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“Don’t get like that.” Milo smirked. “I thought we settled this back on the Siren, remember?”
“Oh, you still haven’t let that go, have you?” I spat with a roll of my eyes.
“What? Thought I’d forget when I bested you at the Captain’s Duel? Not a chance,” Milo bared a row of white teeth with a raised eyebrow.
“Right, because it was the only time it ever happened.”
“Because you were too scared to face me again.” The half-laugh Milo did stirred up memories I didn’t even realize I still had. I’d almost forgotten just how damn cocky he could be. Suddenly I felt like I was talking to the Milo I grew up alongside, the naïve merchant’s son who found his footing as a pirate way too quickly for his own good. The one who looked up to me when my father was too harsh on him—which was often. Sometimes I wished some of that goodie-goodie charm had rubbed off on me instead of the other way around, but there was no room for that kind of golden-heartedness aboard my father’s ship. I made sure that tender-hearted boy quickly learned that.
“Well, here we are, the two of us sailing the seas without a captain. What do you say we settle who we’re sailing under here and now? Who’ll be Captain of the…” I paused. I didn’t even know if this shoddy splintering toothpick beneath us had a name. I sauntered over to the side to see if she did. Sure enough, painted in some fading lettering chipping through the cracks in the wood, the word “Calamari.”
“The Calamari.”
“Ah, just what every pirate dreams. To be hailed as the feared captain of The Calamari.” Milo swung around the ropes, a mocking smile stretched wide across his face.
“A captain’s a captain.” I shrugged. “If you forfeit the title, that leaves it to me, I suppose.”
“Not a chance.” Milo’s eyes narrowed. “Letting you call the shots has never worked out quite too well.”
“So then let’s prove it. Remember I taught you everything you know.” I remarked with a lewd gesture of my hand.
Milo paused and disappeared for a moment into the cabin. He emerged with two swords, the ones he’d been wearing when he came through the Fountain of Youth. I opened a hand and reached forward, gesturing for Milo to toss me one of the swords.
“Not everything,” Milo slung a sword my way. The hilt hit my hand like some kind of magic reuniting with its rightful owner. Before I could even adjust my grip, Milo swung at me full force, meeting my defense with a burst of sparks and steel.
Suddenly I was back on the deck of the Siren’s Scorn, wielding my blade against a young buccaneer far too eager to earn the mark of a skilled swordsman.
We’d just come off of a battle with a warship, not a week after my father had forced the merchant boy aboard. I’d mostly made it a point to avoid him, knowing any kind of compassion I showed him would be frowned upon and possibly even punished. It didn’t matter that I was his son. My father wouldn’t spare me the scourge of the sea—not even for his own flesh and blood. I’d learned that the hard way long before this kid’s age. I could still feel every sting of the whip, every deep dig into my skin as the gnarled leather tore across my back, at my father’s hand no less. Or the pangs of hunger and burn of parched lips as the blinding sun beat down on me for days shackled to the mast. So when I looked at that broken boy’s eyes and saw the cold hopelessness there, I had to force myself to look away, pretending it didn’t bother me. He’d toughen up in time, as I had.
But I couldn’t ignore him when he found me after a cannon swap and raid—an event during which he usually hid belowdecks. It was still raining lightly, washing fresh blood across the deck. I watched the red water run between my boots and was startled by a blade thrown down at my feet.
“Can you teach me to fight the way you all do?” A voice shuddered. The boy came stepping up, across the bloody mess on the floor, wringing and picking at his hands, face unsure. I might’ve almost guessed he’d rehearsed this.
“You mean all that time spent sailing with your father and he never taught you to swing a sword?” I spoke down to him, holding my ground so as not to soften.
He shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “I…he taught me some. But mostly to navigate. He wanted me in charge of charts and maps.”
“Funny,” I chewed on the inner part of my cheek. “You’d think any good merchant worth his salt would want to make sure his son was adequately equipped to deal with dangers out on the sea like…oh, I don’t know…pirates.” I flashed a wicked grin his way. He was barely fifteen, but he wasn’t too much shorter than me. He was fit, but not as strong as he could be. He’d make a good swordsman if he really wanted to learn.
I glanced around at the ship, where the crew had already begun dumping the enemy bodies overboard, cleaning out the bloody crevices of the deck, and rolling the cannons back into place for storage. It was hardly a scene where anyone would notice a little extra chaos thrown in. The unmanned helm in particular caught my eye as my line of sight followed a sailor passing by. I smirked with an idea. If this boy wanted to learn to fight like a pirate, I’d be more than happy to teach him.
“Allright…Milo, is it?” I picked up the cutlass he’d dropped at my feet, running my forefinger and thumb along the blade as I inspected it. “Surely you know a small thing or two. I refuse to believe you’re as incompetent as you look. Show me what you know.”
I threw the cutlass back to him, and he caught it with a look of surprise. Before he could say anything, I drew my own sword and swung high, near his head. I laughed with surprise when he blocked my blade—sloppily as hell—but better than I expected.
“I see there may be something to work with after all.” I grumbled beneath my mocking grin. “Fix your footwork, lad. Like this,” I gestured, repeating the move with more force and precision, giving him only a second to observe my correction.
“Like what? That was too fast,” he whined. “I couldn’t—”
“When you cross your enemy, they’re not going to wait for you to figure it out. And neither am I.” I swung again, the tip of my sword cutting closer to the stomach this time. I yanked it back, barely tapping the edge of his shirt.
“I’d have killed you just now, lad” I tipped my head with a gesture. Ignoring the pinched expression pressed on his face, I handed him the sword, and told him to go practice on the other side of the deck.He tried to protest, but I shut him up quick with another nudge of my sword and a few more choice words. “Get over there and practice. Now.” I demanded, pointing to the open area near the stern.
Little did he know of the fun I had in store for him. When he finally accepted defeat, he moved to go that direction. Just as he passed by a certain section of the ship, I quickly hurried to the helm and gave the wheel a good spin, tilting the ship. The wind tugged on a sail on one of the lower masts and sent the boom whirling around, dropping just above the deck floor—enough to swing down and cut off Milo right where he walked and scoop him up like a limp doll.
I roared with laughter as the boom pole swung to the outside, dangling the boy over the water as he clung to the pole with desperate pleas. A couple of crewmen passing on the deck nudged me as they passed, commending me on the prank as they chuckled. Proudly I watched my helpless mentee struggle as I left him there to dangle just a few moments more.
“You’re a pirate now, lad. Always expect what you wouldn’t expect.” I crooned.
