Mermaid Pirate Dispatch

“Sir Lorn,” the queen said gently. “Thank you for serving the crown these many years.”

Sir Lorn dared not look up. He remained on his knee, his head lowered and looking at the ground. But he desperately wanted to look up. He had loved the queen since he was just a lad, son to a nobleman, and she was a princess. They would run around the castle grounds with all the energy of an invading army, sometimes causing just as much trouble.

“I am sending you to one of the outlying fiefdoms where a dozen men have disappeared in the last fortnight. The young man who delivered news of this tragedy was raving about a witch. This could be dangerous, good knight, so please take as many men as you’d like and do be careful.”

“I shall return victorious, your highness,” he said.

“I pray it be so.” She smiled, though he did not get to see it. “Now go,” she said.

He rose and stole a glance at her beauty before turning and marching off. Her image lingered in his mind. She was surely a matchless beauty, and it saddened his heart to no end that he would never be with her. Perhaps if she was still a princess he might be able to marry her, but now that she was the queen? It was impossible.

Sir Lorn gathered a half dozen of the best men he knew and they rode off toward his assignment early in the morning. The journey only took two days. When they arrived they reported to the vassal in a small castle at the edge of their town. He thanked them and pledged to assist in any way he could, then gave them a parchment that would allow them to stay for free at the local inn.

Once they had stabled their horses and settled in for the night, Sir Lorn briefed the men over dinner. “Tomorrow we will split up and see what we can learn. If you find the witch, do not engage. See if you can learn where we can find her, and we will attack together the next day.”

They did as he instructed the next day, but in the evening when they reconvened over dinner, none of the men had learned anything helpful.

“A local girl told me the witch disguises herself as a raven most of the time,” one man said.

“Really?” Asked another. “I was told she spent the daytime as a frog!”

“I spoke to a man whose brother disappeared,” said one, confidently. “He told me that before the disappearance his brother had been talking about a beautiful maiden he met.”

“Several men I spoke to mentioned an old hag that lives in the swamp,” said another man. “But when I went to the swamp I could find no signs of anyone living there.”

And so the next day Sir Lorn assigned two men to search the swamp, and the rest continued seeking information.

That night, they once again returned to the inn having made no progress.

“The swamp is empty, sir,” the two men reported, both looking tired and worn. “No signs of a witch.”

One of the men spoke up. “An old woman said the witch is never out by day, we should be looking at night.”

Sir Lorn thought a moment. It made sense. “Very well,” he said. “Get your sleep tonight, but tomorrow we will rise early, rest in the afternoon, and resume our search in the evening.”

But Sir Lorn was eager to see what he could learn that night. So as his men trudged with heavy eyelids to their rooms, Sir Lorn took to the streets and began wandering the town.

There was a lively tavern not far from the inn. Bright flickering lights burned within and cast dancing shadows on the muddy street outside. The muffled sounds of jolly music could be heard from a surprising distance, and he decided to peek inside.

All of his senses were assaulted as he opened the heavy wooden door and walked inside. The place was crowded with drunken men, a wild band of musicians, and plenty of women. Some of the women were carrying ale and plates of food, while others were sitting at the tables, or even in the laps of some of the men. He found a mostly empty table and took a seat. The only other person at the table was a young man with straw hair, sunken cheeks, and bony arms. He clasped his hands around a full tankard of ale, staring off into nothingness, completely failing to acknowledge his new table companion.

“Pardon me, young man.” Sir Lorn began.

The young man did not react. He didn’t even blink.

Sir Lorn waved his hand near the man’s face. This, at least, got a blink. He turned to look at Sir Lorn, and blinked again.

“Ah,” Sir Lorn said, shifting his weight. “I am looking for information about a witch who may be living in this area.”

The young man just stared at the knight for a moment, then went back to staring off into the distance.

“Odd,” Sir Lorn muttered to himself.

He was suddenly aware of someone standing by the table. He looked up and lost his breath as he made eye contact with the single most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her dark, smiling eyes drew him in forcefully and warmed his heart. When he managed to tear his gaze from hers he was rewarded with a symphony of beauty. Her black hair was long and soft, well groomed and shiny enough for the candle light to be reflected. Her face was soft and youthful, while the rest of her body was mature and well defined. His eyes roamed playfully along her curves, uninhibited by her tight dress that stooped low in the front revealing ample cleavage.

When she spoke he was so entranced that he missed what she said. His heart danced to the music of her voice though, so pure and melodic that he could listen to her recite the names of her entire family tree and never lose interest. She laughed when she saw his slack jaw and wandering eyes. This, of course, sent him over the edge. He had tripped and fallen in love, an aching bruise growing in his heart as he longed to know her better.

“I’m sorry,” he began, trying hard not to stutter. He was, after all, a knight. His bearing was unwavering, his manners were fit for the royal courts. “I didn’t say your name.” He shook his head. “Hear… er, a beautiful name, uh… of you… no, uh…” He blushed.

The maiden let out a hearty laugh and had to wipe a tear before she could speak again. “My name is Emma,” she said.

“Emma,” the stalwart night repeated. “That is a beautiful name.”

She laughed again. “Yes, I believe you already said as much, before you knew what it was!”

He lowered his face into his hands, ashamed. “Not very knightly of me, huh?” he chuckled.

“Oh, you’re a knight?” she asked. Excitedly, she sat down at the table right next to him. Her hip was up against his and he felt his heart doing somersaults in his chest. “I’ve never met a real knight in person,” she exclaimed.

