Author's Note: Ok, sorry about the wait, but here we go. This chapter is for lovers of those old pirate swashbucklers. If you don't remember what was going on with Talim, Raphael, and Rock, you might wanna check. There is a little Talim abuse within, for which I apologize but I have reasons. Firstly, I need to get some philosophical points across, so this isn't just a garbled piece of war fiction. Second, she gets to kick some ass too, as you'll see soon. Also, one of my characters may seem OOC (you'll know who, but I can't tell you now, t'sa surprise). Again, don't worry, he's not really OOC, just in an uncharacteristic mood this day, for reasons to be revealed (it happens, and it's not an excuse, it's for the plot again, he'll be IC later in the chapter). Darkfencer: Raph's just being arrogant, but he'll be very in character this chapter, I think. Jade: If this gets more violent, I might make it R, but not now, isn't too violent or sex-filled. YF: Glad you like. Yes, it's a major cliffhanger, but you'll see soon. That chapter should be good. Everyone will find out soon what was unleashed and, No, it was not Evil Seed. I'm glad most liked the Charade depiction. Alright, ON TO THE CHAPTER! Might be a bit weird, but I think you'll enjoy it (second apology to Talim fans for some trauma). It also might be discontinuous, but, you see, my mind is a little...dead. Good reading to thee! LASTLY (deep breath), my Tagalog is a bit rusty. Forgive me if it's innacurate...
Disclaimer: Mesa nosa owny da Soul Caliba, no no, mesa only own da odda peeps you no know.
Chapter XV – Friends, Foes, and Failings
The eyes of every man (and one obstreperous female) on the good ship, Marie Rose, were fixed ever on the small, bobbing lump on the contorting horizon, drawing ever closer as excitable shrieks poured off of it, joyful in anticipation of new treasure. The crew of the Marie Rose, utterly bewildered, just stared at this new vessel cresting the horizon swiftly. Raphael was the first to peel his gaze away from the evident mesmerizing effect of the vessel. It was the surprise of the whole thing that had truly gotten through to the crew, but Raphael would take advantage of it. He inched towards Talim, who still held the much needed shard.
But, he was interrupted by a an arrow that struck the earth, twanging and resonating down its wooden length as the shaft quivered in the plank right in front of Raphael's big left toe. He pulled his foot out of the way and walked back as more arrows thudded into the wooden rail and deck of the Marie Rose. Soon enough, the rain became hail as the other ship drew nearer. By Raphael's recollection, it was Chinese, with ridged sails and tiled decks that bore a more regal splendor and homely quality than rougher, stauncher European seafaring vehicles. It bobbed closer, the arrows unsheathing from it like blades themselves, as the ship with its neatly cropped sails, more majestic than the rumpled tatters of the sails of the Marie Rose, fluttering eternal in oceanic wind. Still, as he heard the simultaneous nervous gulps, the Frenchman inched along his way, the surprise and horror after he'd murdered Rush in cold blood subsiding fast as his bereft face peeled into a terrible grin while his rapier lifted, leveling at the teenager.
As he neared her, her head suddenly snapped his way. She was about to scream (or perhaps simply roar angrily, though the Frenchman wouldn't have been prepared for that), but the sound was instantly overpowered by an even more raucous cry, followed by the pouring of footsteps. Raphael's path was suddenly blocked by a long, jagged hook with rope in a tail behind it, which latched messily onto the plank in front of Raphael. He stepped back, watching more arrows fly and more hooked grapplers grabbing onto the vessel he stood on. Throwing countless grappling hooks across the space between each ship, the pirate's began to madly clamor over as the arrow barrage stopped at the crew of the Marie Rose, now in total disarray, scattered like rats in face of an overbearing feline. All except Rock, Talim, and Raphael were fleeing backward across the deck as pirates jumped over the railing and alighted on the Marie Rose, bearing toothless, vulgar grins on their faces. Raphael tried to ignore them as he plowed towards Talim again, only to realize that she was gone. Angrily, he sped after her.
She was not fleeing in fear, of course, but simply to keep the shard from him. In his rage, it was obvious that he would not toy with her at all before the end. The problem with the situation was that pirates were now clamoring noisily aboard the Marie Rose, baring their cruel and crude weapons stupidly, brandishing them at the sky in misplaced defiance as the rain blindly across the main deck. The confusion, commotion, and darkness that had descended wistfully to accompany stormy clouds above gave Talim the cover she needed to flee below deck as the original crew crowded over her location, some running past her, some off to the edge of the ship to dive off into the sea and seek refuge beneath its torrential waves, bashing heartily against the weary hull. Some stood to defend, running towards the pirates and engaging them in combat until the deck was filled with battling couples (and the occasional trio or quartet), swiping at each other and tearing the masts and planks of the deck to ribbons in little time.
At this point, Talim had lost track of both Rock and Raphael. She had to find a way down, into the cargo hold perhaps, or the dank and small bar. She had seen battles there, but it was still small and cramped, and would be easy to bury herself in some corner of. Unfortunately, she could not find any door leading down, as every one was blocked by crowds. She ran as fast as she could along the length of the main deck to no avail. She looked up, her nose in the air, as a gentle sensation, cold but refreshing, hit her. Another prick of low temperature hit her cheek and glided off of it slowly. It was raining, very delicately and with bare resolve, but it was raining nonetheless. She tried to ignore the erratic whether as the storm continued to pelt her with narrow droplets, falling from the cloudy sky and plunking almost noiselessly on the deck. There were weak attempts at lightning thumping behind the curtain of wispy dark blue in the heavens, and rattles of misplaced thunder every so often, but the sounds did not affect Talim as she sprinted towards the rickety, wobbling set of stairs that led up from the main deck to the steering deck, hoping for salvation. She grabbed the railing of the higher deck and swung herself onto it, looking at the steering wheel which, with no man to hold it in tow, was spinning madly as the rain's force increased. So, she was on the steering deck, as the rain pelted her, and might have been safe, except for one thing.
