Author's Notes: Amazing, but true. I finished another one and I've got the next started... Sorry about the previous cliffhanger. Believe it or not, I'd forgotten it left you hanging so bad.
Disclaimer: Still don't own PotC. Nope.
Chapter 27: Brimstone
It was difficult to focus on the plate full of food as Kendra's mind spun with the hastily constructed plans Filib and herself had made. Conall blatantly avoided even looking in Kendra's direction and she didn't mind. Caoimhe was sitting to Kendra's left and occasionally passed a bit more of her food to her niece. Kendra had appreciated it before, but hunger was the least of her worries now.
She really wanted to go home now: To her ship, to her crew. Even to see Swallow's Rest again. Kendra looked at the little scraps of fish that her aunt had just set next to her roll and found her mind wandering to Dom. What was he cooking? Were the Morgan children still terrorizing the beaches?
Kendra set the fork down and let out a sigh. She even missed Alex. She would demand an explanation and apology of course, but she wanted to see him again. It was making her gut wrench up at the thought of never resolving this. As the wait dragged on, the already unpleasant flavor in her mouth was increasing. And she already had plenty of problems in her life, especially at the moment.
"Are yeh well?"
"Aye," Kendra lifted her eyes and smiled softly at her aunt. "Just feeling a little tired." The excuse of exhaustion always got the woman to leave her alone. "Perhaps I'll go sleep a bit earlier today."
"Take care then, dear." She hesitated. "Unless yeh wanted meh ta-"
"No, no," Kendra waved a hand. "I couldn't trouble you. My apologies for not finishing my plate."
With a few more reassurances to Caoimhe, one to Rhona, and a quickly exchanged glance with Filib, she was free of the table. Kendra paused a moment in the large entry way. She could leave, the door was right there. She knew where a stabled horse was. Even just hiding in town might be enough to get away… though they would still strike the MacLeod house.
And if they didn't find what they were looking for…
Kendra cringed as the images came to mind. She had seen – and participated in – plenty of raids. The prospect of what would happen to them, her family made her nearly sick to her stomach.
One more glance at the door and she turned back to the stairs, starting up them. She reached the top and looked to the window. Habit had her moving to it, if only to assuage the nagging fear of finding Caldwell outside the doors. A few steps away from the window, she thought she saw a flicker of golden light. She stiffened and took the remaining steps.
Her breath hitched at the sight that lay before her and she leaned into the wall next to the window, peering out. A platoon of soldiers was gathered there, just as she had feared, with torches in hand and a familiar face barely discernable at the head of them.
"The same night," she breathed. How dare they come on the same bloody night? Kendra grimaced at the inevitable.
Another breath and she was rushing to the dining hall, her boots clattering on the wooden stairs and skittering across the ground floor's stone tiles.
"Filib!" she commanded, catching his eye and skidding to a stop. "They're here!" She set her hand on her cutlass' hilt, fingers curling around the familiar leather. "Get everyone out now!"
"Aye," he was on his feet and looking over the table. "All women and children to the back cove, Gran'dad, yeh go, too. Rhona," he looked to his wife and let out a breath as she nodded, clapping her hands.
"Come along children, all this way." Rhona swept children in front of her and began listing off the different mothers and children. Her voice continuing to be heard over the swell of voices amongst the chaos of anxious women and children rushing out.
The men looked to their wives for only a moment before turning to Conall. Their captain, hand still bandaged from the earlier spar, narrowed his eyes and looked to Filib. Within a minute half the room was emptied and even Alistair was being persuaded to leave the ramshackle group of men and Kendra.
"How many?" Filib asked, coming up to her side.
"A whole troop of 'em," she kept a steady gaze on the doors.
Her heart was beginning to race and she soon tuned out the nervous questions of the confused MacLeods behind her. She dimly heard Filib telling them to stop talking and just prepare for a fight. He was still half-way through a sentence when there was a sudden shout from outside and the doors burst open.
The large entry way was rushed and invaded by a sea of red, leaving Kendra only time for one more deep breath before she shifted into a comfortable stance and prepared for the wave to hit. It was with flashes of flame and crimson that the fight erupted, enraged yells from each side echoing off the tall ceilings.
Kendra's blade collided with steel and she dispatched the headstrong soldier, twisting to the side and flicking her blade across his gut. Another took his place and she focused only on the moment. She was vaguely aware of Filib staying close to her, his daggers quickly becoming bloody and his fists making short work of the orderlies that had been sent in first.
Two more charged her and she dodged one, darting around the other's blade and jabbing her elbow into his neck. He stumbled back and she continued her assault, striking his cheek. As he fell she felt two hands grab her arms and she lashed out. Kendra freed one arm, but as she swung at her captor he caught her wrist and continued to restrain her.
