The Broken Sword - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Bobo!" screamed the second mate of the elven caravel, Dolphinchaser, in warning.

Bobocateya thrust his rapier through the stomach of the human pirate and spun around gracefully to see what the warning was about. To late he realized he was out of position to deal with the new threat, a large man wielding a crudely fashioned short sword that resembled a meat cleaver.

Bobo spun away and threw up his arm with the small buckler on it to try and deflect the descending edge away from him. His maneuver saved his life, but cost him his sword hand as the heavy blade glanced off the buckler and sheared through the wrist of his other arm as he tried to bring his rapier to bear. Bob fell back, stunned by the numbing devastation to his arm. He held it up, watching the blood spurt from it, in shocked wonder, and was only spared death by an archer from the as-yet unengaged forecastle skewering his latest assailant.

The second mate, Halidor, was there then, forcing his way through the crowd of combatants with only a few scratches. He pulled Bobo closer to the forecastle, where they were in a small isle of calm amidst the battle, and cursed loudly and repeatedly while tearing the straps off of the buckler Bobo wore and tying them around his pulsing stump in an attempt to lessen the flow of blood.

"You're father's going to have my skin for letting you get injured like this, now stay out of the way lest he demands my life for letting you get run through by a pirate!" The mate growled, tightening down on the strap so instead of a steady spurt of blood it was reduced to a trickle.

"Stay low and pray a healer survives the battle, Prince."

Bobo stared absently after the retreating second mate. Already he was back in battle, though he kept an eye on the prince and stayed close in case any of the pirates attempted to attack him. Bobo's attention was soon drawn back to his blood stump, wondering how it was possible that such an injury could have occurred. To him, of all people! Such things were not suppose to happen to him.

All his life Bobocateya Risingmoon had lived in the shadow of his mother and father. Two great people of unsurpassed skill and power, let alone station. Only his unique legacy of being the only half-human, half-elven person on all of Viconia had kept him from being forgotten by his childhood friends and tutors. He had to be special, it was in his blood!

And so for all of his childhood and young adulthood Bobo had gone out of his way to prove that he was worthy of his heritage. He took risks where others would not, he would run harder, drink longer, force himself to greater feats of endurance, and generally try to outdo anyone around him. His life was one of constant contest. He did battle on whatever field he found himself on, including those in his mind. In spite of that he often lost, though by any means he gave a good accounting of himself and, in the case of a true contest, would often finish near the top.

But the hand on his sword arm was an insult as well as an injury. Not thinking, he tried to clench his missing fist, something he often did when he was frustrated. The numbness faded as his torn muscles tried to obey him, making tears come to his eyes and dropping him to his knees with the pain of it.

After several long moments of clutching the bloody stump he looked up and vaguely noticed the battle was nearly over. Only a few pirates survived, the elves were seasoned naval veterans and outnumbered the pirate frigate by almost half again their number. It was a foregone conclusion, but still the pirates had put up a fierce battle when it became apparent they could not escape.

The rear bombard on the pirate ship had only been able to fire once, narrowly missing the Dolphinchaser, before keen elven eyes sent arrows into the crew that worked it, slaying them and keeping others away. The elves' fore mounted bombard then fired with impunity, striking three times before the pirates came about and all but crashed into the side of the Dolphinchaser.

The pirates fought to the last man, unwilling to suffer the mercy elves showed pirates, which was to swing from a yardarm by a rope about the. In a matter of minutes the fight was over and the cries of the wounded went up. Halidor returned to the prince and helped him to his feet. The puddle of blood under him was sizeable, but one way or another he would survive, even if the second mate had to sear the wound shut.

On their way to the aft cabin where the healers kept a makeshift infirmary they heard a cry go up. Halidor pushed forward, to hear the news that their high priest had fallen to a stray shot from a pistol. He cursed and turned back to Bobo, who looked about confused and uncertain. Halidor frowned and pulled the boy back forward towards the officer's ready room.

"Prince, you need to stay with me now, fight off the shock," Halidor said once they were near the doorway and out of immediate earshot of the others.

Bobo looked at the man, only vaguely aware of him. He felt so tired and weak he just wanted a chance to rest and let the dream he was in unfold so he could wake up and be back to normal. His fantasy was shattered abruptly when Halidor's fist crashed into the side of his jaw, snapping him fully into reality.

"My apologies, my Prince, but it's for your own good," Halidor said, staring intently at him. "The priest is dead, My Lord, and I'm afraid you're not much better off unless we take care of that arm."