Pirates were all around, or so it seemed. There were really only five, which was not a great amount, but more formidable a supply than Talim had expected. Getting away from one power-hungry maniac had only led her into this newest den of lions. She looked around quickly, thanking her ancestors that she had her tonfas out and in hand, ready in a battle stance. The pirates, rugged and generally vulgar looking, jeered and hooted at her oafishly. She looked back at them, her eyes shooting them a deadpan look, as emotionless a glare as she could muster, but it was harder to seem unafraid than she'd thought. She took a wary step back, and the quintet of buccaneers took a step toward her to accommodate. Their lips were all peeled back, revealing mouths of craggy, jagged yellow teeth, with the occasional gap between, their mouth curled into grimacing grins as they began to advance. Barring herself for the inevitable, Talim raised her arms defensively and assumed a more aggressive combat stance.
As she had predicted, two lunged at her. She flew back on instinct, but knew what she was doing. She'd trained for such things, been prepared for battle. Though her constitution had inadvertently halted her from challenging Raphael directly when she was assaulted, these pirates seem like low-grade morons who she could defeat. And sure enough, as she flew back and brought one leg up, the pirate it was aimed at was too stupid to block or dodge. Talim's heel sunk into his gut and he stumbled, grabbing his unclothed chest and grunting. Talim landed nimbly and ducked beneath the Chinese broadsword, long and chipped, its blade having been eaten away at by unseen forces, which flew over her. She dashed forward a few bounding paces as the other pirates wormed in her direction. Her tonfa's flat struck the broadsword-bearing pirate in the chin, and he promptly tripped back. As he fell, Talim quickly planted her knee in his chest and uncoiled her leg, which kicked him up and backward across the deck until he bashed through the railing of the steering level and fell down roughly six feet onto the main deck.
There were three intact pirates left, and one groaning and clutching an injured section protectively. Two more pirates lunged, one up and one down. Talim sidestepped the first, who stumbled beside her, allowing her to drive her elbow forcefully into his exposed (and amazingly hairy) back. He staggered more, his legs protesting the weight put upon them, and Talim obliged, swinging her leg around again to meet the back of his legs, causing him to crumble and fall in a heap. The other who'd lunged swung two blades, shorter but just as crude, which Talim parried. She realized, as she felt hard wood on her arm, that she was being forced backward towards the other railing that gave way into the raging sea. She ducked and swerved as the same pirate leapt at her, very uncoordinated in his volatile, sudden movement, and slammed into the railing, flipping over it and sliding down the ship's hull into the sea below. 'Two left', she thought 'one injured'.
She was the one on the offensive now, feeling strangely energized by the victory so near her groping grasp. Her tonfas whirled majestically, shredding the downpour of raindrops before her. The blades only had to nick the injured pirate, whisking away a thread of crimson fluid, and he fell, unconscious rather than slain. Talim found that, after seeing several men murdered so harshly, she could not bring herself to accomplish the feat of killing, even though she'd been ready for the task when she left Manilla, Luckily, these pirates weren't formidable enough to need killing, as was proved when a sharp kick to the last pirate's groin succeeded in reducing him into a jerking heap on the deck floor, beneath the sheets of rain. Not stopping to consider her victory, Talim hurried off of the steering deck, past the out-of-control wheel, and back into the cyclonic commotion below. This time, though, an opening was apparent in the wall that held the steering deck up, though a small one. She sprinted through it as thunder began to clap madly in the sky and daggers of lightning stabbed through every smoky cloud. It seemed safe enough…
It was so silent, and so dark. It had been dark in the open air, but this was darker without the lightning. There were no openings; save the one Talim had come through, and lightning could be seen barely through it when it flashed. The ship was rocking unstably, as Talim noted when the floor tilted from side to side. Dismissing the fact, she continued through the darkness. She seemed to be in a cargo hold, filled with silent boxes, crates, barrels, covered with layers of dust and plastered cobwebs that lined the floor like carpets. She stepped carefully, looking for a place to hide herself away as the light kept flickering behind whenever another bolt illuminated the heavens outside. All was silent…
"Trying to hide, hmm?"
Talim spun, tonfas blazing as she heard the voice. She expected it to be a pirate, but it wasn't…before her stood Raphael.
"Were you, by any chance, going somewhere, miss Talim?" he inquired, his voice deep, resonating, and dark as the light played across his face with new lightning. He advanced on her, his icy rapier a centimeter from her vulnerable throat. She lowered her tonfas, not wishing to incite him to open that throat. She stepped back, he stepped forward, a barbaric grin stretching across his elegant features. She did not cower, though, or cringe, or even show any look that might portray fear. Raphael's lip curled angrily. "Why don't you make this easy and give me that shard." His rapier waved daintily and carefully, flickering like the fluid prongs of a candle beneath Talim's chin, but still she didn't flinch.
"No." she said firmly, "If you get it…you'll do more things like you did before…you'll kill people…The shard is evil."
