Rebel's Initiation: Part Two

      "Wow," said Rebel. "I wasn't expecting to see someone else my age in here. How did you ever get to work in here?"

      "Well, it's a job I just kind of fell into," the Eyrie replied in a polished voice that carried none of the harsh pirate's accent so prevalent in the Cap'n. "My name's Deadeye. What brings you two into such an unsavory part of the island? You're in gambler's territory, you know."

      "We came from the Training Academy," Rebel responded, hoping he matched Deadeye's mature tone of voice. "We're on a break and decided to take in some of the sights of the island. This is my friend Michy, and my name is Rebel."

      "Hello Michy and Rebel," said Deadeye. "Protoges of the great Cap'n Threelegs I presume. A kind soul once he forgets he's a pirate." He ended with a smile.

      Michy managed to stammer out her first words in the cabin, low and flat-toned. "We can't stay long. We have to get back."

      Rebel picked up the conversation. "Yes, we thought we'd just drop in to watch a game or two of Bilge Dice, but it looks like we came at a bad time."

      "Things are pretty quiet by day," said Deadeye, "seeing as this is a home of the night life on Krawk Island. But perhaps I can treat you to a demonstration, seeing as you two are such eager young tourists." Another smile.

      "Right on," said Rebel enthusiastically, now sounding more like his natural self.

      Deadeye took out six dice. "You roll all six to start," he explained. "To win you need to save a one and a four. The highest total from the remaining four wins the game. You must keep at least one die from every roll, and if you don't have both the one and the four at the end, you're out, then all you can do is watch one of your opponents take home your share of the ante."

      "Cool," said Rebel. "How much do you folks play for?"

      "For more than what folks as young as yourself can afford," replied Deadeye, concluding with the smile that now seemed obligatory.

      Rebel returned this smile with his own. "Well," he said, stretching out the word for dramatic value, "would this be enough?" He drew the gold and silver dubloon from his pocket and laid it on the table.

      Of the three who comprised this scene, it's hard to know which set of eyes grew wider at that moment. Rebel had no idea what compelled him to break the promise made to Michy and the Cap'n and reveal the valuable possession he was holding. Had he been honest with himself, he would have recognized that he was jealous of Deadeye's position of superiority over him. After all, what did this young pirate have that Rebel didn't have? They seemed so much alike. How is it that one could be embedded so firmly in the thick of the action while the other sweated and toiled in training schools?

      Rebel's sudden state had all but erased Michy's presence from his eyes and his mind. Likewise, the predicament swiftly unravelling among this ill-matched trio was pixellating into invisibility before Michy's own eyes, as she found herself giving in to the subconscious image of a beach. On this beach was an ashen-grey Eyrie slicing the warm but potent breeze with a wooden toy sword. He balanced the weight of his small body on his hind legs while a slight flutter of the wings held him upright and the one of the front paws made calculated thrusts with the sword. It was an image with great potential to look clumsy in a mind's eye, yet the marked enthusiasm of the young grey Eyrie forged a natural effect of gracefulness in his swift movements.

      The silent surprise that Deadeye brought to the scene passed the quickest. While the unseasoned pair across the table from him grappled with immediate sensations of unease, Deadeye sensed a very profitable opportunity at hand. But with the sun shining outside and the honorable folks not yet in bed, it would have to come by way of fair play.

      "Well I must confess, Mister Rebel, that your show of wealth surprised me," he said. "But my profession is not to question the origins of my players' funds. That dubloon of yours will make a more than reasonable ante." With that, Deadeye slapped on the table a gold-trimmed silver dubloon of his own with none of the drama that accompanied Rebel's revelation.

      Rebel was shaken and now intimidated by Deadeye's manner but unwilling to back down at this stage. "Let's play," he said.

      As Rebel bore down for the highest-stakes game of his life, Michy followed the young grey Eyrie who had ceased swordfighting and was now enthralled by the sight of a rather rickety-looking boat that seemed to grow before his eyes. It was coming to shore. Hiding behind a tree on the grassland a short distance from the beach, the young grey Eyrie watched attentively as the ship settled on the sand and a group of shaggy-looking figures emerged. Soon they were off the boat and were trudging up the sand in the opposite direction of the young grey Eyrie, who was suddenly struck by an idea.

      Rebel and Deadeye rolled six dice each to start, with Deadeye rolling the necessary one and four in the process. Rebel rolled a one along with two sixes, two fives and a two, giving him five dice to decide on for his next roll while Deadeye was left with four.

      On the beach of Michy's imagination, the young grey Eyrie had broken from his hiding place and was running towards the boat. As he got closer, he realized with horror that a body still remained on board. Had Michy been able to hear the young grey Eyrie's thoughts, she would have heard him scolding himself for believing that the boat would have been left totally unattended on shore with nobody left to watch over it. His running slowed to a quiet walk as he decided to try and make conversation with whoever was on the boat rather than make for the adventurous high seas unnoticed, which was his brash original plan. After all, it would still be fun to at least talk to someone who lives on the water. When he was within reach of the boat however, he saw that its minder, a tall dark Meerca, was facing the water and seemed to be occupied with some kind of counting job. The brashness returned to the young grey Eyrie who in no time had crawled into the boat as daintily as he could and took cover beneath a crumpled up sail.

