by Adam Bennett
Ken explained his situation and his quest. “I can’t go home until I find an answer. I’m beginning to think I’m doomed to wander this land for all eternity.”
“Pah! Always so melodramatic, you youngsters. Nothing lasts forever, young man. Not even me! Come in, come in.”
“Are you sure? Most people don’t want me anywhere near them.”
“Of course I’m sure. The backfiring spell that took my eyes also removed my sense of smell. Now get a move on. I’ve an important spell fermenting back there, and it must be timed exactly.”
Ken watched as she completed her arcane recipe, guided by the raven, who seemed to be getting agitated.
“Hurry up, you old witch. You might not be able to smell, but I can, and your socks smell better than the hunk’s booty blasts. That means it’s baaaad … very baaaad!”
“Shut up, Bran. You’re very off-putting. Just let me get on with this.”
With the spell complete and the potion bottled, Adora settled her bulk on a tiny stool. “Now, young … Ken, was it?”
Ken nodded, and then realised she couldn’t see his action.
“Yes.”
“Ken, you do realise it’s impossible to lift a curse? The good news is, it can be ameliorated.”
“What does that mean—ameliorated?”
The raven cackled. “Idiot!”
“Bran, be quiet! Not everyone has the advantage of a classical education. Ken, it means changed in such a way as to be either lessened or beneficial. Yours is a unique case though. I need to log on to wizardnet and do some searching.”
Ken didn’t even ask what the arcane words meant, but she sounded confident.
“You go and rest yourself. There’s a couch under there somewhere. Clear some space and snooze while I work.”
Ken moved heaps of rags, vials, boxes, and plain old rubbish. True enough, he found a threadbare couch. He lay down. Adora got to work.
From time to time, he woke to the sound of Bran berating the wizard as she worked: ‘Hurry up, you old crone. His emissions are singeing my feathers!’ and, ‘For the love of all things sacred, at least open a window!’ and, ’Please tell me you’ve almost finished!’
***
Adora shook Ken, waking him with a start.
“I think I’ve got it! All night voice searching and in an obscure corner of the wizardnet, I found a recipe for… this!” she said, holding out a bowl of powder.
At first it looked a dull cream, but then he saw tiny glints of other colours as the bowl caught the light from the window.
“What is it?”
“I’m hoping it’s the answer to your predicament, but first we have to see if you can eat it. I’ve got a plate of boiled onions here. Sorry they’re cold.”
Adora sprinkled the onions with the magic powder and handed them to Ken.
He wolfed them down, not having eaten since the day before yesterday.
“Hey, they’re tasty! Thanks for breakfast!”
An indignant squawk issued from the corner. “Don’t bother thanking me then, I only fetched the ingredients.”
“Bran, I’m sorry. Thank you.”
“It’ll be thanks enough if you stop creating that foul odour.”
As if on cue, Ken let one rip. His face fell, but then a smile started to spread. He danced around the room, each step releasing more gas.
The raven circled the room, cackling excitedly. “Well, whaddaya know? The old witch did it. We did it!”
Ken bent down and drew a deep breath. He smelt roses and violets, expensive perfumes of the east, chocolate and candy. He hugged Adora, swung her around the room, and kissed her cheek.
“Is that it? Am I cured now? Will I forever produce sweet smells?”
“Not quite. You’ll always have to sprinkle that powder on your food, but providing you do that for every meal, you should have no further noxious emissions. I’ll let you have it at a fair price. What have you got?”
Ken proffered his last gem—a tiny thing with a flawed centre.
Adora picked it up, rolling it between her fingers. “It’s a start. Well, Bran, what to call it?”
The raven continued to fly giddily around the cottage.
“Colon Cologne!”
“Bran!” Adora laughed. “Oh, okay. Colon Cologne it is!”
***
Ken’s return home, accompanied by Adora and Bran, was triumphant. The king quartered Adora in one of the castle’s many empty apartments where she produced Colon Cologne in large quantities.
