Captain Gordala the gluttonous! Captain Gordala the fearless! Captain of the high seas! King of the World!
He
could hear the people chant over cannon blasts and smelled treasures over gun
powder. Twenty days at sea and his thirst remained tightly fixed to his throat
like his saber on his hip. And his ship, Nylos, continued west on its
conquest and perilous plunder run.
The
Hunch mage ships around him exploded in his wrath. Their petty pointless magic
couldn’t penetrate the Gala amethyst shield buried deep in the belly of his sweet
girl. Just come at me, just try it, he thought.
He
sucked into his glass pipe and let the Hoola grass smoke swim in his mouth. He wiggled
and wormed his tongue. The grass’s sweet tar glazed his mind in euphoria, far away
from the smell of magic and evil blood boiling on the horizon. He hated the
Hunch more than anything. They hid the treasures of his people for themselves
all over the Yalan seas. With this stinging thought, his sense of euphoria
vanished like a passing of gas in hurricane wind and his blood boiled.
“Sir!”
A deckman skid to where Gordala stood at the bow of the ship. He saluted and put
his hands to his sides. “Another Hunch force comes in from the west. Sixty
ships this time. I don’t know how much longer the shield will hold up!”
Gordala
knew this twenty minutes ago. No, two hours ago. Old information from a nit twit
dirty barrel licker.
He
waved his hand toward his guards Trala and Bogtuck.
They
took the deckman by the arms and in one swift swing, sent him overboard,
plummeting into the dark waters.
KERPLUNK.
Gordala
spit a glob of bark hash chew down toward the thrashing and splashing. He wiped
away bitter spit from his lips.
“A
little spice on top!”
He
roared with laughter and the two guards followed suit. He eyed them carefully
and their high-pitched voices softened.
Nobody
laughed louder than the Captain.
The
war continued and raged harder than the waves that crashed and slobbered
against the hull of fearless Nylos. No mage nor deckman would violate Gordala’s
girl. He would not stop until all the mages and all the scum had been wiped
from this world.
The
waters would stain with his wrath and the oceans fill with death. His girl would
be so bloated she wouldn’t be able to float with all the treasures; yullijewels,
berdold, silvertesh, metalyte, and diacrytes. If it sparkled or shined, it
belonged to him. If it so much glimmered it would be carried upon the backs of
his crew until their bones cracked.
He
couldn’t lift his gaze from the Hunch mages that screamed for mercy.
If
IT showed him attitude, IT went to the bottom of the ocean!
If
IT shot flame from its fingers, IT would die!
If
he saw voodoo woodoo hand gestures and long swishing body motions, he would
send a cannon ball through ITS chest!
Just
try Captain Gordala! Just try him!
If
anyone would like to test his authority, let them come!
The
deckmen worked hard at their stations. Elite guards worked hard at watching
them work hard, and the Captain made sure that the Hunch mage ships sunk one by
one with factory efficiency.
The
Felicians of his home state had tried to tell him that his ways had been
excessive and that one day he would get himself into trouble. Mages beyond his
imagination existed that would take him and turn him inside out from toe to
cheek, they said.
They
said his campaigns had been focused too much on loot and not enough on proper
diplomatic negotiation and peaceful expansion of the Felicia Empire. They said
this, they said that. They could kiss the sucker cup of a fat Gamsquid!
Oh,
you want peace my dear politicians with pockets so full of Bana coin you could
sink the greatest warship Deadbedder?
You
want me to feel bad about my excessiveness and bow down and kiss the cursed
mages toes before them and kneel upon their toxic cursed ships?
You
are all mad.
You
are all sick.
You
are the most disgusting bunch of corrupted cretins.
Gordala
felt sick to his stomach and hit his pipe again to settle the rage that surpassed
boiling point.
The
shields came down and the spells, fire, and Hunch rage sent the deck of Nylos
into panic. Gordala dropped to the floorboards. The rudder swooshed above his
head and crashed into the main mast. Fire licked all around hungry for more wood.
The
deckman splashed water all around but they had been vaporized before Gordala could
blink. Green flames shot from the sides of the ship and crashed into the
supervisors’ chests, burning hot holes so wide you could put your hand through
without touching their cauterized organs.
The
ship suddenly exploded and for a few seconds, Gordala felt light. He swam
through the air. A mage, a boy, swooped around and captured him mid-air.
Gordala
had been too beat up and fatigued to fight back.
A
small cold hand rubbed across his forehead.
He
couldn’t fight the weight of his eyelids and he fell into slumber.
He
woke.
Two
days later
Trapped
in a lost bottle at sea, hungry as a wolf, and thirsty as desert earth, Captain
Gordala reflected upon his campaign for what seemed an eternity.
After
the two hundredth attempt at relieving the bottle of its cork, he finally came
to realize that being Captain of this bottle wasn’t all that and a slice of
Pullberry pie.
He
would work with the Hunch.
The
Felicians, the Hunch, he would unite them.
He
would, someday, if he ever got this stubborn cork off.
Benjamin DeHaan is a speculative fiction writer, road runner, and circular economy promoter. He was born and raised in southern Wisconsin and now lives and works in Japan. His fiction can be found in the Tales from the Weird Weird West anthology, Novel Noctule Magazine, and forthcoming from various other venues. You can find more info at his website benjamindehaan.net
Great story! Thanks for sharing it with us!
ReplyDeleteThank you for giving me the chance to share my story on this great platform. I hope to submit more fun stories again soon! :)
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