Chapter 25: Push Comes To Shove
Castorius had no idea what would await him at the shore. Maybe they were already looking for him. Might be he'd be face to face with a bunch on incredulous pirates, staring with their gaps open at the fool who would walk straight into the hands of his killers. That is, until they got over their stupefaction enough to commence the actual killing. They might take their time too, have fun with it.
Could be he was walking right into his death.
Could be I just don't care anymore.
But, of course, it was a disingenuous sentiment. No matter what changes might have happened within him these past twenty-four hours, some things would always be the same. He would always be a coward. He would always fear dying. Fear pain.
Maybe I'm becoming two men, he speculated. One afraid of death, one looking for it.
Even if that was the case, the two men he might have become were togetherin this.
He sighed.
He had to press his head down trudging toward the waterline, the wind from the ocean tearing at him from all possible angles, as if looking for a weak spot. As if he had any other kinds left.
But at least there was no rain.
You just had to go and think that, did you?
The rowboat rested on the sands, right where it had been the last time, except that the waterline was considerably higher now. Three men stood around it with their shoulders slumped.
One of the men looked up at Castorius approaching. Roggie.
"Castor!" he yelled. "About time! Didn't I tell you the exact time we would be expecting you?"
Radd the Adventurer by his side looked as frivolously upbeat as ever, but Roggie actually sounded a bit irked.
Castorius couldn't have cared less. "You didn't, actually."
"Oh," Roggie said, taken aback. "Well, I should have!" He frowned then, taking a look at his friend. "Divines, man—you look like shit! What have you been up to?"
"Never you mind," replied Castorius curtly. He peered towards the sea but could see nothing but the outline of the Brinerunner. "Everything go as planned, then?"
"Oh yes!" Roggie grinned. "Couldn't have been better. Malaney is very pleased, from what I hear."
Castorius' brow went up. "Is he, now?" Are you sure he's not waiting for us with his best filleting knives sharpened?
"Oh, definitely!" Roggie said, and it took a fraction of a second for Castorius to realize he wasn't replying to the question he'd merely thought about. "You've certainly made his day. I believe he's looking to personally thank you."
"Uh huh."
Castorius tried to keep the trepidation from locking him up completely. He gazed at the ominous dark ship bobbing and heaving in the large waves. He did not want to board it. Not one little bit.
"Alright, then," Roggie said, gesturing at the dinghy on the shore with mocking courtliness. "Shall we?"
"Um," Castorius said. He grabbed Roggie's sleeve and pulled the man closer. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" He spoke in a low voice so no one else would hear. "I mean, is our presence really needed here? We've done our part. Maybe we should just let the Horkers take it from here, and go—"
"Oh, Castor!" Roggie interrupted, placing a hand on Castorius' shoulder. "You know we can't leave this half-way. Besides, don't you want to go and collect your reward?"
No, Castorius though. No, in fact I don't want that at all. "Reward?"
Roggie patted his shoulder and laughed. "Well, of course! You're the one who did all the . . . hard work. You've certainly deserved a little bonus."
"I don't know—"
"Don't be so damned humble!" said Roggie, pushing Castorius toward the boat. "It doesn't become you in the least. Come on, don't worry about the waves. You'll get used to them."
He did not get used to them.
Not at least during the ten-to-twenty minutes it took for the man rowing the boat get them to the ship. With the tall waves slamming against them, it seemed a nearly impossible feat. But the knots of muscle covering the pirates' bare torso worked tirelessly, and they did move forwards, if very slowly. With the boat bounding over the rushing waters, Castorius had to hold on to both sides with his knuckles white. And it was an even bigger challenge to keep what little was left in his stomach from hurling out onto his lap.
But in the end, they got there. With both the dinghy and the ship moving, it was hard to grab a hold of the rope ladder slamming against the hull. Radd reached out, grabbed the rope, and climbed up nimbly despite the wind swaying him side to side.
Then it was Castorius' turn. He did not do such an impressive job with it. His foot kept slipping off the wet rungs, and he had to climb very slowly for all the disturbing motion. That, and his muscles were all but completely depleted of strength. He would need rest.
I may soon get all I need, he though sourly, on my comfy new bed at the bottom of the sea.
Then, once he finally got up on the deck, his heart plunged down to his toes.
Captain Malaney stood there waiting for him, arms crossed over his abdomen and an undecipherable expression sitting on his frayed features. It might have been a grin. Or was it a scowl?
"Oh," Castorius said tentatively. "Hello."
A row of black teeth slowly peeled into view in the middle of the man's dark, scraggly beard. "You!" he barked.
Castorius swallowed. His eyes went to the Captain's cutlass sheathed right the man's right hand.
Malaney then threw his arms open, nearly causing Castorius to jump back into the ocean for safety. He would take his chances with the waves and the sharks.