It became fashionable amongst the cognoscenti to consume gas-producing foods and sprinkle them with the powder, so Adora gained huge riches from the sales. The air-freshener importers became destitute, reduced to selling door-to-door to those unfortunates too poor to buy Colon Cologne.
The castle’s coffers filled up, then overflowed when the Emerald Isle leprechauns sent chests of gems as gratitude for driving up sales of stout.
Neighbouring kingdoms sent their prettiest princesses to King Dwayne’s court in the hopes that Ken would marry one of them. The kingdom was now the richest, and folk far and wide, rich and poor, misheard the rumours about Ken’s twelve-inch pianist.
Of course, like all good fairy tales, they all lived happily ever after. Even Clintoria.
The Harbinger of Ferro
Brian MacGowan
Out of sheer exhaustion, Effie collapsed onto her bunk. She sat hunched over for several minutes just breathing, her elbows on her knees with her head in her hands. It had just been one of those days where everywhere she turned someone seemed to be picking a fight with her.
The day had started out peacefully enough; she had allowed herself to sleep an extra few minutes while she listened to the wind overhead and the lapping of the waves. Then she heard it: “Captain to the deck!”
Captain Effie Roberts, of the pirate ship Fearful Revenge, quickly swung her legs over the side of the bunk, then shoved her feet into her knee-high sea boots. Effie never undressed for bed, preferring to rest while wearing her mid-length trousers and a white linen short sleeve shirt. Effie pulled on her frock coat then buckled on her double cutlasses. She followed this with an over the shoulder belt loaded with a brace of pistols and daggers. As she left her cabin, she grabbed her wide-brimmed hat adorned with a large peacock feather.
Crew members flattened themselves to the bulkheads as Effie rushed through the ship. She reached the deck and quickly took in the flurry of activity as the ship was being made ready for battle. Anything that wasn’t nailed down was being stowed away. Powder monkeys were spreading sand over the deck to aid in footing.
Tobias, her first mate, came up to her side. “It’s the Griffin, Cap’n. She’s six cables off our starboard, bearing down hard.”
“How did she get so close? Who’s up in the nest?”
“Johnny Merrick.”
“When this is over, give him ten lashes and keelhaul him.”
“Might I remind the Cap’n that he’s just a lad.”
Effie jaw tightened. “Fine. Twenty lashes and hard rations for a month.”
“If he survives the day.” Tobias nodded.
“Now, hoist my standard, run out the cannons. I want the first volley to be ours.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“Tobias, wait!” Effie paused in thought. Their opponent, the HMS Griffin, was a 20-gun sloop of war, pitifully small in comparison to the Fearful Revenge. As a fifth-rate frigate carrying 36 guns, and almost twice the weight, the clear advantage was to the Revenge. “In two volleys, evens first. Let them fall short. That’ll draw the Griffin in closer. Then hit them with the odds.
A vicious smiled spread across his face. “Aye Cap’n.” He turned, barking out orders to the crew.
Captain Effie made her way to the quarterdeck. The life of a pirate captain was hard, and that of a female pirate captain even harder. Effie had to be mentally sharper and tougher than her male counterparts, who relied mostly on their brawn. It was times of battle that helped
her anchor her position as captain. She had never lost a battle; bringing the men and women of her crew more fortune than most captains.
Effie looked down at the decks as the crew completed the preparations to fire their cannons. They were being engaged by a Royal Navy ship. There won’t be any wealth in this fight.
In short order, all of the gun captains stood by their cannons, each with one arm raised to signal their readiness. Tobias stood at Effie’s side waiting for her order.
At length, the Fearful Revenge and Griffin were two cables away. At best, the cannons on both ships would get two broadsides in before manoeuvring close enough for boarding skirmishes. Effie nodded her head.
“Evens, fire!” Tobias shouted.
Gun captains repeated the order. A crew member lowered the smouldering slow-match to the touch hole. A great roar burst forth as the main deck guns belched forth their twelve-pounders. Effie felt the deck below her lurch as smoke filled the air. As expected, most of the shots landed into the water, a few bounced harmlessly off the hull of the Griffin.
