An Escape

By Daquira

Part One

Misha had been stuck on this barren rock for three days. Christened Cypra by whatever scum had discovered it, it held a small port city, a supply of fresh water, and one stunted cedar tree, too gnarled and twisted to be of any use to the vermin who resided there.

The city was called Trasia, and was home to the most ruthless scum on the western seas. They made Cypra their base, for its location was known to few outside the circle of piracy. And to those who stumbled across it by mistake…

And Misha was stranded on Cypra, alone and unprotected. She didn’t dare venture openly into town, and so she snuck into town at night to steal food. There was so much theft among the vermin themselves that they never even noticed.

Misha hunkered down under an outcropping of rock. The wind was picking up, and it looked like it might rain soon. The ferret munched on a loaf of bread, idly running escape possibilities over in her head.

“Can’t stowaway…not enough lumber to build a raft…I don’t have enough money to bribe anyone.” She tossed a rock at the nearest wall. “And I’m going to end up spending the rest of my life on this pitiful excuse for an island!” She stared moodily out at the choppy sea.

Misha was a ferret, with plain colored fur and a bad temper. Her eyes were bright and alive, and she wore a gold earring. Naturally, she was a pirate of sorts. Her regular attire included a pair of loose black pants, a white silk shirt, and an open length silver colored vest. Her wardrobe was completed by a broad black sash with a small knife thrust in it.

The rest of her meager possessions were in a ragged, grey, tattered-looking knapsack: a rope, tinder and flint, and a few odds and ends; It wasn’t much for years of traveling.

The crevice of rock that Misha had taken shelter in was fairly large, more like a shallow cave. It was out of the wind and far above the tideline. As she watched, a few sprinkling drops of rain began to fall. She pulled a ragged grey cloak out of her bag and threw it around her shoulders. Sitting back, she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, trying to get comfortable on the hard rock surface.

A crack of thunder caused her to open one eyelid sleepily, ready to close it again, but what she saw sent her sitting up straight. A ship was out there, right off the coast, close enough for Misha to make out the curious design on its black flag: a constellation in the shape of a star. The lightning flashed, reflected eerily in the ferret’s wide open eyes.

Misha smiled. Life was looking up. And she now had a plan—a risky one, but one she would have to take. It was her only way out. She would act soon, but not yet. She leaned back. There was still time for some sleep. Heaven knows she was going to need it.

*****

Captain Blaine Steeldust of the ship Spirit of the Seas was relieved. He and his crew had made it safely into port, before the worst of the storm hit. The crew was now asleep, riding out the storm, and the dark colored fox who captained the boat was in his cabin, contemplating their situation.

He threw his beaker viciously across the room, splattering wine on the stained walls. Blaine watched it with sullen eyes as it rolled to a stop on the floor. He sighed moodily. Cypra was the last place on earth he would have chosen to stop, for it was full of the type of wave scum that would stab their friend in the back for a crust of moldy bread, and none of them held Blaine in any position of favor.

For while other brigands went on the offensive when the free beasts formed a fleet of ships to scour the seas looking for pirates, Blaine did what might be called the opposite. He resorted to a form of subterfuge. Pretending to be a simple merchant who only wanted to sell his goods in peace, he was left alone by these vigilantes of the waves. And under cover, he still went about his acts of piracy, leaving none alive to identify him. This usually was done in the general vicinity of another pirate ship, leaving them with the blame while Blaine got away scot free.

So it could be disastrous to be associated with the vermin around Tarsia. But in a way, that was the least of his problems. He successfully defended his reputation of an honest merchant by his none-too-orthodox means; yet he also gained no friends among the pirates. They didn’t fully catch on to his scheme, for if they had he wouldn’t be here today. But he was greatly distrusted in the more openly-pirate circles. Not one of the murderers on Cypra would hesitate to stab him in the back, and if he and his crew were caught here alone, the thieves on land would surely band together and try to kill him and capture his ship. While the storm continued, he was safe from recognition, but the moment he got a glimpse of the sun, he and the Spirit of the Seas would be hightailing it to a safer port.

Blaine stood and paced. The whole situation gave him a bad feeling. Listening to the storm raging outside, he shook his head. The fox lay down on the hard bunk and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come quickly. Minutes later, his quiet snores filled the cabin.

To be continued...

(Author contact: mountaincrazy_7@hotmail.com)