Pirates of the Sorcerean: No Peace on the Rock

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No one else seems to notice, but Desmond can feel the walls closing in on him. The passageways narrow steadily until he is sweating and can hardly breathe. He is drowning in the darkness under the weight of the entire island.

When the great hall opens he feels a moment of relief, but the darkness doesn't let up. He is wrapped in a heavy, black blanket that threatens to smother him. He paces, trying to throw it off, but the edges of his vision swim with glittering flecks, distorting everything he sees. He is six years old again, trapped in the storage locker on his father's boat, desperate that someone would hear his hoarse cries for help.

At last, he sees his father striding out of one of the passages at the back of the room, moving towards him with a face like thunder. "Stupid boy," he snarls, cuffing Desmond across the face. "I've told you time and again not to play in the lockers - serves you right for getting stuck. Now stop your whining and get to work." He hauls the boy roughly to his feet by his ear and shoves him forward.

But Desmond is bigger than his father, big enough to fight back. Years of fear and resentment bubble up through his mind as draws his cutlass and turns on the old man...

*******

St. John chuckled at the thought of scuttling the Pride. The thrill of battle was all well and good, but there was nothing better than an easy victory over a sitting duck of a target. Taking the Ariel had been a pleasant start to the day - just what were a bunch of hapless pirates doing with a ship designed on the lines of the Admiral's personal vessel, anyway? No matter. "Silence, scum!" he shouted, stomping on the hatch to the brig. "You've a long way to go before you can match the greatness of the Royal navy!"

"We all know the secret to the greatness of the Royal navy!" a voice called. "Sodomy, rum and the lash!" St. John's cheeks burned at the laughter coming from the brig.

"Worthless rotters! You're not the first pirate ship I've taken, and you certainly won't be the last!" He stalked away with a final stomp on the hatch cover.

[ November 06, 2003, 04:23: Message edited by: Rallymama ]

 

"Desmond!" Tom Black sneered, and pulled his own cutlass preparing to defend himself, "What, by the seven seas, do you think you're doing!?" he said accusingly.

Taking a step back from Desmond, Black hoped he wouldn't have to fight his brother in arms. He was a study type, Black was, scarred face, rough features and a bulky torso to show he was one of strength and courage.
He had listened to Fabian as he told them they'd face their fears, and he doubted this might be one of them. What if it is?
He felt fear tingling on his spine, and peered to the others to see if they were about to turn on him instead of helping him with Desmond.

 

All Tom could see was a hazy circle of anonymous faces. They were all hanging back - no one was moving to help him. A few voices called out: "You can take him!" "Have at it, lads!" "Give 'im what 'e deserves!"

Tom circled slowly, just out of Desmond's reach, looking for an opening. He drew a long knife in one hand and kept the other open, the fingers stiff. He feinted a few times, and dodged a swipe of Desmond's blade.

Then the first missle struck his head - a piece of wood, thrown from somewhere in the ring of onlookers. More followed, and soon Tom was too busy dodging the scraps pelting him to focus on Desmond. He heard the voices turn vicious as the ring closed in on him. "That's the way, Des!" "Git 'im low, 'e leaves 'is knee open." "How's it feel, Tom, to turn the tide?"

As Tom went down under the catcalls and Desmond's steady approach, he knew that he had never belonged here, not on this crew, just like he had never belonged anywhere else.

 

Tanya turned back to the crew after having looked around the hall, and stands frozen as she sees the two pirates standing at swords point in front of each. Her eyes gain an almost unnatural fury, as her voice booms across the hall echoing in the corridors,

"Put down those swords!"

She stormed across the room, positioning herself between the two men. Her gaze glaring first at Desmond, then at Black.
"What, by the seven seas do you think you're doing! We have lost many men, we have the navy on our tails, we have no idea where we are, and we certainly cannot afford to lose another man to this place."

Tom blinked at the demanding demeanor of Tanya that dispelled his illusionary crowd. She had come like the voice of reason cleaving through the crowd of oppressors with her presence. He looked dumbfounded at his cutlass, then at the others whom looked puzzled at him as Tanya had brought everyone's attention to him. He slowly lowered the cutlass and looked apologetic at Tanya.

She merely nodded and turned her attention to Desmond who stood not sure what to do. She took a step towards him, and made her voice as a clear cutting winter wind "That was an order, Desmond. Stand down."

"I'm no kid no more! You have no power over me anymore!" he replied at Tanya.
To her he was talking in delusion and she noticed that his gaze seemed unfixed, as if he hadn't seen her at all. Yet, he had heard her clearly.
"Desmond! Listen to me!" she tried a little more gently.

He merely shook his head and jabbed threatingly with the cutlass, "NO! No more!"
Tanya tried coming closer slowly, and whispered calmly, "Desmond, it's not what you think. Put the sword down, I'm not going to hurt you."

