Deborah Cannon

Read an exerpt of chapter one.

 

What Is Your Real Name?

 

Not much is known about Alwilda. She was the daughter of a 5^th century Scandinavian king whose father had arranged for her to marry Prince Alf. However, Prince Alf was the son of King Sygarus of Denmark. But Alwilda was so offended by the idea of marrying Prince Alf that she convinced her ladies to join her when she escaped from the castle. And of course, they dressed up as men and sailed away.

The story goes that Alwilda and her gang of merry she-bandits joined a company of pirates who had recently lost their captain. So impressed were they with her regal air that they unanimously voted her their new leader. And so brazen was she and so formidable a force did her pirates become that Prince Alf was dispatched to hunt them down. Their ships collided in the Gulf of Finland and a ferocious battle took place. Most of Alwilda’s crew was killed, her ships sunk and herself taken prisoner.

Alwilda lost her head when she met his royalness Prince Alf in person. She surrendered to his brawniness and accepted his hand in marriage. What happened after that was history. She became Queen of Denmark.

 

 

It is so, sooo romantic. Liz typed out her sighs of ecstasy. (sigh) (sigh) (sigh) And grinned as she added a Happy Face J before tapping out: Don’t forget, September 19^th is Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day. Alwilda (starring Yours Truly) will be on her galley Adventure Queen in Victoria BC fighting off the hunky brute Prince Alf, so don’t miss the festivities if you’re in the neighborhood. Happy TLAPD!

Post. She had 2400 fans following her Pirate Blog called Pirate’s Girls and Girl Pirates. Yeah, it was cool. Elizabeth Latimer giggled as she edited her blog on her laptop Apple computer. Prince Alf? That name alone would be enough to put any girl off. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear that was tickling her eyelid. The wind gusted briefly sending a whiff of seaweed her way. Who wanted a husband named Alf? Here was the bit that had Elizabeth snorting: the rogues were so enamored of Alwilda’s regal air that they unanimously voted her chief? Unlikely. And this part sounded a little iffy, too: she convinced her gal pals to flee the castle and steal a ship to go a-pirating? Holy Crap! Love it.

 She glanced at her email icon. The little red spot indicated she had ten messages. Hopefully one of these messages was from her friend Holly. They’d had a fight a few days ago and Elizabeth missed her. Holly could be such a pill sometimes. She went to her Facebook page and saw that the little red spot there showed the same number. Huh. That was interesting. She clicked on her email and saw that each message was the same. They were not from Holly. The emails told her she had a message from someone on Facebook. Liz returned to her Facebook page and looked at the message. Sure enough the ten messages were the same message by the same person. Hey, what gives?

Her hand moved excitedly as she went to click it open. It was a letter written by someone called Shadowfencer. Ha, Shadowfencer? LOL, that was awesome. His avatar was a red and blue parrot. Was he writing to praise her blog? She blogged under the name of Fencin’ Fanny. And the reason she’d chosen that tag was because fencing was her game, and Fanny was just a kick-butt piratical girl name.

Elizabeth did not take her own writing seriously. But this message was clearly from someone who did. Her thumbs flashed up and down as she scrolled along the message. So she didn’t even get to see what he looked like? She set the sarcasm aside and reread the letter. Holy cow. Was this guy for real?

First of all, he called her Elizabeth. How did he know her name? Fencin’ Fanny was her tag for her Facebook page. Secondly, he sounded sincere. Sweet. She had skimmed the message the first time, and now she read it again:

 

Hi Elizabeth.

I don’t usually do this sort of thing, but at this point I have no choice other than to try...I mean, I just couldn’t take my mind off you from the first moment I came across your photo yesterday. I must confess it really got my attention, and so I decided to write you this letter.

Well, let me introduce myself...My name is...well let’s just stick with Shadowfencer. I am twenty-two years old. I am a seaman and work on a cargo ship...And if you don’t mind I would like to get to know you, so I don’t know if you have a yahoo IM...? We could chat there and get to know each other better…What do you think?

 

Here Elizabeth had to stop reading. She was fourteen. He worked on a freighter? This had stalker written all over it. But Liz could not stop reading. Now Liz could not get him out of her mind. Ok, she thought, I’ll write back, just once to see what this is all about:

 

That’s awesome. I’m glad u liked my picture. I don’t IM on yahoo. I was wondering if I could see a picture of u on FB? Liz decided to keep it short.

