Yay for Chapter 6!
I don't own the Prince, etc, etc...
The Prince was on the deck of the ship, making rope for Nesia. He twisted bits of twine together, braiding them into a single cord about an inch thick. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't notice when the colour began to drain from the ship around him, drenching everything into monotonous shades of grey.
The Dahaka crashed onto the ship, sending several crewmen flying overboard. The Prince leapt up, dropping the half-made rope to the deck, and drew his scimitars from their sheaths on his back. The great black demon began to make his way towards the Prince, killing any of the crewmen who tried feebly to stop it.
Rico ran at the Dahaka, a large claymore in his hands, and began to chop at the thing's legs. It picked the man up easily, and began to tear his limbs off. The Prince watched in horror as Rico's arms and legs were pulled from his body with sickening snaps, and tossed aside by the Dahaka. Blood poured from the stumps left, and Rico screamed in agony. The Dahaka then threw what was left of the man into the mast, where he lay there, moaning as his life bled away.
Quinn began to approach the Dahaka, a loaded crossbow held low in his hands. Before he had a chance to fire, though, the Dahaka had scooped him up in one huge hand, and began to squeeze. Its claws dug into the man as he squirmed and screamed, trying to free himself. The Prince heard bones snap as Quinn's scream turned into a sort of gurgling wail, and blood began to seep out of his mouth. The Dahaka tossed Quinn aside then, leaving him in a broken and bloody heap, and continued to advance towards the Prince.
It was Nesia who charged in the Dahaka's path this time, her swords raised. The Prince tried again to cry out, or do anything, but he couldn't move or speak. She put up a good fight compared to the other two, managing to dodge the Dahaka's attacks for a few minutes. It got her too though, slashing her stomach with its long claws. Nesia stared at her wounds as the blood began to soak through her shirt, and swayed unsteadily on her feet.
"Nesia!" The Prince yelled, finally finding his voice. He darted forward to catch the woman, but she pushed him back feebly. Dropping to her knees, she clutched at her stomach, and stared up at the man.
"You can't see the demons," she whispered, "until the demons come calling for you." Then she collapsed to the side, her life gone from her body. There was nothing the Prince could do. He charged at the Dahaka, meaning to kill it or die trying.
Suddenly, he was sinking into darkness. It was a black void he could not escape from. It covered his body, attaching itself to every body part. He open his mouth to yell, and it went down his throat, choking him. He was helpless. He was suffocating, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The Prince was ready to give up, and to fall into darkness and never come back, but hands grasped his shoulders. Someone was shaking him, and calling him.
The Prince sat up quickly, and his eyes flew open. He was in his hammock on the Queen Anne's Revenge, and there was no Dahaka in sight. Only Nesia, one of her hands still on his shoulder.
"You awake now?" she asked, her hand dropping back to her side. The Prince nodded somewhat uncertainly, and swung his legs around so that his feet were on the floor. "You looked like you were dreaming something fierce," she added as the man stood up.
"Have you seen my shirt?" he asked, ignoring her question.
"Last I saw, you were wearing it," Nesia replied. The Prince also ignored this, and picked up his shirt from where it lay on the floor beneath his hammock. "By the way, we docked at and I'm gonna need you to come ashore with me." The Prince stopped in the middle of putting on his shirt, and looked at Nesia curiously under the hem of the shirt that was above his head. The woman tried her best not to laugh at him.
"Why me?" he asked, finishing pulling on his shirt. "Why not Rico?"
"He's got other things to do. More importantly, though, you look more threatening than him," she explained bluntly. "I'll be doing business with some people, and I need you to stand around and look menacing to convince them I'm serious. So you'd better look the part."
"You want me to dress up to look more threatening?" The Prince said incredulously.
"Did I not make that point clear enough?" Nesia retorted. The Prince sighed, but decided to go along with her anyway, at least to get a chance to go back on land again after two weeks at sea.
"Could you get me a cloak then?" he requested, beginning to take off his shirt. Nesia nodded, and left to get one. By the time she had gotten back, he had put on his armor over his bare skin, like he had worn it while on the Island of Time. With the addition of the heavy black cape Nesia had found, he looked just as menacing as she had hoped.
"Right, let's go," she said, and lead the way up to the deck. Nesia herself wore her long, black jacket over her regular clothes, but now wore a black hat that, when looked at from above, was triangle-shaped. He also noticed that she had a small leather bag attached to her belt that he had never seen before.
When they were up on the deck, the Prince was startled to see that it was sunset. When Nesia noticed this, she grinned.
