Disclaimer: I don't own SC2. REALLY, I'm REALLY sure of this!
YF: In my last chap. I started rambling randomly about the internet. Unfortunately, I left out the key sentence which makes the tirade make sense. The note addressed to you should've began with "Actually, one of the prime reasons for a sudden halt in all my fics was a loss of the internet...and interest, later on." Somehow, that single sentence was deleted, but without it, the next several sentances don't make sense. I was just too lazy to replace a whole chapter because I left out a sentence in the Author's Note. Sorrinesses.
Ok, this chapter has what I like to call the OneRing principal goin' on. If you've ever seen or read Lord of the Rings, you'll know what I'm talking about (no, this is not a LotR crossover!). I'm sort of establishing that the shards of Soul Edge are tempting to those who want them, very openly so...Well, you'll see. Tell me if it doesn't work, but it's not a major thing anyway, just a plot driver...Damn, too much notage, not enough storyage.
Chapter VII – Bad Luck
Light, very unwelcome light, shined through weakened glass panes in the Frenchman's room, bathing him and his cramped little bed in a searing fountain of light beams that tore his heavy eyelids open forcefully. He pulled those eyelids wide, his limpid orbs of eyes staring out and closing instantly as the blinding sunlight overflowed into his eyes and head. Shoving a wet palm, soaked with nightmare-induced sweat, in front of his eyes which closed tight, he kicked the thick, scratchy cotton blankets off of him and clamored madly out of the bed. He couldn't remember the dream which had made his night so long and frustrating, but he was sure it had been very chaotic for him to feel so tired out.
For Raphael de Sorel, the many days and sleepless nights he spent upon the Marie Rose were tireless, boring, and uneventful. But today would hopefully be different. As he glanced, still blinking heaps of baggy sand from the sides of his eyes, at the shredded parchment that hung from his wall. He'd requested to have the only calendar on the vessel placed in his room, since no one else really needed it for anything. He looked at it, fixing his gaze as best he could, and swabbed his sweaty brow with an ungloved palm as he noticed the date and let a minor grin pass over him. It was the 27th of November, Raphael's birthday. What could be called a very vague smile creased across his face as he pulled on some dirt clothes, trying in vain to smooth ruffled feathers, and left the small cabin with a slight spring evident in his step.
The Marie Rose was somewhere, which was what Raphael new best. More popular, and probably accurate, opinion had it that the passenger vessel was in the South China Sea or, more specifically, a large bay stretching into the colonized port city of Manilla, in the Phillipines. There was a necessary stop for supplies in the city, and possible new borders on the vessel, though Raphael couldn't imagine that anyone who was primitive enough to live in the Phillipines would ever care to leave, though that was just his opinion. Luckily, it might give Raphael a chance to interact verbally with someone other than Rush, Rock, or the possibly mute bartender who never spoke to him.
It wasn't that he didn't enjoy Rock's company. Ever since the bout however many weeks ago, they had developed some small sense of companionship, since they were the only two real warriors on the boat. They had talked many an hour for many a day about their pasts. Raphael was, surprisingly, intrigued by Rock's story. He had learned the man's real name, Nathaniel William Adams, and heard a story which seemed fictional about pirates, Indians, and other very strange things. It sounded like a more graduated children's story, and yet Rock told in perfect detail. Raphael knew Rock was smarter than he looked, but no man as primitive as he could possibly fabricate such an in depth tale no matter how many hours spent stewing over it. Raphael had related to Rock his own story, about his family and Amy, but had said nothing to him of Soul Edge (even though, unbeknownst to him, Rock had concealed his knowledge of the sword and shard as well).
So, now they were all in Manilla, ready to sail as soon as the supplies had been gathered. Manilla, like most of the civilized Phillipines, was a Spanish colony at this point, which at first discouraged Rush from pointing his ship there, but it was not particularly nationalist. Raphael and Rock had protested Rush not simply letting them off in India, which was on the way to the Phillipines, but Rush had insisted for whatever reason, despite the minor conflict. Now that they were here, neither the Frenchman or the white giant had bothered complaining.
