The pirates had struck under the cover of night, obviously hoping to catch their prey off guard. Even though the ship’s navigator had spotted the approaching vessel before it was upon them, the sailors had still only barely had enough time to mount a defensive before they were boarded.
Arran had been hired by the merchants who owned the ship to protect them from this very sort of threat and had almost been excited to hear the warning of the incoming ship go out, having grown weary of idling around the ship doing near-nothing for the whole of the journey.
So, when the first of the pirates had leapt aboard, Arran had been the first to come to meet them, greatsword swinging. The first pirate fell almost immediately after, crashing to the deck in a heap just in time to be trampled by the countless booted feet rushing in all directions as combat was joined.
Arran dodged the cutlass that the next attacker jabbed his way and easily beat it aside with his heavier blade as he kicked the man in the gut, sending him falling back over the side of the ship. Arran knew that he wouldn’t be seeing that particular pirate again, though he didn’t have time to hear the splash of confirmation before two others bore down on him, coming at him from opposite sides to try to trap him between. Coming to this conclusion quickly, he was able to leap out of the vice—and so suddenly that the two pirates didn’t see it coming and wound up striking each other with the blades meant for him.
Neither blow was fatal, but Arran was swift to correct their mistakes with a single sweep of his own sword.
As he was just finishing with those two, however, a burst of pain shot through his back. Grunting, he whirled around, slashing as he went but striking nothing but air.
And he soon learned why when he noticed the sailor woman standing only a pace or so away, a bloodied rapier in her hand and a fallen pirate at her feet. When she saw him staring at her, she beamed.
“You’re welcome,” she said brightly.
Before Arran could respond, she’d vanished once more in the melee.
Shaking himself, Arran turned back to the fight at hand. Already, it was beginning to clear up, fallen pirates lying sprawled across the deck.
They’d win this fight—Arran was certain of that.
And, once the battle was done, perhaps he’d see if he could become better acquainted with that mysterious sailor.
Armed now with proper motivation, Arran returned to his task with increased vigor.
Thank you for reading! I wrote this story as part of the Storytelling Collective’s Flash Fiction February 2023 challenge, so a huge thanks to them for inspiring me to give it a shot.