"I KNOW ITS EVIL!" Raphael's monstrosity of a voice boomed throughout the hold, in syncopation with the thunder clap that came next. Talim did flinch, and pulled back, leaning against several stacked crates behind, her tonfas waiting to be raised, but afraid to go on the defensive for fear of having her throat slit before she could do anything about it. Raphael, more fire in his eyes, looked at her intently, his cold gaze constantly flitting to the pouch at her side where she had snatched and stashed the much needed fragment. "I know it is evil, and I don't care if it is evil, for it STILL must be mine and mine alone. So, be a good little girl and give it to me before I need to paint this room red with your blood."
"Never..." she said, weakly, but still defiant, "you'll just have to take it."
"Gladly."
Raphael's rapier flew forward, thrusting nimbly, but Talim had already moved out of the way and Flambert struck the crate she'd leaned against. He felt a fiery burst in his leg and saw her leg retracting from it. The little runt had had the nerve to kick him, him. She was doomed now, even if she had not been before. Growling like a madman, he plunged forward, slashing at the floor she'd been standing on a moment ago. The dusty, musty floorboards cracked ceremoniously and he moved on, slashing at her rapidly and forcefully. She parried once or twice but was too confused by his quick movements as he shifted lithely through the darkness. Suddenly, his fingers had grabbed her throat, and her feet no longer touched ground beneath. The cold steel was at her throat again, but now accompanied by a hand. She struggled and kicked, batting at Raphael weakly, but her strength was waning. The light in her eyes was dwindling already, all her energy spent in the last fight as her struggling withered too. Soon, the hand with the sword snaked into her pouch deftly and drew off the glowing fragment. The steel returned to beneath her chin, ready to strike.
"Stop!" cried a voice from the darkness behind, "You've gone too far!" Raphael turned to see Rock, standing there silhouetted in the light of thunder, his glinting ax raised. His fingers constricted around Talim's throat, cutting off even the illusion of air, but suddenly he cast her down, just as darkness and unconsciousness took her. She skidded into the dust, panting, knocked out, going motionless and not eliciting even the slightest gaze or look of concern from the smirking French fencer. Raphael ignored her now, holding the shard tightly in his glove. "Rock, my friend…you're just in time."
"We have to worry about the pirate's now!" Rock roared.
"The shard is all that's important!" hissed Raphael, aiming Flambert at Rock and his arm stiffening perfectly, the narrow blade aligned at the level of Rock's forehead, ready to prick the place between his crossed eyes. He glared at him, and Nathaniel Adams glared back, the fix he had on his great, hulking ax, tightening with nervousness, concern, and interspersed anger as he spoke. "You can't have it, none of us can. It has to be destroyed!" Raphael's eyes, as dark as night with fire embedded deep within, rimming each vague and murky orb, pulsed and rippled as water when they set upon Rock. "You think I care what you think, worm?" laughed the Frenchman, a metallic clang evident in his tone, "I'm taking this and all other fragments. This is the first step I take towards the blade in its entirety, and neither you nor anyone else shall stand in my way!"
"I beg to differ!"
Rock and Raphael spun instantly to look upon the owner of this new, arrogant voice. Before them, dancing drunkenly from side to side was a debonair mongoloid, probably of the Ryukyu sect, bouncing from one foot to the other with a pair of elegantly flying nunchakus clasped in each hand, which he would periodically twirl. The man smiled cockily, brushing a single thick strand of jet black hair from his face coolly. He looked just about as cocky as he sounded, which only served to disgust Raphael de Sorel even more as his paled, gently glowing eyes flitted to this man.
"And who the hell are you, if you'll pardon my bluntness?" growled Raphael, with his steady elegance intact, turning his rapier to the newcomer.
"You don't know?" chuckled the man, "I am Maxi, Pirate of the Ryukyu Kingdom, Dandy of the Seven Seas."
"That's a lot of useless titles for such a little fool." responded the Frenchman, grinning wickedly as a rumble swelled in his throat. Maxi shrugged off the insult, since he was used to such things anyway. He swaggered forward, waltzing about all the while. "This ship is mine, if you didn't notice." He said, that vague and irritating smile still present on his face, an expression squirming as if it wanted to wipe itself off of Maxi's expression and throw itself at Raphael. "Now, I'm not a pirate who likes violence as much as others (or, at least, some others I could name). If you surrender now, and let me and my crew take what we need, we'll all leave you alone. If you decide to fight me, despite my warning, you'll find me quite the challenge."
"A challenge, eh?" Raphael cackled, advancing, "I haven't had a good fight in a while. But, looks to me like you're all talk!"
They charged at each other, leaving Rock panting in the corner and watching as he looked around for his ax. The two newest pairing of combatants met at the center of the room and a resounding blast of metal on metal burst from them in a melodious bubble outward. Raphael, actually fueled by the energies that were slowly dripping onto his hand like gassy fluid from the pulsating fragment, fought with unheard of energy. Maxi, also filled with a young strength, fought tirelessly, his nunchakus blazing and thwacking ever against the slim rapier. Each time, Raphael's hand shifted adeptly, driving aside the mighty, lopsided swings. He took, after some swaying back and forth in battle, a forceful kick to the shoulder, but recovered quickly. The continued moving through the room, gathering more speed as blade and nunchakus flew furiously, leaving fiery tails like comets behind.