 

He responded immediately, like he had been waiting. That is a picture of me.

 

Ur a parrot?

 

LOL

That’s not fair. U know what I look like.

 

Indeed. That’s true. A mite bit like Alwilda.

 

Liz froze. How? Oh, of course, he must have read her blog. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to type a snappy comeback. She had nothing.

She exited Facebook, shut off her computer and stood up from where she’d been sitting on a park bench in front of the parliament buildings. In honor of International Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day, her school was doing a reenactment of a pirate battle aboard a real pirate galley, which was anchored in Victoria Harbour. It was going to be an awesome extravaganza. Everyone in town would be participating in one capacity or another. Her marine archaeologist mom Tess would be giving talks on the waterfront about piracy, and her dad John who was a professional catboat sailor was competing in a regatta. At the end of the race they would escort the Adventure Queen out of port and into the open sea.

Adventure Queen was a replica of Alwilda’s pirate ship, and the reason it was so important to Elizabeth’s mom was because Alwilda was one of the few pirates who was known to have buried treasure on the east coast. It was rumored that she had buried silver and gold and maybe even jewels at Oak Island, off the shore of Nova Scotia. One day her mom hoped to excavate the legendary ‘Money Pit’ on Oak Island and Liz and her sister Lulu would most certainly be dragged along. But for now, she was late for the rehearsal. She had won the part of Alwilda. Long live pirate girls!

Twenty-nine kids had turned out for the auditions and only half of them had gotten parts. Rehearsals took place on the harbour front. A concrete area by the marina had been fenced off near where steps led down to the wharfs. A wide area, where multimillion-dollar yachts normally berthed on the glassy green water, was cleared for the three-masted, square-rigged vessel carrying twenty-four guns and a hundred oarsmen. It was an awesome backdrop for their fencing practice and a skit of the capture of the Adventure Queen by the prince of Denmark. It was an historical event that had turned the tide for Alwilda transforming her from pirate to monarch.

Today was dress rehearsal. Elizabeth peeled on her paper-thin Kevlar vest and snapped the fasteners. Ashley, the girl in charge of costumes handed her a white frilly blouse and black skirt. Which she grudgingly donned. She pulled the back of the thin fabric of the skirt between her legs and tucked it into her waistband so that the garment resembled trousers. Her long sun-kissed brown hair flapped in the sea wind. She twisted it into a coil, shoved it down the back of her collar, and stuck her hand out for her foil.

 On the portable fencing piste, someone dressed in period costume was waiting for her. He was tall and lithe, fully decked out with a competition mask covering his face. From what she could see he had a lean, powerful build, and his chest was protected like hers with a Kevlar vest. He stopped shadow practicing and turned to face her, hands on hips. Then he slashed at her with his foil in a totally unconventional play. What gall, she thought. She’d soon teach him some respect!

Liz donned her protective glove with its white gauntlet and felt for her sword grip. Eyes rolling, she whirled onto the fencing piste. In answer to her cockiness, the tall boy flexed his foil as though it were a cutlass. She snorted. Who do you think you are? She yanked down her facemask.

Their teacher Mrs. Horsfal, the fencing coach, indicated he take his start position. He looked down at the Kevlar vest, before turning his eyes to her. “Let’s play for real,” he said.

Mrs. Johnson interrupted, “You aren’t Jason Kozlowski. Liz, you’re supposed to play against Jason.” She turned back to the tall boy. “What’s your name?”

“Prince Alf,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed irksomely. “Your real name.”

He shook his head, stripped off the Kevlar vest, exposing his bare chest. Then he drew the shirt back on before he stood back.

Mrs. Horsfal scowled. “Put on your vest.”

The tall boy merely buttoned up the pirate shirt he was wearing over his bare chest.

“Give me your name,” Mrs. Horsfal insisted. “Or you’re out of here.”

Elizabeth grinned under her mask. She returned to her start position and watched ‘Prince Alf’ do likewise. They both ignored the teacher. Okay, champ. Is this how you want to play? She saluted him and he mimicked the gesture. She raised her foil.

