The Key: Sails and Tide

Chapter 16: Black Flag

Goor was gone. Ander subdued. Every other threat that dared to bloom was vanquished, and now purpose shone clearer than the morning sun.

Elreal laughed within himself. The price to maintaining power seemed easier than attaining to that stand.

His comrades somehow appreciated the period of peace more. They wound play, and drink,  and argue, and tell loud babbles...and do it all over again the next day.

The relieve was what everyone so desired. Neither Goor's terror nor Anders rebellion had promised that. Now each of them was just right where they needed to be.

He looked at the cerulean sky. It was most beautiful at the times of peace. It seems somehow the Heavens had began to show him favor foe his Lord's sake.

The sudden charge of voices took his attention. He shifted his gaze from the sky, down to the main deck where the argument that banished his thoughts heated.

It was the usual telltale of the shipmen. Although somehow this very one took his full attention. It was different! His majors were part of it.

"It would take me seconds to dart for my knife and hurl." Dierl was the first to declare.

"Seconds or not, can boast of your precision. My bow always delivers." Zar countered.

"Your precision might be good, but you can't brag the same way when it comes to damage. These little boys always do the work." Jerther smirked, flicking the pistols around in an expert manner.

"Pistols? Poor choice. They are very slow to reload." Zar mocked.

Jerther dashed forward without a word. His revolvers pointed out as quickly as the breeze passes. The six shooter completed its round,  and in a split second, his hands reached for his side pouch. Reloading as quickly as ever he pointed his gears front with a final smirk.

"That's it," Dierl frowned at the showoff. "Set the target, let's see whose the best." He flung his blade up and caught it.

The voices of screaming men affirmed they bought the idea. In an instant, a man with hands thick as a bar, brought a barrel and put it in place.

The excitement bloomed. Elreal repositioned himself, this was going to be interesting!

Two more barrels hit the set position, a bottle set upon each. The three challengers took to stance.

"Aye," one of the crew men came forward and spoke.  "the rules are simple. One shot. Hit your target."

More eruption of amusement followed the speech.

"Are y'all ready? " The man grinned. The contestants nodded.

"One." A thunder of shout hit the entire ship.

"Two."The shout hit the sky with so much intensity this time.

Anticipation rubbed off on each seaman. The contestants hands twitched. They held firmly their arms and waited for the final call.

This was it!

"Thre--"

Bang!

The explosive sound cut the moderator half way through, and left all the crew frozen.

Elreal's amusement had vanished. The current him had nothing but terror. He of all people knew what that sound meant. It was the alarm! It meant danger!

His supposition was strengthened with the watchers next word.

"I see a ship." Yelled the watcher.

Elreal took out his spyglass. In a moment Simon who had been studying was next to him. He extended the spyglass to get a closer look. He examined carefully.

"Who are they?" Simon asked.

"I'm still checking." Elreal almost sounded frustrated.

The rest majors arrived. Elreal was still dedicated to his scrutiny. The ship was no smaller than the Ghost. Black flag raised. The sails were pulled out and flapping. They were running!

"They are approaching us with a strange pace." Elreal told. Jerther took the spyglass from his hand for a quick look. 

"Do you know them?" Zar questioned.

"No." He answered.

"Should we be worried." Dierl tore in. Elreal was silent.

"Inform the men to be ready." He told then. The men sighed. Dierl left at once.

"I'm not sure who they are or what they want. Its both risk, taking off and waiting till their arrival." Elreal frowned at the situation.

The ship approached closer. Elreal gave no orders. Worry swam the Ghost as an epidemic.

"I see something." Jerther called their attention. He peered further. "A man!" He declared. Elreal in a second took back the spyglass and looked.

Silence. It was sickening. Elreal positioned his gaze to the direction of the figure, and assessed. Then, like a man who had seen a ghost, he gasped in terror.

"What is it?" The comrades chorused.

How could he speak. It was he. He!  Those eyes! And the familiar scar that ran his cheeks. That look of defiance and evil incarnating.

It was he!

The very leader of the gang that had condemned his lord to death. The very gang that had chased him nonstop for eight years.

They were here, alas! They had come for him! His demons had surely caught up with him!