They began moving slowly, but very surely, towards the back of the dark room and the ramp of boards, steep as a mountain, which led back up to the deck above, where stormy sounds wailed mercilessly. They fought around the ramp as Rock watched, half dumbfounded, but ready nevertheless. Finally, they were up and through it, the rain refreshed and pouring on both their heads relentlessly. They battled across the deck, jumping, leaping, twirling, and executing a number of acrobatic feats until the reached the cluttered area around the first mast. The crew of the pirate vessel had dissipated mostly, as only a few remained on this ship, while most were probably tearing apart the private quarters. The ones on deck stood in the rain and gawked at the magnificent battle while Maxi and Raphael fought, one flipping and the other diving, towards the fluttering rigging.
As Raphael thrust again with Flambert, Maxi leapt and turned in mid-air, his hand disconnecting from his weapon, shooting out, and grabbing the rigging. He swung onto it and planted his feet in the mess of ropes and knots and yardarms. Raphael, growling murderously once again, looped his arm into the rigging ropes and leapt onto it as well, the two weapons clashing again and again. Now, rather than fighting across the deck, the two fought up the rigging, climbing and dodging high above the deck and the water, blustery winds and heavy rain trying to pull them off and cast them down. Talim's rain-obstructed gaze followed the Frenchman and the pirate up the length of the mast as they swung on the yardarms in a most swashbuckling manner, stabbing and hacking at each other, severing many of the rigging ropes in the process. They fought up, they fought down, clashing entangled in the ship's yardarms, slicing at each other and managing to inflict many minor wounds.
They fought on and on and onward still, gaining on each other as they rose up the mast. They neared the broad Crow's Nest, the nest of wood and board for he who was to scout the sea ahead. They leapt around it nimbly, still slashing and stabbing, severing many crucial yardarms. At last, they clashed. Raphael's hand shot out as Maxi leapt from one rigging to another. His hand, closed into a fist, caught Maxi in the chest. The captain buckled and fell, grabbing the rigging with his left hand. Raphael's blade flew, slashing that hand, and Maxi fell again. His arm looped through the rigging ropes and toes latched on as he clawed his way up, kicking Raphael away, and threw himself into the Crow's Nest. Flambert surged forward, spearing the mast, and Maxi took his chance. His whitened, soaked knuckles slammed into Raphael's bloody jaw and he wobbled but, as Maxi went for the kill, Raphael retaliated. The rapier cut a swath through Maxi's arm as the pirate grappled with him. The bash from Raphael's hilt sent Maxi to the railing of the nest.
Breathing hard and drawing an arm and sleeve across his crimsoned chin, Raphael advanced, brandishing his weapon menacingly. Maxi, panting, was up against the rail of the Crow's Nest, inches from falling to the deck below. The Frenchman tried to smile, and soon succeeded. "You" he said, his voice grating, "have been a very annoying thorn in my side, and rude as well. I'm glad I can kill you here and now, a task made all the easier while I have this little trinket." Smiling, he looked at his hand, but his eyes widened in horror. The fragment wasn't there!
Maxi held up his own hand, shaking it, and smiled as Raphael saw the shard in it. "You mean this?"
The Frenchman lunged without hesitation. Shocked and surprised, Maxi shifted out of the way. Raphael's hand grappled with Maxi's, taking the shard in one fluid motion, but his lunge carried him over the rail. He flew downward, plummeting, but missed the deck and toppled into the sea with a resounding splash. Maxi turned swiftly to look down. Far below, Rock, who'd been looking up at the battle, dashed across the deck as quickly as his bulky, muscular legs could carry him and dove off the edge of the Marie Rose, following Raphael into the waiting ocean.
…
The aftermath of the battle was strange enough. Maxi's crew stood on the deck, staring slack-jawed over the railing and the roaring, devouring waves. Slowly, rubbing his injured arms and chest, Maxi slid himself out of the Crow's Nest and down the length of the riggings until he alighted, birdlike, on the deck. A mate of his turned swiftly to the victorious pirate commander. "Capn'. Y'alright? What's going on?" said one of the crew gruffly, his voice exercising a lazy drawl. "Just a little scuffle," responded his captain lightly, brushing the clinging wooden shards off his neat clothing, "nothing too important. What of the other crew?" The crewmember, his first mate, shook his head in disappointment. "All went overboard. I'd say we scared the hair from their heads, sir. Only one or two put up a fight, and they's gone."
"Good" Maxi chuckled, but then paused, looking pensive, "…But there's a problem…I need to find something out…and there's only one crewmember left." In a flash, or so it seemed, he was running back down, and had disappeared through the small threshold that led back to that cargo hold room, with his crew in tow. When the arrived, he stopped, again pushing that pesky strand of sleek jet hair from his eyes, the one that hung there, and looked around coolly. He turned, looking at the sprawled body of the girl in the room's dusty corner. He ambled over to her and knelt, examining her still, slightly cold form. He leaned down, his eyes twinkling, and slowly lowered his palm to the level of the girl's face. "Hello, little one. Still alive, hmm?"
He was met with a mighty punch to the face, straight from the flutter-eyed teen as she leapt up, aiming both legs at Maxi's and kicking his appendages out from under him with a flourish of motion. Grabbing his bashed knees, Maxi keeled over. Talim, nabbing one stray elbow blade from off the floor where it had skidded, hopped nimbly over the fallen captain. But, before she had even hit the wall of pirates, a firm and closing hand pulled her wrist, tugging it heartily backward and causing Talim to stumble and swirl around to face the hand's owner, the recovered, and very pissed pirate captain.
