The Unforgiving Sea

As they were leaving, the opposing ship not too far away could be seen from the inferno that danced atop the water's surface. A short blonde haired man stood on a pole that elongated a little way out from his ship, gripping the steel and leaned forward with a hand resting against his forehead to see out into the distance. "More coal in the engines. Get this piece of shit moving." He yelled.

"Are you alright?" James asked once they were below deck. His breath came out in heavy pants.

The girl had gone white as a ghost, shaken by how quickly the night had turned hellish. Her hand pressed over her heart that pounded loudly against her ears though even that didn't drown out the sounds of battle raging outside. "I'm fine but why are we being attacked?" The question sounded stupid even to herself but the seas and its ways were a mystery to her. Naive on the workings and etiquette that came along with sailing. "Are they after money?"

"I'd say both by the looks of the ship. More than likely you because you have two sources of wealth as well as being a descendant to the crown." James didn't stay in place, he was still moving through the ship's halls as the boat rocked vigorously with each blow they received. Well aware of his surroundings, he kept glimpsing around while pulling muskets from a glass container.

"I don't suppose your mother ever taught you to shoot?" Even in a predicament such as this, the man's mouth continued to hold the gentlest smile. "If not I'll try to hold them off. If things go sour, you will have to use the escape latch."

Slinging the weapon over his shoulder, he turned to stare at her before gesturing for her to follow. The deeper they got in the ship's slower compartments, the more musty and moldy the scent. Way different than the above view, all painted just for her. He tossed her a dusty fur jacket. Enough to keep her warm if she'd have to drop in the water.

Strelitzia had never shot a gun, much less held a weapon. The closest she'd ever gotten was a butter knife for her toast in the mornings.

The circumstances were dire but still she couldn't imagine actually aiming to hurt someone.

Knowing herself even if she tried to aim for a place that wouldn't kill she'd manage to accidentally blow their head off. "No, no. I'm sorry. Weapons were never allowed." She pulled the coat tight around herself.

It was bad enough that she couldn't help protect themselves so she didn't think it was a good time to mention she couldn't swim.

A hard crash sent the ship tilting dangerously to the side and Strelitzia stumbled before righting herself using an overturned barrel. Wood and dust rained down upon them from the fight going on above. From the sounds of it, their crew wasn't on the winning side.

"I'll try not to get in your way. In the end it might be better if you save yourself. If it's money and such they're after then they probably wouldn't risk me. I can't say the same for you." Strelitzia didn't mean to be harsh but it was the only way she could think to offer him an escape.

She was useless in this situation and she knew it. James felt burdened to protect her but if she could convince him to go on then she could find solace.

"No, you need to be safe. Getting in my way or not, if you are alone you have no way to defend yourself." James' thick blonde brows furrowed as he patted himself down around the chest area.

His hand slipped beneath the fabric of his tunic, in between doubled over stitches was a concealed knife he often carried around whenever he didn't have his sword with him.

As much as he wanted to teach her how to hold one, she hadn't a clue about any self defense. He could teach her to hold it and strike, but he couldn't teach her how to teach with the weight too soon.

"My apologies." He gave another smile wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her against his front just like when he taught her the guitar. It was strange how it went from such peaceful teachings to something far more gory and sinister; the man with the gentle smile and the halo of golden hair tipping her on how to kill.

He forced her hands around the medium sized dagger, twisting her wrist this way and that so she understood how to turn it faster than if she turned her upper body to go with the flow. "You will use this. If anyone comes down here that isn't me, you go for the throat. I hate taking lives. It isn't easy, but I'd rather it be them than an innocent person like yourself. You're far too sweet to meet despair at the end of someone else's blade."

Another gentle tug, she was facing him once more. Those brown eyes met hers in earnesty. "Remember. Here," He lifted her arm so that the blade was slightly pressed to his throat. Swiftly, he tugged left to right and down without actually applying the pressure needed to slit his throat.

