The surviving pirates sailed across the lake in silence for what moments remained of the night. The tapestry from the tomb billowed with the wind between the makeshift halberd-masts. When someone felt strong enough to row he did. Otherwise they all just gazed at the stars and pondered their situation. Their defeat had been a jarring event. Not only did they lose almost all of their crewmates, their captain had also been killed or captured.
The Norseman put all thought of rescue to the back of his mind. He had wounded men to take care of. Not only that, but he had some of his own wounds to lick. His pride had taken a severe beating on the island. He couldn't help but feel that he had let his men down.
Skitch was angry! He hated the undead! He never wanted to see another walking corpse again. Now Jack was dead or captured and sure to be hanged or beheaded or something similar if he was not dead, or undead already. Skitch raised his fist in the air and shook it in what he perceived to be the direction of the island. Somehow he'd get even. This was far from over.
At least they had been able to get back into the tombs and get some booty before they had left. There they had also discovered the wild elf by a floor grating. He was still alive, but Skitch was not sure he would ever regain consciousness. Skitch hoped the elf would make it. They could sure use another set of strong arms.
Drake stared at the unconscious form of Doanthalas. He wondered how what he'd just been through compared to what the elf had been through back when he got the tattoos. He wished that he could talk to the elf. Doanthalas would be able to ease his mind. Walking dead were bad, but judging by the way Doanthalas had been since Drake had known him he guessed that the Demons the elf had seen were much worse. Drake pulled his knees up against him and wrapped his arms around his legs. The tears came freely as his thoughts turned to Kent and Edgar. He would miss his friends no matter how screwed up they had been. The loss he felt was great. And the fear...he had never been more afraid in his entire life.
The young pirate named Rage was shaking. He couldn't stop. It was maddening. Why couldn't he hold his hands still? The danger had passed. The only problem was that no matter where he looked he saw the faces of his old comrades. They were dead bloated faces, but they were his comrades and they were coming for him. Why wouldn't they leave him alone?
Brackston had been through worse...Hadn't he? He'd waded through his share of blood and gore. But never before had he fought so many foul undead creatures. They had a way of getting to a man. He was shaken. Jack was dead or in trouble. Maybe if he concentrated on Jack his mind would rest at ease. Doubtful, but it was worth a shot.
If Jack wasn't dead, he needed to be rescued. And Brackston wouldn't have to fight any corpses to get to him either...just a bunch of living breathing people. He was almost looking forward to it.
The master archer had regained consciousness close to dawn. He was still weak, but at least he was alive. He had been extremely lucky that the others had dared sail by the cove in case anyone besides them had escaped. Arzeal clutched his belt pouch and sighed. If he had not taken the mage light from the skull of the red-eyed skeleton, they would all be dead. He had discovered there were shadows chasing him at about the same time as he had heard the voices of the others. He had called to them, and had narrowly made it to their raft by swimming underwater where the water-walking shadows were hard pressed to reach him. Unfortunately the shadows had been able to follow him right through the darkness and the water, and there had been hell to pay every time he had needed to come up for air. Once he had made it to the raft, Arzeal had been too weak to fight effectively, but he had exposed the light so his mates could see their enemies. It had been very close, but he had survived.
The others were alive, but Arzeal could tell that their souls were wounded. He understood. What they had endured would shake the most battle-hardened warrior to his core. None of the others seemed talkative, but that was understandable. He didn't feel like talking either. He just wanted to reach someplace safe and rest for a day or two. By the looks of it Doanthalas would need it.
The tattooed elf hated being unconscious...not that he realized he was, but upon waking he would remember all the images he had seen. Those images were flashing through his mind at the moment. It was a horrid collage of blood and gore punctuated by other images...a crying baby being crushed by a spiked mace...a woman being raped and murdered by a demon...broken bodies screaming in agony as the flames seared the flesh from their bones...leering, laughing faces...and the feeling of helplessness...he couldn't do anything to prevent it...any of it...and they knew it...they made him watch...sometimes they even left the bodies in his cell to mock him. --- When Doanthalas awoke it was daytime. He was lying on a straw mattress and the room was dead quiet. Everything was dead quiet. He must have been screaming. His head throbbed and his body hurt. He tried to reach for Drake who had fallen asleep in a chair next to him, but did not have the strength to lift his arm. Luckily Drake was stirring. The screaming must have woken him.
