Another Hero's Journey...to Krawk Island

     W hen Reuben woke up, the first thing he noticed was that the ship was swaying gently instead of gliding forward. Immediately he peered through the porthole of his cell and saw several other ships closer to a wharf with buildings. Most structures near the sea had seen better days, but farther inland, the houses and shops were in much better condition. A large sign on the pier told him that this was Warf Wharf.

     This is it. Krawk Island.

     The white Blumaroo looked at the chamber outside his cell. It was empty, and all the lanterns were switched off. He strained to listen for any conversation, any footsteps, but it was quiet above deck.

     He waited a few more minutes, one hand on the belt buckle where his only ticket to freedom was. Neither Captain Wilhelm nor his goons showed up to check on him, or to even give him breakfast. In fact, his breakfast was already within reach, outside his cell door – another slab of stale bread and a cup of water. Reuben pulled the tray toward him and ate his meager meal while on the alert. Still, no one came to visit him.

     All right, it’s now or never, he thought, grinning recklessly as he finally slid a small, flat blade from his belt buckle. Reuben plunged this into the padlock on his door and after a few twists and a lot of jiggling, the lock fell into his free hand, and he pushed the door open. He gritted his teeth; it made a groaning, creaking noise, and at first, he pulled it shut, in case anyone heard him.

     No one did. The Blumaroo shook his head with mild amusement.

     What happened to now or never?

     He opened his door slowly and gently, trying not to scrape it against the floor too much. Then Reuben crept out, grabbing his weapons belt and all the knives that had been left on the table in the middle. Climbing the stairs to the deck as quietly and as quickly as possible was a bit of a tall order, but somehow, he made it.

     The good news was that the deck was nearly empty. The bad news was that it was empty except for a shadow Kiko and a brown Grundo with an eyepatch playing chess on an overturned crate.

     “How did you – “ The Grundo stood up so abruptly that he knocked the crate over, much to the Kiko’s chagrin.

     “Hey!” the Kiko exclaimed. He cuffed his comrade soundly on the antennae, which gave Reuben enough time to draw two daggers.

     “We ain’t got time fer games naw, Derrick!” the Grundo retorted, swinging a club toward Reuben, who blocked it with two daggers and winced at the impact. Nevertheless, the white Blumaroo managed a smile.

     “I dunno, I think we’ve got time.”

     Without warning, he swept his foot and kicked at the Grundo’s ankles. As his opponent fell, Reuben made a break for it, only to duck as the shadow Kiko brandished a notched cutlass. The two of them circled each other before Derrick lunged forward, prompting Reuben to parry the longer blade with one dagger and using the other to slash across Derrick’s sword hand. But as Derrick stumbled backward and dropped his weapon, the Grundo was up again with his club, forcing Reuben on the defensive with a barrage of strikes from all directions.

     Reuben gasped as his opponent – the one who had given him a dose of Slumberberry Potion – backed him up against the ship railing. But when the club swung toward his face, the white Blumaroo immediately feinted to his left, punched the Grundo with one fist clutching a dagger, and knocked him out with the pommel.

     “Eif!” Derrick cried. Raising his cutlass high, he dashed toward Reuben, who was ready. The two of them exchanged blows across the deck, Derrick’s cutlass constantly stopped by two daggers but tearing through Reuben’s sleeve. Twisting his blade, he shoved Reuben against a cannon, swiped to the right, and sent one of the daggers spinning away.

     At first, Reuben looked crestfallen. Then he grinned and kicked out at Derrick before pulling out another knife from his back, with which he slashed high to catch the Kiko’s cutlass. Then he began several quick passes with his blades, and although Derrick was able to evade them all, he didn’t count on Reuben managing to headbutt him and push him down the stairs that led below deck to Reuben’s cell. With a decisive kick, he shut the trapdoor and slid the bolt lock home.

     After retrieving his fallen dagger and taking off his cloak to wrap it around his waist, Reuben ran toward the bow of the ship and stared at the gently lapping sea below.

     Guess it’s time for a morning swim, he thought as he took a deep breath and jumped overboard.

     * * *

     Wilhelm swaggered into the Lighthouse Tavern as though he owned the place. As he took his seat at the counter, a purple Xweetok walked up to him sourly, pulling out a notepad and a pen from her apron pocket.

     “Ugh, it’s you, Wilhelm.”

     “That’s Captain Wilhelm to you, Ione,” the pirate Kougra said, propping his elbow onto the surface of the counter and grinning. “Anyway, I’m here for my usual – one large Sail Away Coffee, black.”

