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Skeleton Showdown
“This is it, lad. We’ve reached the island,” Captain Roberts said. He and his first mate, Shipley, jumped out into the surf and dragged the row boat up the beach. “Thank goodness,” Shipely said. “I don’t know how much longer I could row.” Shipley retrieved a sack from the boat and gave it to Roberts
It was the dead of night and no sound could be heard other than waves washing up on the island. The night air was still and laden with salt. The island was illuminated in sickly pale light by a full moon.
“I didn’t take you here, Shipley, to hear you complain,” Roberts scolded. He opened the sack and took out a map and a compass.
“Then why did you bring me here?” Shipley asked.
“Because you’re my first mate and best fighter on the ship after me,” Roberts said with a wry smile. They each reached into the sack and pulled out two scabbards.
Shipley pulled his sword out of its scabbard “Wow,” he said in quiet amazement. The sword was silver and it gave a spectacular gleam in the moonlight. “Captain, why do you have swords like these for?”
“You’ll see in due time, Shipley.” Captain Robert unfurled the map and studied by the light of the moon. He held up his compass. “We’re heading north,” he said to Shipley and began to walk forwards into dense foliage. Shipley followed behind.
Roberts and Shipley trekked through the jungle. They each used their silver swords to cut a path through the vegetation. “This island is very strange, Captain,” Shipley said as he cut down some more plants. “The moon seems too bright here, and the smell of death and salt lingers in the air.”
“I smell it too,” Roberts said as he paused to study the map again by the pale light of the moon. “We go west now.”
Before they changed direction, they heard the sound of a twig snapping underfoot. Roberts and Shipley readied their swords. They both caught in the corner of their eyes a figure dashing off into the jungle. “We need to keep going,” Roberts said to a petrified Shipley.
Going west had taken them up to a rocky plateau. The plateau was barren and steadily sloped upwards. It was bathed in the pale moonlight. “Captain, did you know what that was in the jungle?” Shipley meekly asked.
“It was a spy,” Roberts answered. “A crewman of an old foe of mine”
“Who was this old enemy of yours, captain?”
“It was The Dread Captain, John Farthing.”
A shiver of fear ran through Shipley. “The Dread Captain? But didn’t he die years ago.”
“I did hear a tale of him years ago wrecking his ship on some island. I also heard of him sailing to an island to find some sort of fell treasure. A treasure that would make him unstoppable if he were to wield that treasure out of the high seas again.”
They walked in silence as their sword gleamed in the light. The moon stared at them like a milky, unblinking eye.
“Captain if you think Farthing is here, why come? He’s either been dead or stranded for years. Surely he can’t do any harm trapped here?”
“Because Shipley,” Roberts said. “Farthing is clever. Sooner or later he’ll find a way off the island and he’ll make his time as the Dread Captain look downright pleasant by comparison. I need to win a final showdown against him to stop his evil forever.”
“You speak as you know for certain he’s alive,” Shipley said in disbelief.
“I wouldn’t call it being alive,” Roberts replied grimly.
“This is it,” Roberts said. At the top of the sloping plateau was a cave. It’s black entrance yawning like the wide open maw of a predator. Shipley stared at the entrance. A pungent stench of death and salt wafted from the entrance. Shipley reeled from the entrance covering his nose. “Take a deep breath, lad. And follow me.” Roberts plunged into the dark entrance. Shipley took a deep breath and followed after him.
They descended further and further into the cave. The darkness was total. Cracks in the rock let in beams of moonlight that did little to cut back the inky blackness. Roberts and Shipley inched their way forward in the dark. The smell of death and salt and the darkness grew stronger as they went down. Shipley felt like he was going to be overwhelmed any second while Roberts was resolute and determined. “We’re here,” Roberts whispered to Shipley. Before them was an entrance wide enough for them to walk side by side. It was filled with the sickly pale light of the moon. Roberts and Shipley stepped into the entrance.