"Nice and easy, wench," he said, gritting his teeth with the effort of holding her.
She didn't bother with a reply, instead flipping around her cutlass and jabbing it into his gut. With the blood came her release, the soldier stumbling back, clutching at his wound. Kendra didn't pause to watch him fall, she moved onward, flipping around her cutlass again and swinging it at the first soldier to block her path. She was looking for Caldwell - cut off the head and the body is useless. Besides, she wanted his blood on her blade.
She spotted him once, but he was out of sight before she could get to him. She pushed aside the soldiers blocking her path and struggled to find him. Filib's ruthless methods still were closely ringing behind her – groans and cracked jaws. Another glimpse of Caldwell's jacket and she darted under clashing swords, entirely focused on finding the bloody redcoat. As she went further, there were more soldiers to contend with.
Another soldier brushed past her, making her step back and she saw the blade only a moment before it reached her. Instinctively she jerked her cutlass up and cringed at the sparks from the clashing steel. Her body tensed as she saw her opponent – Caldwell. He pulled back his blade and came at her again, hard and fast. She parried and found herself backing away from his advances. He had claimed the upper hand. She grit her teeth and tried to press forward, but there were too many other redcoats coming at her from the sides.
Just when she was almost clear to attack Caldwell again, he would charge in and force her to step backwards. Sliding a foot back to balance herself, she collided with something soft and warm. Caldwell pressed harder and she felt her balance shifting. She fell backwards.
Kendra landed hard on the stone floor. Her legs were propped up by a redcoat corpse and she was drenched in a pool of his blood. She had managed to keep her arm held upright, cutlass extended in the hopes of connecting with Caldwell. He touched the tip of his sword to her throat, smirking as her cutlass still fell short of reaching him.
"Bring the manacles!" Caldwell snapped, lifting his eyes to the redcoats clustering around them.
Kendra hissed out her heaving breaths, her eyes never leaving his face. For only a moment he met her eyes and then a redcoat lackey struck her with the butt of his rifle. Her head exploded with pain and her cutlass clattered helplessly to the side.
The sound of thudding boots was the first thing that registered in Kendra's mind and she wearily opened her eyes, trying to get them to focus. Black spots danced across her vision and it took her a moment to realize that she was pinned to the floor and staring at the stone tiles. Her entire body ached and she slowly began to register all of the sensations going on around her. Aching muscles took up most of her focus, along with the heavy foot set on her back. No doubt it belonged to a redcoat, as she could make out the orders being given and she was quite certain that if the MacLeods had been victors she would not be in this particular position.
The heavy manacles on her wrists had yet to bite into her skin, but she slowly moved her hands to test their size. Unfortunately, they were small enough that it would take some work to get her hands out of them. Her guard was also astute enough to notice the clinking of Kendra's manacles. He stepped down harder, forcing the breath out of Kendra.
"Not so fast." He dug his heel in a little harder and lifted his head, calling out. "Captain Caldwell?"
"…and that old man is not to be found?" Caldwell paused – he still wasn't used to the new rank – and looked back at the Ensign guarding Kendra. "Yes, Stevens?"
"She's awake. Orders?"
Caldwell looked down at his prize prisoner, smiling to himself. "Get her on her feet. I'll be with you in a moment." When Stevens nodded and crouched to haul Kendra up, Caldwell turned back to the other redcoat. "Keep searching the area for that old man and the rest of them. Send back a report every hour."
At Steven's hands touching her, Kendra glared at the tiles and hissed at the movement. Her back ached, her shoulders were stiff and her head was throbbing. He forced her to her feet and kept a tight grip on her upper arm, pulling her one way or the other when her legs wavered. She fought the urge to let her head hang down, instead keeping it upright and scanning her surroundings.
Redcoats were everywhere, swarming through halls and rooms she had started to think of fondly. She only just managed to keep the sneer from her lips – it all felt contaminated. Just like her shirt and breeches. The blood was starting to harden and the stiffness of her clothes and hair was unpleasant, especially as she was able to identify the smell of blood hanging on her person.
Where there had once been a room with family meals there was a small ring of troops, guarding the tied-up MacLeod men. They were all bruised and bloodied, some letting out soft moans. She recognized one set of defiant eyes meeting her own and was glad to see that Filib was still alive. He was sporting a black eye and a rather bruised cheek, but she had not lost him. Sure of that, she then refocused her attention on Caldwell, narrowing her eyes more as she finally could single out what he was saying.
"They will ship out at midnight. Have her there in plenty of time to board the H.M.S. Confidence."