"I was feeling generous, so I let you sleep in a touch," she drawled, heading to a plank that spanned the gap between the ship and the dock. "I guess you were tired." The Prince snorted, but made no retort as he followed her.
Nesia lead them to a waterfront tavern called the Mangy Dog. She went inside, and sat at a dark table in the corner. The Prince sat next to her, looking around at the scene inside. It was loud, dirty, and full of drunk sailors. If there was someone other then the two of them here that was sober, then they were either hiding or doing a very good job of acting drunk.
"Can I get you anything?" A scantily-clad serving girl had sauntered up to their table, and was eyeing the Prince speculatively
"Nothing," Nesia said abruptly, waving a hand at the girl, who scowled at her before going back to the bar.
"Who are we waiting for?" The Prince asked Nesia quietly, looking around at the crowd of rowdy sailors. The woman ignored him, and stood up from their table. Motioning for the Prince to follow her, she worked her way to a door near the back of the tavern. Before opening it, she stopped, and looked at the man.
"This is where you come in," she began, her voice low. "The person I'm dealing with is likely to have some kind of mercenaries guarding him. Just stand there, and look tough."
"Why?" he asked quickly, before she could open the door.
"Because if I walk in there without looking like I mean business, they'll just kill me, and take what I have off of my dead body," she replied. Nesia then opened the door before the Prince could say any more.
The room which the two walked into was small, with only a table, two chairs, and a small lamp in it. A man sat on the opposite side of the table, his hood pulled far over his face. A muscular man with tattoos covering his face and bare arms stood at attention behind him. When the door closed behind them, the Prince turned to see another man of similar build standing by it.
Nesia took a seat on the chair across from the man, and the Prince leaned on the was behind her, his arms crossed over his chest.
"You should have knocked," the man at the table remarked in a rasping voice. "I almost had Luca there attack you." He indicated the man standing my the door, who shrugged.
"But you didn't." Nesia retorted. "Now let's get to the reason that I'm here."
"Indeed," the man said. "Did you get it?" Nesia snorted.
"Do you think I'd be here if I didn't?" she asked rhetorically. Then her eyes narrowed. "I want to see the money first. All of it." They locked eyes for a moment, until the hooded man looked away, to find the Prince.
"Who's your friend?" He asked suddenly, indicating the Prince with a nod of his head.
"Just someone I picked up," she replied, shrugging. "Now, I want to see my money."
"Very well," the man said, looking away from the Prince. He reached down, and picked up a small bag off the floor. "One thousand gold pieces, all here and accounted for." Nesia pulled the bag towards her, and lifted it with a hand, gauging the weight. Satisfied, she placed it back on the table.
"I have what you want right here," she said, taking the leather bag from her hip, and placing it carefully on the table. The man across from her reached for it greedily, and poured some of the contents into his hand. The Prince leaned forward to see what it was, and almost fell when he did.
It was a intricately carved statuette of an elephant, made of solid gold with emerald eyes and real ivory tusks. What had startled him, though, was that he had seen this exact figurine years ago, in his father's palace. It had been a favourite of his father's, and he had always kept it close to him.
Nesia turned sharply to look at him, and the hooded man inspected him with a calculating look. The Prince got what Nesia was trying to tell him, and quickly righted himself. When the hooded man didn't look away, he scowled.
"Got a problem?" The Prince asked, drawing one of his scimitars, and running his fingers down the length of the blade, giving the seated man a penetrating gaze. The man ignored him, and turned back to Nesia.
"Well, it seems that everything here is in order. You may leave now," the hooded man said, slipping the elephant figure back into the bag. Nesia nodded at him, taking the money, and standing up. Luca opened the door for her and the Prince, and they left quickly through the tavern doors.
"What happened in there?" Nesia hissed to the Prince once they were outside.
"I was just a little startled by that statue," he replied evenly. "It looked very expensive...where did you get it?"
"Bought it off of a merchant in some town," she shrugged, starting down the dark street to their ship. "I didn't ask questions, and neither did he." The Prince frowned, but dropped the subject.
They walked quietly for a while, until Nesia broke the silence.
"What's going on," she said slowly, looking around cautiously. The Prince looked around as well, trying to determine what she was talking about. "Look," the woman said, pointing to a torch on the wall of a nearby house.
The torch burned not in shades of red and orange, but a colourless grey.
I think that this counts as a cliffhanger.
I will try to write the next chapter quickly (ish), but no promises.
Please review! Getting reviews makes me want to write more!
PS: I managed to slip some Flogging Molly lyrics in this chapter. Haha, I'm being brainwashed by Irish rock music!