A Dream of Mortals

“They are cowards,” Matus said. “Like all pirates.”

“They also stripped us of our weapons,” O’Connor added.

Thor’s heart skipped a beat as he suddenly recalled his weapons, his armor, the Sword of the Dead.

“Don’t worry,” Reece said, seeing his face. “Our weaponry made it through the storm – including yours. It is not at the bottom of the sea, at least. But the pirates have it. See there, through the slats?”

Thor peered through the slats and saw, on the deck, all of their weapons, laid out beneath the sun, the pirates crowding around them. He saw Elden’s battle-ax and O’Connor’s golden bow and Reece’s halberd and Matus’s flail and Indra’s spear and Selese’s sack of sand – and his very own Sword of the Dead. He saw the pirates, hands on their hips, looking down and examining them with glee.

“I never seen a sword like that,” one of them said to the other.

Thor reddened with rage as he saw the pirate prodding his sword with his foot.

“Looks like it was a King’s,” said another, stepping forward.

“I found it first, it’s mine,” the first one said.

“If you kill me for it,” said the other.

Thor watched the men tackle each other, then heard a loud thump as they both crashed down to the deck, wrestling, the other pirates jeering as they circled around. They rolled back and forth, punching and elbowing, the others egging them on, then finally Thor saw blood sprayed through the slats, saw one pirate stomp the other one’s head several times.

The others cheered, relishing in it.

The pirate who won, a man with no shirt, a wiry torso, and a long scar down his chest, got up and, breathing hard, walked over to the Sword of the Dead. As Thor watched, he reached down and grabbed it and held it up victoriously. The others cheered.

Thor burned at the sight. This scum, holding his sword, a sword meant for a King. A sword he had risked his life to earn. A sword given to he, and no other.

There came a sudden shout, and Thor saw the pirate’s face suddenly wince in agony. He cried out and threw the sword, as if holding a snake, and Thor saw it go flying through the air and land on the deck with a clang and a thud.

“It bit me!” the pirate yelled to the others. “The freaking sword bit my hand! Look!”

He held out his hand and displayed a missing finger. Thor looked over at the sword, its hilt visible through the slats, and saw small, sharp teeth protruding from one of the faces carved in it, blood running down it.

The other pirates turned and glanced at it.

“It’s of the devil!” one yelled.

“I’m not touching it!” yelled another.

“Never mind it,” said one, turning his back. “There are plenty of other weapons to choose from.”

“What about my finger?” cried the pirate, in agony.

The other pirates laughed, ignoring him, and instead focused on going through the other weapons, fighting over the cache for themselves.

Thor returned his attention to his sword, seeing it now sitting there, so close to him, tantalizingly right on the other side of the slats. He tried once again with all his might to break free, but his cords would not give. They had been tied well.

“If we could just get our weapons,” Indra seethed. “I can’t stand the sight of their greasy palms on my spear.”

“Maybe I can help,” Angel said.

Thor and the others turned to her skeptically.

“They didn’t bind as they did you,” she explained. “They were afraid of my leprosy. They tied my hands, but then they gave up. See?”

Angel stood, showing her wrists bound behind her back, but her feet free to walk.

“Little good it will do us,” Indra said. “You’re still locked down here with all of us.”

Angel shook her head.

“You don’t understand,” she said. “I’m smaller than all of you. I can squeeze my body through those slats.” She turned to Thor. “I can reach your sword.”

He looked back at her, impressed by her fearlessness.

“You’re very bold,” he said. “I admire that about you. Yet you would endanger yourself. If they catch you out there, they may kill you.”

“Or worse,” Selese added.

Angel looked back, proud, insistent.

“I will die either way, Thorgrin,” Angel replied. “I learned that a long time ago. My life taught me that. My disease taught me that. Dying does not matter to me; it is only living that matters. And living free, unrestrained from the bonds of men.”

Thor looked back at her, inspired, amazed at her wisdom for such a young age. She already knew more about life than most of the great teachers he had met.

Thor nodded back at her solemnly. He could see the warrior spirit within her, and he would not restrain it.

“Go then,” he said. “Be quick and quiet. If you see any sign of danger, return to us. I care more for you than that sword.”

Angel brightened, encouraged. She turned quickly and hurried through the hold, walking awkwardly with her hands behind her back, until she reached the slats. She knelt there, looking out, sweating, eyes wide with fear.

Finally, seeing her chance, Angel stuck her head through a gap in the slats, just wide enough to hold her. She wiggled her way through it, pushing off with her feet.

A moment later, she disappeared from the hold, and Thor could see her, standing on the deck. His heart pounded as he prayed for her safety, prayed that she could get his sword and get back before it was too late.

Angel stood, crouched down and hurried quickly to the sword; she reached out with her bare foot, placed it on the hilt, and slid it over.

The sword made a loud noise as it slid across the deck, toward the hold. It was but a few inches away from the slats, when suddenly a voice cut through the air.

“The little creep!” a pirate yelled.

Thor saw all the pirates turn her way, then run to her.

Angel ran, trying to make it back – but they caught her before she could make it. They grabbed her and scooped her up, and Thor could see them marching her toward the rail, as if prepared to hurl her into the seas.

Angel managed to lift up the back of her heel hard and a groan rang out as she connected right between the pirate’s legs. The pirate holding her moaned and dropped her, and without hesitating, Angel raced back across the deck, reached the sword, and kicked it.

Thor watched, exhilarated, as the sword slipped through the cracks and landed in the hold, right at his feet, with a bang.