Chapter 14

Gello the Great

 

Sea-swept and tossed about by the wild, unkind, unwavering waves of the sea, Gello drifted aimlessly in the blackest of oceans, in the darkest of night. One of Mooshnai’s moons glowed brightly and shone its light upon the red-haired warrior. He was still alive as he floated wherever the sea was taking him.

The sound of rustling cloth resounded through the night. The waves were being parted by wood and a shout was heard. “Hey,” a man said as he peered over the deck of a ship. He lifted his finger and, in another hand, held up a lantern. His finger ignited with a small flame as he lit the lantern and dangled it over the side of the ship, so as to get a better look at what he had seen. “There’s a man down there! Man overboard! I need some assistance over here.” Five sailors, dressed in the dirtiest of rags, ran to the man’s aid. They threw a large rope over the starboard and encouraged Gello to grab a hold of it. Gello’s eyes wearily opened as he floated on his back. His lungs filled with water, he coughed. He could barely make out a few shadows aboard the ship. As he began to hear what they were saying, he grabbed the rope with his left hand. “That’s it, lad! Grab it tightly then!” The five sailors pulled with all their might. When Gello was finally near enough to the ship, the sailor who had first spotted him took the rope while the others held tight, rappelled a small way towards the water, and picked Gello up with his right arm. As he put him safely under his arm, the other sailors pulled them both up onto the ship.

With a thump, Gello fell to the deck and began writhing about, cold and wet. He spit up water in every direction as he hacked and coughed. The sailor who had started the whole rescue mission leaned down on one knee, and shone the light of his lantern on Gello’s face. It was pale and weak. His cheeks twitched and his face was bright red from the cold of the ocean. Footsteps came from the Round House of the ship. It was the captain. His black boots made loud noise as he carefully paced towards the rescued man. Even in the darkness he was unmistakable. His face was long with a well-trimmed, black goatee. He wore a pitch-black hat with many feathers protruding from the back. His frock coat was also black, as well as fitted with a number of brass buttons and ornate designs around the cuff and collar. With one hand on the hilt of the sword on his belt, he leaned down and looked at Gello, the lantern still being shone upon him. “See to it that he sleeps well,” the captain said sternly, “I won’t have him harmed.”  One of the men wrapped a large blanket around him and another carried him down into ship’s cabin. He slept easily on one of the sailor’s beds.

Gello awoke with a yawn and stretched his arms out over his head. He quickly sat upright, rolled the covers off of himself, and turned abruptly to the side of the bed. It was all very second nature to him. Waking up early, getting dressed, and preparing for what lies ahead. However, this time, there was no preparing to be done. He was already fully dressed, however still just a bit wet, and his boots were still on his feet. “Well…Oh yes, I remember now,” he thought to himself. “Dreadful.” He put his feet onto the wooden floor of his quarters and stood up. Suddenly, he fell back against the wall. Then he realized, he was on a ship. “Was it a dream?” he thought to himself. “Well, that would be for the best. I’d hate to have come all this way just to have drowned.”

 

The door flung open and a grimy fellow entered. He wore a crimson cap on his bald head, had a grim five o’clock shadow, his clothes were filthy, and he was missing most of his teeth.

 “Well ven, well ven lad. You’ve got yourselv an appointment wiv the cap’n. Don’t you be late now, me boy,” the sullied sailor said. Gello was horrified. This wasn’t any crewmember of the Demengo Royal Armada. Why…this might as well be a…Gello’s eyes widened as he stood up and left the room before the sickening crewman could even shake his hand. He tossed his damp cape over his shoulder as he marched proudly up onto the main deck. The sun was shining brightly and the sky was bright blue. The fresh sea air was crisp and Gello stretched once more. Dozens of sailors were working diligently. The helmsman, dressed in no better than rags, shocked two grunts down in the steerage, below the half deck, with tiny lightning bolts from his fingertips. Three young men with teal colored eyes had their hands raised against the sails of the ship, shooting sharp winds at it to force a quick voyage. Gello looked around some more until he saw a door just past the half deck. It had to lead to the round house, and therefore, the captain of the ship. He marched proudly to the door and opened it as eloquently as possible.

Inside the round house sat a large table. Maps, compasses, and assorted cartography tools lied strewn about. A well-decorated goblet rested in a dark-skinned hand bathed in golden jewelry. Gello looked at the man, seated at the head of the table, who rested comfortably in a red cushioned, brass chair. His skin had been darkened by many days in the sun; his hair was black, curly, and tied back with a golden ribbon. His nose was long, and he still wore his black uniform. “Sit,” the captain commanded. Gello grabbed a hard wooden seat and promptly sat in it, but not without first placing his cape underneath him for some extra cushioning. “It’s odd,” the captain said as he spun a globe to his right, “I thought that Montrevere retired long ago.” Gello’s eyes widened as he began to hold his breath, fearing for his life. “It appears that I was wrong. So…How are you related? Nephew, grandkid, what?”

 “I am Gello Montrevere, son of Kuren Montrevere, that is really all I can tell you sir,” the coward said timidly. He began to shake in his boots, literally.

 “So you are…So you are.” The captain nodded his head and his continued charting some random course on one of his maps. “Tell me, how is your father, boy?”

 “Quite dead,” Gello replied quietly. “I’m afraid my dear father passed away some six years ago. I’m not too informed on the details of the gruesome affair, but I’m quite sure of it…He’s dead.”

“Dead you say? The founder of the notorious Association of Bandits…  dead. Well boy, I’m sorry to hear about that. I knew he was long gone from Toral, but I didn’t know he had passed on. I hear tell that Ligarius is running the thing now, though. You know anything about the man?” the captain asked.

