The Final Days of Springborough

When Juba, Kyle, Bud, Beverly and Murray finally found their way back to Fortis, they were surprised at what they saw. Most of the time, the village was vibrant, and almost always of the homecoming of sailors, and they always deemed it an excuse to celebrate. The Village of Fortis was a very happy town, a very celebratory town, with a banner made of letters on string overhanging the entryway, and that banner could be switched and changed to deliver any message anybody wanted.

The six pirates thought that the banner would say: “Welcome Home Hamptons Chase Crew!” But, the banner that was always hung, wasn’t hung at all. And the streets that always had people milling to-and-fro, didn’t have any people at all. And the town that always seemed full of life, seemed to have nobody alive at all. This was the first thing the pirates noticed.

The second thing they noticed was the town was not holding the water from the storm well at all. The wells were bubbling over, and the streets were beginning to become buried in the rain. Pieces of the homes were starting to crumble off, falling off the roofs and sides and then being lost and buried in the mud. It appeared that if the storm kept up, that the Village of Fortis was just going to be washed away and forgotten. Perhaps the storm would create a river down the main thoroughfare, and the river would just carry the village down to the docks and off into the waters of the sea that the pirates were returning from.

Most of the time, returning home from a sea trip meant relishing in feeling dry, in feeling the ground not move under their feet, of kissing girlfriends, and hugging friends, and eating with family. This was not like that at all.

Beverly returned to his empty home, for his wife had died years earlier, only to find the place under ankle deep water. Most of the food had spoiled, and what wasn’t spoiled, was probably carted off by creatures. This was typical of what he came home to, but usually, at the festivities, people would share their food with him, and he was able to restock quickly. He guessed he would have to wait for the storm to pass for the market to open so he could get more food later.

Bud went into his empty hovel to no food, because he never kept food. He did have some bottles of water which tasted sour, but he assumed were all right. His hut was on a higher hill than Beverly’s so his ground was dryer, and he was able to kick off his shoes, and feel the dry dirt under his feet. This was the only joy Bud could experience, but it almost made him cry. As he stood there, staring at the rain coming down in Fortis, balling up his toes and releasing them to grab little grains of dirt, grab, and release them, he felt home, and he smiled.

Kyle entered his family’s hut and was instantly in tears grabbing onto his two sisters’ shoulders and hugging them. Once the storm came around, the family believed the worst about their son off to sea. Their father and mother had gone off to the docks to see what they could see and learn anything they could about their son’s potential fate. They had yet to return, and as Kyle and his sisters discussed them, Kyle had told them that he hadn’t seen anyone when they docked, or as he walked back to the village. They wouldn’t entertain the thought that something might have happened to their parents. Instead, they decided to focus on the joy they felt with Kyle returning safely, and sat and talked about his voyage, deciding that their parents were probably at a lodge somewhere, escaping the rain.

“What of the people of the village?” Kyle asked. “We didn’t see anybody around here either.”

“Everybody has kind of shut themselves in,” his sister, Morg, told him. Morg was a beautiful, blonde lady, who was sought after by a lot of men in the village. Actually, both she and her sister, Shy, were beauties as far as the Village of Fortis was concerned. Morg was tall and blonde and Shy was short and brunette. Kyle, with his handsome good looks, rounded out the family.

As they sat there, drinking hot steaming water from their cups, and as Kyle tried to get dry from spending, what he felt, was weeks in the rain, they talked of the storm. Morg and Shy did not venture into it. Once it began to rain this morning, they had stayed in, looking out occasionally when they heard voices. It was Kyle who talked mostly about the trip, about the young Captain, hoping the lad named Jage was okay.

Murray’s abode was still standing as the man was obsessed with steel, so much so, that where everyone had used long branches, and pieces of lumber to build their walls, Murray had essentially replaced everything in his with any piece of steel he found. Usually it was swords and rods made to hang banners. The village suspected that Murray had an arsenal hidden in the straw and mud that formed the walls of his home. It was probably another reason that Murray was so respected.

Murray didn’t immediately enter his place. For a time, he stood outside staring at it, looking up in the rain. Murray was an older man; his hair had turned white, his skin had become loose. He stared up at the thatched roof that had captured Murray’s attention for any number of reasons.

“There’s a whole lotta holes in my walls,” Murray had said, blinking away the rain. He mainly was talking to himself, or anybody that was listening. “Holes. Somebody has robbed me of my steel.”

He looked at the hut, at it still standing despite the support, feeling the rain on his skin. The village seemed empty around him, but he knew that people had invaded his hut and taken all of his weaponry. The Village now felt full of villains, and it was an unsettling feeling, much like the feeling of being on the rocks again, trying to find proper support for the next step, surrounded by the whispering words on the winds.

Juba came home to his wife, a woman he greatly adored, despite their tendency to ridicule each other in as loving a fashion as possible. They had the type of marriage where he would always comment about how popular he was with the ladies before she had tied him down, and she would always remind him how much happier he was to be tied down. He’d agree, and she’d forgive his comments, and they’d kiss as sweetly as someone sampling a strawberry.

Juba came home with fervor this time, and grasped his wife tightly around her shoulders. He would never admit it, but he didn’t think he was going to survive the storm out on sea, especially with such a young captain, and now he was overwhelmingly thankful to have made it. Many times he saw his fate, saying goodbye in his mind to Freda, his wife, putting a final wish on the wind to hopefully get to her one day. To have made it home was a small miracle, and he knew he had to grasp her and hold on like he might never have been able to again. They kissed, and they held each other, and they kissed, and they laughed.

She had been dry when she met him at the door, but his clothes and his skin from the rain had made her soaked, and they laughed. He usually came home salty, his skin covered with the sea. When the salt water evaporated from his skin, it left little pieces of salt behind for her to feel under her fingertips when she examined either his sun burns or where the ropes of the boat had cut into his skin. But, the storm washed away the salt, and this man just returned to her soaked and wounded, and she thanked in her mind whoever was responsible for his safety.

“How’s it been? How’s the village?” Juba asked finally.

“It’s not good,” Freda replied.

“How not good? Surely one day of rain can not do too much harm. Except flooding.”

“It’s not a normal storm,” Freda replied. “People have been hearing voices in it. They’ve been talking back. Apparently, some started gathering supplies. They’ve heard Springborough is ripe for the taking, and they mean to take it.”

“Springborough? What do you mean?”

“The villagers have armed themselves, Juba. Just before you came back, Chase came around to see if I’d be willing to fight.”

“Fight? Since when do we fight?”

“He had fire in his eyes, and a mud covered sword in his hand. I fear you have returned just in time to see the Village of Fortis go to war.”