The Captain's Stand Page 21
“Ah! What is it with you and my fucking leg?!” Brendan demanded. Richard got to his feet, stumbling a bit and reeling from the blow to his gut. But he drove his shoulder into the pirate, slamming him into the statue in the middle of the altar and cracking it. The nearby bowl toppled over, spilling blood all over the floor while the two men crashed into each other.
Thick hands latched around Richard’s neck and he glared up at a bloody and feral face. He punched the man in the men, causing both of them to have problems breathing. Richard tightened hip grip on the pistol and pointed it at Brendan’s face. He pulled the trigger and it simply clicked. Richard snarled, instead using the butt of the gun as a club to bash Brendan’s face in. The pirate stumbled backwards, dropping his blade and latched onto Richard, pulling him to the ground.
Brendan didn’t stop moving but Richard ducked out of his grasp and he suddenly crashed down the stairs. Richard landed on his feet, swiftly holstering his pistol and grabbing his sword. He groaned, still at the top of the stairs and holding himself up with the stone archway. He kicked the bowl to the side and it spiraled off the edge of the altar. On the ground before him, Brendan was igniting his greaves and sword again. The flames on the blade whipped in the wind and Richard glanced around warily.
The stone he was standing on was drenched in blood and he was still trying to catch his breath. This was, in no way, a place to try and fight.
“Ah, fuck this. The poetry of a final fight can go and fuck itself,” Richard grumbled, dropping to the ground. He had no idea how far his crew had gotten with the fuse. But it didn’t matter, because he spotted the line near the base of the altar and hurriedly dug out his flint. Sparks flew right as he heard a pair of boots stomping behind him. He glanced back, the flint tumbling from his fingers. He was in a bad spot with no retreat and very little room to maneuver against a man so much bigger than himself.
“There comes a time when a man has to do something that he doesn’t want to do. How you define yourself comes from how you deal with it. You’re a good kid, Richard, and I’m teaching you this so you won’t ever need to use it,” a voice said in his mind.
“Malik,” Richard said, drawing his sword and setting his feet properly. Brendan charged while Richard steeled himself. Their blades met and within a few seconds, Brendan’s sword clattered to the ground a few feet away. Without any preamble, Richard stabbed him straight through the heart.
“What – ” Brendan breathed, clutching at his chest.
“I had demonized you and I guess I was hoping for something a bit more worthy,” Richard answered. But then a flaming fist grabbed at him. Richard pulled back, having let his guard down. He felt the hand latch onto his amulet. “Ah!” he cried out. The metal burned into his chest and, in his hurry to remove it, he grabbed onto the pendant, searing his hand in the process. He yanked at the cord roughly to break it before tossing it across the clearing. He hissed, shaking his hand and noted idly that Brendan’s flaming sword had landed further along the fuse.
“Fucking idiot,” he griped as his skin cooled. He knew that there was going to be some kind of scar, both on his chest and in his palm. “Take cover!” Richard screamed at the top of his lungs, running for cover himself. Everyone followed suit, even those that hadn’t heard him. They seemed to know that something bad was about to happen.
When the explosion went off, Richard wasn’t disappointed. There was a crack of stone and a blast of dust, sand and stone shards showered over the area. Richard flinched, hiding behind a large tree that proved to be more protecting that he could have hoped.
“Well, that was disappointing,” Spark said after it had settled a bit, flittering up to rest on his shoulder and curling her legs to one side. “With how big of a deal you were making, I was expecting something a bit more destructive,” she noted while Richard glanced around the tree.
“I need more explosives,” Richard admitted. The stone altar had cracked unevenly and most of it had crumbled near where Brendan’s had been stabbed.
“Or how about someone who knows what they are doing?” Spark asked casually. Richard looked at her from the corner of his eye, irises all but thin slits.
“I’m nae sure if I’m going to hate you or like you.”
“I would call this a trial period,” she retorted, mirroring his expression. Richard cracked a smile.
“A sense of humor. You may just survive dealing with me with your sanity intact after all,” he said casually.
“Are you done yet? Can we please get off this island?” Madison demanded, brushing dust off her legs and crossing her arms. Richard glanced at the ruined altar. Trees were on fire and people were rapidly vanishing into the forest and the dark beyond the flames.
“I would say ma work here is done,” he admitted. Spark rolled her eyes and made a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh while trying to containing her reaction.
Chapter 24 A Sailors Sunset
“Not bad,” Todd said, whistling as he walked into the captain’s cabin on the Golden Eagle. After Brendan had bite the dust Todd with the little forewarning, had managed to take over the dead pirates ship and while it had been a few days the Burning Sea was his with crew enough to sail. It was late that evening and Richard’s fingers drummed rapidly along the surface of the desk. “So, do you want your old friend back?” he asked, looking around the room in a blatant attempt to avoid eye contact.
“He’s alive?” Richard asked, swallowing the surprise in his throat. Then he shrugged. “I doubt there is anything left of the man I admired in that shell. I don’t think I want to see him.”
