Twas a wonderful day to be in Italy.
Jonathan Isadel stood there on the seashore. He breathed in the salty sea air, savoring the morning breeze. The cool sand felt good beneath his toes, the mists hung above the water making it look like liquid silver, or silver glass as his father liked to call it on a day like this. Although it was warm the sun could barely be seen, high above in the clouds, looking like nothing more than a small orb of light in the foggy cloudy-filled sky.
“Yes,” Jonathan sighed contentedly, “It is a wonderful day to be in Italy.”
It was exciting too. Today was the day he and his father would take their monthly trip to the village. They were too poor to live there, Jonathan’s parents and three sisters. Even though it was a relatively small town you had to have some money to live there because the ground was so fertile. That meant that the crops were plentiful and the markets always had an abundant supply of every type of food or beautiful jewelry imaginable. That was also the village’s dirty little secret, they had access to recently discovered gold mines. But the village kept the secret well, and no one knew that it would be their downfall.
“Jonathan!,” called Jonathan’s father from atop the hill.
“Coming!,” Jonathan called back.
He scooped up his satchel from the sand and began climbing back up the hill. His father was waiting for him when he reached the top, the sword hung from his belt. That sword was the family’s priceless heirloom, passed down from generation to generation. It was simple enough, it was nothing more than a black bladed cutlass to the naked eye. But the real beauty emerged when you held it. It was lightweight and easy to swing, making the most complicated of thrusts and swings nearly effortless, a truly skilled swordsman would be nearly invincible with it. His father was one such master, and he had taught Jonathan everything he knew and one day it would be Jonathan’s responsibility to take up the family sword. To proudly wear it when going into any village dwarfing the skill of any swordsman and protecting his family from invaders.
“Are you ready?” asked Jonathan’s father.
“I haven’t said goodbye to mother or my sisters,” Jonathan protested.
“Don’t worry yourself we will be back this afternoon, besides we have to get a move on. I didn’t realize how late it was getting with all this fog covering the sun.”
Jonathan looked wistfully at the hut, where through the windows he could see the rest of his family preparing their morning meal. “Alright,” he said finally.
He and his father turned their backs on the house and started toward the village. That was a mistake Jonathan would regret for the rest of his life. For did he but know it, that was the last time he would’ve ever seen his beloved family again.
After they reached the village they began loading their cart with fruits, vegetables, spices, fabrics, bread and everything else they could afford stuffed into their small cart. There was a flute player happily playing away in between two stalls with his hat laid at his feet in front of him, in which were a few coins. There were a few women with baskets, overflowing with produce, laughing and gossiping in front of another stall. Two old men with pipes were playing chess in a corner, the scent of their tobacco lifting Jonathan’s spirits, reminding him of his late grandfather. It was a wonderful day, a joyous day, it was a perfect day. But such things are not meant to last, and a day so perfect must have something go terribly wrong to balance it out. However no one realized it until…
“Aaaaaahhhhhh!” Everyone in the market could hear the blood curdling screams that arose from the coast-side village. Everyone ran to see what the problem was, and they were able to see a man running up at full speed to where the people had gathered.
“Help!” he cried. His hand gripped a bloody wound on his stomach. He was out of breath and out of energy he collapsed only a few yards from safety.
With his last breath he managed to wheeze
“They’re coming….” and then fell dead. No one moved for a while until Jonathan’s father ran over to the corpse and turned him over.
“Who?” he asked, “Who!”
“Look!,” a women cried pointing her finger. All eyes turned to where she was pointing. The mists had concealed it before but now it was as clear as day. Massive ships moored only a few hundred yards from the seashore, and the flags they bore were unmistakable. The skull and crossbones of a pirate flag! There was no doubt in anyone’s mind they were here for the gold.
Jonathan’s father drew his sword, “Everyone run!” he cried. They didn’t need to be told twice they dropped whatever they were carrying and ran. But a few men stayed behind with father to help. The two old men laid their pipes down and stood and drew long, razor sharp rapiers, the big butcher disappeared into his stall only to emerge moments later with an enormous clamore. Even the little flute player drew a long dagger, more like a short sword, and with a few other men armed with staves and anything else they could find stood and joined the battle. But courage faltered when they beheld the sight of the army of pirates. There were hundreds, easily outnumbering their small squadron ten to one.