The entrance lead into a chamber. Gaps and holes in the ceiling let in the moonlight and there were lit torches on the walls. Bones were strewn about everywhere and a skeleton lay upon a stone altar in the chamber’s center. The skeleton had an amulet around its neck. Roberts took a step forward and the chamber rumbled. Dust and rocks fell from the ceiling and the air was filled with a terrible rattling sound. The gem on the amulet ignited into a fiery red. The eye sockets of the skeleton lit up with the same fire and stood on the altar. Shipley was paralyzed with fear, but Roberts was not cowed.
“Farthing!” Roberts shouted at the skeleton over the horrible cacophony. The skeleton stared at Roberts with flaming hatred in its eyes. Farthing clasped the amulet in his hand and the noise stopped. It drew a rusted sword from the chamber floor. “There is no Farthing,” the skeleton said in a horrible voice that was like scraping metal against rock. “There is only the Dread Captain!”
The amulet glowed again as the bones in the chamber began to knit themselves back together. Roberts and Shipley were surrounded by a crew of skeleton warriors, a reddish glow in their eyes and rusty swords in their hands. The sprang on the two men.
“Shipley!,” shouted Roberts as he parried away strikes from two skeletons. Shipley was wrested from his fear and his fighting instincts returned to him. Shipley danced in and out of striking distance of the skeletons. His silver sword glinted in the light as thrust and sliced at the skeletons. In one motion he would deflect the strike of skeleton and hack of its sword arm. Roberts saw more and more skeletons fall and he and Shipley made work of them. He saw a gap in the action with the Dread Captain storming towards him. Roberts looked and Shipley and saw him calmly weaving in and out the warriors, dodging their blows and destroying them. Roberts sprang to meet the Dread Captain.
Farthing swung his sword down hard, but Roberts deflected it with his sword. Roberts swiped his sword to decapitate Farthing, but the Dread Captain deftly parried the blow. “Why did you come here?” The Dread Captain asked as he rained blows down upon Roberts. “I came here to stop you once and for all,” snarled Roberts.
“Hah! I’ll just kill you and take your ship,” Farthing answered back.
“But you’ll leave your crew behind,” Roberts mocked.
“Their will be others,” Farthing said. “The amulet will give me more. I will bring entire nations under my thrall. “I shall sail the seas as the Dread Captain once more and make the oceans run red with blood!” The skeleton swung and Roberts jumped back. The Dread Captain sneered as he saw a red line run down from Roberts’ shoulder to his hip. Roberts felt woozy and collapsed to his knees.
The Dread Captain let out a terrible laugh as he gloated over Roberts. “Once more shall I reap a terrible havoc on the world.” He stepped towards Captain Roberts, with his rusty sword raised in a killing blow. Roberts felt the pain from the cut and could hear the sound of Shipley battling the skeleton warriors going on in his periphery.
Shipley hacked off the head of a skeleton and turned towards Roberts. “Captain!” Shipley shouted. That stirred Roberts. He saw Farthing’s rusted sword raised high above his head, his eyes and mouth filled with malice and victory. The rusted sword fell and the silver sword glinted.
Farthing’s triumph changed to shock and pain. He stood frozen, his sword an inch from lopping off Robert’s sword arm at the shoulder. Farthing looked down and saw the silver sword of Robert’s had run through the fiery gem of the amulet. He gave Roberts a final look of hatred as the light in his amulet and eyes were extinguished. The skeleton warriors that could still fight collapsed into piles of bones. Farthing fell back and collapsed into dust. The Dread Captain was gone, with only the dull split gem in the amulet remaining.
Roberts stared down at the broken amulet. It dawned on him with each heavy breath the Farthing would no longer be able to plague the seas. He turned towards Shipley, whose clothes and skin bore many tiny cuts. “Captain, you’re hurt,” he said his voice filled with concern.
“First Mate Shipley, what is this small cut compared to what Farthing has suffered,” Roberts said, joyous with victory. “Now let’s get back to the boat.”