"DIE!" a full forced slash followed that Tanya only nearly managed to avoid, and as she turned to face Desmond, he was leaping upon the swordpoint at her throat. She dodged it and could hear the cling of steel upon stone only inches from her left ear.
Instinctly she grabbed his wrist and slapped him hard nearly knocking him over, as she shouted into his face "DESMOND! WAKE UP!"

 

Nimue stares at the group where the fight is ensuing, her nails digging into her palms, trying desperately to think of a solution. The only one that occurs to her is not particularly ethical, but the only choice she seems to have.

She walks up to Desmond and shakes his shoulders, yelling, "Wake up, dammit!" but it seems to make no difference. So she takes a deep breath, opens her mind, and forcefully draws Desmond into a mental link with her - without asking his permission.

Desmond's vision is suddenly superimposed upon a brilliant display of glowing colors, some beautiful, some horrifyingly corrupt. He is seeing himself, through someone else's eyes, wrapped in that sickly color, rays of it shining through his eyes. I must wake up, he thinks, and suddenly he is back in his body and drops to the ground, weapon clattering on the stone floor.

He hears Nimue whisper, I'm sorry, and walk away, shoulders shaking almost imperceptibly.

 

"The only evil lurking here is what we ourselves have brought," Mister Fabian says sadly, looking at the remnants of the fight. "Be strong, lest you end up like these others." He extendds a hand and helps Desmond to his feet.

 

Tanya rises slowly as Desmond seem to recover, thankful for not having to knee him in the groin. She looks around at the crew, and coughs a little as she decides to give a little speech.
"It's happening, be alert people. We need to watch each other's backs if we're to make it through this alive. This place reeks of magic and deception, be on your guard. We should all rest while we can, two will keep watch at the way we came from at all times."

She then takes a deep breath, and catches up with Nimue, "I'd like a word.. this way." Tanya nods towards a corner of the hall, putting some distance between them and the other pirates.

"You're a steward, Nimue, and I know not very much about you. Mostly that you're a steward is my concern, since.."
Tanya sits down and looks up at her with a little smile,
"It's nothing personal, it's just that if what happened over there had been between you and say.. Fabian, I would sense a lot of trouble. Swords have limited danger to everyone, as for magic, I just don't know. Fear tends to make people desperate, and magic is well.. powerful and I suppose, possibly dangerous?"
A questioning frown crosses her face, as she looks into Nimue's eyes..

 

Nimue said, "I don't know. I honestly don't know. But you're right about one thing: magic IS different. What happened over there between Desmond and Tom is unlikely to happen between me and Fabian, because we possess Othersight, which often has a quality of showing things as they really are, including the energies which surround us and enfold us. What I did to Desmond was to force him to share my vision for a few moments, which managed to break the madness.
"However, other things may happen. I can make no guarantees, because I am not perfect; I am hardly infallible! But, there are three things which may ease your mind. Firstly, the Steward's Oath prohibits any magic from being cast in order to directly harm one's shipmates. Secondly, I do not think I could ever see Fabian as a threat. That hasn't happened since shortly after I met him. Thirdly, I assure you that if either of us was maddened I don't think we could manage to weave a spell if our life depended on us! Magic requires perfect clarity and control, otherwise it may consume you."
She shrugs. "Everything in life is dangerous. Why, just by breathing you may be infected with a number of different disease. You may wish to keep warm, and end up burning your house down. A hand can help, can create, can destroy. Please, think about it...a sword is only as evil as the hand that wields it, and I think you know what I mean by that. Power is not necessarily corrupt. But people are."

 

"Well, you're right. If you need a clear mind to do magic I suppose the fears of this place would put dangerous endeavors out of place. We should be careful however, there are things to fear here that are real enough."
Tanya smiles at Nimue and returns to the crew to find some food.

***

During her part of the night-watch, Tanya sat in solitude at one the tables around the middle of the room, dwelling in thoughts of the road ahead of them. Mean strong Tanya, reduced to a whimpering girl due to a place. She found this slightly amusing and smirked as she kicked a little stone away from the table with her finger. Three roads that might all lead into more mazes, only luck would get them to the treasure if the complex was bigger than she had first expected, which the magnitude of this hall was the solid evidence.
Folding her fingers, she rested her chin on them and peered into the wall.
Maybe father had been right, I should have done what all ladies’ were supposed to do… but how dull it seemed!
She had been searching for this place for years, and many times she had met strange folk who were either on the brink of death or raving mad. The tales made sense now, the horrors of this place they had only brought with themselves. Thinking back, she recalled a particular sight that had been mentioned quite a few times by different people that no relation to each other. It had many names, but the descriptions fitted, large and black, a piercing gaze of death, the giant monstrosity, the titan. Some had called it death incarnated lingering there and no tale of the other side had ever been reported to her.