“Jonathan run, get out of here,” his father said.
“But father-”
“Go!” he shouted.
Jonathan ran to hide in a stall, it was at a safe distance but he could still see everything that was going on. One of the old men readjusted his hat and said:
“Today is as good a day as any, to die.” With that they all charged.
The battle went well at first with Jonathan’s father in the lead, their group cut through pirates ten at a time. The pirates were thrown into a state of confusion, they probably didn’t expect this way-side town to carry such fine warriors. His father was a bladed whirlwind of fury, the old men moved masterfully and with incredible agility, the butcher bulldozed anyone in his path. The frenzie was so bad that for a while the enemy seemed to be retreating but then their reinforcements came.
At the sight of a fresh round of troops the pirate army rallied, and then surrounded the group. The staff fighters were the first to go, and the flute player shortly after. They were untrained ill-armed and unprepared for such an assault. The group fought back with all their might, and again started to gain some ground. But right then a large chunk of the pirate circle stepped aside and revealed an entire line of archers, who let a volley of arrows fly toward their enemy’s. Most managed to jump aside but one of the old men was not so lucky.
Whew! Thunk! The arrow stuck fast in his chest and he fell down dead.
“No!” cried his companion. He fought as much as he could taking down two more pirates, but he was not as young as he once was. He was overcome with weariness and grief and then was overcome by pirates. Jonathan didn’t know why, he didn’t know the men but it made him sad to see them die like that.
The rest of the group tried to fight back but the line of archers fired arrow after arrow, taking down more and more men. There was very few of them left now, then one lucky arrow whistled through the air and went:
Whew! Thunk! And stuck right in the butcher’s leg. He grunted with pain and went down on one knee. He made eye contact with Jonathan’s father, and motioned with his head towards the archers. Father understood and the butcher ran straight at them. Arrows flew left and right, one after another, but the butcher never dodged them and never deflected them, he met them head on. All arrows stuck in him and were now bristling out of the butcher’s body but he never cried out or gave the pirates the satisfaction of seeing him hurt in any way. Eventually his charge slowed to a trot, which slowed to a stumble. He fell on both knees and right when he did Jonathan’s father, who had been behind him the whole time muttered a silent, “Thank you,” and then used his back as a springboard and launched himself into the archers.
He cut down most of them before they even had time to reload their arrows. Now with all the archers dead, wounded or scattered the fighting pirates were forced to take their place, making it impossible for any of the archers to get a clear shot without hitting their comrades. That was the advantage, but the disadvantage was the fighting pirates moved in closer and surrounded Jonathan’s father. And they just kept coming. For every one killed there were at least three more to take its place. Eventually all the pirates attacked at once, their blades pointed inward at Jonathan’s father they ran in not caring for the consequences. Several blades from various different pirates pierced his body and after they all drew away standing for only a moment longer, he looked at Jonathan with a look that said, “I’m sorry,” on his face. Then he fell dead.
Jonathan could hardly remember what happened after that. The first thing he remembered was a pirate crying out in pain as Jonathan drove the flute player’s short sword into his back and a few others gasping in surprise as he slashed at their faces with it trying to get to his father’s body. He eventually did. Whatever other fighters were left made their way into the small ring created around Jonathan all of them yelling,
“Run boy! Get out while you still have a chance!” But Jonathan wasn’t listening. He cradled the lifeless form of his father as the others fought as hard as they could giving their last stand their all.
Tears stung Jonathan’s eyes, falling freely on his father’s face. He felt cold and alone. Despair and unbelievable sadness washed over him. But it wasn’t long before that grief turned to anger. Jonathan looked around him at the disgusting ravaging mob of brainless scum, as their bare feet stepped over the dead bodies of their comrades, or the honorable men who had fought courageously alongside his father. He watched as they mercilessly beat to death whatever was left of the kind free people who should never had lived to see such days, or died such horrible deaths. Rage ensued him, coursing through his body down to the tips of his fingers. He closed his father’s eyes and laid him to rest, then he picked up his father’s sword, and waited.
There were only three people left fighting against the pirates. Adrenaline pumping through his veins Jonathan patiently counted until the last person went down.