"And here." Pushing down, her dagger was aimed near his ribcage, angled enough where if she truly wanted to live, she'd instantly strike a man or woman's heart. "Repeat it please."

She did her best to follow along retracing the steps although the movements were repeated without the knife facing towards him. Her hands shook but her grasp was firm on the hilt. From his words she knew that he planned to leave her most likely to fight.

The thought of being left alone frightened her but Strelitzia knew it had to be done. At least there were places she would be able to hide, corners to tuck away into so that she could avoid the worst.

"I will do my best. Please be safe." In the darkness her pupils were wide and she couldn't quite master her nerves which made her shake like a leaf. Drawing in a deep breath, she forced a smile. "Don't worry. I'm sure things will work out."

A hole blew through the backside of the ship into the room they were in. They hadn't even reached the hatchet where she could escape.

"Safe?" Someone said through the white clouds of smoke that started thinning out as more rain and embers came swirling inside with a strong gust of wind. It was the blonde haired man that entered from before.

Upclose, one could see the criss-cross scar on his left cheek that stretched when his upper lip pulled from his teeth in a snarl. It was Sam, the prince of Eli'ak. His hair much more dim than James', eyes much more darker than the light brown. "There is no safety here."

He shook his head. Before James could even say a word, Sam was spinning through the air like a bullet from a musket, body twisting, sword extended out towards James. James snapped back, gliding across the floor on his heels as the blade was a breath away from slashing open his chest.

But he was quick from many years of training, angling it in enough time that their blades parried one another, sparks flying. Snapping back upward, he leaned down in his own spin, attempting to cut at the prince's ankles and feet.

The prince laughed, leaping left to right, then high over his head where he had his sword angled down near Strelitzia Magiano. James practically flew, legs kicking through the air in enough time that only a strand of her hair was cut from her head. However, Sam hit the tip of James' blade so hard he hadn't enough strength to completely deflect it. He went flying up through the floorboards towards the main deck.

"You stay right here." Sam pointed his blade at her, blood speckled on the other side of his face. "I'll be back for you darling. No harsh feelings. I'm not a bad man. But sometimes we have to take things into our own hands for a means to survive." He went to turn his back to her.

The fighting was chaotic and she had never witnessed such acts performed right before her eyes; shows of strength and skill that had long since become muscle memory and for too long she stood there astonished. Had it not been for James there would have been a sword sticking right out of her skull.

In the split moment that his back turned to her, she knew what she had to do. There was an odd calm that came over her when she realized that this man had come for her. All malice. Strelitzia's body moved before she realized what she was doing, the blade that had been clutched tightly within her hands was now pressing against the man's throat.

She'd flung herself onto his back, clinging with both arms and legs. "Just because you say no harsh feelings doesn't mean there aren't any!" She exclaimed while pressing the blade harshly against his throat although she hadn't dared to try and cut him.

The prince spun around in circles with her on his back, arms flailing around.

"Listen. I don't hit women and I certainly don't like spider monkeys on my back." He ran backwards and bumped her against the wall a few times until she was loose enough for him to sling her across the floor.

More gunfire rose from above, fire and smoke, cannonballs flying over the skyline, seen from the hole above them.

"You're going to come with me here in a bit. Be patient. You're safe." Sam once more turned his back, though this time he kept his sword behind him, pushed up between his shoulder blades so she couldn't jump on his back or attack. "I'll spare everyone that doesn't sling themselves at me like they don't enjoy living. These people aren't good people anyway. Don't waste your breath. It'll only hurt you in the end."

"If I was safe then you wouldn't be blowing holes in the ship and waving a sword around. Do you even know where we were headed?" Strelitzia didn't dare try it again, picking herself off the floor and dusting off. "Good people or not they were doing something for me, something they were paid handsomely for. The way I see it you've burst in guns blazing regardless of what our goal was and heedless for anyone's wellbeing."

