Hannah's Untimely Dawn: Part One

      Hannah clung to her grandfather, fear prickling her fur into many spikes as she stared at the abyss at her feet. Frothy and alive, it churned and moaned, its black surface revealing no hint of the wonder beneath it. Looking at the sky was little better—it too was pregnant with energy and rain, pulsating with none save the bleakest colors.

      “Grandpa, can’t we go home?”

      “Hush, child. No one comes to the seaside when clouds reign. This is the perfect chance for ye to learn.”

      Hannah looked at the sea, then back at her grandfather. “But it’s scary!”

      “I’ll help you.” He patted her hand and stepped towards the sea, letting the ocean lap against his ankles.

      Hannah froze as a gust sliced through her hair. “Okay.” She smiled tentatively.

      Jed waded into the water, not seeming to care about getting his trousers soaked. Hannah reluctantly followed, picking up her skirts. Jed waved a paw in dismissal.

      “Bah, ye needn’t be afraid of it! It’s not going to eat ye or anything!”

      Hannah stared at the waves. They grew smaller as they reached the shore of Krawk Island, but still looked like they could consume everything in their path.

      “Just move yer arms and legs about and you’ll be swimming like a Pawkeet!” Jed crowed.

      Hannah wrinkled her nose, but dropped her skirts into the water. They ballooned around her like a Felly. “But Pawkeets don’t swim!”

      “That’s what the Little Nippers keeper wants ye to think.” With that, Jed plunged in, the ocean sucking him right up to his neck. “Just push with yer legs and keep moving! I’ll be right here.”

      Grandpa Jed’s head bobbed up and down, but his paws stayed above the surface, ready to catch Hannah. She gulped, steeling herself. Without thinking, Hannah jumped in towards him—but didn’t sink. Her head stayed above the water while her arms, legs, and tail continued to move.

      “Arr, that’s how ye do it!” Jed laughed, holding Hannah safely in his arms. “Give it another go!”

      Heart racing, Hannah reached out, away from Jed, and scooped the water behind her. It seemed so easy, like flying in a drinkable sky. The girl stopped moving her limbs for a moment, just to see if the water would carry her as Jed did.

      Wrong.

      Hannah gasped and got a mouthful of cold, stabbing pain, but only for a moment as she felt her head break the surface again. Hannah blinked the salt out of her eyes and coughed, looking right into the familiar, weathered face of her grandfather.

      “Ah, Hannah.” There was softness in his voice. “You must not let yerself be so easily tricked. The water is an ally, but it’s also quite the backstabber.”

      Hannah’s chest filled with betrayal and hurt at her newfound frenemy. She let out a whimper and began swimming to shore. Grandpa Jed was the only comfort she could really trust.

      Jed murmured a steady stream of calming words, swimming with her. He only stopped speaking when the sky’s gurgling grew louder. The Usul frowned. It was definitely time to head home.

      Hannah slid into a warm, dry dress and curled up by the fire. Inside, the storm was much quieter and wasn’t as ferocious as it did at the beach. She wrapped her tail around herself and sat in a soft chair. Rocking impatiently, she waited for Grandpa to come and sit in the big overstuffed chair, paws full with paws full of hot chocolate. At long last, the older Usul entered with two steaming mugs, and leaped with smooth agility into the large chair without spilling a drop. Hannah’s eyes glimmered with anticipation as the scent of chocolate wafted from the mug. Here was the part Grandpa Jed knew she liked best.

      “When I was a wee tyke, I used ta feel so alive, out there on the Esmeralda, breathing in the salty sea air.” Jed took a deep breath, almost as if he was trying to smell the salt in the room.

      Hannah hugged her tail tighter and grinned. She knew exactly what to say. "What did it look like?"

      Jed grinned at her and practically hopped up onto the chair, brandishing his hot chocolate like it was a sword. "The Esmeralda was so covered in moss that she was completely green, yet she sailed like a new babe out on the ocean blue." He seemed to notice how silly he looked and stepped back down, flopping into the chair without spilling a drop of chocolate.