Doanthalas was awake! "Thank the gods! I thought we'd lost you back there. You've been out for nearly three days. Don't try to talk...here...let me get you some water." The young pirate quickly exited the room and returned with a mug moments later. "Here. Drink this Doanthalas." He lifted the mug to the elf's lips and titled it so that he could drink. After much coughing and sputtering Doanthalas was finally able to hold down some water. It seemed to do a lot to revive him. Drake went and got more water. He kept bringing it until Doanthalas could drink no more.
"Where...are...the others? Are...we...the only...ones to make...it?" he asked looking around the room.
"No. Pike made it and so did Brackston and Skitch and Rage...and Arzeal! We lost everyone else...Jacks been captured or killed. The others went out scouting for some info. They want to see if Jack's alive and spring him before he gets executed if he is." Drake scratched his head. They should be back soon. He stood up and gazed out the window.
"Where...where...are we?" Doanthalas asked.
"We're somewhere in Clairmont...I'm not sure exactly where, somewhere on the Southwest bank of the lake with Dead Man's isle in it near a town called Granville, but then again I haven't been many places other than my father's farm. We were able to rent this little shack with some of the loot we got from the crypts. There's plenty left over too! Some of the stuff we got is worth a lot of coin!" He nodded his head for emphasis.
A few hours later Pike and Rage came walking into the house. They looked tired and road-worn. After a few minutes of shedding their boots and washing the dirt from their faces they were ready to talk.
"Good to see you awake Doanthalas!" Pike said. "I wasn't sure you were going to make it. I'm glad you did!" He smiled broadly and turned to Drake. "Time to get serious...Red Jack is alive but he was captured. There's only a week or two until the trial. And after that maybe a few days to a few weeks until the execution depending on how soon they hold the trial. We're going to need to move fast."
"Where are Skitch and Brackston...and Arzeal?" Drake asked.
"We found out for sure where they took Red Jack, last night. The others are already on a ship bound East for Turnmoor. Once they get there, they'll be busy trying to infiltrate the proceedings. We'll need some men on the inside. We need to get moving and meet up with Arzeal and the others in Turnmoor. He booked a passage on another ship. It's too risky going up to Turnmoor all together. They'll be looking for a group of six. Most of us, except Drake and Doanthalas, are on circulating wanted posters." He glanced at Doanthalas. "It doesn't look like you'll be up to going anywhere for another day or two. Rage, you'll stay here with him for a few days until Doanthalas is ready to leave. Make sure he gets better...and fast! Then meet up with us at the Lazy Minx inn in Turnmoor. Think you can find your way?"
"Yes sir! We will be there."
"Good!" Pike said. "Because we're going to need all the men we can get. I'd hire some outside help, but we need people we can trust for this one. And right now we're all that there is. C'mon Drake. Pack your things. I want to get moving and soon."
"Yes sir! He quickly gathered up his things and prepared for the trip."
"Good luck...my...friend..." the elf said as he laid his hand on Drake's arm.
"Thanks. You take care of yourself. Get better! We could use a demon spawn like yourself on our side. Heh." Doanthalas didn't smile, but Drake could tell that his words had meant something to the elf by the twinkle in his eye.
Moments later Pike and Drake were on their way. Rage sat down to a meal and tried to get Doanthalas to eat something. Things were moving quickly now. They would all have to move fast if they wanted to keep up...if they wanted to save Jack.
Pike and Drake made their way to the waterfront. A merchant ship was soon to be leaving for Turnmoor. Pike had already booked passage for himself and Drake. The captain had eagerly accepted seeing how intimidating and powerful the Norseman appeared. He had given Pike a reduced rate provided he helped with some of the work and helped to protect the ship in case of attack.
The Norseman smiled to himself as he thought of the irony of a pirate protecting a merchant ship from pirates. He never would have guessed in a million years that he'd be doing "honest" work. It wasn't so bad. It would be a bit boring, but not all that different than what he had done for Jack. He turned to Drake.
Just over a week later, Pike and Drake arrived at Turnmoor and booked a room in an obscure waterfront Inn. Pike slipped out that night to have a secret talk with Arzeal. When he returned it was time to fill Drake in on everything. "Are ya ready for the low down?"
Drake looked up from the water at Pike. "Yes I am. What did you find out?"
"Well, it's like this: the date of the trial is still up in the air because they're waiting on this nobleman who really wants to see Jack suffer. Li'Yeiraun is his name. Jack had trouble with him in the past, from what I understand. Seems he slept with old Li'Yeiraun's wife. Heh. Jack always was a dog. But the way it looks is that this Li'Yeiraun will be arriving in the next week or two. So the quicker we get ready the better. Once he's here the trial will start. Then they'll make a big show of finding the "Dread Red Jack" guilty as hell. After that they'll need a day or two to prepare the "festivities" for his public execution."