"My boy!" the man growled, coming toward him. His hands were empty. "Am I glad to see you!"
"Uh," Castorius replied.
Malaney grabbed him hard by both shoulders. "Oh yes, indeed!" His dark eyes burned with an intense flame. "Good people are hard to find, but you?" He laughed. "In you, I believe we have a winner!"
Castorius did not know what to say. "Oh?"
"Come on down!" the Captain told him, as if the forceful arm around his neck would have left him with any choice, "we're celebrating."
Despite the cold wind, the deck was full of pirates, shirtless to a man. These were obviously people utterly immune to bad weather. Despite Malaney's contention, though, they did not appear to be particularly celebratory. Merely drunk.
The Captain himself, it seemed, was both. His breath sour with rot and rum, he murmured into Castorius' ear. "I'd kill everyone on this boat if there was enough men like you I could replace them with."
What to say to that? "Thanks," Castorius murmured. "I guess."
They stopped at the rear. A fat, red faced pirate was standing there, holding on to the rudder with one hand and a big bottle with another. He glanced at his captain warily, then looked away, trying to make himself as invisible as possible.
"There it is," the Captain said, gesturing at the dark. "Ain't she a beauty?"
It took a while for Castorius to make out the this thing of beauty he was supposed to be looking at, but then he saw the lights.
Out there in the distance was another ship, much larger than the one they were on.
Alessia's Trial. So the odd Nord woman had succeeded.
A little closer, he noticed then, was another ship more in the Brinerunner's own caliber. Another pirate ship.
Blackbloods! Castorius thought with a jolt of alarm, until he remembered their ship being consumed by collapsing rock.
Captain Malaney caught Castorius staring at the wrong ship. "Not that one! That's just the backup crew I brought along. Over there." He pointed again at the Imperial Warship.
"Oh yes," Castorius said nodding. "There it is."
Malaney laughed. "It sure is! Finally I'm going to have the sort of ship in my command I was always meant to have." He tightened the hold of his arm around Castorius' neck. "And it's all thanks to you!"
"Um," Castorius said. "Oh, don't mention it. It was nothing."
"Nothing?" Malaney growled. "The Oblivion you say! Though . . ." He leaned close so that Castorius felt his breath hot in his ear. "I hear you didn't have such a bad time acquiring her? Eh?" He grinned with all his teeth. "Heh, clever plot, that was, I have to say. That Roggvir might just be more useful than I initially thought."
Castorius had already forgotten about the Captain presenting his doubts regarding the Nord. He'd found more pressing things to worry about than the crooked guard's life. It hardly seemed too important now. "If you say so."
The pirate captain drew in a deep breath of the sea air. "Ah, that about puts me in the mood, too. I wouldn't mind celebrating a little, myself. If you know what I mean."
"Not with me, I hope," Castorius muttered.
"Huh?" Malaney turned to him sharply. "Oh, ha! Don't flatter yourself boy! I like my whores hairier than you!"
There was that word again—whore.
The Captain let go of Castorius and started walking towards mid-deck, beckoning his new best pal to follow.
Castorius saw no other option but to comply.
"Gentlemen," Malaney addressed his crew, alongside Roggie and Radd the Adventurer.
"Aye, Captain," one of the pirates said. A bit mechanically, Castorius marked.
Another pirate coughed. The same emaciated, pallid one from their earlier visit. His condition seemed not to have improved.
"This is a very important occasion, if I may so boldly attest." Malaney gestured roughly in the direction of Alessia's Trial. "The start of a new era for our crew, as it were."
Castorius eyed the horizon nervously. There wasn't anything there to see. Not yet. We've got to get out of here. Soon.
The lanky pirate coughed.
"Aye, Captain," said the other.
Everyone else was content with nodding their heads at Captain Malaney's words.
The filthy man gave his audience a sweeping look. "I'm proud to call myself your father."
You what?
A couple of the pirates were also glancing at each other at the odd comment. Castorius looked at Roggie who just gave the slightest of shrugs.
"And as your father—"
The small pirate coughed. It was a harsh searing hack that sounded like it was chipping little chunks off his lungs.
Malaney gave him a quick, furious glare. The man just barely managed to bring his wheezing to a stop.
The Captain then regained his earlier pompous composure. "And as your father, I take upon myself the responsibility to better—
The pirate, not able to confine his cough, launched into another fit.
Captain Malaney sprung towards the man. Everyone around him took a quick step back, like out of the way of the sudden attack of some predator. The one the Captain was after didn't have time for such a maneuver. Only his eyes could react, and they went wide.
"Here, let me cure that for ya!" Malaney growled. There was the cutlass in his hand.