"That wasn't very nice, you know. I only want some answers." He growled quietly, his breath hitting her face. Roaring back with a lion's will, she shot her knee up into his groin. As Maxi doubled over, groping for his tainted manhood, Talim raised her elbow blade. Before she could strike, though, another arm grabbed her, followed by another, encircling her arms and hauling her back, kicking and screaming madly. As Maxi got up, clenching an annoyed fist, the young Filipino was, quite literally, enveloped into the circling crowd and felt herself being lifted off the ground. Talim could barely tell what was going on, all she saw was muddled darkness. It seemed the appropriate time to struggle and cry out, but that didn't accomplish much of anything except convince those holding her to tighten and roughen their grip.
She felt the earth, or the ship on the water moving beneath her. She felt the open air, though strangely smoky and foul, and new she was on the main deck as she bumped along. She was carried, though she could not see, very narrowly across the makeshift bridge of ropes and planks erected between each of the two ships. Soon, the sloping dips her passage made ceased as she was lowered, still in the dark, onto the pirate ship and moved uncomfortably out of the crisper air, back into the dank murk of quarters below deck. At long last, she saw a dwindling light. Her yelling died down, as did her mad thrashing. The grips of her opponents remained just as firm. Suddenly, she was sitting on something, and more light peeked through the slivers in between people. She was sitting on something rough, probably a wooden floor. Just as she tried, still held, to slip into a comfortable position, she was yanked forward onto her knees as the crowd parted around her.
She resumed struggling as the hands tightened again, though their number had lessened. There were only three pairs of wrinkly, hairy palms and fists restraining her, but they were strong enough to hold her. She continued in vain to fight them off as her arms were wrenched forcefully behind her as she was pushed further forward. Soon enough, the noise of the pirates faded, replaced by an eerie silence all around. "So, this is the only one that bothered staying, eh?" said an all too familiar voice.
"Bastard!" screamed Talim, literally involuntarily. She silenced her self on instinct when she realized this was the first time she'd ever swore. 'I've been around those savage foreigners too long.' She thought ruefully, looking up with fiery eyes at the captain of this pirate ship. "Quite a mouth on this one, especially for such a young one." chuckled back the Ryukyu pirate, kneeling slowly. He moved, knees bent and standing on tip-toe, towards Talim, looking her over carefully as the pirates shoved her forward for inspection. 'Wonderful. Now pirates care about my language.' She looked up, with a continually defiant look as the pirate captain's face became less fuzzy in her rippling vision.
"What's your name, little one?" asked the pirate, with a soothing but constant arrogance in him still.
"Why should I tell you, pirate?" she growled angrily, discovering a little more hostility than she thought she had.
"Maybe because you're my prisoner. I'd say that's a pretty good reason." chided the captain, obviously patronizing the girl.
"That doesn't mean I have to tell you anything!" snapped Talim, eliciting more displeased murmurs from the crew. Maxi didn't respond immediately, glaring at the teenager. Then, surprisingly, he stood stepping back from Talim, and waved off the maddened crew. "Go on, get to your duties. This doesn't concern you anymore." He ordered coolly. As they obeyed, looking dejected as they began to amble out. Maxi beckoned quickly for the three holding Talim in place to remain, which they did as the room gradually emptied, leaving another unsteady silence.
"Alright, let's begin again, shall we? I just have a few simple questions."
"If you think I'm going to answer any of your questions, you're sadly mistaken." snarled Talim, just souring Maxi the pirate's attitude more and more. He knelt again, inching nearer to her slowly, and put his hand, comparatively smaller than the others', on her chin and lifted it until she met his gaze with her own. "Now then, little girl," he said, with a tone of condescension and patronization, slathered with sugary sweetness. "I don't want this to be difficult. This will go a lot better for you if you just do what I ask." For some reason, a reason not fully known to Talim herself, the young Filipino felt further inflamed just by his voice, which was actually not very displeasing. Struggling more forcefully, she tried to lunge forward, losing control again.
"Not on your life, you son of a-"
Before her expletive could be completed, a firm hand clamped over her mouth, allowing only a muffled cry to escape it. She snorted indignantly and struggled further, ever to no avail. Scowling murderously, Maxi hopped to his feet. "Perhaps we'll resume this conversation when you're feeling more cooperative." He said darkly, moving off towards the open and empty doorway.
Talim tried continually to twist free, but failed just as miserable every time. As the ruffians clamped her hands and arms at her side so that she could not lash out at them, she screamed again, but the sound was muffled as before. As Maxi, ignoring her weak yells, left the room in frustration, the pirate's hauled her onto a small cot in the room's back. Squirming furiously, she pulled her leg aside and pushed it up, watching it find its mark in the jaw of one of her captors. The pirate fell back, clutching his bleeding mouth, but before Talim could do the same to another, she became acutely aware of the fist flying at her face and, very conveniently, everything went black.
…
Talim awoke very suddenly, as she often did nowadays. Of course, this time she had a very good reason for sudden awakening. The memory of the battle was still fresh in her mind. She felt somewhat numb, the bruises on her head beating like a heart of its own with a constant, rhythmic pulse. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the feeling, and attempted to raise her hand to that injury, only to find that she could not. As her numbness began to settle, she again attempted to move her hand, but found again that her hand was constrained by something. She tugged back on the invisible force, reeling wherever she was, and tried more calmly to analyze. After some seconds of deliberation, she realized her plight. She was almost completely numb with pain, which was preventing her from moving for the most part, though she could think of no reason for the numbness. She had not received any painful injuries, no wounds that could inhibit her movement.
