Fuzz: (walks in with a CD player playing 'Abra, Abra, Cadabra'… The original Steve Miller version, not the remake.) Abra, abra, cadabra… I wanna reach out and grab ya.
Gilder: … oh boy.
What? I can't hear you over this 'best of Steve Miller' CD I got for Christmas. (Turns it off) Okay. I'm back. And it's time for an update! Sorry about the shortness of last chapter. I'll put more into this one. So let's go!
Mark regarded the stranger leaning against the wall just outside Gordo's Bistro with a casual eye. The man's face was half-hidden behind dark hair, with his eyes barely visible. He decided that the man would be enough for his mission, and edged up to him.
"Excuse me…" He started, but was cut off by the man's sudden stare. He had to wait a moment before he could continue. "Do you know where I can find some information on someone? I'm looking for a certain person…"
The man only stared at him more. It seemed like hours before he responded.
"Information, eh? Your best bet would be to ask Carlos the information trader. He knows everything that goes on around here, and I mean everything. He'll tell you what you want… for a price. Ask for him in the bar."
So. This information trader Carlos could tell him what he wanted. He would find him. And then, he would seek out the sword master. And then… he would free his friends from the Valuans. He would never-could never-give up on his quest. If he did, all hope would be lost for his captured crew. He pushed open the door into the bistro, this goal fresh in his mind. But he didn't notice the stranger giving the thumbs-up to some of the patrons in the bar, did not see them tense up, as if they were preparing for a fight.
As he strode across the bar room in Gordo's Bistro, Mark could feel he was being watched. It was an uneasy feeling that settled across him, causing his eyes to dart back and forth, scanning the room full of people watching him over their mugs of loqua.
Gordo's Bistro was divided into two sections, one which was for the high-end, high-paying customers such as people from Valua's Upper City, who came to sip wine in the large Grand Ballroom, and would settle for nothing less than the best prepared dishes fresh from a kitchen that was run by the best chefs in the business. Mark knew that gossip would not be found there-and also that any attempt to get it would be met by an unfriendly welcome from the aristocrats, not to mention their squads of burly bodyguards.
So he entered the bar section, where the lower classes went to drink away their troubles with a nice tall glass of loqua. This was where the good stuff would be found, and it was not loqua he was thinking about. Everyone-even the bartender, from Mark's experience-knew the where, when, who, how, what, and why on whatever was happening in Arcadia at the moment, and was willing to spill the beans at a moment's notice. And if they didn't know, this was where they went. This was where he expected to learn the whereabouts of the sword master that Doc had told him about. If he could find this Carlos.
He sidled up to the bartender, still painfully aware of the eyes on his back, and got his attention by tapping on the bar. The bartender, who had a wicked scar on his left eyebrow, looked at him with a gaze that clearly said that the man thought that Mark was too young to be running around in the bar, and that he should shove off and go back to his parents. Mark shook it off with practiced ease. He got those kinds of things often.
Mark tried to ignore the stares he was getting. He wondered why everyone was staring… Probably like the bartender, he supposed. Think I'm to young and 'delicate' to be here. They'll soon learn different, though, he thought. "Excuse me, but I'm looking for someone. Could you tell me where I can find a man named Carlos?"
Suddenly, the entire bar fell silent. The bartender looked around and surprised Mark by retreating into the back room. Why? Unless…
Through the silence, he abruptly heard the sound of running footsteps. It could only mean one thing-Some of the bar's customers were itching for a fight, and it looked like Mark was their target. He timed it-waiting until the person would be in range-and then pivoted, bringing his leg up into position. His assailant took the full force of the blow in his gut, collapsing onto the floor in a heap. He could see that there were four more of them, including the man he had asked for information before. He wondered for a moment as to his motive, but was interrupted by two of them rushing forward to him. One of them was large, and looked big enough to crush Mark if he wanted to. The other one came forward, and was met by a right uppercut, knocking him off his feet.
But then the big one moved, surprising Mark by grabbing him by the neck. He held Mark's arms while another punched him. Mark was fading fast… suddenly, he sprung his legs up, gripping the one who was punching him by the head, and Mark slammed him against the bar. He slumped to the ground, unconscious. Then the big one changed his grip, holding Mark up against the wall.
"Talk, scum! Why are you Valuans looking for Carlos when you already have him? Talk!"