The coughing pirate was not coughing then. He stood there with his mouth open until Malaney had taken the couple long strides to reach him. The Captain ran his blade straight through his belly. It went in like a knife into soft butter. The man's eyes flew almost parodically wide, and the muscles of his face went rigid. He looked down at the sword sunken to its hilt into his abdomen, then at the snarling face of his killer. His look in his eyes slowly transferred from stunned disbelief into distant dreaminess.
Malaney pulled out the blade, and the pirate slumped down on the planks.
After a few seconds of examining the result of his deadly bolt, as if making sure the pirate had coughed his last cough, Malaney darted a furious look at the audience around him.
"Weakness!" he spat. "Can't stand the sight of it!"
His eyes burned with an unholy flame. He re-sheathed his weapon without bothering to wipe off the blood from it. The other pirates soon appeared to recover from the unexpected act of carnage, but the visitors were staring at the dying small pirate with muted consternation. Even Radd looked taken aback.
Captain Malaney addressed his cronies, gesturing at the now dead pirate. "Get rid of this, will ya!"
Three of the pirates still alive and kicking grabbed the body of their less fortunate comrade, and tossed it over the side into the scouring waves.
Malaney noticed the looks in the faces of his guests, laughed. "Ah, just business as usual," he said. "I know how this must look to landlobbers like you, but this is the way it works at sea." He waved his hand around, as if to dispel the air of the shock hanging between them. "What is it that they say—you can't make an omelet without fucking some chickens, eh?"
Castorius looked at Roggie. The Nord only met his eye briefly, but it was clear he too was feeling uncomfortable.
Captain Malaney went on to stand at the starboard—or port?—side of the deck, facing the direction of Alessia's Trial in the dark. "Now where was I? Oh yes, a new beginning." He grinned back and pointed his arm toward the Imperial ship. "A glorious start for a—"
An explosion cut him off. A bright flash of light in the distance, and then another one right next to Alessia's Trial. Right on Alessia's Trial.
Malaney whipped around. "What?"
Another boom. A bright flash accompanied by a loud cracking sound lit up the Imperial ship for a second. The ship caught fire.
Cannons. They were blasting from somewhere out at sea—too far to be seen.
"What is this?" Malaney roared.
"Someone's attacking the ship we stole," said one of the underlings gathered by their captain's side.
Malaney turned to shoot the man with an eyeful of wrath. "Really? You think!?" He raised his hand as if to slap him, and the poor bastard hunkered down.
The Captain then lowered his hand with a frustrated grunt. He scratched his head, turning his distraught attention back to the sight in the distance.
Another explosion. A clean hit at the bow, and the ship curtsied.
"Fight back!" Malaney screamed pointlessly.
Castorius turned to look at Roggie. The Nord stared at the commotion in the distance with a anxious frown on his brow. His body was tense, like he was preparing to abscond at any moment.
He noticed Castorius, then, met his eyes. He was just about to look away, when he appeared to catch sight of something in his friend. Roggie's eyes bulged, and he cocked his head—like a dread suspicion awoke in him.
Castorius did his best to look innocent. He shrugged and shook his head, like he had no idea why Roggie was looking at him that way. He then switched his attention back to the commotion.
Yet another combustion there. The flames on Alessia's Trial had gotten wider, and the ship was slowly starting to sink. Captain Malaney was staring at it quietly now. If anything, his silence was even more distressful that his rage had been.
The other pirates were also visibly discomfited by their captain's lack of open aggression. Obviously it was not a common occurrence that he went quiet, and even more likely it was a sure sign there's be some serious trouble ahead.
One of the pirates decided to take it upon himself to break the uncomfortable growing silence. "Um, what should we do?"
"Use our own cannons?" Radd the Adventurer suggested.
Captain Malaney snapped around, on his face an expression like he was prepared to eat anyone present alive. "We have no cannons!" he growled. "The only ones are going down with Alessia's Trial!"
Another impact shook the soon to be former Imperial Warship. Then, right after that, another blaze lit up the other pirate ship closer by. Then another. More in the water around it.
This is a bit more aggressive than I had in mind, Castorius though.
He was really starting to feel scared. He would have to get out. They would have to—he still appeared to have some consideration for Roggie, for all the trouble the man had caused him.
Heck, even obnoxious Radd probably did not deserve to die over this.
The sound of explosion close by, and a splash of water.
Castorius felt the drops of water on his face. He suddenly had the feeling he might soon end up soiling himself.
"They're firing at us!" someone screamed.
All things considered, it shouldn't have come as such big a surprise. Still, for some reason, even if he'd pretty much expected it, there was something hard to believe in actual cannons shooting actual ammunition at a ship Castorius himself was actually on. Even after everything he'd seen, and after all the close calls he'd had so far, it felt like such an unreal prospect—death, and that it should actually be happening to him. Him, of all people!
Captain Malaney stared at the point in water all too close to them where the cannonball had landed.
