Pirates:
Chapter One.
I rounded the next corner, my feet making such a loud sound as I ran, and kept on running, desperate to get away. I hated how it was, how I was never listened to, and I just had to get away from everything, my father most of all. He had been awul again, brushing me off when all I wanted was to talk to him. I knew he had responsibilities - that came with having such an important job - but it still did not feel right. I slowed a little, and stopped, leaning against the wall and the marble pillar on one side of me. Clutching at the vines that spiralled around the pillar with one hand, I wiped away my tears with the other, making my sleeve wet. I didn’t care about that though; I was too hurt and confused to care about a little dirt.
Glancing around, I was glad to see that no one was around, though perhaps a little surprised. Usually, my father had guards positioned in the garden, in case of thieves. I moved before anyone could appear and see that I was crying, hoping against hope that I would not run into anyone on the way. Crossing the main courtyard was a task in itself; any one of those statues could be a man stood still and silent, and that was often the way with guards. I tried to walk at a normal speed, and to resist the urge to run, though I wanted nothing more than to be away from this place, away from the statues, and the guards, and my father. Him most of all.
Finally, I reached the door I was looking for, a thick oak one, set at one end of the courtyard. For once, it was unlocked, and I supposed my father had forgotten to lock it the last time he had visited. I hesitated for a moment. What if he was in there now? It could hardly be somewhere to hide if he was in there as well. I knew he was upstairs though, dealing with someone important in his office. Someone important enough to take precedance over me. Sure he would not be in the display room at this hour, and such a short time after rejecting me, I pulled the door open, stepping into the cover of darkness. Fumbling for a light, I found a candle in the alcove next to the door, and some matches nearby. We had lights, of course - Father insisted that we pay for them - but often using the electricity in one place would turn it off somewhere else, and my father had insisted that we be careful with how much we used. I had received a good telling off after I ended up causing his computer to crash while he was in the middle of composing an important document. I was not quite sure how it was my fault though... surely, if he had written it by hand, then there was no way that he could lose his work so easily. He had not seen reason though, and I had avoided him for days.
Lighting the candle only took seconds, and the flame flickered and danced in the most beautiful way, lighting up the part of the room that I was in. Looking at the artifacts that my father had collected over the years almost always made me feel better; it was the most beautiful retreat, and away from everyone else. It was only made better when there was a full moon outside, and the whole room was bathed in a silver light that showed everything off so beautifully.
I stepped in further, and looked for my favourite object, a tall grandfather clock that had been in the family for centuries, though I did not know how old it really was. I did not know my history well enough to recall which era it was from, which country it was found in, or which king or queen was on the throne at the time. More than not knowing, I simply did not care. All I cared about was its simple beauty, the way that the wood was so smooth and shiny, even after all of this time, and the patterns that were carved into it. Mostly, it was smooth, but as I ran my hands over it, I could find grooves and pieces that jutted out in spirals and curves. The pendulum inside did not work anymore, so it did not tell the time. It had been fifteen minutes past two when it stopped working, according to the hands on the clock face, though of course, anyone could change those if they so wished.
Next to the old grandfather clock, was something more recent, perhaps only a few hundred years old. A jukebox, I thought it was called, and this one worked using electricity. We had used it once, tested it to see what it would do, and the oddest sound came from the machine, some sort of music. That was what I thought it was at least, but it was hard to tell. Music like that was certainly not played in our house in these times. I had barely heard that much music though, except for when my father played on the piano sometimes to calm his nerves. He had tried to teach me, but I had never been that interested, and I could never quite get the hang of using two hands at once. There was my father again; no matter how hard I tried, he always seemed to return to my thoughts. I shook him away again, and started walking through the collection again.