Bobo glanced down at his throbbing arm, understanding what was happening but still at a loss for why it had happened and how it could possibly happen to him. He took a deep shuddering breath and forced himself to stay calm. What would his father have done in his situation?

"We've no magic to restore it here, make it a clean cut, Halidor, and burn it shut," Bobo said, fighting back the tears of frustration, terror, and pain admirably.

Halidor nodded, smiling grimly for reassurance, and turned to the door. Bobo pulled back, stopping him. "No, let us do it on the deck so the others can see."

"Why, My Lord?" Halidor asked, not understanding.

"We are all the same, my friend," Bobo said, some of the weariness from blood loss and extreme stress beginning to creep back into his mind. "Let them see that I am treated no different then anyone else would be."

Halidor nodded. He had been told that his charge was stubborn and obstinate at times. It appeared that could be both a blessing and a curse. He just hoped the boy was not trying to show off, as he had been known to do from time to time.

"Make a hole!" Halidor called out, leading the wounded prince back onto the deck. The sailors fell away, noticing finally the grievous wound that Bobo had taken. Whispers rushed through the crowd, soon falling to silence.

The captain and the remaining healer, little more then an acolyte studying under the priest, came forward. Bobo knelt down and raised his hand alongside the main mast. The captain stepped forward and studied it while Halidor silently drew his cutlass.

"Prince, are you sure of this? If we make best speed we can be back in port in less then a week. With a steady tourniquet, a little luck, and the efforts of Acolyte Pariloosia, you should make it, where it can be healed properly," the captain said, doubting his own words but not wanting to run the risk of upsetting the heir to the throne. Kelnozz was respected, admired, and followed gladly. His son was somewhat of an upstart though, and needed much tempering before he would be half the leader his father was, let alone a quarter of the warrior.

"We have work to do, Captain, and that does not include returning to port three weeks shy. Par is a fine healer but this is no simple wound," Bobo said, surprising himself with the strength in his voice.

"That's your sword arm, Highness, you'll never wield your rapier again," the captain reminded him, offering him one final chance, though he was secretly impressed with the maturity Bobo was displaying.

Bobo's eyes fell on the pistol tucked into Captain Dilmornigest's belt and an idea came to him. "I'll have to learn to wield it with my left hand then, I suppose. Besides, there are other uses for this once it's taken care of."

The captain searched Bobo's eyes and nodded. He turned to Halidor and nodded as well, giving him permission to proceed. Par stepped forward then and summoned up what remained of her healing magic. She touched Bobo's arm and channeled it into him, surprising herself with the severity of the wound. Her blessing touch brought a cool relief to him and gave him a few moments free of pain while her magic cleaned out any potential infection and secured life in the remaining tissue.

When the healer backed away Halidor waited for Bobo to nod to him again. He drew his cutlass back and let it swing forward, guided with all his strength and aimed with years of experience tempered in countless battles. The blow fell as intended, shortening Bobo's forearm by another 2 inches but letting it end in a stub instead of a sharply angled spike.

Bobo gritted his teeth and felt the bone jarring blow land. He stared at his arm and pulled it to himself, cradling it with his uninjured hand. Halidor wrenched his cutlass away from the mainmast and reached down to help the prince to his feet. Bobo rose unsteadily, blood dripping through his fingers to the deck. A brazier with glowing coals was being fetched and in a moment it was sitting beside him. Bobo glanced over and saw that his rapier had been broken at some point during the battle after he had dropped it. He gestured towards it and someone brought him the hilt of it. He thrust the hilt into the brazier and let his arm hang at his side, dripping blood steadily to the deck.

The burning agony he felt was nothing compared to the cleansing fire he endured when he pulled the broken blade from the fire and pressed it firmly against the bloody wound, searing the veins and blood vessels shut. He gritted his teeth so tightly he saw spots and nearly blacked out from the ferocity of it. Tears streamed from his eyes but through it all he made no sound. Then he was done, his arm ending in a charred and blackened stump. Several of the elves had to back away, the smell of burnt flesh was overpowering.

"Now to bed with you, My Lord," Halidor said, reaching out to hold onto Bobo as he swayed uncertainly. Bobo nodded and let himself be led to the healer's room where he would lay in rest for several days recovering his strength. His last vision before he fell asleep was a memory of a strange amulet he had seen one of the pirates wearing. It was carved out of a black rock, perhaps onyx or obsidian, and resembled a squid.

Continued in Chapter 3