"Wow! It sounds like they're making it into some kind of big celebration! With all those people around how are the few of us going to spring him?" Drake asked.
"All those people will be one of our main advantages." Noticing the confused look on Drake's face Pike continued, "People are stupid and panicky in large groups. If we can create a big enough spectacle to throw a scare into them we should be able to pull it off. When the crowd starts stampeding we'll move in to rescue Jack. The guards will most likely have their hands full trying to prevent a riot. This should leave only a handful of guards protecting Jack and the execution party."
"So we move in during the chaos and take out the guards...then we escape using the riot as our diversion..." Drake asked.
"Exactly! Ye've got a good head on yer shoulders Drake. Hopefully we can keep it there. Ye do realize that if any of us are caught we WILL be executed?"
Brackston glanced towards the door for the fifth time in as many minutes. Skitch was late. He should have been there already. Something didn't feel right. Skitch was never late unless there was trouble. They had separated in the morning and agreed to meet up at the Yellow Dragon Tavern, this tavern, around midnight. Skitch was to acquire as many barrels of flammable liquids as possible while Brackston tried to get as much info about the trial as possible. Brackston had spent all day picking a likely candidate. Most of the night had been spent getting him drunk enough to tell all without getting suspicious. He was eager to share his findings with Skitch if only the diminutive pirate would show.
Moments later Skitch walked through the door and right past Brackston. It was their silent signal that he was being followed. Brackston pretended to be intent on drinking the mug of mead he had finished twenty minutes ago. Sure enough two men walked through the door not long after Skitch. They were dressed as commoners. It was a good disguise, but something was out of place... they were too well groomed. Real commoners looked a bit grittier. Still, these men must have been professionals. They pulled off their disguises with skill and ease. The casual observer wouldn't suspect a thing. Unfortunately for these two Brackston wasn't a casual observer. He waited for the men to pass before rising and following them out back. Skitch would most likely be hidden in the shadows of the alley waiting for Brackston to back him up. The two men were slowly making their way down the alley checking every hiding place along the way. They would be sure to spot Skitch if Brackston didn't do something and fast. They were too far down the alleyway for him to bum rush. They'd have too much warning and time to prepare if he did that. Brackston opted to try and sneak up on them instead. Stealth wasn't one of his strong points and the men were easily alerted to his presence as he moved nearer.
Two hand crossbows quickly appeared from beneath the folds of their clothes. "Hold it right there," they said in unison as they brought their crossbows to bear on the pirate. "Step into the light! Hurry or I'll drop you where you stand!"
Whoever these men were they were good. He could tell by the confident and easy way in which they moved. This was going to be harder than he had originally thought. Hopefully Skitch would make his move soon. No sooner had the thought entered his mind then one of the men turned around swiftly.
"what the..." he said as he spun around to face the man he had felt sneaking up on him. "Hold it right..." was all he had time to say before the dagger Skitch had thrown embedded itself in his chest.
Gregor, one of the disguised men, knew Loius was dead as soon as he heard the muffled thunk of the blade entering his partner's chest. He squeezed off a shot at the man in the shadows and turned to flee. He had to let his employer know that he had found two of Red Jack's cohorts. Gregor came face to face with the smaller man that he and Loius had been following. He was trying to extract his blade from Louis' chest. Gregor bashed him in the head with his elbow as he ran right over top of him. He did not look back as he fled down the alleyway.
The man was good. The shot he had taken had forced Brackston to dive out of the way. This had given him time to attempt his escape. Then he had practically run through Skitch knocking him to the ground. Brackston would have to hurry if he wanted to catch the man. He easily cleared the distance to Skitch and his victim and snatched up the dead man's crossbow. The crossbow was light but well made. It was small enough to be fired with one hand and easily concealed. Luckily, its bolt was still in place and ready to fire. Brackston took careful aim at the fleeing man's back. Unfortunately, the man turned the corner before the pirate could get his shot off. Brackston ran as fast as he could after the remaining disguised man. If he got away, he would most likely tell his employers, whoever they might be; then Skitch and Brackston would be as good as dead.
