Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ A Star to Steer By ❯ Chapter 7

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Okay, trying to get back to writing, I refuse to be one of those who starts a great fic and never ends it! So here’s one update, I hope to come up with more soon. As soon as I catch up on my reading a bit.

***

More pirates poured over the rail, Yohji tried not to watch. Prayed no man he knew was serving on that ship. Sipped his mug of warm watered rum, and hoped he wouldn’t end up leaning over this rail. Vowed he’d aim for Stairs’ boots—bare feet—instead, if he did get sick.

Prayed Ran had fallen in the ocean and killed only sharks today.

The shouts and sounds of battle faded away, the prey must have surrendered. Then a long agonized scream floated across the water. Around Yohji, men straightened from their work, stared into the fog.

“Hi, hi, watch ‘im!” someone shouted, “there he goes!”

Pirates gripped weapons and listened.

“Let ‘im have his blood, lads!”

“I’ll have my prisoners!” Stairs shouted, appearing at Yohji’s shoulder and making him jump. “Get a rope on him!”

Clash of swords, and, “Ho, the ship, he’s coming back!”

Stairs shoved his mug at Yohji, who let it drop rather than let go of the dagger Ran had given him. Stairs drew his sword.

Fog solidified and became Farfarello, white clothes and white hair and white light of madness leaping back aboard. A pirate on the rail defended himself, died anyway. Death cackled and whirled on. Another man fell wounded, was snatched by his fellows before the maniac could finish his work. Three swords blocked him, he spun away. A rope flew at him, he caught it and yanked, his attacker scrabbled back behind the weapons of his mates. Farfarello licked blood from his knife, rolled his eye in exaggerated pleasure. He darted forward, pirates shrank back from him. He feinted, ran the other way, herding his shipmates and laughing as they scattered. Laughed harder as one, a small figure, tried to climb to the stern deck and slipped, fell. Farfarello loomed over his victim and sang. Yohji looked for something to throw. Something heavy, running into the mast had barely slowed—

“Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest.
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Drink and the DEVIL—” his hand came up, long knife started down, “—had done for the—”

The Irishman froze as leather wrapped around his wrist. He stared at it, followed the braided line to the whip-handle in Yohji’s hand. His face lit with joy.

“Do you want to play?” he said softly into the silence on the deck. Yohji shivered, meeting that eye. “Do you want to play, me pretty?”

Yohji tugged, trying to free the thong. Farfarello twisted his wrist and caught it. Jump him, damn it, why didn’t they jump him, the boy had nowhere to run, if Yohji let go, he couldn’t stop—

“Come, my sweet,” Farfarello crooned. “We’ll bring this along and—“

CTHUNK!!!!

The madman wilted to the deck. Ran watched him fall, cast-iron skillet at the ready. He tossed the skillet back at the cooking area.

“Captain,” he said to Stairs, “the prey is secure.”

“Well done, Ran-lad!” The captain raised his voice. “Move yer arses, ye stupid sods! Fetter the Farf! Set for sail! Let’s have a look at our loot!”

Pirates pounced on Farfarello, within moments the woozy lunatic was tied to the mast, roped from chin to ankles. Others formed convey lines from the rail, moving food and supplies aboard the pirate craft. Yet more brought prisoners to stand on the foredeck. Ran tossed the freed whip back to Yohji. Captain Stairs went down the ladder, put the big flapping hat back on his “secretary” and led him off into the unraveling fog. Yohji stood alone with the helmsman and wondered what he was supposed to do now.

Farfarello shook his head clear and started singing again.

“Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest.
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!”

Yohji decided he’d rather be near the only man on the ship who seemed able to stop the crazy bastard, and went to stand behind Ran. Stairs had lined up ten prisoners on the main deck, Ran nearby with a small leatherbound book and a quill. All the prisoners stood proud, as befit Englishmen. The filthy bastard captain grinned at them.

“Drink and the DEVIL had done for the rest,” Farfarello sang,
“Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!”

“I am in need,” Stairs called out, “of a volunteer or three! As you can see, my pet loon be a bit excited. I need a few playmates for him.”
The king’s men darted glances at each other and the madman tied to the mast.

“The mate was fixed by the bosun’s pike,
bosun BRAINED with a marlinspike...”

“Being a firm believer,” the captain went on, “in even the poofiest of men being useful, I’ll only feed Farf any that have no other use.”

“And cookey's throat was marked belike,
It had been gripped by fingers TEN!”

“So!” the captain beamed on his prisoners. “Any of ye care to join me merry lot?”

