Disclaimer: I do not own Lion Head Studios
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The sound of Sparrow's breathing seemed loud in her ears as she sloshed through dirty, stagnant water. Each time her feet disturbed the viscous liquid it sent wafts of revolting stench up into her face. She had to take off her sash as the heat had become unbearable and made her feel drowsy, which was something she did not want especially if there was to be a potential combat situation. It had been years since she had a real fight and hoped that her muscles still remembered how to move a sword.
She had no idea how long she had been wondering in the sewer tunnels as the lack of light left her feeling disorientated and lost. She stumbled into yet another junction that looked so much like the others she had passed through. She let out a frustrated sigh and leaned against the clammy stone wall wiping the sweat from her brow. Her eyes scanned the room around her when she stopped.
In the opening to the tunnel that lead in a northerly direction was an alcove that sat in the wall about waist height and sat in the alcove was a small man dressed in heavy looking armour that covered him from head to toe. A whoop of joy escaped Sparrow's lips the very sound of her voice making her freeze when she realised it was echoing back to her. Sheepishly she slipped past heading down the tunnel.
It was far easier after that to find her way. When the stranger said follow the armoured man she did not think it was like a guide leading you in a northern direction, because every tunnel she found heading north had the same alcove with a little armoured man standing in it. Relief swept through her in the knowledge she was now going in the right direction.
She soon came across a ladder in a dead-end leading up to a hatch in the ceiling. Hesitantly she climbed the slippery rungs till she came to the top and with a shove the hatch crashed open. She pulled her self through and paused making sure there was no sound of any guards that may have been attracted by the sudden noise. All was still and deathly quiet as she crept round some crates which had the hatch hidden away.
She passed under an archway and guffawed at the sight before her. She had seen some instruments for torture, but for most of the equipment in the room she did not even have names for. She past racks and pulleys of varying degrees a chill creeping up her spine. A table covered in rusty implements made a horrified expression crease her face. Deciding it would be best to get through the room as quick as possible she ran keeping her eyes on the floor.
She reached the wooden door at the end of the room and she panted deeply. Taking a moment to compose her self she pulled on the door handle. It was stubborn at first but the more she pulled, it soon eased open enough for her to squeeze through the gap. The room must not of been used in a long time she thought as she stepped carefully down the dim corridor. Towards the end was evidence of lit torches and so she headed towards it. The light attracted her like a moth to a flame. Before she made the mistake of stepping into the corridor a scream echoed down the wall towards her. She froze as she peered round the corner.
Along the wall at intervals were the unmistakeable design of dungeon doors. They were made of a solid looking wood with a rectangular hole near the top with bars, possibly the only inlet of light for the prisoner that had the misfortune to have to spend time inside one.
The scream caused a dull ringing in her ears as she realised with horror who it possibly belonged too. She felt her heart constrict tightly and a wave of anger arose as if from no where. The door that was third from the end, furthest from her, opened and two large men stepped out side. One turned to slam the door shut and locked it whilst the other was wiping his hands on a piece of bloodied clothe. They spoke together for a moment in the language she heard Garth use with the barman and they left up some stairs at the end of the corridor.
Cautiously she approached the door they just left and examined it. She bit her lip nervously as she looked over her shoulder every now and then making sure to keep listening for any footsteps. She took a step backward then run a little way up door and grabbed the bars. With all the strength she could muster she pulled her weight up till she could see into the cell. It was dark as she expected but what light that found its way into the cell illuminated a bare foot and dirty rag covered leg.
"Reaver?" she whispered loudly into the cell, "Reaver can you hear me?"
There was no response, which worried her. Her muscles started to shake from the effort of holding her weight so she said she will get him out, not that she was sure he had heard her. She dropped lightly to the floor, paused, then out of her pouch produced too long pieces of metal that looked much like knitting needles except the ends were bent at ninety degrees. She took a deep breath then poked the bent ends into the lock and began to wiggle them around in a very precise fashion. Her pink tongue was poked out as she worked the mechanisms inside the lock until 'click' it unlocked and Sparrow let out a sigh of relief.
Very slowly she pushed the door and it swung inwards with a dull creak. Wincing she entered light flooding in around her. The one inside the cell hardly flinched and Sparrow found herself staring at a man whose face was dirty and haggard. A dense splay of stubble covered his chin and his hair hung messily in his face. Though the green eyes that now stared at her glittered the body she saw was nothing but skin and bone.
Sparrow could feel her throat tightening as she looked upon the man she regarded to be pompous, arrogant and always held himself with pride. Seeing him broken like this was very much the same feeling of seeing a great beast trapped in a cage, reduced to a quivering lump when it should be out, free to conquer its territory. It brought a wave of pity upon her and she knelt down beside him. The green eyes followed her progress and glared balefully at her from underneath dirty blonde hair.