"Damn!" Gregor hissed "what an amateur mistake to make!" He had turned the corner only to come face to face with a dead end. In his defense, he had not had much time to familiarize himself with the streets and alleyways of Turnmoor. He knew his way around the Li'Yeiraun estate and the streets of the neighboring Darville, but he had only been here for a week. Gregor turned and rushed back in the direction he had come drawing his short sword as he ran. He hoped this would startle the pirate enough to give Gregor the edge.
Brackston turned the corner and was startled to see the man he was pursuing bearing down on him. The man had his sword raised and was mere inches away. Without thinking Brackston threw his left leg out, tucked in his right leg, and went down into a slide. The sword passed harmlessly over his head as he squeezed the trigger of the crossbow. There was a loud thud as the man crumpled to the ground.
All that Gregor could think as he lay there was that Red Jack's men definitely did live up to their reputation. He had been a soldier and spy for well over seven years and had fought in many bloody conflicts. He had escaped from his fair share of close calls as well. "Death comes to every man," he thought as he clutched his nasty belly wound. Warm blood flowed over his hands. Quickly he reached into his pouch and pulled out what looked like a small pebble. Before Brackston could grab him, Gregor had put it in his mouth and swallowed.
The pirate grabbed the wounded man and shook him. "Who do you work for?!?" he demanded. The man just looked up at him and smiled. His body convulsed for a few seconds and then was still. "Damn!" Brackston cursed as he heard Skitch approaching.
The diminutive parate rubbed his aching head. "I don't know who these two were, but they were good...professionals."
"Yew got that right. This one almost done me in. I have no idea how I survived," Brackston said.
"What do ya mean? I saw that fancy slide-thing you did. It was beautiful! You'll have to show me..." Skitch replied.
"Ya know I'm not even sure what I did. It all happened so fast that I didn't have time to think." Brackston shook his head.
"well it's over and we're still alive. Let's see what these two have on them. Maybe we can figure out who they were working for."
The pirates relieved the dead men of their possessions. They were not carrying much besides their weapons and a few coins. Brackston found a few more of the pebble-sized chunks of poison and put them in his pouch. Then they placed the bodies out of sight and disappeared into the dark streets of Turnmoor.
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The master archer surveyed the square from his rooftop perch. Although Turnmoor was quiet at this time of evening Arzeal made sure he was out of sight. The moonlight coupled with the light from the buildings on the square gave him a good view of the area. The square was huge. Arzeal surmised that all of Turnmoor and then some could fit into the square all at once. He pulled out a piece of parchment and some charcoal sticks. He started marking things down on the rough sketch he had made the previous night.
About six places were suitable for positioning archers. The city guard, if they were worth their salt, undoubtedly knew this as well. He would have to "relieve" one of their archers of his duty so that he and the other pirates could take care of theirs. The execution platform had already been set up. Arzeal shook his head and smiled to himself. "Guilty. Even before the trial got started," he whispered to himself. There was a gallows, a chopping block and a rack.
"Looks like it's going to be a good show," Arzeal muttered to himself as he dropped stealthily to the ground. Moments later he had disappeared into the night.
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A few days after the departure of Pike and Drake, Doanthalas was well enough to travel. Luckily, his wounds had been little more than scratches. However, the blood loss had really hurt him. Luckily he had recovered quickly once he had been able to hold down some food."
Rage entered with a handful of clothes and equipment. "Here. I got us some travelling clothes. Some of this should help us to blend in."
The sylvan elf looked at the clothes Rage had selected for him. Black pants, a black shirt, black leather boots, a black belt, black gloves, a black leather backpack, and a volumnuous black cloak. "Blending? With what exactly?" Doanthalas remarked as he eyed the clothes skeptically. "They're great for stealth, but to wear these during the day is to stand out like a black sheep amongst all his white brethren."
"I see yer point," he said feeling silly for even thinking the clothes would make them inconspicuous. "Maybe I should stick with what I normally wear. Huh?"
Doanthalas nodded his head in agreement. "Anything else for me to wear?" he asked.
"I had this stuff special made. The tailor doesn't have a lot just lying around. He makes the clothes as they're needed."
Doanthalas was thinking about how he was going to hide his tattoos. He would need some long pants and a long sleeve shirt. That would not hide his facial tattoos, but he would figure something out. At least he would not stick out that much. "How long until the boat departs?"
"Not long, two or three hours maybe. It leaves at noon."
The sun had not quite reached its highest point yet. That gave him two hours at the most. Doanthalas decided that it would be enough time. He put on the clothes that Rage had brought him and headed out into the town. The tailor's shop was not too far away. Still everyone who saw the tattooed elf clad in black could not help but stare with a mixture of awe and fear. Doanthals looked quite the sinister figure moving deftly down the street. He hoped that the tailor had something lying around that would fit him. He could not stand the thought of drawing this much attention in Turnmoor.