Suddenly, I heard a noise, voices coming from the next room. I tensed, wondering who could be down here at this time. I had been sure my father would not come down here, and it surely would not be any of the servants. I thought perhaps one of the guards... but what reason would they have? Shivering in the dark, I blew out the candle flame, and put both the candle and its holder on one side, next to an old compass and a keyboard of some sort. The voices were low, hushed, as though the people in the next room did not want to be heard. I inched closer to the doorway, pressed against the wall, and tried to hear what they were saying.
“It’s got to be here somewhere...” a voice whispered, “Had any luck over there?”
“Nah, he must have it well hidden somewhere. I can’t believe all of this junk isn’t cagegorised better though.”
“It’s not junk,” the first voice said, “Do you know how long it took to-”
The voices grew quieter, so that I could no longer make out what they said then disappeared altogether. I supposed they had gone into the next room, but just in case, I kept low as I went through the doorway, hoping they wouldn’t see me. I had to find out who these people were; I could think of no one brave enough to come into my father’s grounds uninvited, but if they were trespassing, then they must be here to steal something of his. I held my skirts so that they did not brush the floor quite so loudly, and knees bent slightly, I crept towards the voices. Hidden behind one of the many desks in the room, I heard a noise suddenly, right beside me. Through the table legs, I could see a pair of trousers tucked into dark leather boots. I stiffened, dared not breathe, lest I was heard. I did not know quite how I had been able to get so close to the man without hearing him first, but I thought perhaps I should just be grateful that he had not heard me either.
“I’ve found it!” a voice hissed, from the other side of the room, and the boots in front of me moved, walking towards the voice. Finally, I felt like I could breathe again, but I knew I had to get closer, desperate to find out what it was that they wanted so badly from Father’s collection.
“The cabinet’s locked up tight... any chance you can pick the lock?”
There was a faint scraping sound, and I guessed that it was them trying to get the lock open, though I hadn’t a clue what they were using. I inched closer, trying to make my way there by crawling under the table, though it was certainly a struggle, as I had to hold my skirts in such a way that enabled me to move without tripping over.
“Bloody thing won’t open,” one of the men muttered, then cursed loudly. “Seems to want to cut me open too.”
There was a moment of silence, so that when I heard the loud crash from where they were standing, I could not help but put both hands over my ears. I had yelled without thinking, startled by the noise, and I immediately regretted it. A different set of boots walked quickly towards me, a face soon appearing to go with the boots, peering under the table. I barely saw him before he grabbed at my arm and pulled me out from my hiding place. He looked strange to me, a red scarf wrapped around his head, his hair uncombed and sticking out at the sides.
“Who are you?” he asked, “and what are you doing here?”
I cowered as he glared at me, though of course, I knew that I was in the right. Then I realised; this was my house, my lands, and they were trespassing! Alright, so technically speaking, this all belonged to my father, but they weren’t to know that. I regained courage suddenly, and stood up straight, trying to look as menacing as I possibly could.
“What am I doing here?!” I said, “What are you doing here? This is breaking and entering, and-”
I broke off as I saw what he held in one hand, a dagger, long and ever so sharp. I remembered how much it hurt when I cut my hand using scissors once, and I hated to think of the damage that dagger could do. He saw me looking at it, and gestured with the thing, trying to frighten me, succeeding.
“Have you got a hold of it yet?” he yelled to the man behind him, “We have to get going.”
“Hang on... Just one more minute.”
“What’s taking you so long?!” The man’s hand was shaking now, though whether with anticipation or fear, I was not sure. I was scared of moving though, scared his shaking hand might accidently slice through my throat.
“It might be trapped,” the other man said, then there was a click and alarm bells started ringing, as shrill as anything I’d ever heard, more so. Immediately, I put my hands over my ears again, and I saw the man in front of me stiffen. “Oh, shit!” The man grabbed at the object inside and I realised what it was that they were after. My father’s most prized possession; no wonder it had been alarmed.
Somehow, I was able to hear my father’s guards as they entered, even above the noise of the alarm bells. I recognised one of them, though I wasn’t sure on his name. Suddenly, I realised why they wore those pistols at their waists, but before I could run over to them, I was grabbed by the man behind me, and pulled roughly towards him, the knife at my throat. All of the breath was knocked out of me, and I heard myself yell.