"Time to go," he said. He then turned to regard the crew with a wild look in his eyes. "Time to fucking go!"
His crew just looked at each other, like this "going" thing was a completely novel concept to them.
"Don't just stand there!" Malaney roared. "Do something!"
Prompted by the outburst, the crew members started running here and there, though still with no indication of having any idea of the purpose of all this skittering about.
"Ah, nothing but a punch of cretinous twat-twiddlers the lot 'o ya!" the Captain bellowed at the ineffectual squirreling. "Do I have to draw you a picture? Hoist the anchor! Drop the sails!"
One pirate, Gunnar Castorius believed his name to have been, stopped and looked at his commander like he'd lost his mind. "Captain, the wind is blowing from the sea!"
Malaney gave a big wave of his hand. "Ah, it'll come around!
Castorius' brows shot up. Did the man actually believe himself what he was saying?
It was evident the crew had a similar thought in mind. They stopped running, looking at each other again for some kind of confirmation for what they'd just heard.
Malaney glowered at them with the flame of the deepest depths of the Deadlands burning in his eyes. "Do as I say or suffer the consequences!"
That did it. The crew members started moving again, this time much more purposefully. They went to work on following their captain's commands. Climbing up masts, heaving at ropes.
What are they doing? thought Castorius. We'll run aground in a matter of seconds!
Perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad thing, though. He'd get back ashore and get a chance to run away, all without having to get on that rowboat again. He was considering finding some more peaceful place to withdraw to wait for their inevitable shoring, when Captain Malaney's feverish gaze met his. He felt a gripping cold spread from atop his head all the way down to his toes.
Those black eyes. They could see things!
As Castorius was unable to avert his gaze, the eyes of Captain Malaney slowly went wide. His brow wrinkled and his upper lip peeled up to a reveal a predatory snarl.
He took one heavy step in Castorius' direction. "You!"
Castorius swallowed. "Huh?" he squeaked.
Malaney lifted his arm to point a thick finger at him. "You!" he repeated.
Castorius tried to back up. "I—"
Another splash right next to the hull was enough to rock the ship. Anyone not already busy following Malaney's commands—namely that meant Roggie and Radd the adventurer—now went down to hug the floor planks. That left only Captain himself and his new soon-to-be former best friend standing. Though, by the looks of it, soon there would be only one; and it wasn't difficult to guess which one that would be.
Captain Malaney, still approaching with menacing slowness, spread his arms with almost a wounded expression on his face. "Why?"
"I, uh. Um, a wh— hmm," stuttered Castorius while backing up.
"I mean, did I not offer you enough in the way of compensation? Was I not fair?"
The direct nature of any given compensation had not been on the table. Castorius briefly considered bringing that up. Not that it would have meant anything.
Malaney shook his head. "What did I do to deserve this . . . this . . . deception?"
"Er . . . " You're a killer. A murderer. A monster. Isn't that enough? What you deserve is to die! "I didn't—"
The piercing whistle of Captain Malaney's cutlass swirling out of its scabbard shut Castorius up. The blade was still smudged with blood, and was obviously very sharp. Castorius' eyes fixed on it, on the little light reflected from a nearby lantern dancing on its length as the lamp swerved in the wind.
Then, for a second, the lantern stopped.
It was as if a blanket of silence fell on them all; everything got dead quiet. Even the water seemed to stop moving. The wind had simply died out.
At that moment the sails dropped. Their rustling was the only sound to be heard, everyone present looking around in confusion.
Then the lantern started swaying again. The sails billowed up.
The wind returned, harder than ever, in fact; only this time it was blowing from the direction of the land. The ship turned, started to move north. Towards the ocean.
Captain Malaney laughed, gave the stunned crew a triumphant look "See? I told you it would come around!"
Everyone simply stared at him stupefied. Someone even made a gesture with his hand that looked like some superstitious ward against evil. As if that would help in this case. The general perplexity was cut short as the whole ship jolted. An explosion at the front, where a projectile had hit. A part of the board was chipped off, and some water came in, but the hit didn't seem serious.
Clearly, though, the Company had taken notice of the Brinerunner trying to make a break for it, and they were doing their damnedest to keep that from happening.
"We'll outrun them!" growled the Captain confidently.
Castorius had started to inch his way toward the board, though what his overall plan was, he'd not gotten as far as figuring out. He would take his chances with the ocean.
How is drowning as far as ways of dying go?
Captain Malaney, however, soon remembered him. There was amusement in his eyes, as he met Castorius'. "Where are you going? Didn't we have some unfinished business? Ah, yes." He picked up his blade, pointed the sharp end towards Castorius. "I remember now. You were about to explain yourself?"
Was he serious? Now, if ever, was Castorius' change to show what a magnificent liar he was; how there was no situation he could not talk his way out of, not matter how impossible it might have looked.