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The Norseman looked around the Lazy Minx before going back to his ale. Doanthalas and Rage were in Turnmoor. Arzeal had spotted them earlier. He hoped they would be able to find the inn. The door to the inn opened and in walked Rage looking conspicuously like someone trying to look inconspicuous. Pike shook his head and motioned Rage to join him. The young pirate smiled broadly and took the seat directly opposite the Norseman.
"Where's everybody else?"
He shook his head again. "It's too dangerous for all of us to be seen together in public. Two men followed Brackston and Skitch and had to be killed. Somebody knows we're here and if they find us...well let's just say it's better that they don't find ALL of us together."
"Gotcha. So what's the plan?"
"First things first. Where's Doanthalas?"
"I told him to come with me, but he didn't want to. Said something about stickin' out too much."
Pike smiled. The elf was smart. "That was smart of him. I want you to tell him to meet me at this address." He slid a piece of parchment across the table to Rage. "Memorize it and then burn it or eat it or something. This is important. If we are found out we wil all die. Jack, Skitch, Brackston, Arzeal, Doanthalas, me...and you. All of us! Do you understand?"
This was heavy. All Rage could do was nod in agreement.
"Good. When the both of you show up I will explain the plan. I will go first. Wait a minute or two and then leave. Good luck." Pike shook Rage's hand, then rose, and left.
The young pirate waited a couple of minutes and then got up and left.
Drake could not help but smile. Rage was almost comical when he tried to be sneaky. Drake hoped his lack of subtlety would not get him killed. After he finished his mead Drake dropped a couple of coins on the table and headed for the door. Pike had told him to keep an eye on Rage and see if he was followed. Drake felt bad for using Rage as bait, but he knew that Doanthalas was with him. That alone was protection enough for anyone as far as Drake was concerned.
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Beginning of The Lost Fragment of Chapter 19,
by Bri, my coauthor at that time. (Recovered 3/21/4)
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The half elf worked diligently at the long table he had procured for his room. Arrow shafts, piles of powder, fuses, twine, and pieces of cloth lay strewn across its surface. Arzeal measured small amounts of powder from the two piles and mixed them together and wrapped them in the cloth with a fuse. He held up the finished product and turned it around in his hands. No powder was leaking out of it. Arzeal nodded with satisfaction and continued his work. When he had about six packets finished he grabbed an arrow shaft and held it up. The tricky part would be attaching the packets to the shaft without throwing the balance too far off. Arzeal would have to hit his mark with them if the plan was to work.
Earlier he had been out in the forest practicing with some dummy arrows he had made. They had packets attached to them that were filled with dirt. The weight was comparable to the live packets and roughly the same size as well. It had taken a few tries, but Arzeal had figured out the right way to attach them to the arrow and exactly how much he would have to compensate when shooting them.
He grabbed some twine and attached a packet to the shaft he held. The weight didn't feel quite right so he removed it and reattached it. Hours later he had six workable arrows sitting on the table in front of him. A smile played across Arzeal's face. It was going to be one hell of a show! All he had to do was wait a few more days until the execution. In the meantime, he'd have to find something to keep him busy.
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Brackston and Skitch were stumped. The men they had killed were only carrying a few items, weapons, some money, and a few miscellaneous pieces of equipment. Nothing they carried would identify them or who they worked for. Yet somebody knew that they were here or, at least, knew enough about Jack's men to be looking for them. They would get suspicious when their men didn't return. Brackston and Stitch decided to lay low until Pike came to discuss the plan.
Pike hated all the sneaking around he had to do. He would rather be bashing his way through a crowd of foes than skulking through the shadows. But he knew that secrecy was of utmost importance at this point. Looking up he spotted the inn where Brackston and Skitch were holed up. Minutes later he was sitting in their room discussing the events of the past two days.
"So like Brackston said someone knows we're here ye can bet!" Skitch said
Pike responded, "Then I suggest ye both lay low from here on out.
I'll get Drake to do some scoutin' around fer us. He's too new ta be recognized as one of us."
Brackston nodded, "I agree. So what exactly IS the plan?"
A wry smile crept onto the Norseman's face. He was proud of his plan. It had taken him many nights and days of thought and bouncing ideas off of Drake, but finally he had come up with a great plan. He looked from Skitch to Brackston and back again. "It's like this..."