She looked a bit nervous at the crew, then around the hall. Someone was watching her… somewhere. Sitting alert, ready to jump away she demanded in a low voice, “Show yourself!”
It was the apparition of Leonard, coming to shape like a glossy ghost. She had little left for it however, and merely sneered, “Go away, you’re not real.”

Leonard only smiled, “Real, maybe, maybe not. I’m the spirit of Leonard, and I’ve followed your passage here Tanya. You have been prey of the curse of this island, just as I have. I cannot be free Tanya, and I need your help. I know you’ve been seen a lot… heard a lot. How can I prove I’m real?”

She sighed, and looked tired at the ghost, “You cannot, how could you? And I have no reason to believe you, by… why am I even saying this? You’re not there.”

Leonard shook his head gently, and looked into her eyes, “I am, when we died our spirits were trapped here, we cannot leave. And now, neither can you.”

“What do you mean?” she demanded.

he continued in a gentle voice of reasoning to which he knew she would listen, “You know yourself as well as I do, and that you would never leave a man behind that you could save. I’ve seen you on the ship on our previous travels. This is why I am here, you’re our only hope of final peace.”

She gave up argueing with the ghost whether it was real or not, and bluntly asked, “And what would you have me do? How do I know you’re not just the voice of this place I heard earlier?”

“Because it is a lure, a lure to the treasure. It is a trap, Tanya, however I know its heart, and I will show you if you believe. Destroy it, and we can be free! You can be free! But it is another path than that of the treasure, a secret path…”
Leonard leans closer and whispers almost inaudible, “You have a gift, you can see me. The voice does not want you to know. If we make haste, we can release the others of the oppression too, but we must hurry before this place finds out that I’m helping you. We’re all bonded here, the spirits. There are more than you would guess, pirates, treasure hunters, explorers… many more.”
She nodded affirmatively, and saw the image of Leonard disappear hearing his whisper in her mind “you know what to do…”
Her hands went to the belt with the rings and she looked down at them, shedding a tear for the fallen. It was the way.

To the others it appeared she was talking lowly to herself, Black thought she might be rehearsing a speech or maybe it was her way of deal with things. He knew he had himself talked to himself when he needed to look at a problem from different sides before finally deciding what to do.

Taking all the rings off her belt, she silently left the rings next to archer’s head and smiled at the sleeping pirate, then closed her eyes and heard Leonard’s faint whisper, “left…”
She took her necklace, and glanced at the ring it held, it was like the others "Alec Westwind". She kissed the ring, and put it back. This would be a ring she wouldn't give. She found her own ring and left it there, as she wouldn't sure she would come back, a plain silver ring, "Tanya of the Sea".
Rising, she walked away from the sleepers and coughed a little, gaining the attention of the watch. “I’ll just be a trip to the ladies’ room, call if you need me,” and walked out of the great hall.

Standing in the beginning of the corridor, she looked back to the safety of the great hall. This was how it had to be, it had to be done. With a swift cut of her dagger to the new bag of rice, she headed into the complex trusting the pathways Leonard would unravel.

[ November 07, 2003, 14:24: Message edited by: Lokken ]

 

Nimue's eyes snapped open, and she knew that outside it was dawn. She also knew, with dreadful certainty, that she had not been woken up for her watch. Many of the other crew members also looked like they had a restful night.

Moving from one sleeping form to another, she shook and prodded men awake, occasionally lightly slapping the heavier sleepers awake. Fabian she woke with a bit more gentleness, as he was a very light sleeper. And then she realized who was missing.

"Listen up, everyone," she said, voice strained. "Tanya's missing. She must have disappeared during her watch - correct me if I'm wrong, but, Archer, she didn't wake you up, did she?" The man shook his head. "Well, I don't know what on earth possessed her, but pack up. We're moving out, NOW...Gods know how much trouble a lone person could get into." Her words echoed strangely in her head, like a shadow of the future.

In a few minutes, though that brief time seemed like an eternity, the crew was ready to go. Nimue's keen eyes examined the exits leading out of the large room, and shortly found Tanya's characteristic trail of rice leading away. "Let's go," she sais. "Follow me."

 

The remaining pirates, all ten of them, gathered in the galley. Peyweth was doing his best to look the part of great hero, standing on the table and delivering great inspiring speeches. Now while the sight of an extremely dirty pirate making the table they hoped to eat off later rather messy wasn't exactly inspiring, it helped the crew feel like they were actually going to do something.
"Right men. We 'ave the cannons down 'ere with us. We 'ave the gunpowder. We 'ave the cannon balls. We 'ave everythin' we need t' make us a really big explosion and take out dem Royal Bastards. Now all we need is a plan, an' I say we do this! We blow open the 'atch, an' kill dem all!"

Everyone cheered, besides a single merchant soldier, who interrupted with something which he labeled a 'plan', a concept that Peyweth was thoroughly unfamiliar with.
"No! We can't rush up there! We'd all be killed for certain! What we need to do it to cut the anchor, blow the hatch open, raise the sails and ... do. something..."
"I like the plan matey! Leaves us room to work once we git past the men guardin' us. Let's try it!"