At least she was lying down, even though not very comfortably. As far as she could tell, she was lying on some sort of cot or sheets, lying in the corner of a room on the floor, more of an arrangement of sheets to place barely valuable objects on. Another thing she noticed, it was freezing, and the scratchy cotton coverings of the makeshift cot were not covering very well. She managed to roll into a more comfortable position at last. She could not fathom why the pirates had even given her some manner of blanket. That didn't exactly seem the piratical thing to do, but that pirate, the captain of the band, had not seemed like the brutal pirates she'd been told of so often. He'd been a brute, in her opinion, but an elegant, and not entirely unkind one. Perhaps she could thank him for her predicament, in more ways than one. She thought back to her encounter with him, and his crew, and…
Her thoughts, though they certainly didn't want to, turned back to yesterday's fray. Suddenly, it was there again, replaying in a more gruesome realism. Talim had never seen a man die, regardless be slain right in front of her. As she remembered the blood of that man, Rush, that had jetted up as a grotesque geyser wood right in her line of vision and its horrible feel on her face. She immediately felt the need to claw every last particle of it, along with the skin it clung to, from her skull, but could not with her arms pinioned with pain and numbness as they were. At last, she summoned the strength, but realized with great dismay that there was nothing she could do save pull her mind out of her skull. She was crying, as best as she could tell, and buried her head in something that might have been a pillow, but probably wasn't, hoping to rid herself of the horrible images. Unfortunately, as her wretched remembrances continued, a voice and figure at the open door to the dark room interrupted her.
"So, you're awake now, eh?" the pirate captain laughed, "We were beginning to think you were really out." Talim probably would have said something extremely revolting, which she, in fact, was trying to say, but Maxi didn't hear her for obvious reasons as whatever she said came out as indistinguishable mumbles while her head bobbed up and down as it would if she were audibly speaking. The words weren't forming on her lips and her voice faded too quickly to be heard. She wanted to speak, she was sure she did, and she had a good idea of what she wanted to say, but whenever her mouth opened she thought of the blood gushing from Rush's nose and limp jaw after he'd been skewered by Raphael's rapier. Maxi, grinning undetectably, knelt to Talim's level on the cot and leaned forward whispering in a calm vocal tone. "Alright now, if you promise not to say anything else derogatory about my mother, I'll let you speak for yourself, without reprimand…or the threat of bodily harm. Are we clear on that? Even though she looked as annoyed at him as ever, Talim nodded slowly, her tearing eyes closing. Maxi's smug look softened up a bit as he noticed the look on her features. With some slight hesitation, he reached toward her, flicking a strand of hair from her face so he could get a better look. The girl looked, trying to blink the water from her eyes, at Maxi venomously, and wriggled out of his grip as his hands moved away.
"Ok, we're all squared away then. Shall we get down to business?" said the captain haughtily. "Shut up." snapped Talim, choking on her words as she tried to turn away from Maxi. She hadn't spoken in a while, and her mouth had to get use to it, but she didn't feel like talking. Not wanting to seem weak in the face of her opponent, she rolled over, back to the pirate, and buried her head in the small pillow. "Oh, what's wrong with you?" teased the oddly immature dandy, "I'm not going to hurt you, that's not how I operate." Talim looked back at him, still shooting a very venomous look through red-rimmed eyes. His smile fading drearily, Maxi knelt and sat forward on his knees on the floor, managing to stoop towards the girl, sagging weakly in his seat. "I just want some information, that's all."
"Why didn't you just ask?" shot back Talim, obviously not comforted by Maxi's vague attempt at being nice. She turned a little toward him, shifting uncomfortably on her hands. She scolded herself instantly for a making such a stupid comment. Pirates never asked for things, they took, and she sounded like a weakling saying such things. Maxi looked back, trying to seem a little less rough. "You were trying to stab me at the time, if I remember correctly." The pirate reminded her, hiding a minute chuckle in his throat. "Oh, right." grumbled the Filipino back, still not looking at her captor directly.
"C'mon, kid, what's the matter?" inquired Maxi, trying badly to seem fatherly. The principle really didn't work. Amazingly, Talim actually responded, her tears becoming more apparent to him. "I…I saw a man get killed" she stammered, very weakly, her voice incredibly thin, "…Three, maybe more but I can't remember…I never saw anybody get…killed before…"
"It's something you have to get used to in this world" said Maxi resolutely, "…I know how that feels." Another bad memory, one which he really hadn't expected, began to surface in his mind. His reaction to death was wholly different then Talim's. When he'd seen it, his reaction had been a fusion of misery and anger, making him more dangerous than mournful. Thus, he found a very unaccustomed pity for the young girl as he spoke, diverting his eyes as the image of his past crew…his brother, slaughtered by that golem monster, Astaroth.
"Really…I'm…I'm sorry I brought it up." Talim said back, managing to get up at this point.
Maxi comforted her in what way he could, since he did sympathize, "No, don't be. I think about it every day anyway."
"What happened?" she queried meekly.
"My old crew" he said quietly, memory lane looming ominously before him, "…and my brother, Kyam…they were killed, all of them, right in front of me…It was a long time ago and I wasn't much of a pirate than." His arrogance seemed slightly diminished. Talim looked up at him, finally looking as if she understood. She spoke up, her voice no longer trembling feebly. "I'm sorry…I didn't know."
"I said it's alright." He said, perking up, looking confident again, "I live with my memories, you should live with yours. Now, even though I really don't want to, I have to ask you some questions. Then, if you promise not to do anything rash, like jumping off the ship or something, I'll let you go where you please until we reach land." Talim looked at him questioningly, propping herself up fully and looking him in the face. She saw more honesty, less piracy in his eyes than she had. He was still the enemy, as he had taken her against her will, but she could profit from his kindnesses. "And then what?"
