It was cold in the cargo hold; at present, Ilchymis was the only one conscious to suffer through it. Domingo had been unconscious for hours, and Centime had caused such commotion upon being told that his son would be killed upon refusing to assist Galcian that the soldiers aboard the flagship had knocked him out soon after. The mage was keeping a vigilant watch over his two friends, while at the same time silently contemplating how to get them all past the two guards at the door; he was in a sitting position, hands bound behind his back and leaning awkwardly against the wall, and shifting ever-so-slightly he tapped his fingertips against the ring that was actually Cupil.
Behind him, the Silvite creature morphed into the shape of a small blade and started working at the ropes that held Ilchymis's hands. It wasn't long before the mage could feel the circulation returning to his fingertips; he looked over at the door. The guards remained oblivious.
The difficult part, he knew, would be casting a spell to immobilize the two soldiers long enough for him to wake Domingo and Centime, but even if the three of them escaped the room, what would they do? They were still on the flagship of one of Valua's admirals and surrounded by soldiers loyal to the Empire, and what's more, neither of his two comrades had their weapons. Equipped with the Warrior's Heart Ilchymis supposed he could defend them for a time with his impressive spell repertoire, but it would hardly be enough to get them out of this predicament.
Ilchymis finished casting and whispered the trigger phrase, "Slipara", under his breath; an inconspicuous blue-grey mist settled over the two soldiers, and suddenly they were lulled into a magical sleep. The mage stood up and flung his tattered bonds to one side as Cupil tittered anxiously.
"Be prepared for anything, Cupil," Ilchymis murmured to the little Silvite creature, and he crossed the room to kneel beside his two unconscious friends. "Please wake up," he said, an edge of panic in his voice. "You must wake up!"
Even with the six ships firing their devastating cannons Grendel did not slow, or even deviate from his path; Lawrence clung to the monstrous creature's shoulder, peering through the smoke as they approached De Loco's flagship. Things were about to get tricky - while Grendel dealt with the Armada, the mercenary planned to board the Chameleon and go after his companions himself.
"Hey, Grendel!" called Lawrene over the sound of wind and cannonfire. "I need you to get me to the deck of the flagship!"
It was as though he had asked for something as simple as being handed an object; up came Grendel's massive hand, closing around Lawrence and plucking him off the Gigas's shoulder, and the next thing he knew the Gigas had placed him carefully on the deck of the Chameleon. Hitching his knapsack over his shoulder Lawrence shouted "Get these guys to stop burning the forest - destroy them if you have to - but don't attack this ship!"
The Green Gigas lumbered away, letting loose a deafening roar as it went; turning toward the door leading into the ship the mercenary wasn't surprised to find three soldiers rushing to meet him. Lawrence smirked and drew his red-bladed falchion.
One of the soldiers leapt at him brandishing a rather crude short sword, but the strike was awkward and Lawrence was prepared for it; sidestepping the stroke he chopped down, razing a line of red down the soldier's arm before pivoting and slashing across at the second guard, who had rushed up to flank him. The third guard rushed up to stab him in the back, but Lawrence turned enough to lessen the damage dealt to him; the second guard, sensing weakness, struck at the mercenary's hip.
Hardly slowed, Lawrene lowered his shoulder and charged, leading with his blade; the falchion impaled its unfortunate target. The second soldier dashed back in and the mercenary, knowing he couldn't tug the falchion free in time to execute a parry, whipped a dagger from his belt and met his oncoming attacker with its point. The green-bladed knife slipped between two ribs and tore at a lung; the soldier collapsed, dying. The one remaining guard chopped diagonally, but Lawrence blocked the stroke with the body of the soldier still impaled on the bloodstained falchion.
Neither of his weapons would come free, and the soldier pierced the dodging mercenary's thigh with his short sword; as he pivoted Lawrence at last ripped the falchion free and released the dagger to let both bodies fall away from him. Across went the curved blade, gleaming its furious red, to tear a mortal wound in the soldier's midsection, and as he fell back the tip of the soldier's sword nicked the mercenary's knee.
Down came the falchion, silencing the man's cry.
Lawrence heaved a ragged breath, reaching into his pocket and extracting a small green gem as he wiped his bloody falchion clean. The sacres crystal worked its magic well enough to reinvigorate him, though his leg remained stiff, but he knew he had not time to rest; ripping the dagger from the chest of another body he strode across the deck and entered the flagship.