"Reaver?" she whispered softly, "its me Sparrow."
At the mention of her name his eyes widened and his lips moved mumbling.
"Sparrow?" his voice was dry and husky and something in the tone held surprise and pain.
There was a pause and suddenly he grinned his perfect white teeth gleaming at her and for a moment there was a shadow of the old Reaver there, she smiled.
"I didn't," he coughed violently and she leaned forward curiously. "I didn't..."
"Didn't what Reaver?" she asked and he looked at her almost sheepishly.
"They wanted me to tell them," he said and paused, "where you were. I didn't though, I didn't"
The smile was of silent triumph and the breath caught in her throat.
"Why?" she asked. The question caused his face to become blank.
"Because," was all he said and he looked at her with narrowed eyes. He suddenly reached out and touched her face. She flinched away from it and he sighed.
"So you're not an illusion to trick me," he said simply and he closed his eyes.
"Reaver!" she shook him gently and his eyes widened to stare at her a wild glint in their depths.
"That's it," she said in a harsh adamant whisper, "I'm getting you out of here."
"Why?" he replied in a defeated tone, "You hate me."
"That has nothing to do with it," she scolded him and the sound made the man flinch.
"This is ridiculous," she huffed as she set to work on the locks binding his wrists, "This isn't you Reaver, not you at all."
He remained silent as he watched her through the strands of his hair. Her fingers worked the picks with practised fingers as he watched with mild curiosity and surprise.
"Where did you learn to do that?" he asked when the shackle dropped to the floor with a dull clunk. Sparrow moved round to work on the other one.
"One of the many things the gypsies taught me."
"Ahh those pesky gypsies," he said with a sigh, "they can be so tricky."
He chuckled but it soon turned to racking cough. Sparrow smiled and held onto his shoulder to steady him. Reaver grasped her hand gratefully and she carried on with what she was doing. Just as a click signified she had finished a dull clang made her head whip round. The sound of heavy footsteps and jingling keys came to her. With cat like stealth she reached up to grip the handle of her katana and with a dull hiss pulled it free from its sheath. Electrical energy crackled down the blades length as she prepared herself. Reaver watched with fascination as a guard entered through the doorway looking thoroughly confused. With out warning Sparrow pounced and slid the blade through the guards ribs. Blood sputtered from the man's mouth as he fell to the floor dead leaving Sparrow standing in the light, blade in one hand and looking down at the body with blank disinterest.
Reaver chuckled. "When you stand in the light just right you look so..."
"Don't you dare even finish that sentence Reaver," she snapped pointing a long elegant finger towards him. He chuckled again and whispered 'sexy' under his breath. Lucky for him Sparrow did not seem to hear as she wiped her blade clean on the guards shirt.
She re-sheathed it and approached Reaver. "Okay you butt pirate give me your arm."
Reaver let out a raucous laugh at what she called him and extended the required limb. With strength that surprised him she brought him to his feet with a shoulder supporting him. He nearly crumbled underneath his own weight and his face creased with pain as he gritted his teeth.
"No I can't!" he nearly shouted as his legs just refused to work.
Sparrow eased him back to the ground. This is unexpected, she thought her mind working fast. She could carry him out, but how? Over her shoulder was one idea but that meant blood would rush to his head that would not be good especially with the problems she may encounter and the length of the trip. Piggy back was another another idea but he had very little strength to begin with. Then a strange thought crossed her mind as she remembered seeing how many of the women carried their children back at the harbour. Removing her sash once more she judged its length then tied the ends together so she had a circle. She sat for a moment as she worked the idea though her head.
Reaver stared at her with an arched eyebrow. "What are you doing?" he asked in a weak voice.
"You'll find out," she replied, "Right do you think you can sit up?"
With a grunt of effort he managed to lean forward and she slid one end of the hoop under his legs and the other end over his head so it sat across his shoulders, then with the two edges by his arms Sparrow twisted them once into loops. She turned around so her back was to him, slipped her arms through the loops so their bodies were close together and she instructed him to grab her shoulders as she grabbed him thighs. With a heave she lifted him so he was situated on her back. Leaning him gently on the wall so her body supported him she went about adjust her make shift harness.
"I swear this should be the other way round," Reaver commented lightly in her ear and he chuckled.
"Please keep that lecherous trap shut I am trying to concentrate."
To her surprise he did as he was told and waited patiently as she tightened the harness by making the arm loops bigger. She took a piece of cord that kept the top of her tunic closed and used it to tie the two loops together over her breasts. When finished she took a deep breath as she braced herself. Reaver however took the opportunity to look over her shoulder and down the open tunic, a huge grin on his face.
