to the floor a couple of steps into the bar. Another chuckled to himself uncontrollably, pointing at his passed-out friend.
Several heads turned; some laughed, but went about their conversations.
“So what’s the plan boss-man?” Murta leaned down. “This lot are gonna be worse than useless. I can hold Barolos off while yous go for Taylan, maybe if we cut off the head of the snake, the rest will fall.”
“So where’s this Trakian you talked aboud?” Leon looked around; he could not have been less subtle.
“There.” Carilyo nodded towards the crew.
“How many are there?” Leon looked back in disbelief. “There must be thirty of ‘em.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Carilyo said. “We planned for this. It shall work perfectly.”
“You bedda know whatch’re doing Carilyo,” said Leon, “Or I’ll be comin’ for you.” He gripped the bottle menacingly. “If I leave this bar with less teeth than I came in with...” His eyes stared right through Carilyo. “I won’ be happy.”
“Don’t worry Leon.” Carilyo gulped, “Here goes.”
Roxy giggled at something the Rocklander said, they stood close to Taylan and the crew. She tilted her head, looking at Carilyo w
ith expectant eyes. He glanced at the other marines, making sure they weren’t looking.
When Carilyo gave her the signal, Roxy shoved the Rocklander into Taylan’s crew. Beer sprayed everywhere as the man rolled over a table, falling into Zellsee’s lap.
“The fuck are you doing!?” Zellsee shouted. His beer had tipped over and was leaking from the edge of the table. He slammed a fist in the Rocklander’s arm as the latter tried to get up. He was stuck, wedged between two tables like a turtle on its back.
Carilyo approached the Rocklanders, “I think one of your vapenbroders is in trouble.” He pointed at the man; several of Taylan’s grinning crew were smacking him with bottles. Roxy had disappeared.
“Hey!” The Rockland sergeant stood; he was nearly as broad as Murta. “What’s going on!” The room turned quiet; right in time for the punch to echo throughout, his vapenbroder tumbled to the floor.
“I hope this works.” With gritted teeth, Carilyo grabbed a random Levacian by the shirt collar.
“What’re you doing?” The man looked at Carilyo’s hand.
“I’m sorry about this.” Carilyo pushed as hard as he could, skittling several of his former crew. Murta came flying in, dragging someone else into the fight.
Carilyo released the Levacian, tossing him right into Barolos, who grabbed him by the neck and tossed him aside.
“Hey!” Taylan jumped up, protecting his bottle from a rolling drunkard. He eyeballed Murta eagerly. “Look what the cat dragged in.” Deep creases raised in his cheeks, his nose poked forwards into that hyena grin.
Laughter roared throughout the huge table.
The sound of glass and furniture smashing filled the room.
“This is going to be an absolute dogfest.” Carilyo closed his eyes, opening them to see all of Taylan’s cronies stood around him. He had a small dagger to attack with, it looked so puny compared to their swords.
Just as Carilyo wanted, chaos ensued.
The Rocklanders came flying in from one side, a bunch of Levacians tried to fight through the crew to get to Carilyo and Murta. Leon’s men came rushing in. Bottles and glasses rained down from the mezzanine; a glass smashed into one of the crew’s forehead, shattering on impact. He exploded across the table.
“I’ll ‘ave you! Katalian scum!” The Rockland sergeant yelled, grabbing an unassuming member of the crew. By the scruff of the neck, he snatched him up with one mighty hand, thrusting through a table, not releasing until he was slammed into the oak floor with a thud that echoed throughout the room.
A bottle smacked into Carilyo’s shoulder. “Watch where you’re throwing them!” Carilyo screeched.
Murta grabbed a man with a grip so tight his shirt ripped. On the back of a mighty uppercut, Murta’s target shot up in the air. The sound of his cracking jaw cut through the roars and smacks of other fights.
The victim landed on a table, smashing through glass and wood. Shards of glass blasted across the floor.
Someone moved, one of the shorter deckhands. He was met with Murta’s massive fist, it covered the boy’s entire face. His nose folded in half with a crack. A tooth shot in the air as the boy flew back; his head bounced when he hit the floorboards.
Fury lit Barolos’ face, he dived at Murta.
The bar was upheaved, bottles were raining from above, shattering on the floorboards whenever they didn’t hit a target. The drunkards did a good job of causing chaos. Tables and chairs flipped over, soon fists were flying from all directions. Everyone was trying to converge on the centre of the room, trying to fight Taylan’s crew.
Carilyo looked around for a target, there were plenty, so many of his old crew were out for blood. Barolos and Murta wrestled like bears beside him. Rolling and grappling, Barolos smashed the Rocklander through a table.
Dexos, the shipwright with chunky black sideburns approached. Carilyo poked with the dagger, keeping him at bay. Then he felt the heavy blow on his back. The chair smashed to pieces; the splinters clicked on the floor. Carilyo fell to his knees, winded.
His shoulder stung; he couldn’t lift it.
Dexos kneed him in the face, making his eye run and his head snap back. A fist came out of nowhere, crunching into Carilyo’s cheek. His face thudded onto the floor. The clatter of smashing glasses, plates, tables and chairs filled his ears. He felt Barolos and Murta roll over him. Crunching and cracking, they nearly crushed his ribs and lungs.