“What are you doing?” the other man hissed, loud enough to be heard over the alarm, but quiet enough that the guards could not hear.
My captor ignored him, and started shouting commands to the guards in front. “Get out of the way!” he yelled, “Let us go and no one gets hurt.” I supposed he was talking about me. After all, he could not easily hurt any of the guards.
The men at the door hesitated, muttering among themselves. I could feel the breath being squeezed out of my chest as the arm holding me tensed further. I choked, trying to draw in breath, and the man who had set off the alarm looked at me; if I did not know better, I would think him concerned. Both men were worried though, the one I could see a little too wide-eyed to look as though he did this all the time. If I was not being held captive with a knife close enough to feel cold on my skin, I might just have felt sorry for them; as it was though, I wanted nothing more than to survive.
The guards seemed to have come to a decision, and moved out of the way of the door, letting us past. I nearly fell more than once, trying to keep at the right speed, not too fast or I would walk into the knife, but not so slowly that the man walked into me. The two men kept close to one another as we walked past the guards and through the door, possibly so that neither of them could be taken hostage the way I had been.
“When are you going to let me go?” I hissed at my captor, as soon as we were out in the courtyard, “You’re safe now, aren’t you? The guards are in there.” I pointed, trying not to make my raised hand seem too threatening.
“No.” I felt, rather than saw, the man shake his head. “Jack?”
The other man answered him. “What is it?”
“You remember the way back to the boat?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Don’t go too far ahead. Just... just check there isn’t anyone over there at the moment. We don’t want our way blocked.”
The other man, Jack, disappeared, moving silently down the hill towards the coast. He clutched at his hat, as though frightened the wind might blow it off his head as he ran.
“I’m going to put my knife away now,” the unnamed man whispered into my ear, “but make any trouble and it comes right out again, understand?”
I nodded. If I was to be given any chance to escape at all, then this was it. There had to be a way to lull him into thinking that I was going to be obedient though, so that he wouldn’t expect me to do anything. I felt the cold steel leave my skin, and heard the sound of metal on metal as he sheathed it by his waist. The man pulled me further away from the building, and I could finally see what he was looking at; any light on this cold night reflected off tens of pairs of eyes from the archways that led to the courtyard we had just left. The guards were waiting for their chance.
“Dan!” a voice hissed, and I nearly collapsed from the shock of hearing another voice next to me. “Danil, are you there?”
“Get over here,” the man holding me said, “What is it?”
I recognised Jack as he came out of the bushes next to us. “There are guards right down near the boat. I don’t know if Stefan knows about them either. What should we do?”
There was a pause, Danil watching the eyes still, trying to stare them down, perhaps believing they would just go away.
“We take the girl.”
“What?!” I couldn’t help it. The words just escaped.
Jack seemed equally surprised. “Dan, we don’t take hostages. Not unless we have to.”
“Believe me, we have to.” He sighed. “Or do you want Stefan to get caught unawares again? It’s the only way.”
I shook, and struggled against Danil’s grasp. “Look! Can’t you... can’t you just let me go? It’ll be better for you in the long run. There’ll be a much shorter sentence, and-”
“Jack. Tie her wrists.”
The grip tightened as I struggled, and finally I gave up twisting. I turned to Jack, looking into his eyes. “You don’t have to tie me up. You don’t agree with it either, do you?”
“Sorry, lady. Orders are orders.” Jack took a rope from around his wrist - how had I not noticed that before? - and wrapped it securely around my wrists, so that I could not move either of them. I tried seperating them experimentally, but Jack had tied the rope too tight. I sighed, resigned to my fate, and whatever they had planned.
“Where are you taking me then?”
Jack looked at Danil, who looked at me then back at Jack again. “Never mind that now,” he said finally. “We’ve got to get going before any more of them appear.”