Avoiding the onboard pub carefully, knowing that Rock did not like to be disturbed in the mornings, Raphael headed up onto the crowded main deck as the ship's lurching speed decreased and the fierce bobbing of the vessel lessened. The new sunlight, already present in Raphael's throbbing head, shone down majestically on the fluttering sails of the Marie Rose, which danced through the air as clouded shadows played out like brightened puppet shows upon them. Sucking in a breath of crisp, warm air, Raphael headed to the ship's side and leaned on it, dangling his arms over the railing.
The ship had pulled into the harbor of Manilla. It was a relatively bustling seaport, not as overborne with huddled masses as Le Havre, but still very busy. Some of the rustic seafaring men of the Marie Rose were securing mooring ropes to the flanking wharf as some folk on the extended bridge of rotting wooden planks inspected the vessel and either dismissed it disdainfully or continued to eye it carefully.
"We're takin' on a new passenger, ye know." Raphael recognized the voice of Captain Rush and didn't bother turning. He murmured silently to himself and spoke aloud. "Just one? I thought there'd be more. Who's the lucky fellow, anyway?" he laughed, last night's extra ale still supplying him with excess giddiness. "'Tis a girl, mister Sorel." Growled Rush, his face as rock solid as stone. "Right there." He raised a spatula-shaped index finger and jerked it below, over the vessel's side, and towards one of the figures standing alone on the mooring wharf. It was a girl his finger fell upon, and a small one at that. She was no older than twenty, surely, but no younger than fourteen. Raphael did not bother estimating her age as he looked down at the child. Her skin was of lighter and smoother hue than the other rough men who clamored about foolishly in the harbor. She looked very pensive, looking out at Manilla bay as she began to walk slowly toward the Marie Rose's gangplank. Raphael examined her keenly from afar.
"Bad luck, mister Sorel." Commented Rush, shaking his head grimly. "What's bad luck, Rush?" inquired Raphael, chuckling silently as he leaned back, holding onto the railing and feeling the calm winds smooth the stressed creases and wrinkles that were starting to pockmark his otherwise porcelain aristocratic complexion. "Woman onboard," groaned Rush, "'specially a kid girl. 'Tis bad luck to let any female on a ship, ye know."
"No, I don't think I have heard that superstition." bantered back Raphael, skepticism apparent in his tone. "T'ain't no superstition, mister Sorel. Whenever there's a lady onboard, somethin' bad's bound ta happen." As Rush said this, despite Rush's dead seriousness, Raphael laughed more audibly and leaned forward, a critical grin upon his expression. "You'll pardon me if I don't take that very seriously." Rush looked at him, one eye seeming strangely larger than the other, swollen with a mild intimidation. "Ye oughtta, mister Sorel, or else." Warned Rush, wagging a flabby finger at the Frenchman. "Or else what, dare I ask, seven years bad luck?" The Frenchman contained an impolite guffaw. "I dunno, t'was just sayin'." Said Rush, retreating somewhat. "Well, I'm going to get the girl a drink, It'll be nice to have some civilized company aboard this ship." He huffed a little, assuming his usual air which allowed Rush the easiness to chuckle himself. Rearing himself up and puffing out his regal chest, Raphael made his way to the gangplank and swaggered down, dragging himself like a king and his train as he met the young girl halfway, catching her mildly off guard.
"Hello, mademoiselle," he began pleasantly, "it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Raphael de Sorel." She nodded back at him, still walking. "I'm Talim." the girl responded meekly, trying in vain to move past him. She smiled a soothing, yet impatient smile as moved aside, still blocking her path for the most part. "Good day, miss Talim. Would you perhaps like a drink, some food?" This managed to elicit yet another nod. "I'd like a drink," murmured the Filipino teenager "thanks."