      Hannah chimed in again with her nearly-scripted reply, expecting the answer she'd always received. "But you weren't a pirate, were you?"

      "Alas, those days are gone for me.”

      Hannah wrinkled her nose. Never once had he dodged that question. The story Grandpa Jed was going to tell didn't sound like a pirate tale this time, but it did seem exciting. Grandpa Jed rarely told stories about himself back from when he was a sailor, but those were extra-special if not more boring. “Why? Did you sail everywhere, Grandpa?”

      “Aye, lass, to the ends of Neopia and back. Sometimes a voyage would last years and the crew would go hungry, but that’s the lot we got. You want to do great things, child, ye got to take risks. The risks I took were dangerous ones, often illegal, and by Marak the Wave, I can’t believe I emerged unscathed from such a career."

          Hannah tilted her head in a dazed silence. This didn't sound like the stories from before. In fact, he sounded rather sad. A few seconds later, she broke it. “So…why did you stop sailing?”

      Grandpa Jed gave Hannah a very unusual look that made her uncomfortable. She stared down at her chocolate, watching the smiling marshmallows slowly disintegrate. The old Usul leaned over, making her swallow. “Can you keep a secret?” He asked with absolute seriousness in his voice.

      Hannah nodded slowly, bewildered.

      “I was a pirate.”

      She blinked. Each and every time she asked him, albeit playfully, he'd denied it. All this time--no. She'd never known Grandpa Jed to be a liar. But he was looking at her with a grave, and rather rueful expression.

      The little Usul’s paws faltered, and hot chocolate splashed onto the rug.

      “Hannah! Yeh’ve got to be more careful, lass!” Grandpa Jed chided, mopping the stain with a napkin. Grumbling, he hopped out of the chair and fled to the kitchen to get a sponge.

      Hannah just sat there, dumbfounded by the news. All of the stories Grandpa Jed had shared with her for ages—perhaps they were true! The legends of the pirates of the Black Dawn—was he really one of them?

      There were a number of pirates on Krawk Island, sure, but all of them were Neopoint-a-dozen, crude, big smelly people. They weren’t smart or kind like Grandpa Jed. They weren’t legends. Keeping himself a secret while telling stories that most likely involved him? Now that was special! And if the deeds Grandpa Jed mentioned in his pirate tales were true, then that made him even more legendary than Hannah could ever imagine.

      “Grandpa…” Hannah said slowly. “What was the name of your crew?”

      “Ah, lass.” Grandpa Jed’s face darkened, knowing very well what she was getting at. He sponged at the chocolate stain with great ferocity. “I was a part of the Black Dawn.”

      Hannah shuddered, although she wasn’t cold. Even the name sounded ominous now that she knew at least the stories and truth coincided. So all of the stories, all of the nights she'd grown to fear and be in awe of the Black Dawn--her own grandfather had been a part of it! “You weren’t a bad guy, though, were you?” The Usul squinted at him, trying to detect a hint of brutishness but all she saw was a pair of regretful grey spheres. Grandpa Jed stopped mopping the stained carpet and blinked.

      “Hannah, darlin’, even I don’t know that.” His tone was inscrutable. "I never said anything 'cause I knew yeh could do anything if yeh tried. Even join the pirates. They'd like nothing more to keep a young'un like you forever."

      The young Usul nodded slowly, only sort of understanding him. She watched Grandpa Jed continue to mop up the stain in silence. When it became clear to her that he wouldn't say anything more unless she asked something first, Hannah uncurled her tail and slid off the chair, kneeling down to help clean the rug. There was an ocean of pressing things on her mind. “What about the one where the Usul found the treasure of the Wave Ripper? The one where Captain Bloodhook lost his eye? The one about the Mermaid’s Tear? Were all of your stories real?“ The pace of her sponging only increased as she kept talking, questions spilling out of her like her hot chocolate.

      Grandpa Jed’s eyes seemed distant. He didn’t even look at her, but through the window, at the still-grey evening.