Over the expanse of water, Effie could hear a jubilant cheer from the crew of the Griffin. Laughter, taunts and jeers were fired back at the Fearful Revenge. Effie passed an eye over her gun crews. The cannons that had fired were already being swabbed down and made ready to fire again. The remaining gun crews stood anxiously, awaiting their turn.
The Griffin made a course correction, closing the gap between the two ships. Effie smiled, she extended an index finger, placing it on her lips, indicating that the next command was to be silent. Over the wind, Effie could hear the orders from the Griffin’s officers.
Thank God for the Royal Navy’s rigid doctrine.
“Gun crews ready!” Their commander bellowed.
Before the Griffin’s commander could issue the fire order, Effie nodded. Tobias made a quick chop of his hand, silently gun captains repeated the gesture. The Revenge’s odd-numbered cannons fired with devastating effect. A volley of twelve and eight pound iron balls flew through the air, indiscriminately smashing holes in the deck, rigging, and anyone who got in the way.
The Griffin’s crew was caught off guard, the deck was in chaos. Only returning sporadic fire, the Griffin barely damaged the Revenge. The two ships closed quickly. The Revenge’s gun captains did not wait for any further commands, firing their cannons as soon as they were able. As the ships closed to boarding distance the cannons fell silent.
Effie stood on the quarterdeck, one hand on a pistol the other on a cutlass. She shook her head. Her crew outnumbered the Griffin by almost two to one. It was foolhardy for their captain to attempt to overtake the Revenge. He’s probably bucking for a promotion to a higher rank of ship. More guts than brains, and his men are going to pay for it.
Tobias tilted his head towards the melee spilling across both ships. “Shall we go join the fun?”
“First, we get the rats off my ship,” Effie said as she made her way down to the main deck. Tobias drew his cutlass and followed.
The battle that day was long and hard. Where the fighting was the hardest, Captain Effie Roberts and Tobias were seldom apart, often fighting back to back.
In the end, the Fearful Revenge won out. The HMS Griffin was stripped of her provisions, munitions and anything else of use. The Revenge’s carpenters were the last of the crew to reboard after having prepared the Griffin for scuppering. The surviving Royal Navy crew—at least those who refused to join the Fearful Revenge and swear fealty to Captain Roberts—were lashed to the rails, doomed to go down with their ship. The Griffin’s captain, his hands nailed to the ship’s wheel, was destined to an eternity navigating their watery grave.
Bloodstained and sore, Effie stood on the deck as she watched the HMS Griffin sink; the pleas and screams of the doomed crewmen fading as the Fearful Revenge slowly distanced itself. Tobias approached, and waited respectfully.
“What of Johnny Merrick?” Effie asked at last.
“He is not to be found.”
“Pity. Square away the ship. I will be in my quarters.”
Stiff from all of the fighting, Captain Effie refused to show any weakness as she made her way to her cabin. Despite the pain, she stopped on occasion to inspect any serious damage. We will have to make to a safe port for repairs.
In her cabin, Effie finally allowed herself to let go of her emotions and collapsed with sheer exhaustion onto her bunk. She knew what to expect next; after every battle came the sadness, the loneliness, the longing for her former life. With a groan, Effie stood up and made her way to the dresser. She reached to the side and pressed a small indentation. A faint click and then a hidden drawer slid open. Effie reached inside and withdrew a photo. She stared at the image of herself and her two children; they had spent the day at the Pirate Cove Water Park. Her daughter, Trinity, wanting to be a pirate captain; all the while her younger brother, Jack, saying that girls can’t be pirate captains, they can’t even be pirates. Effie sighed at the irony of what was now her life.
By Effie’s calculation, it had been ten years since she was betrayed by her best friend and coven sister, Jennifer. Effie’s face tightened with rage. That backstabbing, husband stealing… witch! It was Jennifer who had cast the spell that threw Effie back through time, took her away from her soccer mom life, and flung her into this damnable life. Back to 1745. Back to the golden age of sail.
Effie pulled in her breath and closed her eyes. She allowed the rage to gather itself, then slowly released her breath, forcing the roiling fury to subside. She opened her eyes, then took a deep cleansing breath. With a final glance, Effie placed the picture back and silently shut the drawer.