     “You’re not my captain anymore,” Ione grumbled, ignoring the disapproving look from the Darigan Chomby in the kitchen as she poured hot water into a kettle. “After all you’ve put us through for your dirty work, never again.”

     “So, how’s turning over a new leaf treating you and Muirgen, eh?” Wilhelm pressed. “It’s a shame you left before I found a new ticket to ultimate riches, but it’s not yet too late for you two to come back. I heard you picked up three street urchins, which means three mouths to feed. Don’t you want to know my new plan? C’mon, just like old times.”

     Ione looked away and focused instead on preparing the coffee. She grumbled under her breath, “Old times, when you let me and Muirgen do all the dirty work and get busted by the Governor’s fleet.” The Darigan Chomby leaned away from the stove to stare at her, but she shook her head and said, “Nothing.”

     Once the coffee was ready in a small tankard, she thrust it at him with a scowl. “Thank you. Don’t come again.”

     “Ione!” the Chomby exclaimed, but she didn’t say anything else and was more than eager to take a plate of eggs to a Skeith sitting at a table.

     * * *

     Waist-deep in chilly seawater, Reuben hid under a pier, trying to catch a glimpse of the folks walking past and boarding their boats. So far, there were no signs of Derrick or Eif, or anyone who remotely resembled Captain Wilhelm. He groaned softly as he tried to scrape a knot of seaweed off his boot against a rock.

     I need the next ship back to Meridell. But I have no idea where these ships are going!

     A ship drifted toward and next to the pier under which Reuben was lurking, and immediately a gaggle of hardened but excited sailors disembarked from it. Seizing this opportunity, he waded out, keeping to the back of the group and hurrying into the nearest open warehouse. A strong, damp, fishy odor greeted him, but the white Blumaroo tried to ignore it as he unraveled and wrung out his cloak over an empty bucket. Then he donned his cloak again, pulling up the hood so it partly covered his face, the smell of the sea in his nostrils.

     Reuben opened the door a crack and scanned his surroundings.

     I could ask around, but who would I even ask? He shivered and wrapped his cloak more tightly around him before realizing that it was as soaked as he was.

     Finally he stepped outside and asked the first Neopian he ran into – a pirate Kacheek.

     “Hey, uh, would you happen to know if there’s a ship bound for Meridell?”

     “Meridell?” the Kacheek repeated, raising a bushy eyebrow. “Nay, I jus’ know me ship’s headed fer Mystery Island.” He grinned toothily.

     “Okay, so who knows where all these ships are going?”

     “Eh? Ye’d ‘ave t’ask Shipmaster Magall!” the Kacheek exclaimed, spreading his arms. Then he deflated. “Ah, Meepits, I fergit ‘e got breakfast, that slippery green Peophin.” He pointed down the nearest road that was dotted with various shops and houses on both sides. “You’ll find ‘im that-a-way, maybe. Good luck gettin’ t’ Meridell!”

     Big help, Reuben grumbled mentally as he started down that direction. But when he turned to try and ask the Kacheek where Shipmaster Magall liked to take breakfast, the Kacheek had gone. Grumbling under his breath, the Blumaroo trudged down the road, one hand on his hood to make sure it was still covering his eyes. It was hard to search for a green Peophin and peer through the windows of each eatery and tavern he passed, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He knew no one on Krawk Island, except for the three pirates that had kidnapped him, and he was determined to put as much distance between him and them as possible.

     * * *

     “See you tomorrow,” said Ione, waving at the Darigan Chomby as she strapped her cutlass to her back and left the tavern. She stretched her arms and began walking for home.

     So, how’s turning over a new leaf treating you and Muirgen?

     Wilhelm’s words echoed in her ears, and the purple Xweetok shut them out. She was well past caring about what he said or planned, but what he had said in the Lighthouse Tavern had gotten under her skin. Gritting her teeth, she marched onward – only to find Wilhelm himself suddenly turning a corner. He had not noticed her, but she had certainly noticed him.

     Ione glanced toward the direction of her home. Then she looked down the road the pirate Kougra had taken, one hand on the hilt of her cutlass.

     Where is he going? What’s he up to? No, no, I’m going home. Muirgen and the kids are expecting me. Whatever he’s doing is none of my business.

     She tapped her foot and saw him following a white Blumaroo in a cloak, who was walking into the denser parts of town. The Blumaroo turned in time to see him and ran, with Wilhelm in hot pursuit.

     Still, I can’t let him use others the way he used me.