      “Even before you were born, you have had a proud history. However, it is imperative that you keep it secret. The most precious gems, after all, are secrets.” The old Usul lifted the fur on a finger, revealing a ring, as if to emphasize his point.

      Hannah thought hard about this, nibbling on her furry ear, until one question bubbled to her mind’s surface. “But what about Grandma? Was she a pirate too?”

      The Usul sighed, the sound full of memories. “Come.”

      Hannah got up from the carpet and took her ear out of her mouth.

      From underneath the kitchen floorboards (A special place Hannah should hide in if ever there should be trouble) her grandfather produced a box about the size of an Elephante’s head, covered with chains and padlocks. Hannah couldn’t even tell what color the box was, there were so many padlocks and chains wrapped around it.

      “This is the only place I can see her.” He shook the box gently, a quiet mournful roll.

      “Grandma’s in there?” Hannah squinted, as if it would help her look inside.

      “Yes and no. She's not really in the box, but a part of her is. Now the trick to opening these is inserting the picking tool, wiggling it like so…” Grandpa Jed slid the chain off of the box, the lock clattering to the floor. “Give it a go, then.”

      Hannah licked her lips and dove for the padlock, listening for the lock to click while she wrestled with the tools. She growled. She grunted. She almost threw the box across the room in frustration but she was quite sure her grandmother wouldn’t like being thrown, even if she was and wasn’t in the box. Instead, Hannah growled again and shoved the lockpick in deeper.

      At long last, a lock clicked open, and Hannah half-pushed, half-pulled the chain off of the box. “I did it!” She gasped, looking at her grandfather for much-expected praise.

      Jed’s face erupted into tiny wrinkles. “That’s my girl.” He ruffled her hair and patted the box. “Let’s get the rest of these off.”

      Hannah dove into her work, using her newfound skill to pry off the padlocks. The box was a very pale beige, she noticed. Grandpa Jed grinned and worked with Hannah, their paws crossing over and under one another.

      “’Ere we go, that settles it,” Grandpa Jed announced, sliding the last chain off of the box and creaking the lid open. Hannah, unable to take the explosion of curiosity, thrust her head into the box.

      Stunned, Hannah drew back.

      “The Mermaid’s Tear,” she said slowly. There was no mistaking it. The description of the much-coveted gem in the stories matched the real thing completely. The jewel was almost bigger than the box holding it, and glimmered emerald green in the firelight, hints of orange sinking through its facets. Hannah ran a paw over its smooth sides, marveling at how something locked away could be so beautiful.

      “Aye. It was yer grandma’s and she gave it to me. I keep it safe—and I keep her with me, too. Ta answer yer question, lass, she wasn't a pirate--in fact, that's why I lost...”

      Hannah felt something stir in her chest, but it wasn’t the same as when she’d learned to swim. It felt even more hopeless than before.

      Grandpa Jed continued. “Most people would give an arm and a leg fer a gem like this—you already have an uncle who’s given an eye for it.

      Hannah's ears perked up. According to the stories Grandpa Jed told her, there was only one pirate of the Black Dawn who had an eye missing. "Bloodhook?"

      Grandpa Jed nodded. "Aye. But yer grandma said no to him and left it with me.” He stroked the gem, almost as if trying to see if there were any of his wife’s pawprints still on it. "Furthermore--"

      Hannah shook her head and pressed her ears to it. She’d had enough surprises. And she certainly didn’t want to call anyone ‘Uncle Bloodhook.’ It was all too much, just like swimming. She hated Grandpa Jed for telling her so much. He was still talking, but she couldn’t hear him.

      Buried in her thoughts, she almost didn’t hear the sound of breaking glass.

      But Jed did.

      Racing to the sound, he reached up, grabbing a cutlass that was on display in the living room.

      “Show yerself!” the old Usul screeched, motioning for Hannah to hide under the floorboards.