"Depends. All I need are the answers to my questions. After that, I don't need you anymore. You can stay here, and, if you don't get in the way, you can do what you want onboard. So, what do you say?"
…
As far as Nathaniel Adams, or Rock, was concerned, he'd been actually swimming for some hours, floating for considerably more time than that. In fact, he was positive that he'd just been on the waves, in and out of consciousness, for nearly a whole day. He had Raphael now, on technicality. It was hard enough to drag a spluttering Frenchman through a raging ocean, but harder still to keep him from drowning when he lapsed into unconsciousness. Now, Raphael was either sleeping, or awake and not being very helpful. The larger, heftier man had managed to extract the fragment of Soul Edge, protesting with faint, inaudible mental growls, from the Frenchman's fingers, which had seemed locked around it.
After these many hours, or what had felt like that, passed, something, flickering insubstantially in Rock's hazy vision, could be seen on the horizon, gaining speed fast. Though Rock could barely see, the wind, rain, and watery waves crashing against him obscuring his eyesight, he guessed that it was either a sea serpent (which was very improbable) or a ship, and he hoped heartily that it was the latter. As he neared it, the vessel and man trying to gain speed, one for a reason and the other for none that was apparent, he saw that it was, thankfully, a ship. A small ship it was, with rigid, starchy sails that ripped back and forth on weak, narrow masts. It was shallow-decked, with only one sail, and cluttered with yardarms and barrels and crates on deck, but large enough to support a fifty man crew or more beneath, behind a well-armored hull. Heaving a sigh of relief, Rock steered sideways in the water, dragging Raphael with him. He hit the side, and it hit him, the armored hull gliding through the water beside. He threw his hand up, and his fingers curled around a loose board. He began, pushing and pulling his body and Raphael's to ascend. He managed to get to the rail and leap over, crashing onto the deck in a heap. He hopped up energetically, yanking the Frenchman, who was coughing and hacking now, spewing out water.
"Do you have the shard?" he said immediately, his hand grabbing Rock's arm, "DO YOU HAVE IT?"
"Yes, I have the damn shard." growled Rock, throwing his hand off disgustedly. He had not forgiven the man for his sins.
"Good….good…I was…so worried."
"At least you're awake now." Growled Rock quietly, administering a sharp, vigorous pat to Raphael's back, sending him spluttering forward a pace, coughing up water and shaking the water from his head, hair plastered to his mottled skin. He tore off the crimson gloves on his hands, shaking them out ritualistically as he stood, legs shaking frantically, and shot a quizzical glance at his equally soaked compatriot. His eyebrow, watering rivers pouring over it and tracing every wrinkle on his neatly framed face, cocked as his mouth, still filled with seawater, opened.
"W-where are we?" he queried, his voice shivering involuntarily as he continued to shake, soaked to the bone.
"I think we're on…a ship." replied Rock, pulling the bison-head helm from his head and letting it drip on the deck as he shook his head madly, water flying from his own head of dark, unkempt, and frazzled hair. He threw his head back, sending a new wave of droplets back, and tucked his helmet beneath his arm, his keen eyes overlooking the surrounding vicinity…and taking note of the people around the two of them. Strangely, they hadn't noticed being surrounded by dazed sailors, clad in tatters, rags, and patches of overcoats and undershirts sewn together shoddily. They seemed Asiatic in appearance, mostly with dark hair, eyes just as dark and pale skin which looked unnaturally tanned. They stepped forward, or some of them stepped forward, looking at them dumbly and whispering inaudibly to each other.
"Err…hello?" Rock said, posing the question to one of the crewmembers.
"Sinu-sino?" He shot back loudly, causing Raphael to wince as unnoticeably as he could for a reason he was not entirely sure of himself. He looked up, running his ungloved hand through his hair in a feeble attempt to return it to its stylish origins. Rock looked back, his mouth hanging half-open. "What?" he said at last, making an understandable gesture of confusion with his bandaged hands. Rock inspected him, as did the preoccupied Frenchman, who was still trying weakly to dry himself off, warm himself up, and curse as fast as he could under his ragged breath.
"Banyaga, opo?" said the Asiatic man questioningly.
"What about a banana?" Raphael interjected, looking with bewilderment in his eyes at Rock.
"Yous spekee anglizh?" Queried the Asian again, but not in his language, since he was stammering uncontrollably as he said these words. Rock looked at him for a long, painful moment, trying to piece together the garbled speech, until, at last, his rugged face lit up. "Anglizh…oh, English! Yes, we – speak – English." He said, stifling excitement at the possibility of communication. "And French, of course." Raphael shot in, crossing his arms as his garb began to involuntarily smooth itself out in the brisk wind. "Quiet! They can't understand us." Rock murmured, silencing him.
"Right." Raphael grumbled, awaiting the crewmember's response. At last, after waiting a very long time, for the second instance in so many minutes, the Asiatic fellow spoke up confusedly. "Yous speak anglizh, opo?" He repeated, droning the words as if they were pre-recorded. Again, sighing frustratedly, Raphael shot a very irked, semi-venomous glance at his helm lacking companion, Nathaniel Adams. "What's 'opo.'"
"It might be a question thing…I think that's Tagalog, Filipino language."
"What makes you think?"