One of the younger, more nimble pirates got stuck with the job of cutting the anchor. He climbed out of the cannon firey hole thingies and sprung up so that he was dangling by his arms on the railing. Carefully he edged across to where the chain connecting the anchor to the ship hung into the water. He swung on it as he pulled out his flintlock pistol and held it with one hand against the chain. The bullet from it noisilly severed the metal links, sending both chain and pirate into the ocean.

As soon as the gun sounded, Peyweth ripped his cutlass from its sheathe, heedless of the chip he put in the previously smooth wood.
"Fire!"
The cannoneers fired the cannon, which sent a connon ball straight into the trapdoor, blowing it off its hinges. Peyweth leapt forward, over the cannon and up onto the deck. With his off hand he drew a pistol, and used it to shoot a nearby sailor. The rest of the crew leapt out after him, swords and pistols drawn. Two ran directly for the sails, while two others tried to cover them with shots at any sailor brave enough to poke his head up.

 

Archer woke up and rubbed his eyes, "Er.. no, what? Tanya's gone?"
He put his hands down and leaned on them, and could feel the rings under his hand. Collecting them, he studied the names and his heart was heavy.
"I doubt she's coming back.." he held out the rings for all to see.
"The silver is her own, I'm the spiritkeeper till she returns.. if she returns."
he stared at the ring, and attached the rings slowly to his own belt.

 

Tanya's plan to leave a trail for herself is a good one, but she hadn't counted on one thing - the rats. While vermin on the surface have enough food to choose from that dry grains of rice are hardly interesting, below Sorrow's Rock such morsels are a rare treat, indeed. Tanya has enough of a lead that the pirates are soon left with nothing more than the remnants of a rodents' feast to follow.

Mister Fabian stops the group and scans ahead, looking for the telltale signs of Tanya's presence. In this place of death she should burn like a torch, but the hovering spirits swallow up her aura.

"We'll have to wait for her to return on her own," he says reluctantly. "In the meantime, there's safety in numbers so we'd best stay together. Back to the hall." His stern expression brooks no argument.

Unfortunately, the tramping of pirate feet have obliterated what was left of the rice-trail, and there is no way to know which of the turnings behind them lead back whence they came.

 

The dark, damp stone corridor, only dimly lit by the crew's flickering torches, opened into a large, wide salle where the flames did not penetrate the darkness. Nimue looked to Fabian; he nodded. "Preserving our strength will do us no good if somebody trips over something and breaks their neck in the dark. Almost simultaneously, twin globes of light, green for him and purple for his Apprentice, bloom in the darkness, as welcome as the rising of the sun. The large chamber was now dimly illuminated, but shadows still lurked in dark corners; there seemed to be no door that led out. Before the crew could move forward, a shadow detached itself from the rest and moved into the light.

A tall man, too tall, shrouded in shadows, eyes gleaming yellow with the phosphorescence of an animal's gaze; he smiled, and his teeth glinted, as if they were pointed. A shadow of large black wings - perhaps illusion, perhaps reality - spread out behind him. He strode with the same inhuman grace that could be observed in Nimue's gait, each step deliberate, motions like dancing - a deadly dance. For all that he was beautiful this man screamed of death.

"Why...do you seek to wake me?" he asked. "Why do you seek the Exile's treasure, Seawalkers?" he asked the assembled humans. "Has greed finally consumed the race of man? Do you not realize that what lies here could destroy you all? Your entire civilization. Your entire race."

Nimue gulped and stepped forward, involuntarily. Something drew her on a fine invisible string, against her will, as if she were strung out on a shuttle, being spun into something else. "It is in danger," she said. The words felt...not her own. "That Which Has Been Hidden is sought. These men behind me, they seek wealth, but they do not truly know what lies herein, nor could they use it. My Master and I seek to defend it." Her blank expression broke, as if she was finally in control of her voice again, and she said, "...That's what we are Stewards of, is it not? That's the secret. Miranda and Caliban's secret. They two, first of the Stewards, hid it. Prospero's lore, and that of Setayl, Caliban's mother - together a power that could destroy nations."

The man seemed almost startled, though his posture in fact betrayed nothing. Then his lips quirked up into a sly, wary grin. "What have we here? Does my Kin finally break the Oath?" Then he shook his head, "No. You are not Kin, though you are my kin in a sense. Come forth, Kinswoman. The Blood calls."

Jerkily, as if hypnotized, Nimue stepped forward. Her movements were mechanical, puppet-like, and she gravitated slowly to the man as inevitably as metal to a magnet. Her hands and his hands both lifted, palms forward vertically, hovering close but not quite meeting. Light burst from the space between them, purple for her and black for him, briefly illuminating the empty chamber as if day had truly dawned.