"Here, come with me. I'll introduce you to my friend."
Almost dragging her along, Raphael pulled Talim onboard. Most of the sailors around just gave her quirky looks, but Rush managed to tip his hat, even though he still had that cautious scowl on his grizzled face. Raphael ignored them, unintentionally forcing the newcomer to do the same. He managed to get himself and the young one, who was much more energetic in the morning than he, down into the small, bobbing ship's pub as the Marie Rose began to lurch along, with no other passengers boarding. Supplies had been brought up from some neutral storehouses in Manilla during the calm, windy previous night so nothing was left for the vessel or its crew in the Phillipines. As the two, walking down that unstable flight of steps to the decks below, felt the ship beginning to move sluggishly, Talim looked a little agitated, though she expertly masked the emotion and followed behind the overly amiable Frenchman until they were in the practically empty ship's barroom.
…
They headed down, out of the brisker atmosphere of an oddly dark morning sky, and into the room. Though unwilling, Raphael guided Talim to one of the undersized stools and sat her down, seating himself beside Rock, who seemed lost in his morning grog tankard. He looked asleep, for the most part, so Raphael easily dismissed his drowsy state and turned back to Talim, feeling the ship roll along beneath him as the Marie Rose cleared Manilla Bay and pulled out into the vast, salty waters of the South China Sea, swelling and swirling around them both.
"So, Miss Talim, what brings you aboard this 'fair ship?'" laughed the Frenchman at last, ordering a more delicate cup of ale from the grizzled bartender who he still thought to be mute, though he'd heard him talk on occasion. Talim looked back at him, still with that delightful naivety in her clear eyes. "I had to get abroad…I'm looking for something, you see…many somethings."
"Yes, I see." Raphael nodded in understanding, "I'm looking for something too. I assume all people are looking for something." Talim's gaze wast oddly cast down as he looked back at her. "I'm sure," she replied softly, "But what I'm looking for is very different than what everyone else is looking for." Raphael smiled, some threadbare, obscure warmth reflected on his laid back features, "Don't worry about that, Talim. No matter what you're looking for, I guarantee that there are more people on this globe who seek the same. In fact, I would bet that you shall meet one of them on your journey, if not more. It is the way of things, I think. There is always at least one other, so you can be an individual in your own right, but you'll never be alone in your quest. It's a comforting thought for people like you and me. We're both seeking something very special."
"I don't enjoy thinking about what I'm searching for…I'm not looking for it because I want it…I'm looking for it because I hate it." Raphael shot her a strange look, but shrugged it off and turned back to his pulsating, bubbling drink. "No matter what it is, there is someone else. I'm sure you'll find what you're looking for, I do." Talim shook her head, looking a little melancholy. "I had to leave my home to find it…I don't know if it'll be worth it." Raphael turned to her, his curiosity piqued. "You didn't run away, did you?" Talim shook her head again. "No, I didn't…It was just the first time I ever left…Mister Sorel, I don't think I like the rest of the world. Everywhere I look, people who look like they'd rather kill me where I stand than have a pleasant conversation, people who stare at me for no reason I know, they're everywhere in Manilla, everywhere on the road I took."
"It isn't that bad, once you get to know it." comforted the Frenchman. Trying to get off a subject that was growing more morose by the second, he turned to Rock, who was still buried face first in his murky grog. "It's time you met my friend." muttered Raphael as he raised his hand. Reluctantly, flinching a little as his index finger moved, Raphael jabbed Rock sharply in the folded arm, jogging him rudely from his half slumber. "Wha…whad I miss?" he murmured, his jaw hanging limp as he began pulling himself up. "We have a new arrival, Rock, a fine young lady, miss Talim here." He indicated the Filipino. Talim blushed politely at Raphael's statement, but not too much. She was obviously taken aback by her newer, rougher, less peaceful surroundings. "Why…ummm…Hello, Talim." Rock managed to mutter glumly, pulling himself up, "Wanna drink?"