"Aye, aye, Captain Caldwell."
He watched the soldier walk away and then turned to look at Kendra, his face too calm for a man who had moved up a rank by capturing a notorious pirate. "Finally awake, are we?"
"I would think that much is obvious," she murmured. She didn't bother to hide her loathing.
Caldwell came closer, looking up and down her once. "I had thought you cared about your appearance, pirate. I've heard of how you tried to bathe the Lord Chancellor."
Kendra sneered. "I don't have lice like that git. And the only reason I'm filthy is because I landed in your man's blood." When he merely watched her face, her sneer deepened. "And you don't care?" She continued to speak, ignoring the tightening grip on her arm. "Several of your men lie dead by my hand, I'm coated in some of their blood and you don't even care?"
"The hunt is over and I'm victorious." Caldwell raised an eyebrow slightly. "Am I supposed to cry over a seaman's death?"
Kendra started to bare her teeth, emotions and adrenaline rushing to the surface even when she didn't have the energy to support it. "He was one of your men, wasn't he? Isn't that enough reason to at least bat an eye?"
Caldwell continued to watch her. "I thought such sentiments were only in novels, not in pirates of the day." He turned and looked to the huddle of keenly silent MacLeods. "Prepare her to be transported. I'll be in my office."
"And to think they call me a monster…" she hissed, her body trembling, her anger simmering as he did not rise to the bait.
Caldwell headed to the stairs to what she assumed was his commandeered office and passed a haphazard pile of dead redcoats. When he did not so much as blink at them, she continued to shake and grit her teeth.
It had been an incredibly long day. From the arrival of Caldwell to the fight with Conall to the actual assault, Kendra had felt her nerves stretched to their limits. And the cuffs were really starting to chafe. As a child she'd always wondered why captured pirates looked so much more haggard than the ones she was around, but she understood that a little too well now. Brits may be mocked mercilessly in pirate company and she was sure it was true a lot of the time, but when one was the pirate prisoner… things were not so easy.
Being so small made it even worse. Less force was needed to shove her around. And the guards made no effort to soften their blows. So the effect was doubled. Or at least increased. She hoped she wouldn't bruise too badly. She already looked pathetic enough.
Kendra blinked and cleared her mind of the depressing thoughts. She had to focus on her current situation. She had been sitting in the brig for several hours and something told her that the sun would not rise for a few more hours. Had the assault been so soon? It was doubtful she could flee the Brits, especially while aboard Hallington's ship, the H.M.S. Confidence. Oh, if she could only be amongst her crew or at least alone with the man - the pain he would suffer. A somewhat malicious smirk came on her lips and she was rewarded with the attention of one of her guards.
This time he chose to hit her in the back of the head. "Stop that grinning, wench. You won't be escaping us on your own two feet."
"Ah," she slowly lifted her head. "So Hallington intends to hang me, then does he?"
"Of course he does," the guard snapped. "Pirates should all be hung, they don't deserve to share the seas with us."
Kendra was still feeling particularly snide. "Ah, and what of privateers? They be respectable citizens to their country, but if ye be on the wrong side of the flag…" she let the thought trail off.
"Shut your mouth," he growled and raised his hand again. When she didn't flinch or soften her gaze, he lowered his hand. "You keep a tongue like that and you'll lose your head sooner."
"But I thought I was being hung, not beheaded."
The guard scoffed and left her in the care of the others. Just as well. She was tiring of the banter. She passed the time by dozing, doing her best to sleep even though the cuffs were heavy and biting into her wrists, not to mention that sitting on a hard board and having to stay upright was not conducive to sleep.
Despite having gotten a few winks of sleep, Kendra was still exhausted as they came calling for her to meet with Hallington. It was all rather frivolous as far as Kendra was concerned. What could the man possibly have to say to her? What did he expect to get out of her, didn't he have proof enough of her piracy?
There were heading for Port Royal, a city that Kendra had only been to once, but she knew well enough what would take place there. She had never really raided in the area, the military presence was too numerous and too close for comfort. And here she was, soon to be imprisoned and killed - if Hallington could have things his way.
What a sick man, Kendra mused to herself. Still hadn't improved his hygiene. He had lost a little weight, but that could have been his deposition. He had an incredibly long title the first time she'd met him, she was quite sure it had shortened since then. Or maybe she had just tuned him out as he had ranted the last time they met. Either way, she still felt no respect or fear of the man.
No, what she feared was the noose. The navy. She'd never admit to it, but being all alone amongst them - and hated, too - made her realize that they were not just a bunch of men and ships to taunt and raid. There was true power behind them. And it made her take a breath to be their prisoner. Some of the soldiers felt themselves degraded to be escorting a small woman with so much precaution, but others had heard of her raids and gave her due respect - or as they saw it, abuse.