On the sixth attempt, an exhausted Ilchymis managed to revive Domingo with an incredibly faulty Risan spell, though the treasure hunter was still very weak; while Ilchymis recuperated momentarily from his efforts, Cupil freed Domingo from his bonds.
"Where are we?" asked Domingo, glancing around.
"Admiral De Loco's flagship. They are burning down the forests in their search for the Crystal." Ilchymis set his jaw in determination; magic leapt from his fingertips, and Centime's eyes fluttered open.
"How are we going to get out of here? We don't have our weapons," Domingo protested, indicating himself and Centime.
"Something is happening out there," said Ilchymis, getting to his feet with a curious frown and tiptoeing to the door, careful not to disturb the still-slumbering soldiers. "I can hear cannonfire and soldiers running through the halls. I think someone or something is attacking De Loco's fleet."
"But . . . who would be stupid enough to do that?" Domingo wailed.
Lawrence, cramped in the narrow hallway, kept his falchion sheathed and pulled out his dagger (now bladed yellow); the guard, in a similarly awkward position, barely nicked the mercenary's chest. The next blow scraped Lawrence's already-sore shoulder, but his dagger bit deeply into the soldier's collarbone; with one swift movement he had slit the soldier's throat and stepped over the body, drawing his falchion as he went.
The second soldier in the corridor was cowering against the wall; with a single swift stroke, Lawrence had decapitated him with the blue-bladed falchion. The next one to confront him died in a similar fashion.
The fourth soldier to crowd into the hallway after him suddenly found himself without a left arm; as he screamed he retaliated with a wild swing of his short sword, which Lawrence batted away with little effort, then the soldier abruptly stopped screaming as the emotionless mercenary slashed out it throat. Lawrence was panting and fatigued, but the hall was clear now and he rushed around the corner.
Smack into a waiting elite soldier.
Lawrence's initial stroke was slow and easily deflected, and the elite followed up with a cunning blow off the block that sang along the mercenary's useless shoulder. Desperation quickened Lawrence's reflexes, though, and a second blow that might have proved mortal was turned aside by the flat of his falchion; he leaned into the strike, but it was deflected as well.
Quick-stepping out of range of his enemy Lawrence struck, this time with a mighty thrust that nearly claimed the elite's arm and even sliced at his hip, but the armored warrior was quicker than he appeared and stabbed its short sword deeply into the mercenary's side. Lawrence swooned to his knees with a howl and knew his enemy wouldn't likely miss the back of his neck.
"ETERNI!!!"
The bolt of silver lightning had killed the elite before it had even hit the ground; Ilchymis was upon Lawrence at once, already murmuring a healing spell under his breath.
"Lawrence!" Domingo dropped to his knees as he belted on his kukris and crossbow, eyes wide with surprise and adoration. "I can't believe it! How did you get here? Are you okay?"
"Sacres." Though not strong enough to heal the mercenary completely, Ilchymis's spell had a significant effect on Lawrence, who breathed and moved easier. The mage then turned and cast it again on both Domingo and Centime. "Unfortunately you will have to tell us another time, Lawrence; we have to find a way off this ship at present."
"No problem," said Lawrence, getting stiffly to his feet and tucking his dagger into its sheath. "All we have to do is fight our way to the deck." And with no further explanation he led them on, falchion leading.
Author's Note: I'm ba-ack!
Desert Lynx: The ragtag group dynamic just makes the chemistry that much more interesting, doesn't it? Glad you're still enjoying everything!
Meowzy-chan: Your reviews always make me smile; as far as this fic goes, you're my most enthusiastic fan. I appreciate it. Hope these are still up to snuff.
greekapino: Yeah, Centime always rolls pretty crappy on the d20 - he needs a gun with better stats. And Alfonso is way cooler here than in SoA.
Derek Barona: You're not the first person who's pointed out that Centime's revolver blows. It's true - he needs a new weapon. Maybe when they're out of Ixa'taka and have time to shop... thanks for the great review, always nice to hear from you.
Syek: Another mound of updates in the making for you - can you keep up? XD
The Right Hand of Fate: lol, yeah, Centime's gun sucks! Good to hear from you again; I've missed your reviews! Hope you still like!
So what have we learned from last time? Popular concensus states that Centime's gun is crap. XD 'Til next time, fight fans!