“Well, yeah, I can understand that. But I can’t think of anywhere to take him,” he replied.
“I’ve got a feeling that ma mom would nae like to have him around. But I do have the address for his sister – she lives in the colony of York. Give me a second and I’ll write it down,” Richard said, digging through his desk for a piece of parchment paper.
“He’s your mentor,” Todd insisted. “I mean, he may look a little rough around the edges….”
“I am heading back to the main land. I have a promise I need to fulfill and a future to look out for,” Richard said, cutting him off. “Besides, I would like ma memories of the man to remain as they are. Seeing him in the state he is likely to be in,” Richard paused, repressing a shudder. “I would rather nae.”
“I can’t say I blame you. But I can’t help feeling guilty when I look at him,” Todd admitted.
“Well, Captain Todd, I just asked you to take him to someone who can help. I am sure the tattoos on his arms will be all the proof they need,” Richard said, handing over the address.
“You do realize that when word about this gets out, we are both going to be hunted down,” Todd said seriously, looking at the cabin door as if it was going to be broken down any moment now.
“I am well aware of it and part of me is actually looking forward to it. But I think you could make a case of plausible deniability. I am taking Dame Madison to her home. Beyond that, I plan on making it a habit to hunt down anything attached to Blackbeard. Feel free to rat me out if he catches you. Be sure to let him know that Britannia is most likely where I’ll be hanging out,” Richard informed.
“Why tell me to rat you out?”
“If there is one thing I have learned from Malik, it’s that no man can withstand all pressures and that all men will break. So, I don’t expect you to cover ma ass when yours is on the line. At least this way, I know that it’s all a matter of time,” Richard explained.
“Would you like to at least say goodbye to him?” Todd asked. “You may never see him again.”
“Let me think about it. I’ve got a few things I need to wrap up and get everything situated. Besides, I wouldn’t mind bolstering up ma crew for at least the first trip.”
“Whatever, I am surprised at your reluctance. I always thought you busting out that map was because of what happened to Malik,” Todd said, stroking at the red stubble on his chin.
“Just let me know if you change your mind,” Todd said, raising the paper in farewell and walking away. The door shut behind him while Richard picked up the quill again, jotting things down on a sheet of parchment. Spark watched him as she flitted down from the rafters and grew to normal size. Once she was near the ground, she sat on the front edge of his desk, long pale legs kicking idly as she watched him from over her shoulder.
“So, who is Malik?” she asked nonchalantly. Richard glanced up at her but went right back to his paperwork. He sighed, setting his quill aside and slumping in his chair. Spark watched his eyes shift, as if contemplating the question. “I won’t say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she added. But it remained silent in the cabin for a long few moments.
“It’s complicated,” he finally said. “A lot of people, especially family, have a very complicated and tangled relation with me. Malik is probably the worst tangle and it’s touchy. He had his face burned when he was on the ship that Brendan captured. He was stubborn and he was made a very painful example,” Richard explained, clenching his fists. It seemed that he wasn’t sure how much should be said.
“And?” Spark pressed.
“Look,” Richard said, pressing the tips of his fingers together. “I think I should have just said that he was a friend and that example.” His face twisted in regret of his words, realizing that he could have kept most of it to himself. “Let’s just say we have loose family ties and leave it at that. If you want a history lesson, go read a book. There are far more interesting and important people out there that you can ask about,” he said instead.
“But, I’m asking about –” Spark pressed.
“Spark, shut up,” Richard interrupted with a calm tone. “You can wait. All things come to those who wait,” he said in the same calm tone. But she only glared at him.
“You’re a rude bastard,” she huffed, hopping of the desk in a flurry of wings. By the next instant, she was shrunk down and flying out of the room. Richard watched the door, working his jaw and trying to reign in painful memories.
“Sam!” he shouted and the cabin boy immediately rushed in. “I am going to bed and I do nae wish to be bothered. Can you keep everyone out of ma room in the meantime? Just for an hour or so, nae all night,” Richard said to clarify. Sam nodded, exiting the room and shutting the door behind him.
“Oh, and make sure you get… never mind, the tunic is fine,” Richard said, shaking his head. He got up from his chair and reached for the drapes that separated his bed from the front of the room.
He looked at the large bed longingly before approaching and unlatching the back window and watching the waves rocking below. There was a rowboat with a lantern bobbing in the waves. He pushed out a rope ladder and made his way down. When he made it to the rowboat, he placed both hands together. It immediately began to row itself at an alarming rate that almost threw Richard backwards. “This magic stuff is going to take some getting used to,” he said to himself as he regained his balance.
The dark sky above with dusted with brilliant stars and he slumped his shoulders. He felt relaxed with the hilt of his sword in his hands and he took a deep breath. The rowboat moved along the Burning Sea where so much had gone wrong. He tied the rowboat in and climbed to the deck. He sighed, smiling when he saw that it was barren. Todd was giving him one last favor. He didn’t stay long on the upper deck but headed straight for the belly of the ship. His eyes weren’t much use when he hit the very bottom, but he knew the way like the back of his hand. With a deep breath, he stopped at a door in the stern of the ship and pulled it open. He heard someone inside pulling their legs back.