      By rolling the qualifying dice of one and four on the first roll, Deadeye had to score the highest possible total with his remaining rolls. He finished his second roll with three sixes and a four for a total of twenty-two. "You're in the lead, Mister Rebel," he said, "but one problem remains for you. You need to roll a four in order to win." Rebel could no longer pretend to be unscathed by the intensity of what was happening to him, for Deadeye could see that his opponent was sweating. "Should I win this contest," he thought to himself, "it's a distinct possibility that I will feel sorry for sending him back to the Cap'n empty-handed. Still it's a contest I will have won fairly, and I will collect accordingly."

      Though neither of these two opponents noticed, Michy was sweating as well for a different reason. Powerless under the vision that claimed her senses, she was a witness to the fate of the young grey Eyrie who seemed poised to secretly undertake a voyage on the water. He lay as motionless as his heartbeat would allow underneath the dark sail when he heard a mix of loud accentuated voices making their way to the boat. It became obvious that they were on board when the voice of one became clear. "Me boys," it said, "I reckon we should get back on the water. There's nothing to be had here, and we got ourselves enough loot as it is." In his excitement, the young grey Eyrie failed to hear the clinking of metal. The Meerca guard had been counting coins. This was a gang of pirates. Before the young grey Eyrie could comprehend the magnitude of his situation, the voice he'd heard before then said, "All right scurvy dogs, the sun's goin' down the wind's comin' up. Prepare the sail!"

      Rebel elected to sacrifice one of his two fives as well as the two in hopes of rolling the four he needed to keep his cherished dubloon while possibly snatching another from his foe in the process. He rolled a six and a five, and was left with only one chance to come out victorious.

      Deadeye also had one die to roll on his final turn though the odds were now on his side to win. Both he and Rebel had rolled three sixes each, and when his turn was over, he had a five to add to it for a final total of twenty-three. It was the same amount of points that Rebel had with one final chance to roll a four, and a single die with which to do it.

      Michy's heartbeat approximated a jackhammer as the young grey Eyrie's fate was now to be judged. The eyes of all the pirates were simultaneously drawn from their respective activities and fixed on the spot where their sail had been resting. "What in blazes is this?" asked the voice from before, which the young grey Eyrie now learned had belonged to another Eyrie, white in color and limping noticeably beneath his trousers. The younger one struggled to produce words.

      "I...I didn't know you were pirates," he finally said. "I just wanted to travel...and go on an adventure." In a moment of silence that seemed heavy as a ton, the elder Eyrie seized the longing adventurer up and down. Upon catching sight of the small wooden sword lying close by, his mind was made up.

"Well yer brazen enough, young fellow," he declared, "and a less sufficient answer would have gotten ya into some trouble. But if adventure's what ya want, me gang and I are just the scurvy dogs to give it to ya! Monty, get our new crew member acquainted with his new home."

      "Your roll, Mister Rebel," said Deadeye with an internal smile this time. "Roll a four and you go back to school none the poorer. One of the other five numbers puts your dubloon in the dealer's hands." Rebel's heaving chest gave away the fact that he was breathing heavily. A glimpse at Michy would have shown that she was sweating. She had just tuned in to Rebel's moment of truth but it was too late to say anything, though there was a great deal that she could have told Rebel at that time, were the circumstances more forgiving.

      Not wanting to prolong the moment any more than he had to, Rebel closed his eyes and rolled. Deadeye followed the fluttering die like a birdwatcher with his sights upon the rarest winged creature. One of Michy's paws had found its way onto one of Rebel's paws and clutched. Everybody seemed to stop breathing and gasped for their own respective reasons as the fate-deciding die turned up a four after two skips on the hard table.

      An audible sigh escaped Rebel's mouth without him even knowing it. Deadeye felt a brief moment of deflation until remembering that it was only afternoon and the whole night awaited him. "Well Mister Rebel," he began in tones not impolite, "you're a brave young fellow and I am an honest dealer. I'd advise you to find a safe place for your dubloon and not reveal to another Krawk Island soul what you've got. You two should be on your way. You wouldn't want to be late." With that, Michy offered her first words in what seemed like an eternity. "Let's go, Rebel."

      The young pair were quiet on their way back to the Academy, though the meeting of paws that took place in Deadeye's cabin remained intact. By the time the front porch of the Academy was in sight, the mood of earlier had returned and bought smiles with it. The Cap'n emerged from the front door. "I say, me younguns! Yer not late but yer close! What trouble did ye two manage to find on yer lunch break?" The Cap'n's smile made it clear that he was teasing, but Rebel responded with the most earnest answer he could have given.

      "The trouble of growing up, sir," he said.

The End