Get Off My Island!
By Alde Baron
()
About this ebook
Whiteboot is a ruthless pirate of the Anzerik Empire, and a hopeless treasure hunter around the world. He's a man of vices, little gold, but tons of energy for adventure and danger.
A wily merchant offers a map that will guide Whiteboot to a treasure more precious than gold. Quick to grasp the hunt, Whiteboot sets sail with the hope of getting the payday of his dreams.
When his crew arrives, they run into an obstacle they did not expect: the protector of the East Isles.
Get Off My Island! is a short story of roughly 14,000 words, and contains light references to fantasy violence, alcohol use, and language not suitable for young children.
Alde Baron
Alde Baron is the author and illustrator of The Quest Logs, short stories for ages 10+. Born in San Diego, Alde Baron now lives in Phoenix, AZ, where he works as a software engineer, and volunteers as a DJ for a local sports league.
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Get Off My Island! - Alde Baron
Get Off My Island!
by Alde Baron
Copyright 2017. All rights reserved.
For more novels and short stories:
www.thequestlogs.com
Contents
- One -
Operation Steal a Map
- Two -
A Handyman’s Life in Paradise
- Three -
Through the Storm
- Four -
Whiteboot Invades
- Five -
Fairytale Day
- Six -
Whiteboot Returns
- One -
Operation Steal a Map
Captain Whiteboot was a seasoned master of the seas, trickster in trade, and a cunning swordsman. His reputation to escape precarious situations preceded him, even though it was often his fault for putting his crew into those predicaments. Today, this pirate would discover a path to treasure more valuable than gold, and start a new adventure for his crew.
The commander of a galleon ship stomped the paved road through the Shota Bazaar, the busiest marketplace in the empire. Why can't we find a big score of treasure?
Sandoval, the captain's third in command, at half his height, tugged on Whiteboot's coat to get his attention. Captain, captain,
he said.
Aye, what do you want now?
What about that stall over there?
asked the man who mopped the decks. He pointed to his master’s right and continued, Maybe he has something rare, or maps at the back of his shop.
The sea master gazed upon a stall with tattered rugs, cracked vases, ladders with missing rungs, and too many trinkets he did not feel interested in. I don't see any treasure,
Whiteboot said.
Sandoval sighed. You’re not looking hard enough. There,
he said, stretching out his arm to point behind the merchant. The captain hunched down and planted his cheek on the side of the swabbie's arm, and saw the box of scrolls.
Me thinks that man won't have a map worth the coin we'd pay for it.
He wasn't impressed by the merchant either, who was only three feet tall, sat on a five-foot stool, wore a rag over his body, and looked like he could use a bath. Whiteboot finished with, Don't look like he's got much worth sellin', either, but I suppose anything is worth one look, or two, or seven.
The head pirate and his swabbie strutted to the stall. When they arrived at the counter they heard the merchant hum a tune they had never heard before. Arrgh, you awake?
Whiteboot asked.
The merchant snapped out of his trance. He focused at the six-foot-five pirate, and said, Ah, welcome, welcome to my shop. You are my first customer of the day.
The merchant hopped off the stool to approach Whiteboot. His head barely poked above the counter and he said, You look like a man who lives for adventure.
Whiteboot was pleased to hear that someone in this mall of swindling knew what he stood for. Aye, and a wee bit of treasure, too. What do you got that would interest a man of my, shall we say, nefarious status?
Treasure you say?
Only the fishiest, uh, finest, treasure shall do for this captain.
The merchant darted his eyes back and forth across the crowd. He curled his finger toward himself to motion for the captain to lean in, for he had a secret to tell him. Whiteboot obliged and leaned over the counter as the merchant whispered, Have you heard of the fabled unicorns? They are alive, and I know where to find them.
You mean the unicorns that were wiped out a hundred years ago?
Yes, yes, the very ones. Please, please, keep it down, though,
the merchant said. Sandoval stood on the tips of his toes and lurched his ear toward the conversation. I have a magical map here of the East Isles. It will let you through the storm that surrounds the islands, and guide you to the exact location where you can find the magnificent horses.
Whiteboot slammed his palm onto the counter, and without question, he said, I’ll buy it!
But, captain, you don't know how much it costs.
Whiteboot pushed Sandoval's face from the counter. Don't matter. Let me see it.
The greedy pirate held out his hand for the map.
The merchant, who was no fool to common tricks, cleared his throat, held out his hand, and said, One-hun-da-red gold.
A hundred!?
Whiteboot complained. He jerked his hand away from the counter. Though he was shocked by the price tag, he leaned down to Sandoval