     Ione sighed, drew her cutlass, and followed them in turn.

     * * *

     Much to Reuben’s chagrin, it had not taken him long to run into Wilhelm again. Not wanting to be dragged back onto the ship and into that cramped cell, his first instinct was to run and hope that he could find a ship headed for Meridell sooner than Wilhelm could catch him.

     Instead, Wilhelm was determined to corner him into an alley.

     Something rustled and clattered behind Reuben, and he whipped around, pulling two daggers out of his sleeves. He saw Wilhelm drop down from a ledge above and draw a cutlass. Though the Kougra looked livid at first, he managed to compose himself and smile his terrible smile.

     “So, you got away. But Krawk Island is a maze you can’t crack.”

     “Who knows? Maybe there’s a first time for everything.”

     “I’m hurt,” Wilhelm drawled as the two of them circled each other in the dingy, dark warehouse. “I thought I gave you a great deal. Of course, I won’t keep you locked up in my ship.”

     “But you’d keep me locked up somewhere else,” Reuben spat.

     “Technicalities.”

     At that word, Wilhelm pounced. Reuben caught the cutlass with both daggers and slid away. He gasped when his back hit a large crate, and he ducked, the blade missing his ears by a hair. With a snarl, Wilhelm yanked his cutlass out from between the wooden boards and pursued the swordsmith with a series of chopping blows, forcing Reuben to sidestep and scramble aside, but the cutlass snagged the white Blumaroo’s cloak, and he stumbled, dropping his daggers.

     “I’ll give you one last chance.”

     Finding an opening, Reuben punched Wilhelm in the jaw before retrieving his daggers and sprinting for the entrance.

     “Heh, thanks for that chance.”

     “Don’t think you can get away!” the Kougra growled, rubbing his cheek with his free hand. But as he started forward, an open crate dropped down from above, trapping him inside it. As he snarled and tried to get out, Reuben saw a purple Xweetok in a rough blouse, vest and skirt, a scarf tied around her mane, standing atop a pyramid of barrels. At first, the two of them just stared at each other.

     “Uh…thanks?”

     That was enough to galvanize the Xweetok into action. She jumped down nimbly from her perch and grabbed his wrist, unfazed by the daggers he was still holding. Then the two of them ran for the back exit of the warehouse, in time to hear Wilhelm yell as he threw off the crate that had trapped him.

     “Come on. Wilhelm’s bad news.”

     “Yeah, I kinda figured that out.”

     “Ione? Is that you, Ione?” Wilhelm bellowed. He sprang toward them, but Ione was quicker, and hurriedly slid the exit door shut behind them.

     “So how’d you get mixed up with him?” asked Ione as she dragged him through various alleys and streets, plunging into a mix of suburbs and flora. Buildings started to thin out in this part of Krawk Island, gradually giving way to palm trees, bushes, and shrubs. Along the way, she knocked down dumpsters to block their path behind them, and even vaulted over a fence, which forced Reuben to use his tail to bounce after her.

     “I’ll explain later if you tell me where we’re going!”

     * * *

     The Xweetok never told Reuben where they were going, but he found out soon enough. The roads, shops and taverns thinned out into a beach, several palm trees, and a boardwalk that led out into the sea and supported a few huts. At the end of it was a moored houseboat, and they headed straight for it, climbing the steps to the boardwalk and passing by the ramshackle huts.

     “Ione, you’re back!” an ancient Ogrin cried, sticking his head out of the window to wave and bumping against the canopy over it. “Who’s your friend? Another urchin you and Muirgen picked up?”

     “Urchin?” Reuben repeated, slightly affronted.

     “Wilhelm was bothering him, so I told Wilhelm to take a hike.”

     The Ogrin cackled with delight. “That’s telling him, aye!”

     “So, your name is Ione?” Reuben asked as they gingerly stepped onto the deck of the boat. He bent down, hands on his knees, and caught his breath. “And…I did say I’ll explain, but…”

     A pirate Eyrie emerged from the trapdoor that led below deck. She goggled at the white Blumaroo, squinted, and then glared at Ione, hands on her hips.

     “Ione, where have you been? And who in Neopia is this?”

     Reuben opened his mouth to give what he hoped was a very snarky answer, but instead, Ione pushed him toward the cabin door and said, “I’ll explain! I mean, he’ll explain, Muirgen! How are the kids?”

     “This better be a good explanation,” said Muirgen, raising an eyebrow as she hauled herself out from the trapdoor, her wings lending her some support.

     To be continued…