Then Nimue slumped to the floor, released by whatever force had animated her - a force that came from within, a part of her. "What...do you want?" She sounded hesitant, yet cold. Inwardly she was telling herself that she must not, COULD not afford to be terrified.

"Do you remember so little, Blood of Fallen Angels?" he asked wonderingly. "Have our descendants forgotten our legacy?"

To this Fabian stepped forward. "All trace of the Blood was wiped from the land by King Alphonse, of the line of the usurper, during the Second War of the Blood, over a century ago," he said. "The memory is preserved in the Stewards' secret histories. You mean to say this child is Blood?" he shook his head ruefully. "I should have known, but then again, how could I have expected it?" He gazed at Nimue's form, huddled on the floor clutching her knees, with some sympathy.

"I should think it was obvious!" said the man with some amusement. "Many with great aptitude in sorcery have some of the Blood. You yourself have a trace. He -" he pointed, suprisingly enough. to Meatloaf of all people, "- has a little more than a trace. And this child..." he indicated Nimue. "One would almost believe her mother was Kin. But she was not, was she, child?" he asked.

"No," Nimue said softly, shivering. "She was terribly ill. Do...Kin...get ill?" she asked, tentatively. "They're...already dead, aren't they. Disease and age do not touch them. Then men came and took her away. She was crying. I was very small. My father never recovered. Her name was Rinya. Rinya, daughter of Angharad. Did you...know her?" She blinked and continued to clutch at herself, sitting in her broken huddle on the floor.

The man shook his head and said, gently, "I have been guarding this place for centuries. I would warrant that the War of the Blood your Mentor speaks of erupted not many years after I went into hiding, over a century ago, when Sorrow's Rock was wiped off all maps. It was then that Aloysius Ruthbarb and his Steward, Perry, came and took the Lorebooks from my charge. The War, it must have happened then...what terrible weapons the Lorebooks are if used to kill. Yes, Ruthbarb and Perry must have fought in that war...later Ruthbarb came, with his crew and his treasure, dragging Perry's body," he laughed grimly. "Ruthbarb told me that I was right; the Scrolls should never have left here. He asked to conceal them again; he and his crew asked to help me in my Guardianship. They have indeed helped...but bringing Perry was a mistake. The evil of his soul contaminates this place, which was once beautiful. So I did not know your mother.... But I have heard of Angharad the Red. If we speak of the same woman, your legacy is considerable."

Fabian averted his eyes from Nimue with a feeling of some helplessness, and he addressed himself to the man, "We seek the Lorebooks. We wish to protect them from men who are coming, dangerous men. The Circle of the Abyss Serpent has grown considerably in power, and the Scrolls must not fall into their hands. We must stop them!" he firmly. "You will let us by?"

The man answered, "I cannot. I am bound to my purpose by Llewellyn Perry. I cannot let you by without a Key, and I do not wish you to resort to violence to pass me." He pronounced the word "Key" as if it had meaning; certainly as if it referred to something other than a prosaic object which opened an ordinary wooden door.

"Where is this key?" Fabian asked. "What is it?"

"The Key is hidden in the Blood," came the reply. "Blood calls Blood, Blood seeks Blood. Blood is, and Blood was, and Blood shall ever be." His tone became a cadence. The man's feet rose from the ground. "In the name of the Stewardship, by the power of the Blood, you who seek to pass me must know your way. Knowledge is the key.Do you know the Key, Steward?"

"I do not know the Key," Fabian replied with the same formality.

"Perhaps he knows the key?" the man asked, turning to Meatloaf. "Do you know the Key, Seawalker?"

"I do not know the Key," Meatloaf said regretfully.

Light flashed again. Fabian took two steps back. Nimue was hovering in the air, a shadow of black wings upon her back. Mentally, Fabian wondered; it was commonly accepted that no one could lift themselves, no matter how great the strength of their sorcery, unless they rode the winds. But the shadowy chamber was silent and empty of wind, empty of all but echoes - of the past, perhaps. Of memory.

The woman turned her eyes towards the crew; strangely enough, they glinted yellow under the glare of witchlight and torches. "Stand back," she said coldly. Then she turned to the man. "I seek the right of passage, Guardian."

"One comes who seeks the right of passage," the man replied. By now the exchange had the tone of a ritual; the tone Fabian recognized was present only in the strongest of Ritual Magics. "How do you seek passage?"

"In the name of the Stewardship and by the power of the Blood, I seek passage."

"You who seek passage must know your way. Knowledge is the Key. Do you know the Key?"

"In the name of the Stewardship, by the power of the Blood, and for the memory of Miranda and Caliban, I seek passage. I seek it in order to defend. I seek it in order to preserve. I call upon you in memory of the Fall to grant me passage."

"The Fall is the Key. We fell, but we remember."

"We well, but we know."