"Yes, yes please." She replied, still meekly. Raphael sat back as he listened to her voice, feeling an odd sensation welling up and milling about in his mind. Though she was older, she had the same child-like innocence of Amy, the same calming air and gentle disposition."Sure," said Rock, smiling beneath his fuzzy beard. He reached into the pocket of his pelted, primitive garb and dig around. Soon, a foul look crossed his face as he removed empty hands and let them fall in a heap on the bar, "Looks like I'm all out."
"Out of what?" interjected Raphael, looking quizzical but not entirely paying attention. "Money." Responded Rock dully, "You got any, Talim?" Talim paused for a second, drawing the attention of both men, and shook her head sadly, "Nothing I could spend, mister…" Rock cut her off with the answer. "His name's Rock." he said, turning fully to Talim, "Are you sure you have nothing on you? You won't get far on land without any." Talim contemplated for a moment, looking from Frenchman to giant, and spoke.
"Well…I do have this…"
Apparently, no one had noticed the eerie calm that had descended, the sudden lull in the sea breezes noise and the harbor flocking birds. No chirps rent the air, now caws and howls, no wind whistling and fluttering sails, all was silent. Talim reached with ominous slowness to the small pouch at her side, pulled it cautiously up, and dumped its contents onto the table; a small metallic shard, glowing a blazing scarlet aura. "By the spirits," whispered Rock, for once his voice silent, "a shard…You have shard of the sword!" his eyes were widening still as he spoke. "What, what sword?!" scowled Raphael at Rock, though his eyes were transfixed on the fragment as well. Suddenly, Rock pushed Raphael roughly aside as he moved towards the bar and piece of stony material, his voice swelling dramatically as he spoke, "That is a fragment of the blade of darkness! That…that little rock…is a piece of Soul Edge!"
Just as suddenly, the silence was broken. The word had triggered something, primarily in the Frenchman. Raphael de Sorel, seeing the first piece of his prize dove forward at the bar, shoving Talim off the stool she sat on, and groping for the glowing fragment. Before he had it, though his scratching fingers were close, he felt Rock's firm hand on his shoulder holding him back as he tried to leap. His hand flitted to Flambert. 'It must be mine!' "Get off me, mongrel!" he roared, his eyes filled with a strange and unusual fire, "I NEED that shard!"
"Weak-minded fool, the shard has to be destroyed, it's evil!" roared Rock back. Oddly, both Rock and Raphael seemed transformed in an instant, now raging, loud, and barbarous as they each clamored forward, bashing at the bar table and grabbing at the glowing fragment. "I need it for Amy, I have to have all the pieces, I have to!" Rock glowered back at him. "You mean that damned brat you were wailing about?" he cackled uncharacteristically, yanking Raphael back, "She doesn't need it!" The two of them continued their grappling, but were swifly interrupted. "Get off! It's mine anyway!" Talim's voice, so formally calm before, yelled loudly as she jumped up into the fray.
As they began their unwonted brawl, another voice joined their grunting and groaning trio. "What in blue blazes is goin' on here?!" Rush managed to thunder, storming across the room with a pair of thirsty crewmembers. Rush grabbed Rock, along with another sailor, since he was obviously the strongest, and hauled him off the bar and onto the floor, creating an even greater ruckus. Now, with no Rock to hinder him, Raphael neared the shard, but the combined force of Talim and the other seafarer kept him away as Rush squirmed out from beneath Rock and leapt up, grabbing the metal. "Now, what's all this bloody commotion about?" he declared, eyeing Rock and Raphael as they struggled to reach the fragment. "He tried to steal my fragment!" boomed Raphael, his fire-laced voice echoing in the pub. "It's MY fragment!" Talim protested loudly,
"Why in hell do you all care so much…about…this…little thing." Rush's voice suddenly deflated, his volume shrinking and the sinister silence returning as his glassy eyes looked down at the fervently glowing item hovering just above his palm…"My god…it's beautiful." He stammered. In a second, his palm had closed, the glow now enveloping his hand, and he walked forward past Raphael, Rock, and Talim. "Cap'n, cap'n, wha' is it?" queried one of the confused seafarers as Rush, eyes looking gleefully at his hand, marched forward.