“And there they lay, all good DEAD men—
Like break o'day in a boozing ken,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!”

“Come on, lads, surely one of ye has a skill to share? Sailmaker?” the captain suggested. “Carpenter?” Ran touched his quill to his tongue, Stairs walked among the prisoners, pointed at one. “What’s your name, lad?” The boy clamped his mouth on a gulp and stared forward. The captain chuckled. “The Farf” sang.

“Fifteen men of the whole ship's list,
Dead and be damned and the rest gone whist!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!”

Yohji’s redheaded bunkmate was writing, though none of the prisoners had spoken. Yohji peered over his shoulder and took a long moment to puzzle out the notations. Ran had numbered the prisoners, and was making notes of who reacted to what. Who darted glances at whom, when the pirate captain couldn’t see.

One of the prisoners gasped, Yohji looked up and met a face he knew. Oh, damn, Kressley—Ran’s elbow slammed Yohji’s gut, doubling him over. A fist in his hair forced him to his knees.

“I did not call you,” that deep voice said. “You’ll go to the Farf yourself if you keep looking for trouble, my good earl.” Ouch, that hurt more than the blow. Why—

“Eh, Ran-lad!” Stairs called, Ran looked up. “Who’d we lose today?”

“Carson fell to your loon.” Ran returned to his book with a warning look at Yohji. “And Cookey was wounded by the same. We lost none in the fight.” He moved away, Yohji rose slowly to his feet. And realized Kressley was looking at him with sympathy now. With that blow Ran had identified Yohji as prisoner, not pirate. Unlucky, not treasonous.

“The SKIPPER lay with his nob in gore,
Where the scullion's axe his cheek had shore.
And the scullion he was stabbed times FOUR!”

“Right.” Stairs was back by the boy, he caught the smooth chin and tilted the boy’s head, peering at his face. “Eh, you’re a pretty one, aren’t you? Come be scullion, and if you’re a good little lad we’ll train you into a fine pirate.” He let go, nudged the pale boy with an elbow. “Just don’t let Cookey catch ye in the storeroom. He’s been a bit off lately. Maybe the pox got to his head, eh?”

“Disgusting!” one of the men at the front muttered. Stairs moved up to him, shoved the boy at Ran, who moved him to the side with a silent order to stay.

“Nay, it’s not,” Stairs said, “‘tis just fair warning. What did you do on that ship, me fine feathered friend?”

Stairs had a point, the man was dressed better than anyone but the ship’s captain. Another son of the aristocracy? Yohji certainly didn’t know all of them, he wondered if Ran did. If he knew Kudou Yohji who had never been to court—

“And there they lay, and the soggy skies,” Farfarello sang,
“Dripped down in up-staring eyes.
In murk sunset and foul sunrise,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.”

“Eh?” Stairs asked when the man didn’t answer. Then he leaned to whisper, the dandy straightened with a gasp. Stairs walked away chuckling. To throw his arm around the boy, who cringed. “He is a pretty one, isn’t he?”

“Leave him alone!”

“Or?” Stairs asked. “Pretty as he is, I’d rather have a carpenter if you’ve got one.”

“Fifteen men of 'em stiff and STARK.
Ten of the crew had the MURDER mark!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!”

“If you’ve any honor left in your soul, let the boy be!”

“Aww,” Stairs said and ruffled the boy’s hair, “isn’t that sweet? Did you train him well? So’s to be an asset to me crew?”

“Bastard,” the nobleman hissed, snatching at his waist as he moved. Suddenly Ran was between the captain and the prisoner, who stiffened then fell against Ran.

“...those...her...eyes...” he breathed. Ran grabbed him, shook the limp body.

“What about her eyes?” The man was dead, he didn’t answer. Ran shook him again, tossed him aside and grabbed another.

“Do you know my eyes?”

The man sputtered, bewildered. Yohji stared at the dead eyes of the aristocrat, just as confused. What the hell...?

“Twas a cutlass swipe or an ounce of lead,” Farf sang,
“Or a yawing hole in a battered head,
And the scuppers’ glut with a rotting red...”

Ran put his wet blade to his captive’s throat. “Do you?”

“As you can see,” Stairs said, “I actually have two madmen. Any lads want to reconsider their obstinacy?”

“And there they lay, aye, damn my eyes,
Looking up at paradise.
All souls bound just contrawise,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.”

******
I’m sorry if the song is annoying, but it was just too perfect for Farfarello. I kept trying to not include it, or not include as much... It’s from here. I did cut out some ‘yo ho’s.