“One…….two…….three.” When the last one went down Jonathan stood. Now with no one else in his way, no one else around to get hurt Jonathan could give it everything he got, he didn’t have to hold back…….and hold back he did not.
Jonathan struck out with all his might! He slashed, stabbed, parried, thrust, and cut through anyone unfortunate enough to be within the distance of the length of his thrust, arm, and sword. The sword felt perfect in Jonathan’s grip, it was a black blade of death that swiftly ended the life of anyone who came close. What happened that day was remembered and told through stories of the pirates for generations. The story of the boy who massacred an entire army, and those who tell the stories are nearly correct. By the time the red tinge in Jonathan’s vision was fading there wasn’t much left of the pirate horde. His limbs ached with soreness from swinging the sword so much. Never had Jonathan underwent a more energy draining task in his entire life. Now he relied mostly on his legs to get an advantage but it didn’t last him long,
Whew! Thunk! “Aaaa Rrrr Gggg!” Jonathan cried out in pain as an arrow stuck from his left leg. The pain was so intense, that combined with the weariness it almost made him black out. He stood again making one last valiant effort. What was left of the unorganized pirate squabble seized the opportunity to strike while Jonathan was in pain. Jonathan defended himself well for a while until a pirate managed to get inside his guard and he slammed the butt of his sword into Jonathan’s temple, and he lost all consciousness.
When Jonathan awoke he was bound to a chair in a large wooden room. He looked about at his surroundings. There were a few rounded windows on the far side of the room and some shelves and bookshelves and a desk, but every surface carried some ornate relic or beautiful jewelry. Jonathan’s leg throbbed from the arrow wound, when he looked at it he saw it had been bandaged. Then a sudden realization crept over him. When Jonathan had first awoke the whole world felt like it was moving around him, although at first Jonathan had guessed that it was a symptom of being smacked in the head, but now he realized the world was actually rocking. He could feel the ground beneath him swaying back and forth and he realized he must be on a boat. The pirate boat! He thought immediately. That would explain all the gold and jewels lying about.
Creak! Clunk. Jonathan heard the sound of a door open and close, followed by heavy footsteps. He tried to turn his head but was unable to see who had just entered so he remained staring straight ahead. Then the figure came into view. He was a pirate obviously but he was taller and broader than any other he had seen so far. He also looked better fed and wore finer clothing than the others. His head was made up of long curly jet-black locks and he had a long thick beard of the same color. Now of course this didn’t excuse his scar-filled face, or his blackened teeth, or the fact he smelled like rotten cheese that had spent the last ten years in a manure yard. But Jonathan could tell this was the captain. He looked at Jonathan with cold dark eyes, tinged with a slight gleam of humor.
“So,” he said, his speech vaguely northern scandinavian, “this is the rancor.”
The rancor? Where had the captain gotten that name? Rancor meant something like uncontrollable rage, maybe the pirates named him that after seeing the destruction he had done.
“How old are you boy?” asked the pirate captain.
“What’s it to you?” came Jonathan’s haughty response.
“Just curious,” replied the captain calmly.
“Then I may as well withhold that from you.”
“And why is that?”
“You tortured me by killing my father right in front of me, shooting an arrow at me, and took me who knows how far from home, which I’m sure is raided and plundered. I may as well torture you in what little way I can by letting your curiosity burn.”
“Perhaps, or I could tell you that compared to the torture we could give you, the pain has only begun. So you may as well cooperate.”
Jonathan sighed, he had a point.
“Alright then I’m twelve.”
“Twelve!” the captain laughed. “You have accomplished a great thing for one so young. You killed one hundred and thirty of my crew.”
“Considering how stupid they are half of them probably fell on their own swords.”
“I can’t argue with that, it is hard to find an intelligent first mate amongst this rabble. I could use someone with skill, someone with intelligence like you.”
Now it was Jonathan’s turn to laugh.
“Ha! What makes you think I would help you with anything after what you’ve done to me?”
“Because I know you. I know your kind. Almost every member of my crew are orphans, whose parents have died horrible deaths right in front of them. Every time I see potential in one of these individuals I bring them here in my quarters and have a very similar conversation to what I am having with you right now.”
“So what’s to say I’m not going to end up like one of them?”