Carilyo pushed onto all fours, his vision a blurry disorder. He saw the great boot flying towards his lughole. Hitting the floor with a roll, he dropped the dagger. He grabbed a broken chair leg from his prone position; it had a couple of nails sticking out of one end. He smacked one of the small deckhands on the calf, dropping him, blood leaked out from the punctured leg. Carilyo whacked him with the edge of the chair leg, feeling the heavy thud break the boy’s arm.
“That’s for taking my ship!” Carilyo yelled; giving him a kick as he stood.
He ducked under a chair flying at his head. Smiling brightly, Carilyo smacked Dexos across the face, making his eyes roll around. Dexos was out cold before he hit the pile of glass on the ground; the shards impaled his cheek.
Roxy slashed a man across the chest with her sword; it sure was sharper than it looked. Her legs were grazed and bruised. A glass narrowly missed her head. She grabbed someone by their curls, pulling their head down as she ran through them.
Leon’s men looked like they were enjoying themselves, they weren’t the most honourable fighters but Carilyo needed them.
He wiped blood from his mouth, looking for Taylan. Someone pounced on his back, getting him in a headlock.
Trying to lean to one side, he thrust an elbow behind, but the man dodged. He felt the heavy blow of a punch to the back of his head, then another. Carilyo tried to shake him off, but he wouldn’t budge.
“Take that! You little shit!” It was Rohass, Carilyo could recognise that gruff voice anywhere. He could smell the stale breath too.
“Get off me you dick!” Carilyo wriggled side to side. He tried to throw punches of his own, but only one of his shoulders worked. A bottle whacked the back of his head, making his ears ring. Rohass tried to rip Carilyo’s hair out with the other hand. He shielded his head the best he could, but it gave Rohass another target. He felt a crunch as the bottle connected with a finger.
Pulling the hand away, he felt a piece of bone had been knocked off the knuckle. He felt the pain more intensely than ever now he was sober. Damn, a drink would dull the pain.
Carilyo rocked back towards a column, slamming Rohass into it. After the fourth or fifth hit, Rohass’ attacks were less frequent. Carilyo swung a blind fist back, hoping to catch his face, but finding nothing but air. Another hit from the bottle had Carilyo seeing bright lights.
He closed his eyes; another of those and he’d be out cold. Carilyo reached back, trying to grab hold of Rohass. He got a hold of his shirt, but Rohass swatted him away with the bottle.
Finally, Carilyo got the energy to drop back, slamming Rohass through a table.
Rohass groaned, he was winded, releasing his grip. Carilyo’s face contorted as he climbed over his smelly former colleague. With one punch after another, Carilyo slammed his fists into the miserable man’s face, aiming for the eyes. The helpless head bounced from one side to the other.
Carilyo felt the grazing in his fingers and knuckles, the chipped knuckle was swollen to twice its usual size, but didn’t care.
After more punches, he began to draw blood, he couldn’t tell whether it was from the face or his hands. With a massive blow to the forehead, Rohass was knocked out. Carilyo gave him another smack before getting up.
He roared, lifting his bloody knuckles; one of his sleeves was torn in half. “Who wants some more!”
Then he gulped. As Taylan approached, his confidence melted.
“Me,” Taylan said. That pale eye zeroed in on Carilyo.
“I’ll give you a thick ear, you prick!” Carilyo shouted, tearing off the piece of clo
th which hung from his wrist.
“I’m so scared, can you see me trembling behind my eyepatch? Let’s see it!” A bottle smashed over someone’s head behind him. Another man yelped as he was slashed with a shard of glass. Sticky, black blood, splinters and glass stained the floor between them.
The sound of smashing glass beckoned her. Cassi burst through the doors, Hermo beside her. The pub was such a mess, the barman was hiding behind the bar with his head in his hands. The counter was covered in broken glass and sticky ale, a thick shard stuck out of it.
A man with a black mohawk; and a chubby Levacian slid over the bar, helping themselves to all the bottles they could carry. They stood the bottles up on the bar, chinking one each as they drank from them. They tossed the others at Taylan’s crew.
Razor-sharp glass littered the floor; half the tables were destroyed. Cassi cringed as a Levacian was slammed onto a chair by a Rockland marine, smashing through it. Roxy’s sword dripped with blood, she grinned, slitting a man’s throat. A mass brawl was ongoing in the middle of the room. Bottles and glasses were tossed from the mezzanines into the crowd, catching people in the head. The crowd of brawlers were covered in blood, clothes were torn and tattered; half the people didn’t know what they were fighting over.
There was a murmur beside the door. A brawler grabbed someone’s shirt, pulling them close and smacking their nose. He pulled them again, hitting the eye. A third punch and his opponent was out for the count.
“Careful,” Hermo said. Stepping in front of Cassi, his fist clattered into the on-rusher’s chin, sending him sprawling. Blood trickled from the broken jaw; the wounded man writhed in agony.
Hermo raced at a man, tackling him to the ground. Fury flashed over his face as he pummelled the man’s chest.
Cassi ducked under a bottle thrown at her head. She licked her lips, racing at the youngster who threw it. Another bottle came flying at her. She blocked, it stung her forearm with a clink. “That’s going to leave a fucking bruise,” she grunted to herself.
The boy tossed another, which grazed her ear and splashed beer in her hair as she dodged.