"Well, we couldn't have been that far from Manilla Bay when we were attacked, so it's either a Filipino civilized merchant vessel, or some Asian trader, in which case we're really in trouble." Raphael's head turned, the endless winds of seaward chance berating him without fail, as he shook his head, more annoyance welled up after all these inauspicious happenings. "And why, pray tell, is that?" Rock looked at him darkly, his deep eyes shallow and narrow, his thick brow thicker once it had been furrowed in seriousness and possible anxiety.
"The Filipinos are not very hostile towards foreigners, from what I've heard from the sailing lot, but most other Southeast Asians are. A Chinese, Japanese, or Korean ship would be a very dangerous place for an Englishman and a Frenchman" Rock continued looking around, his focused gaze tracing over every niche and crevice of the small, ill-furnished vessel that bobbed beneath him. "…Yes," he continued after that delaying pause, "I'm fairly sure this is a Filipino ship. After all, it's not a Chinese junk, or much else, really. I'll see if I can get through to them." He turned slowly to the various gathered men and the one who'd addressed them, making fervent gestures with his hands. "…We – speak –anglizh. Opo."
"Anglizh! Mabut! Hoy, Stokes!"
The Asiatic being gestured coarsely towards the innards of the gathered sailor crowd all bundled up beneath the relentless drizzle. The crowd spread obediently and a man with a tattered cloak bunched up around his head and shoulders hurriedly pranced through it, half limping but trying to look dignified. The man peeled off the length of his hood with some hardship to reveal a wizened face with light-hued hair that could not be made out in the erratic shadows of the ocean. His ordinary hazel eyes were the only things about him that could be seen clearly by Rock and Raphael. At last, after giving them both a rigorous, curt inspection, he spoke in a pronounced accent. "'Ello, 'ello, and who're you, then?"
"Nathaniel Adams." Rock said, nodding his bearded chin for illustration.
"Raphael de Sorel." Raphael said as well, managing to execute a bow.
"I see." The other man responded, walking forward towards them both and seeming to mutter quietly to himself as he did so, rocking slightly from side to side where he stood on the deck. "I am Eleazar Stokes, the translator for the crew of this ship." Raphael looked at him, as did Rock, somewhat stupefied, but Rock managed to quickly adapt to the minor twist in the situation. "You speak English, right?" He questioned, an aspect of rush in his gruff, guttural voice. "And French, Tagalog, Chinese, Spanish, and Dutch." Stokes corrected wryly.
"Yes, that's all well and good. We – my associate and I – are in need of some assistance. Were exactly is this ship going?"
"The Lhu Bong outpost, on the coast." Responded the Englishman, with more warmth than necessary.
"Coast of where?"
"South of China; land controlled mostly by the Khmer people. This ship is delivering supplies and refugees to the small, fortified village there."
"But…the inhabitants of those territories are primitive natives and barbarians." Rock stated with a brief simplicity that, apparently, angered Raphael, who had not spoken for a time. "Your kinda people, eh, Rock?" He said, chuckling as grimly as he could before turning again. Rock took a deep breath, the blood rushing through his veins. Raphael had tried to take that shard, and would've killed to get it. Did he really deserve to be so easily forgiven? He was not that good of a friend, not by a long shot. He deserved another chance, but not necessarily after murdering Rush and nearly killing young Talim. That kind of cold-blooded killing was technically unforgivable, but Rock felt he had to ignore it, for he desperately required the company of the man, not that he liked him, but because he had become so accustomed to solitariness that the presence of a dignified compatriot had become a need when presented. Brushing off Raphael's snappy comment, he continued speaking.
"Are you delivering supplies to the natives?"
"No." Stokes replied, "It's a Chinese outpost."
"A Chinese outpost in Khmer lands? Don't the natives there hate foreigners?"
"How the hell do you know all this?" Raphael interjected, more annoyed now. He looked meaningfully at Rock, who did not ignore him longer and turned, whispering to his face. "The bartender on the Marie Rose talked a lot before you came along." After this, barely taking due note of the look on Raphael's arrogant features, he turned back to Stokes, saying quietly, "So, about the outpost…" Stokes simply nodded as Rock's voice faded in the air and, beginning to pace across the narrow deck, spoke yet again.
"Yes, the Khmer have been attacked by the Chinese before, so they probably hate them. That's why it's a fortress, lads."
"Fine." Raphael said swiftly before Rock could speak, "It doesn't matter. Just drop us off at your next stop." Stokes looked at the Frenchman as if he was a raving lunatic, his eyes widening in his bare skull. "Are you sure?" his voice quavered, an air of concern there, though only barely, "Our only stop is Lhu Bong, which is a few days away now." Raphael nodded, rolling his eyes as Stokes looked back towards his crew, more concerned and nervous with a pang of fear in his small, beady eyes. "Yes, we're sure." Raphael de Sorel assured him, "We'll make do in Lhu Bong." The crew of the vessel looked at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, obviously all agreeing that he was a raving lunatic.
"Raphael," Rock said, behind him, laying a firm hand on his shoulder, "that might not be the best idea."
"It's the only thing we can do." The Frenchman snapped icily, "We handled a crew of pirates, we can handle unruly natives."
"Firstly, you lost against the pirates, and secondly, this is a whole population, not a small pirate crew."
"Eh, stop worrying. We can handle ourselves." Raphael spun, dismissing his friend's rejection, and headed through the crowd. Rock looked at the back of his head, following on his heels with threadbare obedience, as he did not serve the man, and nodded reluctantly. "If you insist." Raphael, still walking, took notice of what he said and nodded too, a wretched grin peeling over his face as he spoke. "I assure you, my nervous friend, we'll be just fine…as long as you have the shard…"