      Lightning lit up the house in a jagged flash, and for a brief second, Hannah saw him: Captain Bloodhook, an Eyrie with an eye patch. His uncovered eye sang with vengeful glee, hungry for its prize. Uncle Bloodhook, Hannah thought, tasting the words in her mind. They tasted like mud.

      “Jed!” Bloodhook bellowed, the house slipping into pseudo-darkness post-lightning. “You thought you could hide forever?” A gust from massive wings. A crash. “You were dead wrong!”

      As if to emphasize his claim, a burst of thunder followed, so loud that Hannah thought the clouds were exploding. Adrenaline flooded her, and without a second thought, the girl leaped under the floorboards, pulling a rug over them securely.

      Clutching the gem tightly to her chest, Hannah panted quietly as her eyes darted around the tiny chamber. Nothing but blackness. The little Usul curled up in terror as more glass breaking, more screaming—Grandpa!—more thunder, more scraping, permeated her dark haven.

      “Find that blasted tear or you’re all walking the plank!” the Eyrie screeched.

      Hannah squeezed her eyes shut, even though it didn’t make a difference. Please let him be okay, please let him be okay. She didn’t hate him. How could she have?

      Horror gripped the Usul as she realized that, very soon, Grandpa Jed might only be found in the Mermaid’s Tear, right along with Grandma. A part of him could be in the gem but no longer with her!

      The little Usul’s eyes jolted open as she heard the clash of steel on steel. He’s fighting… she thought. He’s so brave. More screams—but not from Grandpa! A few words Grandpa taught her never to say. Then—

      “How could you lose him?! He’s an Usul! Search the place high and low!” Uncle Bloodhook sounded hysterical. "Tear open the floorboards if you have to!" At this, Hannah's blood froze and she stopped breathing altogether. Maybe even her breathing would help them find her.

      A claw dug into the rug just above her and yanked itself out, splintering bits of the wood around her. Hannah bit back a scream--that would only help her get discovered faster--and curled around the gem tighter. The footfalls above her dwindled as the pirate decided to tear up the floorboards elsewhere. The scraping, crashing, and screeching sounds didn't stop.

      "He's too strong!"

      There was such a commotion above her that Hannah wondered if a tornado was coming through her home instead of pirates. She trembled, tears streaming down her cheeks and onto the jewel. The only thing she could do was hope that Grandpa Jed was okay. The hope was so weak and so strong all at once that it shattered her ability to think.

      Seconds passed, minutes, hours, maybe even days. Hannah didn’t know nor did she care.

      A soft scrape and a quiet knock on the floorboards.

      Hannah cared.

      The floorboards lifted, sending in a flash of lantern light. The girl squinted and peered up at her grandfather’s silhouette, and tears once again flooded her vision. She felt herself being picked up and was held close. No words were spoken, but Hannah could feel a droplet or two in her hair. She understood.

      Suddenly, Grandpa Jed gripped her shoulders and knelt down to see her face. Hannah gasped. There were cuts all over his body, but he didn’t look terribly injured. Even so, the presence of such ruffled fur and so many little wounds was shocking—she’d never seen him like this.

      “Listen to me, Hannah. We’ve got to leave. Now. And we can’t come back.”

      “Are you hurt?” Hannah touched one of the cuts gently. Grandpa Jed flinched.

      “There’s no time fer that!” The older Usul snarled. “Grab everything you can and let’s go! They’re bound to be back with more pirates.” He paused very briefly to scoop up a small, watertight box. “Always carry flint and steel,” he said. “Never know when a fire might come in handy.”

      Hannah looked around for something to take with her. The house was utterly destroyed: mirrors were broken, her delicate seashell collection was strewn across the floor, and the table, dressers, and the two chairs by the fire were in pieces. Claw marks and holes in the floorboards. Hannah swallowed. Maybe a tornado really did visit.

      Hannah held the Mermaid’s Tear up to her face. It alone was unscathed—but for how long? “What should we do with this?” she asked.

      Grandpa Jed paled through his fur. “Change of plans.” He said with finality. “We’ve got to hide it.”

To be continued…