I decided not to tell them how many guards we had, and since they never asked, I hardly thought I could feel guilty over it. Either way, my father was the one they should have been worried about, not the guards. Danil took hold of the rope around my wrists and pulled at it, leading me through the bushes. After a few minutes of scrabbling and tripping over hidden rocks and branches on the ground, the trees cleared and the hard earth below opened out on to the stony beach that we owned. There was sand on the other side of the island, but this side, I had to put up with feeling the hard stones through my soft soled shoes, and for once I wished I wore something a little more sturdy.
Danil only hesitated a moment after seeing the men near to the boat, the three of them looking confused, wondering how it had got there. They evidently had not heard of the events uphill yet, or they would have been more alert. As it was, when Jack came into view, two pistols at the ready, neither of them knew what had hit them. Surprisingly, Jack didn’t shoot them. I had expected him to, but perhaps he did not like how they outnumbered the two of them, especially with Danil hanging on to me; he hardly would have been much use in a fight with only one arm free.
“Out of the way,” Jack commanded, gesturing with his arms, both guns pointing in the direction of the guards. “Get out of the way and she lives.”
Both of the guards looked at Jack, surprised at the command he had given, and then at me. I recognised one of them, and remembered how he was, though again, I didn’t remember his name. It was very strange, I thought, that I should have lived all my life in this place, and I still did not know all of the servants’ names. More than strange, it was almost sad. The man was fairly distinctive too, a scar on one cheek; it seemed he was not unfamiliar to fighting.
Danil put the knife as near to my cheek as he could without slicing me open, walking me past the guards and towards the boat. I shot a glance towards the guards, who seemed to be finding it a real effort just standing there. All of a sudden, I realised I was standing right next to the wooden boat, and a face appeared at the top, the owner pushing down a makeshift ladder. Danil looked at me, as though daring me to run, and cut my bonds.
“Get up,” he said, “Now.”
I did as he said. There seemed no point in arguing. Danil still had the knife on him, Jack had those pistols pointed at my father’s men, and God only knew what the man inside the boat could do. I grabbed hold of one of the wooden planks that had been tied together with rope to make the ladder, and pulled myself up so that my foot could balance on one of the lower planks. It was a tricky business in a skirt, and my arms were not the strongest in the world either, which didn’t help.
Danil started to climb up after me, and glancing over at Jack, I saw him slowly back away from the guards, the guns still pointed in their direction. It did not take long to reach the top, even while struggling with my skirts again. A man at the top helped to pull me over the side and on to the deck. He blinked at me.
“Who are you?” he asked. I tried staring him down, readying an answer in my head, when Danil called up to him.
“Get the boat ready to leave!” he yelled, “Don’t worry about Jack. Just get it done. Quickly.”
The man onboard rushed inside, via a door that I hadn’t noticed before. I was just about to say something when I heard a gunshot fire.
“Oh, shit!” Danil said.
I rushed over to the edge of the deck, and peered over the wooden railings to see the familiar looking guard doubled over, clutching at his hand. From the colour his shirt was turning as he clutched at his hand, I guessed there had been a lot of blood. He growled at Jack, who hesitated, his face pale, then turned and sprinted towards us. I almost fell as the boat started to move, but managed to grab at the railings and pull myself up. Glancing down, I could see that Jack had just made it, his boots skimming the top of the water as he hung on to the rope ladder with both hands. Danil reached over the side with one hand, ready to help the other man climb up.
Then realisation hit me. My hands weren’t tied, there was no knife at my throat, but I was still a captive. I half sank to the ground, afraid of watching the island fade away into the distance. I hadn’t realised the winds were so strong, but the sails above me caught every scrap of wind, throwing us further across the ocean. The guards were ants now, smaller than ants, and even my father’s house; the tower, the trees surrounding it, everything; it all started to get smaller and smaller and blurred through my tears.
“Come on,” a voice said behind me, “We’re going inside.”
