The Pirate, The Princess and The Assassin

The Bana-mhaighstir

Cahira stared down and the princess. Never had she seen Adalinda so ungraceful. She looked small and flabbergasted, like when she was a child. Cahira could still remember the repulsed look on the princesses face the first time she realised the pretty female who walked the castle halls was The Bana-mhaighstir: Death’s Mistress. The notorious assassin who spoke to Death himself. After that realisation, gone where the days where Princess Adalinda would braid Cahira’s hair, or they would take their ponies for races in the spring woods. The princess no longer saw Cahira, the female who had all but been her sister, and only saw The Assassin.

The look on the Princesses face now was so similar and yet so different.

“You?” Adalinda’s voice was filled with shock as she scrambled to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t honestly think I would stay in Land, did you?” Cahira taunted down at the young princess.

“I did not think you would be on the same boat as me either.”

“Believe it or not, Princess, this was my escape plan first.” Cahira stood from the chair. She had been playing a round of chess with one of Keisha’s crew. The rising sun caused the water to glisten which indicated the start of training. Cahira had learnt a long time ago that Keisha kept a strict schedule when it came to her ship. The captain enjoyed routine and a spotless deck. Well, as spotless as a ship could get.

“Wait,” The Princess said to Cahira’s back as she began to walk to the training area of the deck. She did not wish to hear what the spoiled child had to say so simply raised her hand in a motion that had the young royal staying put. Keisha was waiting next to the bolted down sword rack.

“You want a weapon?” The Captain said in amusement.

“Not today,” Cahira shrugged off her coat. The crew began to gather as The Assassin stretched her aching muscles, “I’m in the mood for a good brawl.”

Cahira pulled off her boots and placed them into the small basket by the makeshift fighting ring. She had on a loose linen shirt and cotton trousers. The outfit was not typical for crew members, but she found it easier to manoeuvre in the lightweight material. The icy wind cutting into her simply made her move more which was not a bad thing. None of the men stepped into the ring with her.

“If I didn’t know better,” Keisha smirked without moving from leaning against the wooden rack, “I would say you boys are scared.”

“Scared?” Caleb, Keisha’s fist mate, replied, “That we are. None of us are stupid enough to fight The Bana-mhaighstir.”

“Well,” Keisha pushed away from the rack and shrugged off her coat, a Summer Solstice gift from Cahira three years prior, “Looks like it’s you and me then, Hira.”

Cahira smiled. She enjoyed sparring with her friend. Cahira may have been one of the top assassins in the world, but Keisha was a street fighter – she fought dirty.

The two females spat on their palms and shook hands before wrapping cloth over their knuckles. Cahira was the first to take up her fighting stance in the ring – heels off the floor, feet shoulder width apart, knees bent, hands up. Keisha was more relaxed in her stance. By this time, the entire crew had gathered to watch the female's train.

“Better make me bleed,” Cahira said, “Otherwise what is the point?”

“If you get blood on my new shirt, I’m stealing one of yours,” Keisha retorted as Cahira stepped into her first punch.

~

As morbid as it sounded, Cahira enjoyed the taste of blood. She like the metallic tang and consistency. She especially enjoyed how it felt to bleed when she fought. Blood was the ultimate sign of a good fight – it meant that both parties were equally matched.

She had known Keisha for two hundred years which meant that they knew each other better than they knew themselves. Their sparring was usually a matter of stamina – which one could keep the most strength the longest – or who had learnt something new. In this case it was Keisha. She had pulled a trick out of her hat that led to Cahira’s blood streaming from her broken nose and cut cheek. Neither female was without bloodshed, though, as their bound knuckles stained the white fabric red. Cahira had ruined Keisha’s new shirt with a tear and bleeding wound to her arm.

Both females were now panting, bloodied, bruised and utterly exhausted. Cahira spat blood out of her mouth as she circled Keisha like a predator. Her friend was becoming sloppy – a dragging foot or shaky arm – small missteps that indicated her depleted energy.

“One last stand?” Cahira asked. She could feel her lips curve into the involuntary sadistic smile that struck fear into her opponents. Keisha simply smiled back, accepting the challenge head on as she stepped forward. But the movement was too slow as Cahira dropped to swipe Keisha’s legs out from under her. She heard the moment The Captain hit the floor by the whoosh of air leaving her lungs followed by a groan. There was a moment of silence where Cahira could only hear her own ragged breath pounding in her ears before the crew erupted – some in joy and others in dismay at whatever bets had been placed.

Cahira rose from her crouch and offered a hand to her friend with her lips turned up and a shake of the head. Keisha’s grip was weak as she allowed herself to be hauled up.

“Tomorrow someone else can spare with you,” Keisha laughed, “It’s going to take me days to recover from that.”

Cahira joined the laughter. Though she would never admit it, it would take her a few days to recover as well. Yet she would still be out in the ring at first light doing whatever she could to stay sharp.

Her hip hurt like hell as she and Keish took up spots on the edge of the ring to watch the next rounds. The boats steady rocking movement did not help her aching body as it swayed in rhythm of its own accord.

“You,” The commanding voice caught Cahira’s attention.

“I beg your f*****g pardon?” The Assassin said to Adalinda.