Valuan? Mark wondered. Then he realized it. The lifeboat still had the Valuan insignia on it. They probably thought he was an agent of the Armada. But what else had the man said… The stunning realization of what had been said hit him like a punch. The Valuans had this Carlos! Well, he would just have to free him. But after he had dealt with these toughs… He looked around wildly for a way to get out of the big man's grip. There was nothing. No loqua bottles he could bash the man over the head with, to paintings he could hit him with… nothing. He decided to try the pressure points-those weak spots in the human anatomy that gave an assailant such an easy target. The nearest ones were within reaching distance of Mark, even from his present position. He located them, and before the man could react, he started pushing on them with force-not enough to kill him, for that would produce a lot of bad blood about it, but just enough to knock him unconscious.
That done, he turned back to the stranger. The man had an expression of fear written on his face, which increased to sheer terror as Mark grabbed him and threw him across the bar. The man crashed through loqua glasses on his way down, and fell with a thud off when he got to the end. Mark drew his rapier as he approached him. Mark pressed his blade against the man's neck, and started to question him.
"Where's Carlos? Are you gonna tell me, or should I pop open your jugular?. Maybe the answer's written in your blood. Wanna find out?" He was using his 'interrogation face', which made him look much tougher than he actually was. I worked surprisingly well.
"Alright, alright!" The man cracked. "He got captured recently by the Valuans for telling some pirates where their ships were. They're taking him back to Valua soon, on that battleship in the dock."
Mark had noticed a battleship, one of Admiral Gregorio's fleet, but he had thought nothing of it. The officers must be having dinner in the Grand Ballroom.
Suddenly, he could hear sounds. He looked out the window. The officers were returning to the ship! He took his rapier off the man's neck, and ran for the door. He had to make it on to that battleship, any way he could. He pushed open the door, and was presented with a horrific sight-the battleship was departing! He ran forward, and saw his opportunity. A stack of crates was piled on the end of a mooring station.
He ran to the crates, and saw that he could make it to the deck of the ship from atop the crates. He sheathed his sword and began to climb, jumping from crate to crate. Once he got to the top, he jumped without thinking. The landing was less easy than he expected. He missed the deck and barely managed to grab onto one of the secondary cannons. He swung himself onto the deck, and then looked around for any sentries. There were none. His next move was to run for cover behind one of the main guns. He had to think of a plan… Carlos would be in the brig… but how to get there? He would have to sneak inside… He moved sparingly, darting in between the shadows of the guns. This would take stealth…
He sprinted across the deck and into the ship. The hallway was clear-but for how long? He had to get to the brig quickly. Down a staircase, then a ladder, got him to corner of a hallway with two guards patrolling it. He quietly drew his rapier. He had to take them out, but without alerting the rest of the soldiers.
Waiting until one of them came into range, he suddenly lashed out with the butt of his sword. The soldier fell, knocked out, but his partner turned to him with a note of alarm. Mark double-kicked him, knocking him against the wall. He then stowed the bodies away in a chest, to slow any reaction to his movements. He then moved on through the corridor, and found his prize-the brig. Unfortunately, it was guarded by soldiers-four of them. They were playing poker and chatting. He couldn't sneak around them. And stealth was out for this fight. He drew his pistol… And fired.
The guard jerked forward in his chair as the bullet found home, penetrated his armor, and pierced his skull. Fortunately his faceplate kept his brains from scattering all over the table, and they instead splattered on the front of his helmet. He slumped forward, his cards falling from his hand. The other soldiers leapt up, alarmed. Mark charged forward, his sword at the ready. He took the first one with a driving lunge, his bloodied rapier protruding from the soldier's back for a moment before he pulled it out. The next soldier came at him with his sword swinging. Mark parried and made a counterattack at the chink in the armor where the wrist was. The man's sword fell to the ground-with his had still gripping it! Shocked at the sight of his severed wrist, the man fainted immediately.
Mark looked around for the last soldier and saw that he was nowhere to be found. Deducing immediately what the enemy was doing, Mark shoved his gun through his armpit and fired. He was rewarded with a scream.
Sheathing his sword, he grabbed the cell keys from the belt of one of the fallen soldiers. Only one cell was occupied. The man inside was asleep on the bunk.
"Are you Carlos?" Mark queried.
"Huh?" the man grunted, getting up.
Mark repeated his question. "Are you Carlos?"
The man looked at him. "You're not a Valuan. But I am Carlos."
Mark used the key to open the door. "Good. I've been looking for you." He was about to turn when a voice rang out.
"Drop your weapon and turn around."
He dropped his rapier. When he turned around, he was presented with a sight that made his heart sink. Outside the cell, lances at the ready, were half a dozen Valuan officers… And one man with the identification of a ship captain.
Alright. That's that. What new danger will our hero face next? Will he escape from the ship? Why am I asking these questions? You'll find out next time on 'Legend of the Soaring Hawk'!