Richard didn’t bother with a lantern and sat down. He didn’t even need to see the man but he could still remember what happened that day.
“Strike the colors, we surrender!” someone cried and Richard scanned the crowd. He was in a panic and didn’t have a clue. He heard the pirates were gaining on them and that their only hope was to run. A hand rested on his shoulder and Richard glanced up at a tall man with slightly tanned skin. He furrowed his brow.
“These pirates are only interested in cargo. As soon as they get what they want, we will be free to go,” he had told Richard.
“Yeah, Dad,” Richard replied, the term feeling right on his tongue. Even if it wasn’t entirely true. Regardless, he never had the guts to call him by his real name.
“Just don’t give them any trouble, okay? Take it one step at a time,” he said, resting both hands on Richard’s shoulders.
Back in the present day, Richard clapped a hand over his mouth and nose. He didn’t want to think about what had happened and so banished the thoughts from his mind. There was screaming in his mind and he couldn’t tell if it was a memory or if he was berating himself. He glanced into the darkness, knowing full well what was hiding beyond.
“Coward,” he mumbled to himself, reaching for a candle and lighting the wick.
A scarred and worn face blinked up at him, wincing from the flickering light now shining down on him. There was a large burn circling around his left eye that was so severe, the skin was in ribbons and barely hanging on. There were a few tattoos on his arms that had been pushed together with long, thin needles. The skin nearby was almost burned black and the man who had once been muscular was now more of a corpse than anything else.
Richard looked at him but the man merely stared at the candle now that his eyes had adjusted. It was such a single-minded focus that Richard could never share it, nor would he want to. The black burns. Each time Richard focused in on them, he could see more needles and he knew exactly what they were for. They were kept embedded in the skin with only a portion visible. That end could be heated by a flame and the rest of the needle would also heat up, causing immense pain that seemed to dig into the body. At least, that was Brendan’s thought process. Richard was under the belief that the nerve endings and nearby tissue would become destroyed after time from constant pain and heat.
With quiet fingers, Richard reached for his wineskin, passing it over the ground while the sound of scraping metal filled his ears. The man grabbed it up greedily and drained the ale within, some of it dribbling down his chin. While the man was occupied, Richard stood to his feet and found the key to release his shackles. Once the chains fell off, he gently removed the needles.
The prisoner was so far gone that he didn’t even notice. All he had ever known was fire. Subdued anger filled Richard when he noticed that the prisoner’s fingers and a few toes were much shorter. On both hands and feet, burn scars dotted his flesh, simply adding to the anger Richard felt.
He took a deep breath, looking at the withered husk of a man that was now alleviated of all his pain. Richard took another breath to steady himself.
“What is broken can never truly be made whole again. Both in body and in, - in,” he stammered, trying to stop feeling anything. He knew he was wasting his breath and this needed to be done. With the small pillow in his hands, he leaned forward and placed it right on the man’s face, smothering him. His stubbed fingers reached out, trying to latch onto to Richard’s wrists and push him away. The basic human instinct to keep on living, even if it was in the pit he had been chained in for years.
“This is how you fight, Richard,” Malik said. “And when all bets are off, you kick him low or curl up tight.” Tears pricked in Richard’s eyes, stinging his cheeks where they fell. A shadow of a smirk curled his lips; even the teasing seemed like good memories now.
Just as suddenly as it started, it was over. He fell limp, hands twitching one last time. Richard stood to his feet, trying to remain as stoic as possible. He gathered up the body, vaguely surprised at how light the body wa
s, and quietly left the ship. When he was on the top deck, he glanced around to see if anyone was nearby.
Richard’s objective was simple, so he dropped the man’s body in the boat – with no real dignity or honor – and slowly rowed back to the island. Once at the beach, he carried him in silence until he found an open grave and slowly placed him below. He stopped and looked for a moment, simply reflecting.
“You taught me a lot, old man, a lot of good things. And I will always look up to you for what you did. I don’t know what happened or why it all fell apart all those years ago, but I don’t care much to know. Just know this: when I think of success – true success – I think back to what you had done and keep that in mind. Thank you, Malik. You may nae have been ma father by blood, but you were the closest thing I had,” he said, taking a steadying breath.
The sun was slowly rising in the distance by the time the grave was filled and animals were being roused one by one. As the sun crested the horizon, a rustle of branches to the west caught his attention.
“Hey, Richard. I was wondering who was out here,” a voice called. Kareem marched through the brush, staring curiously at the small mound of dirt and what little was caked into Richard’s pants. His stare turned questioning.
“I had something that I needed to take care of,” Richard said, glancing down at the grave. Behind Kareem, he could see the jungle cat padding into the clearing and his lips twitched. For some reason, the big cat unnerved him.