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The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly as Drake stepped out of the shop. He looked quite dapper in his new clothes. They were stylish and had been quite expensive. But dressing stylishly didn't come cheap. Drake had to admit that he didn't know the first thing about dressing stylishly. Luckily he had help in choosing the clothes. The beautiful young lady on his arm had proved very helpful in the shop. She looked up at him with her gorgeous emerald eyes and smiled.
The young pirate practically melted and would have kissed her had two very rough looking men not accompanied her. The men were her bodyguards she had told him earlier. Apparently she was the daughter of some nobleman here for the execution. (Everyone was referring to it as the execution rather than the trial because they all knew Jack would hang.) Thus far she had refused to reveal her name. When Drake asked she would just smile in the mischievous way she had and shrug. Drake was enamored with her to say the least. She had been in the shop looking to buy a new dress when Drake entered. Although he had been dressed like a commoner the young lady had immediately taken to him. She had even believed the story Drake fed her. He had been set upon by ruffians and robbed of all his possessions(including clothes). Luckily his father was a wealthy merchant and had given him the money for a set of new clothes. The young lady had been most helpful in achieving that goal.
Drake looked at her and smiled, "If you refuse to tell me your name how am I supposed to...address you?"
"You can call me Milady," she said as she returned the smile.
"Well then, Milady. I would like to thank you for all your help. I couldn't have done it without you."
"Oh! I know Drake!" she said teasingly. "I saw some of the fabrics and styles you were looking at..." The young lady shook her head and tsked.
Drake blushed. "At least I know I have good taste in women," he thought. She was beautiful and she would prove valuable in his mission. Being the daughter of a nobleman meant that she was most likely privy to a lot the common person wasn't. Pike had asked him to scout around and find out as much as he could about the execution and trial. Apparently the others were too recognizable to scout around for fear of compromising the plan. Drake had readily agreed. He had been tired of sitting around and doing nothing. He looked at the young woman and smiled again. Yes, he was really beginning to enjoy his work.
"M'lady we should be getting back soon. Your father will be getting worried," the burly yet sharply dressed guard interrupted.
"You mean he wants me close so he can keep an eye on me, don't you?" she retorted.
"Your father doesn't want to see you socializing with any undesirables," he said as he pointedly looked in Drake's direction.
"Daddy doesn't care one whit about me and you both know it! All he loves is money and power." She looked away disgustedly.
"I have to go," she said as she turned back to Drake. "Will you be at the ball this evening?"
Drake shook his head. He had already tried to finagle a way into it, but he just wasn't good enough at conning people yet.
"Oh," she looked disappointed. "Well then. Where can I find you?"
Drake shrugged, "I'll be around...my dad...uh...will be doing business..."
"Great!" she said with a smile, "I'll look for you in the market then."
"Uh...yeah...in the market..." Drake trailed off.
The young woman offered her hand to Drake so that he might kiss it.
"By the by, my name is Adriana."
Drake smiled and reached out to take her hand. One of the bodyguards imposed himself roughly between Drake and Adriana while the other guided her away.
Drake scowled at the guard and took a step forward menacingly.
"I wouldn't advise that...BOY!" the guard spat.
"Let it go Drake," she pleaded as the guards led her away. "I'll see you soon."
"Not if your father has anything to say about it and you know he does," the guard chuckled.
Adriana's bodyguards would have to go. Drake wished he could see her again, but by the sound of it he didn't think he would get the chance.
He sighed and walked away. His first priority was to find out as much info as he could about the execution. He had to help save Jack. Maybe he could help Adriana later.
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The elf had to admit that Pike's plan was a good one. He had been skeptical of the Norseman's ability to strategize and plan at first, but had been quickly won over. Pike's beefy frame housed a sharp mind. Pairing Rage with Doanthalas worked out great as well. Neither were known accomplices of Red Jack and neither would be able to walk around without drawing attention, Doanthalas because of his tattoos and elven heritage and Rage because he was lousy at stealth and subtlety.
Sometimes the best place to hide was in plain sight. Doanthalas had given up on trying to conceal his tattoos and was wearing a loose shirt, loose pants, and moccasins. People stared wherever he passed. Some even shrank away in fear. The sylvan elf was unfazed by their behavior. He had never seen a human city before. His whole life had been lived in the forest, Abyss, and Gehenna. The smells that filled his nostrils stirred something inside him that he had thought dead. Doanthalas was almost joyful and excited.
