The adrenaline rushed through my blood as I felt the ship lurch violently to the side. She might have carried a heavy weight but the pirate brigantine was one of the fastest ships in the West Indies and could easily run down any victim of her choosing. We made excellent time as the vessel carved through the ice blue waters. Gavorche gripped me by the shoulders and looked me in the eyes.
“You need to stay behind little one; this is no place for a child. If someone needs extra ammunition, you must run and go fetch it for them okay?”
I looked at him blankly, blinking a few times and smiled sweetly.
“You are not going to listen to me are you?” Asked Gavorche, already knowing the answer.
“Do I ever?” I patted him on the cheek and grabbed a nearby meat cleaver.
“Sacre bleu, just try to not get yourself killed please, I do not want to train a new assistant again.” He threw up his arms in exasperation and ran after me. We quickly pushed our way through the milling throng of pirates running around and made our way up to the deck. We were about a hundred yards away from the merchant vessel and closing fast. She desperately tried to run but a couple of grape shots fired shredded her sails and left her stranded at the mercy of the bloodthirsty pirates. The merchant Captain, though he had made a fatal mistake of sailing alone, had not gone unprepared. There was a small contingent of hired soldiers aboard as musket fire tattooed our port side bow. This only angered the pirate crew as we drew up next to the stricken vessel. Grappling hooks soared through the air, digging deep into the tattered railings of the ship. St Michelle looked down at me with widening eyes as I calmly took my place next to him. He wanted to protest but it was too late to do anything.
Captain De La Roca arrived, closely his eyes and spread his arms. He was totally at peace in the midst of the storm surrounding him, a conductor of the symphony of the damned. He opened his eyes, stuck out his long red tongue and pulled his cutlass out. With a roar, he led the charge, jumping over the railing. In a split second he was in the middle of the mass of sailors, hacking and slashing away. His crew only a step behind him, flooding on to the merchant vessel like a terrible tidal wave. Thick grey musket smoke filled the air as the sailors vainly tried to drive the frenetic horde backwards. It was a futile gesture that would be repaid moments later in swathes of blood. I found a safe spot for Adelmar tucked away in some netting. He was still too small and would get hurt in the scuffle.
“I’ll be right back okay? Stay here.” I patted him on the head and he whined softly. The little cub had spirit but size and strength was against him. His time would come. I looked up at the scene of complete chaos unfolding before my eyes, took a deep breath and shrugged.
“Oh bloody well why not?” I raised the cleaver in the air and ran towards the melee. As I dived through the air, I saw a crewman swinging a saber at me. Hitting the deck, I rolled through and clipped him behind the knee with the butcher’s knife. His screams were soon silenced by an elbow to the neck. I saw Captain De La Roca mere meters away from me and it looked like he was dancing, moving gracefully and elegantly as he rendered flesh by the score. His dagger and cutlass a blur of steel, cutting through scores of attackers. I had never seen a man so in tune with the universe, a complete paradox of brutal violence and harmonious movement. But for all that he was still human. I saw St Michelle yell out in alarm, running forward hopelessly. Then I saw what he was pointing at. A soldier had appeared through the smoke and carnage, his pistol cocked and ready, his aim steady on the Captain’s heart. The Moor was too far away to stop him. Without thinking, I dived forward; shielding the pirate captain with my body. The shot rang out as I waited for the stabbing pain through my chest, for the blood to pour out of me.
But nothing happened.
The gauntlet lit up suddenly in a flash of blue grey lights and a shield of white light appeared before me. The bullet ricocheted harmlessly away as the soldier’s jaw dropped open in amazement. St Michelle quickly slit his throat before he could get a second shot off. And just as quickly as it appeared, the shield faded away into nothingness again.
Down below in the underworld, Death and Famine were sitting in deep; comfortable chairs keenly watching the action unfold on the ship. A martini glass slipped from her bony hand and shattered on the floor. Death stood up in outrage, her face a picture of exasperation and shock.
“What the hell just happened? How is this possible?” She stopped for a moment, smiled grimly to herself and turned to Famine as she flicked a cherry into the air and into her mouth. “You. What did you do?” She asked accusingly.
The slightly plump deity chuckled happily and flashed a brilliant smile in Death’s direction. “Oh, you know I love messing with your little schemes and plans dearest sister of mine. I added something extra to the gauntlet, a counterbalance if you like. There is both good and evil in it now, the chance to save a life or cruelly take it. We will leave that choice up to the child and see what becomes of her. Will the gauntlet corrupt her or will she walk in the light? Either way, it’s all in good fun and terribly interesting don’t you think?” She flicked another cherry with a deft movement towards Death’s face which she angrily swatted away.
“You are sticking your nose in where it does not belong. Do not get between the wager I have with War, you will regret it I promise.” Her cool and aloft manner had disappeared and the mask of the cruel reaper of worlds showed underneath.
Famine just laughed and kicked out her feet happily. “ Oh faf faf woman, do shut up and enjoy the show.” She reached for another drink as Death stormed out of the throne room, highly agitated that someone had dared interfered with her well laid plans.
Back on the merchant ship, Captain De La Roca calmly stood up off the deck and dusted himself off. He kicked the blood gargling corpse of the soldier away from him and studied me carefully. For the first time I saw the other side of his face, the one he kept so well hidden away. He had been burnt, the scars of a terrible fire etched into his flesh. He combed the black hair back down over the white blinded eye and picked up his cutlass.
“En definitiva, se trata de una elección entre dos alternativas igualmente malas.” (Ultimately, this is a choice between the devil and the deep blue sea.) He said deep in thought to himself as the fighting on the ship wound down. The merchant sailors and soldiers were no match for the battle hardened pirates and were soon overwhelmed. With his men either dead or bleeding out, St Michelle brought the Captain forward and forced him down to his knees. We all gathered around the pathetic figure as he swore loudly at us. Captain De La Roca looked down at him and gently ran the edge of his cutlass over his throat. Thinking for a moment, he stepped back and handed the blade to me.
“Let’s see what the devil is prepared to do.” I knew exactly what he expected from me. I had to kill this man to prove my worth to the pirates. I stopped for a moment, feeling the hilt in my hands, it was strangely comforting. The pirates starting scoffing at my indecision and the Captain’s right eye narrowed in disapproval. I remembered the death of my mother, how the Romans slaughtered her while I watched on helplessly. The rage and anger built up inside me and with a scream, a slammed the razor sharp tip through the captain’s throat and felt it sink deep into his flesh. He grabbed his throat and dark blood seeped over his finger. He spit up blood twice before falling to the deck in a deadly still heap. I handed the blade back to De La Roca and looked emotionlessly at him.
“I have to get back to my kitchen.” I said, turning my back and walking slowly away. All the merchant sailors and soldiers were thrown overboard, all except for one. This poor wretch was kept alive to be later abandoned. He was to spread the news of the half face pirate and the blond demon on board and how anyone that crossed their paths could expect no mercy from them. After the pirates had looted the vessel, carrying boxes of expensive silks and spices, gold and jewelry from it, they did not destroy it. Choosing to set her adrift as a ghost ship. The now empty ship with the captain’s corpse tied to the main mast would serve as a warning to all other ships that dared enter the still waters of the Caribbean alone. The message was simple- death haunts your every step and the devil herself was roaming the oceans, waiting for her next victim.
Beware of the blond haired demon.
la muerte está viniendo para usted (Death is coming)