“It’s nothing much to be excited about,” he said dismissively.

“Nonsense!” she cried. “My whole life I…” she glanced down nervously and smiled. “I always envisioned myself marrying a knight,” she said softly, placing her delicate hand gently on his arm.

His heart fluttered uncontrollably. His face grew hot. “Well,” he began. But he had no idea what he was going to say. He just smiled nervously while his mind raced for something, anything to say. But she rescued him.

“What brings you to our little village?” she asked. And so they began a long conversation that went through the night into the early morning hours. They talked about his mission, his family background, his life growing up in and around the castle. They talked about the recent failed attempt to invade one of the kingdom’s norther territories. They talked and laughed about witches and all of the silly rumors that went around about them. And in the end, with only the two of them left sitting at the tables, they said a tentative goodbye. Sir Lorn was sure he needed to see her again, but he knew he had to get back to the mission.

His men were just getting up when he arrived at the inn. He decided to try to stay awake with them until they would rest after midday. All day his eyelids were heavier than stones while his heart was lighter than a feather. His heart raced every time he thought of Emma and her heavenly beauty. The way her whole countenance shone when she smiled, the way her hand made his skin tingle and burn with desire. Even his queen had never made him feel this way. He drifted aimlessly through the morning and hardly paid any attention to his men as they chattered through breakfast, joked loudly while tending to their horses, and told war stories while sharpening their swords.

And when he laid down to rest at midday, his mind drifted off to be with Emma. By the time he awoke he was sure he had found his one true love.

With the danger of actually finding the witch at night being so much greater, he decided to send the men out in pairs. He went with a man named Thomas, the one who had suggested they search at night. They mostly wandered the streets speaking to men who were still out. Eventually they came across an extremely jittery fellow who was skittish and on high alert.

“My goodness man,” said Thomas. “What has you on edge tonight?”

“I seen her,” he whispered. “I seen the witch! I watched her lead a man away with her magic!”

“What did you see?” Sir Lorn asked excitedly.

“She cast some kind of spell on the doomed man. His eyes began to glow and he followed her without a word. I followed them from a distance. I can show you where she lives.”

“Take us there!” Sir Lorn commanded.

The man stuck to the shadows as he guided them through the streets until they came upon a plain, ordinary house. “Thank you,” Thomas said to the man. The man was vibrating with fear, and as soon as he heard the thanks he dashed off without another word.

“If she is out at night, we will gather here again in the morning and strike,” Sir Lorn told Thomas.

So they returned to the inn and waited for the rest of the men. They slept a few hours then, late in the morning, they put on their armor, strapped on their swords, and made their way to the witch’s house.

One of the men quickly and easily kicked in the door and they all rushed inside. It was dark, but as their eyes adjusted they realized the main room was empty. There was, off to the side, a bedroom door though, which Sir Lorn opened slowly. Inside, resting peacefully in her bed, he saw Emma. At first he thought he must be mistaken. But it was unmistakably her. Her image had haunted his visions ever since he first met her. His next thought was that they had made a mistake, but behind him he heard his men confirming that it was, indeed, a witch’s home. They were finding ingredients for potion brewing, books of witchcraft, and many other confirmations that they had the right place.

He grew lightheaded. He wanted to wake her up and tell her to run, but she was trapped in the bedroom. There was no window, no way to escape except through the room that was now filled with men. Thomas looked over his shoulder and Sir Lorn jumped.

“Hey, there she is, huh? Didn’t wake when we kicked in her door? Excellent. This should be easy.” He drew a dagger and started to push past Sir Lorn.

Sir Lorn stopped him, his mind in a panic. After a brief moment of clouded thinking, he smashed his armored elbow into Thomas’s face, knocking him out. The other men turned in surprise and drew their swords. Sir Lorn drew his as well. He was, by far, the better swordsman of the lot. The other men shook and quaked.

“What are you doing?” asked one.

“Leave,” Sir Lorn commanded. “Leave and nobody will get hurt.”

“But…” another stuttered. “The witch! We have to kill the witch!”

Sir Lorn said nothing. He just held his fighting stance and glared down the men. There were five of them. He could easily take them.

One of them, a battle hardened and proud man named James, stepped forward. “I will kill the witch,” he declared. He swung at Sir Lorn who easily parried and quickly inserted his sword between the breastplate and pauldron, severely wounding the man’s sword arm. He looked up at Sir Lorn with wide, horrified eyes. Three of the other men immediately ran out the door.

The other remaining man sheathed his sword and said, “Come James, let us go.”

James glared angrily at Sir Lorn as he walked away, blood pouring from his shoulder.

Sir Lorn removed his armor and crawled into bed with Emma. She had woken up and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close from behind. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You truly are my knight in shining armor. You’ve saved me.”

He smiled and put his hand on hers, holding it tightly. “I love you,” he said. “I know we only just met, but I really do love you.”

“I know,” Emma said lovingly.

Sir Lorn felt a sharp pain on his throat that traveled around like a burning necklace as Emma drew her dagger along. Hot blood gushed in waves from the wound as Sir Lorn’s racing heart beat furiously for his one true love. His eyes bulged and he grasped at her arm wildly as though trying to save himself from drowning.

“Thank you,” she said. “I really do appreciate it. And now your body will help restock some of my potion ingredients.”

[Reddit Post]