"Its silk so it should hold," she muttered to herself, "I hope."
"What do mean?" Reaver asked as he cautiously encircled his arms around her neck, seeing she made no move to swat him away he tightened his grip.
"I mean this was a very expensive sash that Garth sent me a couple of years ago," she replied as she paused a moment, "I am not an expert of weaving but I have been told that the weave on this sash is of expert quality so I am hoping it will hold."
"Well get on with it already," Reaver demanded impatiently.
"Ok, ok give me a chance, I'm supposed to be rescuing you."
"Taking your time about it," he sniffed irritably looking away.
With a frustrated growl Sparrow stood up and waited. When nothing happened she let out a sigh of relief. She was aware of the strain on the sash by the way it cut into her shoulders, but she was relieved to know it would hold. It was not like Reaver was very heavy either. Against her back he felt like nothing but a sack of bones. Reaver looked down as he could feel something between her and him, and pulled out a pistol. Sparrow looked over her shoulder.
"Ah, yes I found it," she said and was about to say something but stopped when she saw the look of love and adoration in his eyes as he regarded his weapon. He rested against her back and reached around the pistol hanging limp in his hands.
"Use it well," he said and she took it slightly puzzled but did not argue. She slipped into her belt as he rested his cheek on her shoulder and his arms hung limp over by her sides. She suddenly felt very uncomfortable by how close he was to her, but with a shake of her head she dismissed these thoughts as she unsteadily walked forward slowly getting used to the extra weight. With growing confidence she exited the cell closing the door behind her and walked carefully down the corridor. When she reached the door she realised that it was shut when she was sure that she had left it open. She kicked and pushed as hard as she could but the stubborn door just would not open. She glared at it and cursed colourfully under her breath.
"That's not very lady like," Reaver commented drowsily.
"Hush your gums Reaver," she replied waspishly, "We have a huge problem. The way back is blocked."
"You what!" His head snapped up and his green eyes stared at her incredulously. She could feel the anger through his rigid body against her back. Her mind suddenly went into over drive her only thoughts being their survival and eventual escape.
"Ok lets think about this logically," she said in a calm voice, "When you were brought here do you remember any thing."
She felt Reaver shudder as he remembered thoughts he must not of wanted to remember.
"No," was the demure reply, "I was bound and hooded. I couldn't see a thing."
"You sure?" she asked gently and he nodded laying his cheek on her shoulder once more.
"Ok then it looks like we will just have to wing it doesn't it." She began to walk back down the corridor. She paused at the corridors end and looked up the stairs towards the door. With light steps she ascended the flight and opened the door. To her surprise the corridor was empty and she passed out with slow cautious steps her senses on high alert. When she was sure they were some what safe she began to jog making sure she was not jilted Reaver's worn body to much.
The twisting lengths of corridors and walkways seemed to turn into each other. Each one looked the same and she had the distinct feeling she was going in circles. Having Reaver strapped to her back did not help the situation either. Whether he was aware of it or not he had turned his head the other way and she found the bumping of his nose on her neck a bit distracting. A breeze disturbed her hair and sense of joy coursed through her. She jogged down the corridor following the breeze like a trail leading her to what she hoped was a window.
To her surprise it was not a window but a large open balcony looking out onto the vast forest just below. She walked up to the rail and looked over the edge. Not too far down and slightly forward from the balcony was a lower balcony leading into a glass house. From where she stood she could see the greenery inside with branches and leaves pressing against the roof top windows.
A storm of yells and angry cries made her whirl round on the spot. Heavy foot steps thundered down the corridor causing the stone floor to vibrate beneath her feet.
"That's not what I think it is," Reaver's voice breathed into her ear. She fought to suppress a shudder as her thoughts tumbled over each other. She trotted up to the balcony entrance only to find her way blocked by the bodies of large dark skinned men glaring down at her with sneers.
From between them a tall, thin man approached his skin not as dark as the men behind him, but it was obvious he was still of the same ethnicity. His face was hidden by a blank white mask with nothing but slits where the eye holes would have been. He loomed over the smaller hero as sense of dread filling Sparrow as she stubbornly held her ground.
"You would be Sparrow," he said in more of a statement than a question, "I wondered when you would turn up." He approached slowly causing her back up towards the balcony rail. "I have been waiting for you." The voice was dark and slightly distorted behind the mask. He chuckled deeply the sound dripping with menace.
"Damn." Sparrow hissed under her breath, "This is not good."
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I hope you liked this chapter and I know its a bit shorter than the last one, but I want to keep a certain flow to each one. I really enjoy writing Reaver's character its such a fun personality shame I had to this to him, I even felt kinda sorry for him.
Again read and review please.