"Um, er, well. Uh . . ." Castorius said.
Malaney's head went slowly from side to side. "I just can't believe it. My instinct told me I could trust you. I saw it in you. What went wrong?"
He seemed to be asking himself that more than anything.
Something got in the way of Castorius' retreating feet, and he went down on his rear. He grabbed a hold of the sideboard, lifted his other hand up in front of his face in the most feeble attempt at protection.
Captain Malaney stopped right in front of him. He didn't even look mad anymore as he regarded Castorius. Almost . . . sad. He went down on one knee. Castorius couldn't help but to look into those unfathomable black eyes. He felt the cold hand of dread squeezing at his heart in a way the simple fear of death could not fully explain.
"Well," said Malaney after looking futilely for some explanation in Castorius eyes. "Guess it just goes to show that it is as they say: how things seem to be—" he shook his head. "Well, that's seldom—"
"—how they really are," Castorius finished.
Sanguine's parting words.
His jaw dropped. Sanguine. The things he'd said . . .
In the deep, bottomless abyss that were Captain Malaney's eyes, he suddenly saw something. No, to say it was something would have been all wrong. What lay in that abyss was Nothingness itself. Lack of anything.
Void.
And through that nothing, it seemed, was that everything came to be. Through it everything was connected. It was all moving. All change. Everything that was. Everything that was not. Everything possible. Impossible. All One. Chaos.
True void.
But that was not all. What had Sanguine said? It suddenly felt awfully important.
What had it been?
Captain Malaney stuck out his lower lip. "Hmph," he said. "Yeah, guess you've heard it too." He shrugged, and took a deep breath. "Oh well." He stood up then, pulled back his blade, the tip pointing at Castorius. "Time to die."
Castorius could not take his eyes away from Malaney's, or do anything else. The Nothingness therein had him caught in its snare. And then, as time seemed to slow down, Malaney's cutlass diving at him, Sanguine's words came pouring back.
"What you are," he'd said, "what you can be, stretch into far many more directions and dimensions than you realize"
Everything connected in the Void.
"When you really look into the void, into the heart of nothing, you can see how it can be anything."
The nothingness was Captain Malaney.
" . . . the walls between what you took to be the difference between you and me . . ."
And Castorius, too . . .
". . . between here and there, between what's possible and what's impossible . . ."
Connected.
" . . . simply give in."
Mind as the forerunner . . .
"The limits of reality, of what can be, are highly malleable . . . "
Although still very very slowly, the tip of the blade was coming ever closer.
"Sometimes all it takes is a little . . ."
Castorius' mouth opened. "—push!"
All thought and any sense of deliberation drained into the Nothingness, he simply did what his instinct told him to. He thrust out both of his hands.
The tiniest, most infinitesimal frown had time to form on the assaulting pirate captain's brow.
And then, the impossible happened. Captain Malaney was lifted off his feet. His eyes went wide in amazement and horror, but the next moment he was already flying in a large arc across the air and straight into the ocean.
Castorius, his mouth gaping open all the way down to his lap, stared after the now vanished captain. He then looked at his hands still hanging in the air.
What . . .?
Nothing about them looked any different. No glow, nothing . . . magical. Castorius had never caught any of that stuff. Not that he'd ever much tried.
After all, there was no spell for getting down for a lay, or for making everyone look up to you.
So then what the—
Behind him, a powerful explosion shaking the whole ship brought Castorius back to here and now.
A direct hit on the stern sent a bunch of timber flying. A piece of debris hit him in the back, though not too hard. From one of the masts, one pirate was knocked off by the shock, just barely managing to grab a hold of a rope to keep from falling all the way down.
A man staggered towards Castorius from the back, the one who'd been holding the rudder. He still was, in a sense, at least a part of it, for in the middle of his chest jutted out a length of wood. The rudder, or what was left of it. The bewilderment of a newly awoken child in his eyes, the man gave Castorius an inquisitive look. Then he gazed down in utter disbelief at the bloodied piece of timber, the tattered shirt all red around it. Something that looked like a fat red snake was coiled around the wood. His own intestine.
The man blinked at Castorius, opening his mouth to say something. The only thing to come out was a gush of blood. The man let out a strange squeak. Then his legs gave in, and he collapsed.
The ship let out a loud groan, as Castorius' stomach heaved. Above him the sails billowed sideways, and the masts creaked like they were about to snap. The wind had turned its direction once more, and the ship was about to do just the same.
Another projectile took off the tip of one of the masts, and a pirate fell screaming down on the planks. Hit took the landing head first, and even in the roaring wind the nauseating crack of his skull giving in was as clear as day.