“Stop! Stop!” Mrs. Horsfal shouted. “Stop, right now.”

Liz was totally oblivious to anyone but the boy who challenged her. She glared at him through her mask. “Play,” she said.

Her challenger prowled the dock like a medieval swordsman. He raised his foil forcing her to turn. “You’re off mark,” she growled. She swore he grinned under that mask. Suddenly the ground thudded with the pounding of their feet. He thrust and she riposted, feeling the impact of his foil. He was athletically her superior. He had stunning balance and speed. The way he moved and switched directions had her dancing like a boxer. “Put your weight into it,” he mumbled. “You’ll do more damage than with your right arm alone.”

They fenced for two minutes, before Mrs. Horsfal shouted, “Halt!” Liz ground her teeth, clenched her fist at the distraction and returned to her en-guarde line.

Above their heads, clouds parted. Sun shot down on them, splitting her vision for a second. She snapped her eyes open and lunged as Mrs. Horsfal yelled, “Stop fencing right this moment, or you two are suspended!” Her concentration broken, Liz swung around. “This is a practice run,” the teacher said. “On the day of the re-enactment there will be no full suits, only protective vests under your costumes. There will be no masks. Do you understand? Stop fighting like you mean to kill each other. And you,” she swung on the tall boy. “No protective vest means, no fencing. Those are the rules.”

He ignored her, kept focused on Liz. “You want to destroy your opponent?” he mocked under his breath. “Then stay focused.”

Destroy…? Liz spun away from her teacher and concentrated on her attack. She missed, and the tall boy stabbed her in the ribs. Her protective chest shield repelled the blow, but before she could strike, he jabbed her again.

“All right, you two,” Mrs. Horsfal said. “Elizabeth Latimer, put down your foil. You are suspended.”

The boy laughed.

“And you,” the teacher said. “Remove your mask.”

Elizabeth snapped off her mask, daring the boy to reveal his face.

The boy’s hands stayed where they were clutching his foil. His mask remained solidly over his face. Liz was certain that underneath it he was smiling at her.

“You’re not a high-school student, are you?” Mrs. Horsfal accused him. “You should know the auditions are only for students. And the auditions have long been over. All the roles are filled.”

The tall boy unsnapped the collar to his shirt and dangled his foil loosely in his right hand. “Listen closely to me, Alwilda,” he said, oblivious of the teacher. “Your life is in danger.”

Elizabeth sucked in a breath. What did he mean by that? Her sword hand pressed against the guard of her competition class weapon. She scowled. Why wouldn’t he uncover his face?

He shifted his weight as he noticed her effort to keep from shoving her foil into his chest. He lowered his voice, riposted bringing their faces close. “I really would like to get to know you better.”

Shadowfencer? Elizabeth’s eyes grew the size of golf balls as she mouthed the name. She couldn’t see his expression as he still wore the mask. He was so tall. He smelled like the sea mixed with sandalwood and some kind of exotic flower. She wished she could see what his face looked like. She loved the fact that he was totally defying Mrs. Horsfal. His speech was nothing like how he’d approached her on Facebook. He was awesome. A tingle travelled up her spine.

“I must ask you to leave,” Mrs. Horsfal said. “If you don’t leave, I am calling the police.”

He planted his hands on his hips, still holding the foil by its grip. He flipped it into the air, catching it without stabbing himself or anybody else. OMG was he ever a good fencer. Please, please, don’t leave.

“How do you know my name?” she asked.

He pointed to the portable board where the names were listed.

“That’s not what I meant. I mean how do you know who I am? Who are you? How am I in danger?”

He made a bow and swept his hand down cavalierly. “Quit the part of Alwilda, if you value your life the way it is,” he warned.

By now Mrs. Horsfal was livid. Her face was a curious shade of beet. She had fetched out her cellphone. Holy crap, she really was calling the police. “You’d better go,” Liz said. “I think Mrs. Horsfal is serious. She’s calling the police. You’d better go.”

“Be in touch,” he said, and placed two fingers to the side of his head.

You bet! Then as she watched his tall wiry body lope down the concrete walkway and across the street, it occurred to her that she still didn’t know what he looked like.

“Elizabeth Latimer, go back to the school and straight to the principal’s office. I will call him to expect you,” Mrs. Horsfal said.