Walking up the stairs towards the man's cabin she thought of her own ship. Her crew. Her family. Her ship. Her freedom. And Alex.
She missed him.
Two months previous to this she wouldn't have agreed to the last one, but after Winn's scolding and the short amount of time with her family she had been able to let go of most of her prejudice and to forgive. She had healed with time. If he did love her… well, she would see if she lived through this first.
The way the soldiers were bragging about her capture - albeit silencing and almost looking sheepish as they saw her - left little doubt in her mind that such news would be all over the Caribbean in a matter of weeks. She knew she'd never been as popular or well-known as Sparrow, but she was a force to be reckoned with. Her name wielded fear and inspiration.
Kendra almost smiled. Her name may have made many men cower, but her looks never did. She'd gotten more laughs that way than she liked to consider. She would trade those laughs for the scowls and scoffs she got now. A sea of red was all she could see, living mountains of crimson and uniforms.
The remainder of the walk to Hallington's office was a short one and Kendra did not appreciate that. It meant there was less time to think up more insults for him and she would have to tolerate him sooner. She would need help to escape. And soon. She couldn't bear the thought of being under Hallington's thumb for long.
She hoped the Dilettante was riding hard on their tail. Even the Dunvegan would be a welcome sight Conall's face would be welcome right about now. But she knew the latter was impossible. He and his crew had been tied up just like the rest of her family.
The man's office was bare, likely because he was only using it as a temporary base. It likely was the case, the gold trim on the Persephone left little doubt in Kendra's mind about Hallington's taste in decorations. Gaudy and expensive, the more the better. And the H.M.S. Confidence was certainly not as efficient as Kendra would want a ship to be.
"Feeling humbled?" Hallington sneered at her. He had kept two of the guards there to stand on each of her sides, the door closed behind them.
"Not really," Kendra mindlessly scanned the bare walls, looking for imperfections to focus on. She'd always hated windowless rooms. Her eyes passed Hallington and she treated his annoyed expression as if it were simply another bland part of the room.
"I hold your life in my hands, sea rat. It would be in your best interest to respect me."
"And here I was, starting to think that the law was fair. Do I even get a trial? Or is that decency not given to such scum as myself?"
"Certainly not," Hallington huffed. "My word is proof enough. I haven't forgotten your face and I dare say I never will."
She let a bit of nostalgia come into her voice. "Always did like that flag of yer knickers."
"You will listen!" he snapped and stood, his face beginning to turn red. Apparently he was used to having his way - Kendra thought all noblemen were - and did not appreciate her comments. She found them plenty amusing. He nodded at the guards and one of them shoved her shoulder.
"To think, you can't even be alone in a room with me and feel safe," Kendra finally met Hallington's gaze. It had seemed like a bother to put any attention towards her facial expression - besides boredom, and it had worked plenty well - but now she focused intently. "Or perhaps you know that a small lass like myself is far more a threat to you than anyone would think possible." She smirked. "Though I may be giving you too much credit."
"Take her away," Hallington growled and waved his hand, sitting down and glaring at the wall.
"You can't even think of a good response," she sighed. "Pity, too. I was just starting to remember the first time we met. You, hiding in the closet, me, fishing you out at sword point-"
"Out!" he snarled and she found herself hustled out of the room.
She thought the guards were a little gentler than they had been previously. Apparently she was more worthwhile in their eyes. Or maybe they disliked Hallington more than her. Not hard to do, she thought to herself. Being more likeable than that crusty old man is a task most of Sparrow's crew could manage.
Kendra kept her head low – the guards had always jostled her in the past – and was a little surprised to hear her escort trying not to chuckle. She smiled a little and kept her gaze down, best not to attract any more attention – and thus jostling – to herself.
She saw the brig looming ahead and sighed, slowing her pace a little. Much to her pleasant surprise, the guards didn't hurry her as she had expected they would. They slowed their pace and even let her enjoy her silence. Perhaps she would gain more respect than she had thought. These guards certainly were being somewhat respectful. Though she still wore the cuffs.
But she was an accused and dangerous criminal. Only what she deserved, wasn't it? Kendra let out a breath and allowed herself to be locked in, the cuffs removed as the guards left. She nodded her head to the guards and though only one of them returned the gesture, she wondered if she'd glimpsed a small smile on the other's face. It was only when they'd left her there that she rubbed her wrists and found a comfortable corner to lean against.
It was going to be a long day.
Remember to not give up hope. It always gets darkest right before the light...