A surge of freezing cold water over the board at Castorius' side jolted him. He pressed himself tighter against the side, holding on to it with both hands. He then looked to his right, at the other side of the ship. What he saw turned his bowels to water .
It was the land. And it was approaching fast. The wind coming from the ocean again had turned the ship sideways, and was pushing it right at it.
They were going to crash, he realized, within seconds. It wasn't going to be gentle either. The crags on the shore were very sharp and the exact geometric opposite of inviting.
He wouldn't be able to push this away.
Around him, the others had woken up to a similar realization. "We're going to crash!" someone screamed.
"We're going to die!" chimed another, none too helpfully.
Not that Castorius could have denied the incoherent truth in either of those statements, and he sure as Oblivion had no remedy to offer. He could hardly even find it in him to properly judge the stupidity of those few he saw hopelessly searching for safety indoors.
How many times could one man face death in the space of just few days and expect to continue living to tell the tale? What sort of tale would he even tell? And who would believe him?
Once again, this was perhaps neither the time nor the place.
The land was there now.
"We're crashing!" yelled a man on the mast above him. "Hold on—"
And then it was already too late.
The ship listed violently, and then came to an abrupt stop as the waves tossed it onto the crags. The man on the mast was sent flying like a thrown missile, having forgotten to pay heed to his own words. Castorius, of course, had no time to observe this, as he was busy trying to keep from flying off himself.
And he, too, failed. His fingers slipped off the slick, wet side with the jolt from the impact, and he went tumbling down the ship's tilted deck.
The uncontrollable fall ended on the opposite sideboard. Castorius, by some miracle, managed to soften the impact by getting his hands in the way, but the pain was still stunning. Once again, the breath was expelled from his lungs. His flight, however, did not end there, as right after hitting the board he was flung right over it. The final destination of the journey awaited him on the muddy ground of the shore, where he landed on his belly.
He lifted his face off the muck and looked around frantically, trying to make sense of what was happening. He couldn't get a breath in, his body ached and his vision swam. All around him was chaos.
But, amazingly, he was alive! Though unless he could get his body to breathing again, it would be a victory short lived.
There were other survivors as well. Pirates who'd been resourceful enough to properly prepare for the impact were standing around, faces bewildered. One was sitting on a rock, holding his head and rocking back and forth, but most seemed alright enough.
A little further away, a rowboat had shored, and way more people than should fit in it scrambled onto the beach.
At first Castorius couldn't figure out who these pirates were supposed to be—for pirates they clearly were—but then he pieced it together. The other ship, Malaney's back-up crew. These were the survivors from that one.
Slowly, he managed to pull air back into his lungs. He pushed himself up to get on his hands and feet. Everything hurt.
Not exactly the way he'd planned it.
But at least Malaney was gone.
Right?
The shore was swarming with very alarmed looking pirates. Some were pointing toward the sea, eyes wide like there was something there coming at them. This was further confirmed a second later, as a bunch of them took to running inland. Castorius could not see anything for the wreck of Brinehammer blocking his view.
He started, as a pair of feet landed right next to him, splattering mud on his face.
Malaney!
No. He looked up and into the abashed face of Radd the Adventurer looming above him. The man was refreshingly devoid of his usual mirth, looking at Castorius with his brow in a slight frown. He still did appear more inconvenienced and perplexed compared to the terror everyone else seemed to be in.
Speaking of which—all the other pirates were now on the run, headed toward the mountain range. What safety they were hoping to find there, was unclear.
And, sure enough, as Castorius gazed further down to direction where the pirates were running, he saw movement. Lots of movement, as it turned out. Dark figures of people on both horseback and on foot.
Soldiers.
The soldiers, too, took to running. They were coming right at the retreating pirates. The one at the lead, riding a big horse, met with the foremost running pirate.
The gleam of steel in torchlight.
The pirate stopped running then, falling back onto the ground after the soldier on horseback dealt a deadly blow with his sword. The other pirates came to a halt. The soldiers kept coming. They charged.
"Skyrim to the Nords!" Castorius heard the familiar cry,
Stormcloaks. So Kirsten, too, had been true to her word.
The pirates were in a state of shock as the Stormcloaks rolled on them. Then there were screams of both man and beast. The song of steel on flesh. Only after the first shock wave did the pirates not already cut down go for their own weapons and fight back. But, judging by mere numbers alone, there was no two ways how the so-called battle would resolve. It would not take long.
Radd, having also taken in the spectacle, frowned down at Castorius. His lips parted like he had something to say, but soon snapped back shut. He looked into the distance again. Then, still eyes in the commotion, he gave a little nod. His sword swished out of its scabbard.
Radd the Adventurer took one more look at Castorius on the ground. He nodded again, and right after started running towards the battle. Whether he truly intended on participating, and if he actually believed in his chances rather than just deciding to accept his own death as heroically as possible, Castorius would never know. The man got maybe a dozen steps down, took an arrow to the knee, and fell flat on his face in the muck.