Rage had eagerly taken the job of guiding Doanthalas through his first experience of human society. Besides being necessary it was fun. The sylvan elf would have to know his way around Turnmoor especially if he got separated from the rest of the group during the rescue attempt.
The humans seemed to rush from place to place without taking the time to enjoy the things around them. Doanthalas noticed that humans rushed through everything; eating, drinking, talking, writing, shopping. They probably even rushed through sex. No wonder there were so many of them around. The tattooed elf figured that he would probably rush through life too if he lived for such a short amount of time. Humans lived maybe a century if they were lucky. Elves lived a millennia or more.
"Why do humans exchange small metal moons so often?" he asked turning to face Rage.
"Huh?" Rage looked at a man purchasing some potatoes from a merchant.
"Ooooh! Money! You mean money. That's how we pay for things."
"Money?" the elf repeated with brow furled.
"Ummm. It's like this: If you have something I want I give you money and you give me the thing I want."
"Like trading?" Doanthalas asked.
"Exactly!" Rage responded.
"But what use have I for...money?" the elf asked.
The young pirate considered this for a moment. "well...I guess money is pretty useless by itself, but it's...it's the method we use to do business." He shrugged and walked on.
"Strange," the tattooed elf thought. Then he shrugged as well and followed Rage. The young pirate pointed out important things the elf would need to know about human society. He also explained the layout of the city. Doanthalas digested everything Rage told him and then combined what he had learned with what Pike had told him of the plan. Everyone else had a specific goal to achieve. Rage and Doanthalas had more freedom. They were to be the wildcard support. When needed they would intervene. Also they were responsible for coming up with a means of escape. Doanthalas had just the thing in mind.
"Rage. Book passage for eight on a fast ship," the sylvan elf said in his stoic way.
"But won't..." the young pirate began.
Doanthalas held up a hand to silence him, "Go. Do this now. We will meet later at the dwelling."
Rage wasn't sure what the elf had in mind, but he went along with it anyway. "okay. See you later Doanthalas." The pirate waved as he walked off.
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A few hours later the elf was walking down the street. He had just purchased another "Wildcard". He might have smiled then if he had remembered how. But he didn't. Lost in thought he wondered why he stuck with Pike and the crew. He could just as easily have taken off to find his people again. Then it hit him. He wasn't ready yet. The reason he stuck with the pirates instead of escaping was that having a purpose distracted his mind from the horrors he had seen. Even then his mind was wandering dredging up memories of horrors he had witnessed in the lower planes.
Everything went silent as a flood of images came rushing back.
Leering faces of fiends mocked him. The broken bodies of men, women, and children looked up at him pleading for a quick merciful death with their eyes as they died in horrible and excruciatingly painful ways. The smell of burnt flesh, the screams of the tormented, the feel of gore beneath his feet. It was too much. It was maddening.
A cool breeze washed over Doanthalas and the sounds of Turnmoor returned. The elf turned when he felt the light touch of someone's hands on his shoulders.
"...you okay? You're trembling," she was saying. "Are you sick or hurt?"
Looking around the sylvan elf noticed that he was on his knees. He looked up at the woman. She had large friendly hazel eyes. Doanthalas allowed her to help him up. He was still stunned by the images and a bit disoriented. His mouth moved, but no words issued forth. Her hand was still in his so he caressed it to show his appreciation.
The woman blushed and quickly removed her hand. She had never seen an elf before, at least not this close. His tattoos were magnificent!
They were Beautiful and disturbing at the same time.
"What is your name?" she asked. "I am Elisabetta."
"Doanthalas," he replied. The elf was grateful to Elisabetta for snapping him out of it. "Many thanks for your concern of my being."
She bit her bottom lip and looked off to the side. "It was nothing," she said. "Everyone says I am too soft hearted and that it will get me in trouble some day. But I can't help it. If I don't help when I'm capable of helping I feel bad."
Elisabetta looked at Doanthalas for a while. He was shorter than most human men and thinner, but he had a grace about himself. The elf was still taller than her, but not by much. His eyes were shaped differently too; sort of like an almond and they were the color of emeralds. There was also a hardness to him, testament to the fact that he had been through a lot. His long coppery hair cascaded over his shoulders. Elisabetta had never before seen a more handsome man. The tattoos, instead of marring his beauty, only served to enhance it; even the demonic tattoos. They made him look exotic, mysterious, and maybe even a little dangerous. "An exciting combination to say the least," she mused.