Their palms met, but this time there was no light; only sound. An arch moved out of the floor with an earth-tearing rumble. It now surrounded the pair floating. From their palms something red dripped onto the ground. Both said, with a tone of finality, "Blood calls blood. Blood seeks blood. Blood is, and Blood was, and Blood shall ever be!" And with an enormous CRACK, the floor opened. Steps now led into the bowels of Ruthbarb's lair, and Nimue fell to the ground.

She opened her eyes as if waking from a sleep. Twice crashing to the ground in one day, she thought. That's a new record. Good thing I'm not trying to work roofs in this condition. Umm...what happened? She turned and met the blank stares of the rest of the crew. "What? Did my face turn green? WHAT? Did I do something?" There was no reply.

The man floating before her descended gently, until his feet touched the ground. In a voice audible only to Fabian and Nimue, but not to the rest of the crew that stood further back looking poleaxed, he said, "My name is Mayeral. I give it to you, Blood-child, and to you, Steward. Guard it well." Then, louder, addressing himself to all present, he added, "I place my trust in you, Seawalkers. You must not fail."

Nimue turned to Fabian. "What did I DO?" she asked with some anger. Then she screamed, "Why is everybody afraid of me?" You wanted that, once, said a traitorous little voice within her head. A conscience - bloody hell. No! she replied to the mental voice, and with a wail ran down the steps and away from sight.

Mayaral stood still in the semi-darkness. The Prophecy is being fulfilled, he thought once more. Gods go with you, Nimue, daughter of Rinya, daughter of Angharad the Red, of my beloved sister...does she still live walk this earth? Gods go with you, Steward, and gods go with you, Seawalkers; you will need them.

 

The corridors proceeded for what seemed an eternity, turning, twisting, passing intersections and crossings. Dead ends revealed to be hidden doors, and short pit traps ending in new corridors. Had it not been for Leonard who continually calmed her that she was on the path, she would have been lost. The ricebag was long empty, and after all the pit traps she doubted she'd return.

If it helps saving the others.. it's worth it, I must not despair.

She continued over a bridge that went over an underground stream, and more mazelike corridors that nearly made her dissy and all the time the glowing light of the torch shimmered on the wet mossy walls.
Finally, at last, she came to a great dome. It looked a library with old rotten books that had been destroyed by time's tooth. The disappointment was nearly unbearable, no doors or anything! She screamed into the emptiness of despair and anger, and looked around for Leonard.

"Just wait... don't despair, have faith in yourself Tanya!" she heard him whisper.
She took a deep breath and summoned her last fragments of courage holding the torch high. The shadows oddly started to move and gather on the wall on the opposite side of the entrance corridor. Leonard appeared and gestured towards the door, obviously shaken and with fear in his voice.
"The heart of evil awaits in there.. I cannot follow further, it is up to you. It's sanctuary of the aura of this island."

"You have been a loyal companion, Leonard. I will not fail you," she smiled at him and saw the ghost slowly dissolve into nothing.
Once gone, solitude pressed it ominous presence upon her as she took a deep breath to shield herself from it. Walking towards the shadow door, she felt a cold gentle breeze and stopped in front of it. It was impossible to see what was beyond.

I shall not fail!

She stepped through and felt her body bombarded by the cold grace of the shadows, but as sudden as they had come they had gone, and she stood now in a small hectagonic room. It was cold and seemed frozen in time, magically lit blue fire torches made no movement. On the center was a pedestal with a orb of ice clasped by a claw. It radiated a darkness from within, and as she laid eyes upon it she heard the creepy voice of the island in her mind once more.

Welcome my child, please.. stop and listen

Not seeing any immediate danger, Tanya froze nearly spellbound by the orb, her eyes fixed on it.

I can give you what you always wanted.. your heart's desire, power to rule. You have great sense of rule, and if you let me be your guide, I can help you! Together we can rule... completely.

She pulled forth and looked at the ring of Alec, playing with in her fingers, then looked determined at the orb.
"What would you know of my desire, I have only one left.."
She grabbed the torch tight as were it a club, and stepped determined and threatingly towards the orb ready to strike.

No! Don't do it, halt! Please!

"No more.." she whispered and hammered the torch into the orb, crushing it under the blow.
The entire island rumbled briefly as the orb cracked and the dark radiance shot like a beam through the cracks into Tanya, and she was blasted into the wall behind her.

You foolish girl! Hahaha! I was Leonard, I was your father, I am all your fears, and now... we are the same!

Abruptly the room returned to normal, the rumbled stopped, and she fell to the ground. Her mind felt invading by a strange force, she tried to keep it at bay, but it was futile. She saw then their memories, their knowledge combined as two floods smashing into each other forming a sea. How foolish she had been, he had played her fears, her weaknesses, and she had followed like a puppet doing his biddings. Now he had completed it, she felt herself fade from any kind of being, control, presence. She was becoming a memory.
I have failed.. she thought, but heard the reply in her mind, No, you have succeeded.
She felt no more.

