The Riders of Emari

Pirates. Of all the dangers to come across, Drake Aarenson was being seized by a pirate. He risked his life both ways; he could be foolhardy and try to make a run for it to the village with the girl (or have his throat slit if he were stopped), or he could return empty handed and be tried for treason. He felt a pair of eyes on his back as he let out a sigh, looking down at the girl one last time before replacing her in the sand.

The blade's pressure cut through his skin ever so slightly, and he could smell the salty redolence of his blood dripping down onto his shirt. The sword was turned faster than the blink of an eye, the cool metal of the blunt side cooling the oozing crimson as he was pulled backward harshly into someone's chest, their arm holding him close.

"Now you will do exactly as I say lad. I was afraid I was going to have to kill you but you seem smar'er than that. You will go back to your village and tell Old Thatcher that Elisabeth has the girl; if I see one bloody ship following me, I will be back for vengeance. You will then tell him that Egalan is very disappointed. Do not ask questions, am I understood?" his captor whispered quickly, the lull of an accent to her voice.

All Drake could do was nod, and the cutlass was withdrawn when his response was noted. He wasn't yet free. The captor's arm remained around his shoulder, though the weapon appeared to be sheathed for the moment.

"What you will not tell Thatcher is who gave you this information, or how you recieved this."

A pale finger wiped across the fresh wound on his neck, a droplet of blood showing the lack of it's depth.

"Go quickly."

He was let go, not daring to stumble as he stepped away from the person's hold. The girl still lie in the sand, her eyes following him for the last time as he climbed back up to the path. The person whom had just held him captive had seemed to have forgotten her for the moment, or at least she had thought so.

"And you little one, have had me crew on a wild goose chase."

The girl looked up for the first time at the visitor, eyes widening in both fear and curiousity.

It was a woman dressed in haggard clothing, loose fitting pants made of linen and a bright red vest adorning her. She wore a belt around her middle in which the sword was stowed in sheath, next to a small dagger and a pistol. All three of which were never to be carried by a woman. Her complection was impeccably pallid despite the rough look of her, and her dark hair was held behind her face, probably braided. She wore an oddly shaped hat with a symbol that was recognizable as a skull and crossbones. Ms. Alstor had said something about that symbol, that it was never a good thing to see it. But the woman looked harmless, aside from the visible weaponry of course.

"Dazri Vargas, pleased to meet you."

A little of the fear passed, but the girl remained silent. Ms. Alstor at one time had seemed harmless as well, until the whip came out. She wouldn't take her chances with a stranger.

"Tsarian did say you might be a quiet one, no matter, plenty 'o time to get ya talkin'."

Dazri crouched down in front of her, cocking her head to the side.

"Spittin' image of Eldridge, I swear it," she muttered to herself. "Come along then, many miles to cover and the seas won't stay calm for long."

She pulled the girl to her feet with suprising strength, looking this way and that as if checking to make sure she weren't followed. She held the girl to her side, opposite of her sheathed weapons, making some kind of signal over her head with one arm when the coast was clear.

No dream could have ever been so detailed, so creative. But the sequence of events that followed were shocking enough to even draw the girl's thoughts from her wildly protesting stomach. It was with wide eyes that she witnessed the largest ship she'd ever seen in her life glide right for them.

"All hands on deck ye freebooters, Madam Dazri's helmsman best get moving!"

It wasn't long before they were on the vessel, off toward the start of so many adventures to come.