“Ligarius is my uncle’s son…My cousin. Rotten one if you ask me. I haven’t heard from him in years. He’s probably dead in a ditch by now.” Gello said as he spit.

 “Oh-ho-ho,” the captain responded, “I don’t believe so. The boy’s alive and kicking, running the Association of Bandits inside and out. One of the best, if you ask me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was Kuren’s son.” Gello was outraged. He stood up, knocked his chair over, and unsheathed his rapier. A look of pure berserker rage covered his entire face. Within an instant, he put his sword to the captain’s face and looked him in the eyes.

 “Hear me when I tell you, cur,” Gello said bravely, “I’ll have no man, especially pirate, tell me who is and who isn’t the son of Kuren Montrevere. The blood in my veins is the strongest ever tempered by the Gods…and so help me, I’ll have your bloody pirate head.” Gello was seething with anger. His breaths were short and his skin was bright red. The captain was in no laughing mood, and wriggled in his chair as he reached for a dagger.

 “Now now, boy. Let’s not be hasty here…” the black-uniformed pirate pulled out a long dagger, moved away from Gello’s blade, and got right in his face with the knife. The two of them looked each other in the eyes.

 “Uncle Gotka!” Gello yelled as he hugged the captain tightly. The dark-skinned pirate dropped his dagger and embraced Gello warmly. This was family. “It’s been so long, my uncle, I was wondering when I’d see you again!”

 “One of my men saw you drifting out at sea last night, I prayed to the Gods you were still alive when I saw your face. I knew that no nephew of mine could ever die at sea, not the way you were taught on this ship.” The captain released Gello and dusted off his shoulders. “Just look at you lad, you’ve grown well. You’ve got your mother’s red hair, those trademark Montrevere looks, ha ha ha, you’re of good stock indeed.”

 “I recognized the smell of that grunt you sent for me. I just couldn’t believe I was here again. I was surprised, as you can imagine,” Gello said as he began to look around the room. “Quite a horde you’ve collected in here, dear Uncle.”

“Well,” Gotka replied, “you know what being a pirate is all about, eh? It’s a combination of…” The good captain was cut short by a sound as loud as thunder that penetrated even the walls of his private quarters. “Good Gods, what was that,” he shouted at the roof as he stormed out of the room, giving his nephew not a second thought. Gello turned around and watched his uncle leave.

“What was that, I wonder,” Gello thought to himself as he left the room as well, clutching his rapier. Upon exiting the Captain’s headquarters, he came upon a clamorous battle aboard the ship. A ship, undoubtedly from some royal armada, had broadsided the Swift Dagger. Her men jumped from their ship to Gotka’s in a matter of seconds and had drawn their swords. Gello, longing for the taste of battle, ran to the aid of his uncle’s men. With the red light of Mooshnai’s largest sun beating down upon his back, he held his sword high as he charged a sailor attacking on of the pirates. With a swift stroke, Gello cut him down, and plunged his sword deep into his belly. Without hesitation he ran to another of the sailors and attempted to mow him down as well. He missed and the sailor grabbed his right hand, in which his rapier was held, and stabbed him in the side with a dagger. As Gello fell down bleeding, Gotka appeared behind the sailor and cut his throat with his scimitar.

With a smile upon his face, Gotka grabbed Gello’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “Not now my lad. Not while there’s still fight left in your breath,” he whispered to him as he left to fight another of the assailants. Gello, clutching his bleeding side, grasped his rapier firmly and charged at another sailor, bravely. After sticking his sword through his neck, he gave a swift roundhouse kick to another who approached from behind. He chuckled haughtily as a blazing ball of fire whizzed past his head. Turning around, he noticed a dozen white robed men aboard the opposing ship, chanting incantations with hands outstretched, hurling fireballs at the ship. “Alert, men. Fireballs incoming! I say, fireballs incoming!” Gello shouted as hard as he could with a flesh wound. Gotka, while thrusting his knee into a sailor’s ribs, hurled him down and began barking orders to his men.

“Ready the opposing fire, men! Water canons, FIRE!” the captain yelled as he made a downward thrust motion with his sword, kicking the sailor whom he just laid out.

“Uncle,” Gello shouted as he limped towards a corner, “you’ve a light striker on board, correct?”

“Yes, of course, my lad!” Gotka replied.

“Very Good,” Gello yelled, “Then have him combine a few of his bolts with the water canoneers’ blasts! The resulting effects should please you to no end.” Gotka nodded and gave the order to his helmsman, who was shouting the fire command to the water canoneers, who were canceling out the fire blasts with their powerful water magic. The helmsman blindly obeyed the captain and began to shoot electric blasts on a path intersecting the water blasts. Gello was dressing his wound with a strip from his most precious cape, hoping to stop the bleeding before it got worse. He soon felt an amazing heat emanating from the sea, followed by a loud blast noise. The royal ship had exploded into a million pieces, tossing her crispy sailors in all different directions. Gello could only giggle with delight. His plan had worked. The few remaining assailants aboard the ship were murdered methodically and tossed into the ocean.

In the aftermath, Gotka approached Gello, who was now breathing heavily, trying to remain conscious. “Here,” he said as he pushed a goblet to his nephew’s lips. “Drink this, boy.” Gello sipped from the cup and swallowed slowly.

“I did it, Uncle,” Gello whispered, trying to conserve energy.

“You sure did, lad. I’ve never seen such a display of brilliance. You truly are a Montrevere. Listen… You’re badly wounded. It’s quite deep, but the ship’s surgeon will have you on your land lubbin’ feet in no time at all. ‘Til then, you’ll stay in my quarters, and I shall find an extra bunk in the cabins below deck. You done real good my nephew. Real good indeed,” Gotka said to his fading kin.