***

Moments after, he rose and admired herself.
Thank you, Tanya.. I have waited for a long time for the right one to come passing by, resourceful, cunning, strong, unbendable.. and you came.
He let out a mad laughter, and looked around the room, then with a snap of her fingers shadow doors appeared on every wall.
"I have returned.. in full strength," he whispered as if refusing to believe it.
"I have returned.. I have returned!" the flow of magic pulsed through his veins, the mastery had only been amplified through the knowledge of the many minds that his essence had corrupted through time.

With a wave of the hand, a shadow formed itself to become a floating mirror in front of the figure. It looked like Tanya, except for the eyes that had turned all black within black burning as flickering shadows.

Observing himself in the mirror he chuckled, and dispelled it with a circle movement of his hand.
"The world shall tremble once more before the name of Llewellyn Perry!" he cackled and his lunatic laughter echoed throughout the shadow doors and into corridors of the complex.

[ November 07, 2003, 17:33: Message edited by: Lokken ]

 

Mister Fabian can feel the responsibility for the pirates weighing him down, almost as heavily as the weight of the entire island overhead. It drags at his feet and slows his thinking.

With Tanya gone, there's no one else to lead these men. And Nimue! Blast the girl, running off in a panic when cooler heads are needed! Is it any wonder...

Enough of that. Where to go? Tanya will expect to find us in the hall, and who knows where Nimue has gone? If we continue down will we be strong enough to face what comes? But if we try to go back, can we find our way?

He shakes his head in annoyance to clear away the confusion. "Onwards," he says loudly, gesturing for Archer to lead the way down the dark stairs. "If you don't expect Tanya to return, then she'll have wanted us to continue. Onwards."

*************

The cannon blast catches everyone on board the Ariel by surprise. Deep in plotting revenge against those who would malign the Navy, St. John is aware of nothing until he is pelted by flying debris. That moment of delay is all the pirates need to burst onto the deck, and then St. John is too occupied with reacting to their attacks and keeping his sailors in line that he can't spare any attention to discover what is happening below...

 

Am I...all alone again?

Nimue felt the panicked thoughts race through her mind, robbing it of any semblance of clarity. Threads of energy whip around her without touching her, and she has lost the connection to the earth that constantly supplies her with trickles of purified energy. Magic is beyond her grasp for the moment.

All alone again...she had not been this alone since... Accusing face flashing in her eyes.
"You killed me!" said each of the crew members, dead in that Storm...her storm. "You wanted the Lorebooks so badly that you killed us all!"
"How many dead if this knowledge fell into Circle hands?" she screamed at them. "How many more corpses on my conscience?"
"You killed me!" said Brenlis, accusingly, "I took you in and gave you a trade! You were Drentan's best thief!"
"You were Circle," Nimue said regretfully. Guilt stabbed in her stomach.
"You killed me!" said her father, his eyes still gleaming with lust. "I was the first person you killed!"
"I had no choice," she whispered. "Forgive me...I had no choice."

She curls up in the corridor, back to the wall and hands around her knees, as she had curled up in that alley after the breadknife had sunk into her father's throat...she curls up and sobs. She was so alone...as alone as she had been then, until Brenlis and his thieves had taken her in. And so afraid...it was so dark.

I'm...alone, she thinks to herself. Fabian...he cared, and I ran off, it was my responsibility, I promised him I'd leave the past behind...I'm all alone again. She hugs herself, curls up, and sobs, attempting to give herself comfort where none can be found. I'm scared....

She does not notice the shadowy, inhuman figure closing in on her out of the darkness.

 

Kassandra gasped as she felt the tremendous rumbling beneath her feet. "What the hell is going on," she screamed as she saw the rush of pirates scrambling onto the deck. Somehow, they had managed to free themselves, but she didn't have time to speculate as one of the battle-crazed pirates ran at her, his weapon poised to run her through.

She immediately drew her rapier and flicked her wrist effortlessly, effectively knocking the sword out of the pirate's grip, and then finished him off by ramming the pommel of her blade across his face and watching as he sank to the ground. Kassandra whirled around and drew her defensive dirk from her right hip and charged into the fray, eager to vent some of her more recent frustrations on the escaping pirates.

She easily worked her way through those that were unfortunate enough to challenge her fighting skills, for she was one of the very best. Her father had taught her to always keep her wits about her, and never be blinded with anger, as these pirates were. Given that they were no where near as skilled as she, it was almost too easy to dispatch with them, even without lethal force. They may be her adversaries now, but deep down, they were still kin.

She taunted her opponents as she disarmed them using as little energy as possible and would quickly slice her dirk across their cheek, reveling in the feeling that they knew that it was she who scarred them for life. The men were unorganized and their lust for blood shone in their eyes, but Kassandra remained calm against the onslaught, and if all of her shipmates were as calm as she, then their victory against the impromptu rebellion was assured.