And thus conclude his adventures, thought Castorius sourly, though he could not entirely keep away a certain dark amusement.
It wouldn't be long, however, before he might just share the fate of the irksome Nord. It wasn't the custom of charging soldiers to stop and ask questions in the middle of fray, and it would not take them long until they'd be finished with the others and come to him.
Kirsten had told him that he'd better not be around once they charged, and he had not had reason to believe she was exaggerating. Chances were if she herself saw him, she might cut him down just for the heck of it.
For now, though, the Stormcloaks seemed to be busy enough with the pirates, and had not likely even seen Castorius there lying low in the dark. Right ahead of him, alongside the eastern shore of Solitude Bay, the course was clear. If he acted now, he just might be able to run to safety without anyone taking notice.
He scrambled to his feet, and started moving. He went very carefully at first, keeping his head down. Then, when he'd gotten started, he straightened up and ran as fast as his feet could take him.
Feet squelching on the mud and the wind at his back, he ran like Molag Bal himself was behind him. He didn't even dare to look back; a well aimed arrow could cut his flight off at any time, a warhorse run him down. It was only after at least a hundred strides of hotfooting, once he'd gotten out of earshot of the din, that he dared his fist glance back.
A jolt of joy shot through his tired, cold body. There wasn't anyone! Only the barren, wind-whipped coastline, and out there in the distancing horizon, the moving shadows of the Stormcloaks rounding up after finishing with the last of the pirates.
I made it! I—
But then he noticed another, smaller shadow, moving at a closer distance. It was moving fast, and it was coming his way. Another person, running. Another survivor, perhaps? He might lead the Stormcloaks to Castorius!
Unless . . .
Malaney! he thought in dismay.
But no, not this time either. This was someone smaller, more nimble.
Without slowing down too much, Castorius tried to determine the identity of the approaching figure. Who ever it was, it was fast! Faster than Castorius, at any rate, and despite his other shortcomings, no one had ever called him slow.
He had to slow down a little more to get a better look, and by that point the figure was close enough to see . . .
Roggie. Coming straight at him.
Castorius couldn't remember ever seeing the Nord run, but obviously he was proficient enough in it. Also unlike him, he seemed to be in the thrall of some very powerful emotion. He was yelling something as he ran. What was it? And was it directed at Castorius?
Then, as he got closer, it became obvious.
"You bastard!" Roggie went. Over and over again.
He definitely seemed a little agitated.
Just to be on the safe side, Castorius decided to pick up his pace a little.
Roggie was still faster, though, and was rapidly gaining on him.
"Bastard!" the Nord screamed, a bit out of breath by the sound of it.
This, however, did not slow him down any. If Castorius had felt like Molag Bal was after him, the Nord gave the impression that the Harvester of Souls himself was what fueled him.
"Bastard!"
"What?" yelled Castorius back.
"'What', you say?" Roggie replied. "'What'!"
Innocent enough a question, Castorius thought. "I had no choice," he wheezed.
"Get back here!" Roggie screamed—though needlessly, it was starting to look; he'd nearly caught up to his target.
Castorius crested a small mound as if was as if it was a massive hill. The run had depleted his legs of strength, his lungs and throat hurt and the sharp pain in his chest was stopping him from getting a good breath in.
And, just as he was starting to contemplate giving up, his legs made the choice for him, tangling up into each other.
Down he went.
After hugging the ground, he quickly got back on his feet, and turned to face his assailant.
Roggie stopped a couple feet away, catching his breath while eyeing Castorius with temporarily muted fury. The Nord's nostrils were fluttering like the air flaps of some Dwarven machinery. It was as if a thousand different castigating words were fighting for a chance to erupt from his mouth, the way his lips twitched. He pointed a furious finger, but still could not get a word out.
Castorius simply waited, leaning on his thighs and struggling feebly to expel the burning needles from his lungs.
"You!" Roggie finally exhumed. "What have you done?"
Castorius' mouth just opened and closed like a drowning fish. What needed to be done.
Roggie spread his arms. "You've ruined us!"
Us. There was that word again.
The Nord gestured mutely toward where the view of the slaughtering of the remaining pirates was obscured by a shallow hill. He shook his head at Castorius. "Why?"
"Why?" Castorius spat. "Do I have spell it out for you? You were just going to give a free rein to a bunch of murderers! It was the a big mistake we were about to do. One which I had to undo."
"What you've undone," Roggie fumed, "is your own head. And mine, too! What do you even mean, murderers?"
"What do I—" Castorius threw his arms in the air in frustration. "Killing an entire family! Just slaughtering them in their beds! What do you call that?"
"What are you talking about?"