"Come. You're still shaking. You can rest at...my place...for a while." Elisabetta grabbed his hand and led him down the street.
Doanthalas was slowly recovering, but still in no shape to resist her. He wasn't so sure he wanted to resist her anyway. When she touched him his body tingled. It was a sensation that used to be so familiar, but was now foreign to him. Pleasure. The elf watched Elisabetta as she led the way down the street. She was bigger than an elf woman. Taller, thicker...elven women were slender and of smaller stature. Doanthalas used to think that human women were fat, but after spending so much time with Rapina and the pirates he wasn't so sure.
Human women were more voluptuous, definitely. Doanthalas liked their curves; like rolling hills. He would be the wind that lightly blew over them. Doanthalas was surprised at how much he desired this woman. "It's understandable," he thought. After all, he hadn't been with a woman in years. Ever since he and his brother were captured and whisked away to the lower planes. About seven years it had been. He shook his head. Elisabetta had helped him and all he could do was think about sex. Doanthalas took a deep breath and followed her as she entered a large building resembling an inn.
"Welcome to...my...home," Elisabetta said rather hesitantly. "Come now. I'll introduce you to everyone after you've had a chance to collect your wits."
The room was filled with couches and feather pillows and had a large bar at the far end by the stairs. Scantily clad women sat with men each fawning over the other. Quite a few of them were kissing and petting each other quite vigorously. The few that weren't so occupied stared in awe as Elisabetta led Doanthalas upstairs.
The young woman ushered Doanthalas into her room and shut the door. A queen size bed dominated the room. A dresser, mirror, wash basin, desk and chairs were the only items of furniture in the room. Everything was decorated quite fancifully. "Here. Have a seat on the bed. Relax," she said. "How do you like it?"
The elf wasn't quite sure. He had never seen anything quite like it before. But he had to admit that the bed was quite comfortable.
"What is this place?" he asked sincerely.
Elisabetta almost laughed, "What?!?!?!?" She was genuinely surprised. "You don't know? Hmmm. I guess elves don't have brothels do they?"
"Brothels?" Doanthalas was perplexed. The word was unfamiliar to him.
"A brothel is a..." she began, but stopped herself. Doanthalas was the first man...elf that hadn't treated her like dirt because of how she made her money. Elisabetta liked that and decided not to spoil it by telling him any more about brothels and prostitutes. Never mind. It's not important. If you're tired you're welcome to sleep here tonight." She almost added, "for free", but caught herself in time.
"Sleep is not required," he replied.
"Oh? You're not tired? You've already slept then? No? You do sleep don't you?" She was shocked when Doanthalas shook his head no.
"The Reverie renews vigor and sharpens the mind's eye," he replied.
"The Reverie," Elisabetta had never heard of it before. "What's that?"
"The Reverie is when the mind is clear as the sky and the body is calm like the gentle waves of the sea. We remember in this way," Doanthalas replied.
Elisabetta still looked confused. "The human word for it is..." The elf closed his eyes and searched for it. "Meditation. Yes.
Meditation."
"So you are saying that you don't NEED to sleep?" she seemed astonished.
Doanthalas nodded. "The Reverie heals both body and mind and helps me to remember."
"Remember? Remember what?" she asked obviously confused.
"Everything. When a being lives for a thousand years there are a lot of things to remember. The Reverie allows us to do this." He replied.
"You're a thousand years old?!?!?!?" ELisabetta asked skeptically.
The elf shook his head. "No. I am only one hundred and seventy three years of age by human reckoning."
Elisabetta's jaw dropped. He was serious. "Wow! You look great for your age," she joked. The elf's expression didn't change.
"You are an assassin?" it was more of a statement than a question.
The young woman didn't say anything. How could he have guessed that?
No one knew that except...and he wasn't...or was he? She would have to find that out on the morrow. For now she needed to learn more about Doanthalas.
"Why do you ask that?" she ventured.
"You have the build and bearing of one," he said matter-of-factly. "I have dealt with many of them in the past." He noticed Elisabetta stiffen up.
"Worry not Elisabetta. I intend you no harm." Doanthalas reached up and caressed her cheek in the typical greeting of his people. "Your heart has opened to mine. My heart has opened to yours. That is a trust I would not betray."
Against all that she had been taught Elisabetta did trust the elf.
She took his hand and pressed it against her cheek.
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End of The Lost Fragment of Chapter 19
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This ends Sudden Death, Chapter 19 of The Chronicles of Rapina.
The story continues in, Chapter 20, Granville.