The knife James gave her had slipped from her hand when he practically tossed her. Her fists clenched and unclenched, frustrated by the interruption. Even if the strange man did decide to leave them, the ship could hardly function as it was now. "If you're really so good and want me to be safe then leave."

"You aren't bleeding and the ship won't sink. My family is on the line. I will leave once I have a head and you headed back from which you came. Some people value family above everything else." Sam's arm lashed out, the blood from his sword splattering on the wooden boards. He gave Strelitzia one last glimpse, a sympathetic one before he jumped up, catching onto the jagged hole's edge to pull himself upwards.

People were fighting, blades clashing, men falling and howling as they were pierced through the chest and sent spiraling downwards to never again stand and fight. Sam walked across the deck to where he'd seen James heading back.

"She's fine." Sam said. "But you won't be, slave." They both charged at each other, their swords at the ready. Slicing upwards, spinning and twisting, they cut each other in different places. James struck Sam on the thigh and grazed his chest, and in return when he went to turn for another blow, he got sliced across the stomach deeply. He leaned forward, a gasp of pain leaving his mouth, his sword digging into the wood to keep himself standing.

"Fight me and stop playing around James. We know you are one of the greatest swordsman that ever lived. Every king's favorite blade." Sam once more flicked the blood off his sword, moving closer and closer.

Strelitzia picked up her skirts and ran up to the deck. Both men were bleeding and wounded, yet still managed to clash again and again and again. How could he say something like that and run off? Back from where she came? At its essence wasn't that what she had been trying to do? The rain plastered her hair against her face, making her push the dark strands from her vision. Jumping on him was a bad idea but she couldn't stand there and watch either.

Her gaze flicked this way and that for anything to grab hold of. Something to draw their attention away from murdering one another. "Please stop fighting!" She was afraid to get too close.

Sam ignored Strelitzia's pleas and went for the kill, thrusting his sword towards James' chest, but before he could, someone else came soaring above them on the sails ropes. They came as quick as death and as fast as a bullet, landing between Sam and James.

The man held the sword diagonally across his body, connecting with the keen point of the others. Cold cerulean eyes lowered beneath tousled dark hair that curled at their tips from the rain. His smirk was oftly cruel, his voice even crueler when he spoke. "Don't touch my second in command unless you wish to be buried at the bottom of this sea with your hands severed and shoved up your ass."

The leather folds of this man's cape swirled in the air, glistening from the rain that kept raining down upon them. "I'm sure you've heard the whispers of my name over the onyx sea." He spoke in a raspy voice. Sam pulled his other sword free and swung toward the man's spleen. Dropping down to his knees, the attack missed, going over his head as he slipped his fingers into two golden brass knuckles. He came back up with his fist, causing the prince's head to snap back.

Sam wiped blood from his mouth. "So you pick up slaves that betray their masters. It's only seconds before it'll happen to you, Razmyr Krestov."

"And if that day comes," Razmyr slowly lifted his head. "I'll be the one that drives my sword through his heart."

Razmyr's men closed in, but Sam quickly yanked Strelitzia up by the waist and gripped the rope Razmyr had used to swing himself down. He snapped up off the ground with her, somehow managing to sling her over his shoulder in the process as he ran across the beams.

"Hope you know how to swim." Was the last thing Sam said before he dove off the sails with her into the icy, vicious waves.

Strelitzia didn't even have time to scream before the cold waters hit her like pavement, rushing over her head and dragging her down into its icy clutches. Between the jacket and nightgown she wore, they weighed her down. No matter how hard she clawed and kicked frantically, bubbles bursting from her mouth, her lungs burning, the surface grew further and further away.

Once there was no more air in her lungs to keep up the struggle, her limbs went still. She watched with a calm detachment as the realization that she would probably die set in.

No adventures for her. No seeing her mother once more. The last thing she saw was the watery image of flames distorted by her darkening vision before everything went dark.