It was plain to see by the confounded expression shoving aside the rage on Roggie's face that he didn't know.
Castorius couldn't even find a proper response. He simply wanted to strangle the Nord just then. How stupid could he be?
As stupid as himself, apparently.
"The Commodore," Castorius said quietly.
"What?"
"The Commodore!" he screamed. "Dead. Alongside with his wife and kids!" Kid, to be exact, but Roggie needn't know it.
Those eyes . . .
"I don't know anything about it!" Roggie cried.
"Well, of course you don't!" hissed Castorius. "That's the whole point. You don't know what you were getting yourself into. I got you out"
The fury had full reign again across the Nord's features. "Oh, you did, did you?" He shook his fist, a gesture which in other circumstances would have been comical. It was pretty ridiculous here, too. "You got me out, alright. Out of this world, once they catch us!"
Better losing you head than your soul, Castorius thought tiredly, and was glad he managed to keep that one inside.
It didn't matter. Roggie revealed his teeth in anger, and groaned. "Bastard," he growled.
Then he suddenly darted at Castorius and threw a punch. It took Castorius in the jaw, though it was so sloppily executed it mostly skimmed the surface of his chin. Still, in combination with his own clumsy attempt at evasion, it was enough to send him back on the ground.
Roggie stood above him, fists balled. It was as if the man didn't really know what to do next.
He was still mad, though. "Get up!" he roared. "Get up and fight me like a—"
Castorius sprang off the ground, lunging on his now former friend. He tackled Roggie, and they both went tumbling down. Even before they hit the ground, Roggie started to beat his fists against Castorius' back.
Once they were down, Castorius got up on his knees and wound his fist back to punch the Nord under him. Roggie shoved a hand on his face, and the fist chopped air. Castorius bared his teeth, and bit the hand.
Roggie cried out, but wasn't left defenseless. He in turn grabbed Castorius' hand and sank his teeth in.
"Ow, fuck!" Castorius yelped, letting go his teeth. Roggie also released his hand from its dental captivity.
Getting back on his feet, Castorius pulled back. He felt his heart beat even faster now, but it wasn't a bad feeling anymore. This was different. He could feel it, the thrill. He felt alive, like a man! Finally he could set things right.
He stood above the panting Nord, hands squeezed tight into fists. "Well?" he prompted. "Are we doing this or what?"
Roggie likely saw the new found fury in his adversary, was intimidated by it, for he didn't make a single gesture to rise. He simply stared up, leaning against his elbows as his eyes went increasingly wide.
That's right, thought Castorius. You'll do wisely not to—
Something pressed against the small of his back.
"Alright, now," a lazy voice said. "Put down your 'weapons'." This was accompanied by a chorus of snorts.
Castorius turned slowly, and his heart sank all the way to the bottom. Soldiers. Five of them, wearing red, brown, and silver. Just like him, only . . . clean.
The Empire. It had finally caught up with him.
The one holding the sword against his back circled him, never dropping his blade. He was smirking.
"Just look at you—fighting like a pair of little girls!" He gave his head a rueful shake and the men behind him chuckled. "Can't believe you two got military training. Should just execute you on the spot for the shame you bring to the entire Empire."
This got even bigger laughter. Castorius himself was too spent to feel shame. Or much anything, for that matter, now that the thrill of battle was rapidly leaving him. After all this time, that would be all he'd get.
The soldier motioned with the tip of his blade. "Better put them down now."
His fists. They were still hanging in the air in front of him, thought obviously posing no threat to anyone anymore. If indeed they ever had. Castorius lowered them.
"That's a good lad, now," the soldier said. "Alright, you fellows just come with us and we'll have this all settled."
Roggie on the ground looked deflated. He looked up at Castorius, his earlier rage now boiled down to a defeatist pout. His eyes were sad rather than angry; disappointed. If anything, that was far worse than anger. It made Castorius feel . . . guilty. Like he'd somehow let his friend down. Which he had of course, but now he felt like it was he who'd done something wrong.
Even at this moment, the man could find in himself yet another way to get at him.
Bastard.
"Aww, it's not so bad," taunted the soldier, looking from Roggie to Castorius to Roggie again, a highly entertained smirk on his clean-shaven features. "Cheer up, guys. The jail will be nice and warm. Well, at least a bit warmer than out here. And there's food. So to speak. Plus you'll have pleeenty of time to to talk it out between you."
Again, all the other soldiers were chuckling.
"So just come along." The soldier moved to lift Roggie, who came up reluctantly but willingly. "Might as well stop resisting your fate; make it easier for yourself."
Castorius shared one more look with the sullen Nord. The man regarded him only briefly, let out a soundless, humorless snort, then looked away.
The soldier clapped a hand over Roggie's shoulder. "It's all over."
Too true.
Above them the sky roared.
Rain started pouring down.