“Because you have the potential to see more. You are the kind of person who keeps their focus not just on the here and now. You don’t just think of the current raid. You are the type of person who will think a thousand raids ahead, and so you stow the sloppiness and get done what needs to get done. It is the duty of every pirate to find a successor and I think I have found one. And given the fact your options are limited to work for me, or die a horrible death after I give you to my crew to play with, I would guess that you will go the smarter route.”
Jonathan considered. What would his father say? Jonathan thought that his father wouldn’t want him to die now. After fighting to save him, so he could be the last surviving member of the battle for everything right. Would he now die at the hands of mercenaries that laid waste to everything else good in Jonathan’s world. No, he decided. If he would die it would not be at the hands of his father’s killers not, while he had another option.
“Well I suppose you’re right about one thing,” said Jonathan. “I am smart and therefore will choose the smarter way out. I will be your first mate, or successor or whatever else you would like me to be.”
A triumphant grin spread across the pirate’s ugly face.
“A wise choice,” he said. “Now let’s see if we can’t get you all sorted out.”
After that Jonathan was led to the crew’s quarters. It wasn’t much but Jonathan decided that he would be here for a long time so he might as well get used to it. He had also made the decision that he would never become this pirates successor or his first mate and even if it took him the rest of his life he would escape this ship. In the following days Jonathan started out as a cabin boy. He would clean, mainly the captain’s quarters but sometimes his chores consisted of, mopping the decks, preparing food, washing clothes, mending sails, and a lot of other “housekeeping” items. Also the captain insisted on sword fighting lessons at the end of every day. They trained on the main deck and the captain would withhold Jonathan’s sword from him saying things like:
“No, I’m training you to be better than that.”
“Then what? My best?” Jonathan complained.
“This sword is tailored exactly to your liking. You must learn to be flexible with what you have.”
“Kings are some of the greatest warriors of all time and they all have swords tailored to their liking.”
“We’re not kings, and if you want to learn how to survive out here then you’ll shut up and pay attention.”
This is how the lessons went and the training sessions would last hours and hours. Slowly the hours would turn to days. The days to weeks, the weeks to months, the months to years. He was on the ship for three years total. All throughout Jonathan’s time he grew tall and strong and trained to be an incredible swordsmen. Often the captain would call Jonathan into his quarters on strategy meetings the whole time Jonathan would learn valuable skills on espionage and secret raids. He also leaned where the captain kept Jonathan’s sword. Finally Jonathan found his chance to escape and he took it!
Jonathan was twelve when he had arrived here, and walking out he would be fifteen and finally the night came when he planned his escape. He walked silently down to the captain’s quarters, which he had cleaned that day. When he had he made sure to grease the hinges and lock on the door so that they opened without a peep. When Jonathan came into the room he immediately ran to the cabinet where the captain hid Jonathan’s sword. He found it and took it out. For three years the captain had dangled this in Jonathan’s face just out of reach but now Jonathan had stolen it back! He longed to draw it and feel the familiar weight and balance of the blade but he restrained himself until he was off the boat.
Quietly he snuck out of the captain’s room and tiptoed back upstairs to the main deck, where he had hid a stolen sack of food under a bunch of fishing nets. After he retrieved it he threw it and his sword into a getaway boat and, which he got into and after silently lowering himself down he rowed away to safety.
When he reached the shore he ran to the nearest guard and demanded to see whoever was in charge. When they brought Jonathan to him he told him of the raid the pirates were plotting. That following morning when the pirates attacked the town guards lay in wait. Then they ambushed the pirates Jonathan leading the charge and stopped them from raiding. Most were either captured or retreated back to their ship. The village mayor thanked Jonathan warmly and asked him what he could do to help him. Jonathan informed him that he planned on exploring for a while until he found a place he wanted to settle down in. The mayor looked at him with a slight gleam in his eye, and said:
“Then you’ll be wanting to go to Falton.”
“Falton,” Jonathan repeated. “Sounds promising.”
With that the mayor saw him off with, plenty of provisions, a map, and other supplies to aid him on his journey. With that they shook hands and Jonathan started off toward his next destination.
“Falton,” Jonathan said again. It did sound promising.
And he could hardly wait to see what new adventures awaited him there.