An awareness pricked her mind. She stood still as she sensed a presence in the cabin. She silently cursed that she had left the brace of daggers next to her bunk. Whoever it is, they are good. A flutter of something to her left drew her attention. But not good enough. Effie slowly moved her head to the left, only to find a blade pressed into the right side of her neck.
Damn! They are good. Effie was caught off guard, a rare occurrence these days. She tensed, preparing to attack.
“Call out and your throat will be gone before you can even draw a breath.” The low rumble of a man’s voice whispered in her ear.
Effie swallowed, feeling precisely where the blade rested on her neck. Anger smouldered deep within her.
“Now, be a good girl and relax.” The voice moved to her other ear.
“How do you expect me to relax with a knife against my throat?” Effie said between clenched teeth. A snarl curled the left side of her mouth.
The blade dragged across her throat, drawing a thin line of blood. She could feel the razor edge biting into her skin. Effie tensed but refused to give him the satisfaction of a scream, not even so much as a flinch. He reached a hand around, groping her body in search of weapons. His fingers lingered in places where they shouldn’t. He found the dirk in the waistband of her trousers and the blades in each of her boots.
Effie was shoved into the centre of the cabin. She swung around to face the intruder. Before her stood a tall, slender man dressed in tight mid-length trousers, an opened collared shirt with long sleeves, and a pair of soft-soled shoes. Wound around his waist was a silk sash that secured a flintlock pistol and a rapier. A silver medallion on his chest stood out against his dark complexion.
“That was a foolish move,” Effie said in a low threatening voice. She wiped a hand across her throat, her fingers red with her blood. “You should have killed me. You got first blood, but I will have the last.”
“Before you dispatch me, let me introduce myself.” With a short bow, he held his right hand to his heart. “I am Elron, master thief.”
Effie gave him a blank stare.
“Surely you have heard of me? Elron…the master thief. I am credited with the theft of the Jewels of El-Askov, I absconded with the Heart of Ruarden, I stole the crown of King Steol of Skar-Edra, I...”
“You are a thief.” Effie sneered.
/> “So says the pirate.”
“Pirates don’t skulk around in the dark, breaking into people's homes while they are sleeping. We are not lowly cut-purses. How did you get aboard?”
“I boarded during the skirmish.”
“Yes, but how did you get into my cabin.”
“Must I remind you?” Elron pointed to himself again. “Master thief. Picking the lock was a simple matter.”
“How did you get past my man? I have someone at my door at all times.”
Elron shrugged. “I have my ways.”
Effie narrowed her eyes, her jaw set tight as she stared at him. “More importantly, why are you on my ship? And why should I not run you through right now and send you to Davy Jones?”
“As delightful as that sounds, I’m reasonably sure I must decline. Need I remind you that you are unarmed. There is no way that you can run me through. As to why I am here. You may not be aware, but there is a large price on your head.”
Effie scoffed, “The Royal Navy has been trying to get me for years. Is that what this is about? The reward? Do you know how many people have tried and failed?” Effie waved out of the cabin window. “Just ask the Captain of the Griffin. I’m sure he regrets his decision.”
“The Griffin was a ruse to get me on board. Although, Captain Winston didn’t know it at the time. I told him that I could lead him right to you. He practically jumped at the offer.”
“How did he sail so close? My lookout should have spotted the Griffin at three leagues.”
“I might have had a compatriot on board…my nephew, Johannes Meuric.”
She cocked one eyebrow and shook her head. “That isn’t possible.”
“Ahh yes, captain, you would know him as Johnny Merrick. My sister’s lad; he ran away from home. He was in a dreadful situation. I can’t really blame him. By chance, I saw him in Port Royal. I considered it my greatest fortune when I heard that he crewed on the Fearful Revenge. It was no coincidence that he was on lookout today.”
Effie scoffed, “Blood is thicker than water.” She tilted her head toward Elron. “Johnny was a good sailor, I’m surprised that he turned on his captain and crew.”