The whole room fell into shock as Rush's hand, unhesitating, went to his side, whipped out the rusty cutlass that hung at his hip, and didn't even look up as he slashed his mate, drawing a deep gash through his arm and chest which sent a vomiting burst of scarlet into the air. Talim winced, flinching as the sprits of life fluid landed with a fluid bounce on the floorboards. Still emotionless, Rush walked by the corpse, still wrenching back and forth. Another seafarer jumped in his way, trying vaguely to fathom what his captain had done, but found the rusty and now blood dripping blade stabbed mercilessly through his throat. He slumped backward against the wall, leaving a drying trail behind him on the wood as he slid down to the floor. Grinning evilly, Rush ran past him too and up the stairs, heading out into the darker sky on the main deck. The remaining sailors, Raphael, Talim, and Rock hurriedly got up and sprinted after him. Raphael caught up first, heading Rush off beneath the mizenmast. "GIVE ME BACK MY SHARD!" Raphael nearly shrieked, unsheathing Flambert with a less delicate grace as the metallic scream of the sword ripped through the calm breeze. Still, eyes were too fixed on what was on deck to notice the billowing clouds in the sky.
"It's mine now!" Shot back Rush, pulling up his cutlass. His fist was so tightly clenched around the shard that some thin tendrils of blood were oozing from between his firmly closed fingers. The cutlass shot up and came down, but Rush was a mediocre fighter compared to Raphael. He was disarmed after a vigorous flurry of slashes from the Frenchman. Raphael, his face twisted into an animal snarl, was about to lunge, when Rock's bulky fist slammed down and wrapped around his right shoulder again, preventing him. "Raphael, you're acting like a madman!" bellowed Rock, trying to shake off his own primal fury.
"You're the mad one, Rock, not I!" Raphael's blade swerved, slicing a very shallow gash on Rock's knuckle. The giant, stamping like a furious bull, his ax clutched in hand, punched the bloodied fist into Raphael's face. The Frenchman shot back, blood pouring from his nose, and slid on the deck until he halted in a agonized heap at the other end. Rock stamped towards Rush, closing his huge hand around the captain's tiny one. "GIVE ME THAT SHARD!" The barbaric white giant yelled right into Rush's weak ear. "N-no…it's m-mine, my shard!" stuttered Rush reluctantly.
"Actually, it's mine." Rush and Rock looked down, nearly spooked, as Talim yanked the fragment from Rush's fidgeting palm and rushed off. Rush, with a swift kick to Rock's chest, fell to the deck and scurried behind Talim, grabbing her from behind. Growling maniacally, he spun her around. His face was lucid, but a deathly flame burned with severe intensity behind his paling eyes. The blade in his hand reared back again and…
Talim fell back, something wet speckling her face. She knew what it was, but she didn't want to know. Her eyes reluctantly opened, to see Flambert, the reddened rapier of Raphael de Sorel, driven through the upper chest of a twitching, wide-eyed Rush. Panting heavily, and bleeding from nose and mouth, Raphael pulled up his foot and kicked Rush's quivering body off his sword, taking a deep breath. "You…you killed him…you killed him!" cried Talim, backing up on the deck as Raphael looked at his sword, astonished. "I had to…He was going to kill you, he was going to kill you and take the shard, he was-" It was just then when one of the most inconvenient things that ever happened to the Marie Rose happened. Raphael's very quiet voice and the calm as the crew looked, nearly comatose, at their dead captain, was interrupted by a small voice from the crow's nest above.
"Ship off the port bow!" it cried weakly, "Pirates!"
'Shit' Raphael's barely audible mind swore, 'Perhaps Rush was right about the bad luck.'