She smiled at the latest male who had come to challenge her. "You would do well to turn away now, while I still have some compassion left in my heart for your kind."

The pirate spat viciously on the ground as he juggled his cutlass between his hands, which was no doubt pilfered from some unlucky sailor. "Keep yer compassion, wench! When I'm through with ye, yer own mother won't know yer face!"

Heh, I have you right where I want you, she thought to herself as she lowered her defenses by letting her arms fall to her sides. "Then, strike at me, and see how well you fare against my blades!"

As she had predicted, the pirate charged at her blindly and thoughtlessly, bolstered by the false sense of victory that Kassandra had given him. She quickly side-stepping the charge and quite easily knocked him over the head with her pommel. She chuckled to herself as she watched the pirate fall over unconscious. He wasn't the first to underestimate her wit and her speed, and he wasn't going to be the last.

Unfortunately, she had tarried too long in admiring her own handiwork and was totally taken by surprise when she felt a fist descend across her cheek. Kassandra cried out in pain and shock, and then crumpled down to the wooden deck unconscious.

Luckily, she awakened a few mere moments later, and found that she was being pinned down to the hard floor of the deck while some...sailor stared heatedly at her. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sailor immediately clamped his hand over her mouth.

"Ye even try to scream, ye stupid wench and I'll cut ye open like a fresh fish," he threatened as he brandished his menacing looking dagger in front of her face with his free hand. Then, he pulled off the bandanna that Kassandra had always kept wrapped around her hair and shoved it roughly into her mouth to keep down her screams. "Heh, now ye'll see what it's like to be wi' a real man."

That bastard, how dare he, she screamed inside of her mind. We were shipmates, how can he treat me like this!!! I swear on everything that is dear and holy to me, I will kill him! But how? She frantically looked around to see if there was anything of use, but her weapons were discarded somewhere out of reach, and the weight of his body was too great for her to try to throw off.

She hated to admit it, but she was powerless to stop him. Kassandra trembled with fear as she watched him begin to tear through her clothing. She had never been so humiliated in all of her life, and there was nothing...wait. Her eyes widened as she felt something cool touch against her ankle. Her diringer!!! Thank the stars that she remembered she had her diringer strapped to her lower leg! Now, all she had to do was reach it and fulfill her unspoken vow!

She began to move and wiggle as much as she could, trying to do anything that would distract him for the mere seconds that she needed to pull out the firearm! Of course, the sailor had reacted violently to her act and slapped her soundly across the cheek.

"Stop squirming, or it'll only be worse for ye, wench!" The sailor hoisted his body weight off of her and that was all the time that Kassandra needed. She quickly raised her right leg up as high as she could, and even though her hands were tied together, they weren't tied to anything else, and she used both of them to pull out the silver diringer that had been a gift to her from her father.

The sailor exclaimed, "What the 'ell," but it was too late for him, and Kassandra pulled the trigger. He gasped as he felt the ball penetrate through his chest cavity and fell down on top of Kassandra, dead instantly.

Kassandra breathed heavily as she lay there, her energy exhausted, to exhausted to even care about the body of the sailor that was now draining his life's blood all over her, her clothes ripped to shreds and her body nearly violated. She had killed the offender, but ther near rape was extremely tramuatizing and she did the only thing that she could...she cried.

 

George was fighting the pirates with relative ease when William came up to him.
"George. Gunshots."
"Yes, I heard." George replied, parrying a blow. "I was going to investigate, but I'm busy...and...score!" George punched the pirate on the face and he passed out. "Okay, let's go."
The two came upon a sobbing Kassandra, and they enchanged confused glances. Several men lied around her, seemingly dead, and even one on top her. George didn't recognize her, but William died. He kicked the dead man off her. He gasped.
"Nathaniel Hawks!" he said, in surprise. He turned his wrath on the sobbing girl. "You...killed...my lieutenant...Nathaniel Hawks?!"
"Uh, Admiral, calm down..." George said, tapping his shoulder.
"And you! I know you! You're just a little deck-scrubber! Speak! Why did you kill him?!"

 

Kassandra trembled involuntarily as she looked up at the admiral and the man standing next to him, then back down at her blood-soaked body. "All over, it's all over me." She let out a sob of torment as she gathered the blood up into her still bound hands and stared as she let it drip down her arms. "It was inside him, and now it's not. I shot him with only one bullet. I never thought that so much blood could come out of one hole."

William growled angrily and snatched Kassandra up by the collar and shook her vigorously. "You shot my lieutenant, damn you! Tell me why you did this!"

"Sir," George said quietly, "I don't think you're going to get much out of her. She looks like she's in shock."

"Stay out of this," the admiral barked out. "This wench has sealed her fate as sure as the blood stains her hands."

Kassandra silently cried as she gazed back down at the blood covering her. "Stained...my soul...is stained..."