“I want you to train me,” The Princess was so unwavering it made Cahira smile in amusement.

“Why don’t you try again but this time ask nicely.”

“Cahira Shaw,” she could see The Princess struggle with the words, “Please will you train me.”

“Fine,” was her only reply, “Be here tomorrow evening after dinner.”

“Really?” The Princess asked in surprise, “Just like that? I thought it would take a lot more convincing.”

“Go away before I change my mind,” she dismissed. As she looked at Adalinda, Cahira was struck with the reality that this was nothing more than a desperately scared little girl trying her best to live up to her title.

~

Cahira was drunk. She knew she was drunk as her and Keisha stammered out of The Captain’s office onto the deck while laughing. They had been drinking rum. She didn’t like rum. But Keisha liked rum, so they drank it – all three bottles. Then they had played music from the music box Keisha had stolen from a nobleman two decades ago. Music filled the entire deck once the door opened.

“Finally,” an irritatingly high-pitched voice squeaked, “I have been waiting for hours.”

Keisha and Cahira snorted while trying and failing not to laugh at the fuming princess before them.

“What is so funny?” she demanded as her anger grew.

“You,” Cahira reached a wobbly finger out to press The Princess's nose, “Boop.”

The look of pure shock on her prim and proper face made The Assassin and The Pirate burst into uncontrollable laughter as they hung from each other.

“You said you would train me, but you are hours late and drunk, and the only reason we are doing this is because you,” Adalinda gestured to Keisha, “insisted on it.”

“You’re right,” Cahira straightened herself out while Keisha still hung to her body, “first lesson, tonight! Let's do this.”

“Okay,” The Princess sighed with relief, “What are we doing first? Hand to hand? Swords? Knifes? Spying?”

“Dancing.” Cahira extracted herself from Keisha who flopped onto a small bench by the wall.

“Dancing?” Adalinda pouted, “I know how to dance.”

Cahira held her hand out, “Ballroom perhaps but The Zile have their own dances.”

Adalinda placed her hand in Cahira’s with uncertainty. Cahira wasted no time in pulling The Princess close and allowing the music to guide them. She knew Adalinda could dance, she had even taught The Princess a few traditional ballroom dances, but she was struggling to keep rhythm with Cahira in the unfamiliar steps.

“Fighting is like dancing,” Cahira explained as they swept over the deck. The ocean was calm beneath them which allowed Cahira’s hips to rock with the same steady sway as the water. “You have to anticipate what your partner will do next. You have a general rhythm, but you never know the exact pattern. Just relax and follow the flow.”

Adalinda slowly started to loosen up and dance with Cahira instead of attempting to figure out the steps. Cahira had based the dance on The Calypso but allowed the music to move her as it saw fit. Without realising it, the crew had emerged from below deck at the music. The Princess had started to lead and spun Cahira.

~

Adalinda was enjoying herself more than she thought she would. She had danced with The Bana-mhaighstir when she was younger, before she knew who she was, but was sceptical to let the infamous assassin touch her again. Soon they had fallen into a nice rhythm as the unusual music played. She had even started to lead, but Adalinda had spun Cahira as the ship hit a wave which made her loose balance and let go of Cahira’s hand. The Assassin did not miss a beat as she came chest to chest with one of the crew, Jaiden – a very attractive cook – and he picked up where Adalinda had left off. The Princess, on the other hand, would have toppled over if it was not for the same stranger that she literally bumped into the day before.

“Still haven’t found your sea legs, I see,” he smiled at her as he placed his hand gently in hers and began to lead the dance.

“Not quite yet,” she flushed. Being this close to him it reminded her how beautiful he was with his slight stubble, sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes.

“Well, the dancing will definitely help,” he smiled down at her. The crooked, relaxed smile stole the breath from her lungs, “It may not seem like it but there is method in Hira’s madness.”

“Hira?” Adalinda snapped out of his spell when the male addressed The Bana-mhaighstir so informally, “You all seem so comfortable around her.”

“She is a member of our crew,” he looked confused, “I have known her for longer than I have been on this ship. Why wouldn’t we be comfortable with her?”

“Because she is The Bana-mhaighstir, Death's Mistress, notorious and dangerous assassin. She is a stone-cold killer,” she tried to explain, “How can you be comfortable around someone how could murder you at any moment.”

The male tipped his head back and laughed, “I always forget the world only sees her as The Bana-mhaighstir. To us she is Hira. The female with flowers in her hair.”

He gestured to the female dancing while she chortled.

“That is the version of her we know. She is playful and ridiculous most of the time. Some of the crew even call her Wildflower because she once made Keisha sail to Aarde so she could dance barefoot in the blooming wildflower fields. If you give her a chance, you might find that Death’s Mistress is not the same as Hira.”

“Caeleb,” The Captain called out which made the males head turn. She was also dancing and ushering him over to the circle.

He smiled at them and without looking back at Adalinda he said, “excuse me for a moment.”

She released his hand and watched from the railing as he was welcomed into the group as they danced together with smiles and banter. More specifically, she watched Cahira. She was smiling, her cheeks rosy and eyes full of light and joy and a little bit of alcohol. Like this, she seemed so ordinary – just another being in the world – and yet something about her ordinary personality seemed extraordinary.