There is nothing worse for a pirate than dying on dry land. Except, maybe, swinging two feet above it.
When their captain is imprisoned, facing the gallows, the men and women of the Lady Lesya's crew will try everything to break him out--even if it...
Etienne was tense. More than usual, that is. His jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth begged for mercy, and he could feel a vein bulging from his left temple. He was half naked, barefoot, unarmed—and going the wrong way.
Instead of taking a right from the cells and going up toward the exit, Card had turned left, going deeper into the prison's bowels. And like bowels, the smell was barely tolerable. The three of them passed by crowded cells, reeking of piss and shit and disease, where men were too weak to even react to the torch's light. They passed by cells smelling of blood, where rabid men threw themselves against the iron bars and barked at them, trying to grab whatever was within reach of their scrawny hands. They also passed by cells that appeared to be empty, stinking of rot and death.
However, the little group didn't slow down for anything, and soon enough they left the caged men behind. They reached an older part of the building, a part that revealed remnants of its history as a cellar. Etienne welcomed the bittersweet smell of mold and decaying wood. The torch cut through the darkness to reveal mountains of broken barrels, bottles of every shape and size, and disjointed tools that he didn't recognize. It seemed that they had just found the previous occupants of what became cells.
Card's bored voice boomed in the silence. "Watch your step, it's a mess in here."
A few seconds later, Etienne felt a sharp point gently open the tough leather of his soles, warning his nerve. He stopped his foot just in time to avoid running a mean shard of ancient glass through it. All patience lost, he couldn't hold his anger any longer.
"Goatshyte! Where the hell are we going?"
Card sighed dramatically, stopped and turned around. "Listen old man, you can still turn around and set sail the other way. Godspeed!"
Etienne clenched his fists. Lucky for the brat, his father stood between his nose and a handful of knuckles.
"No?" Card sneered. "That's what I thought."
Etienne spat in the dust but kept his mouth shut. The cocky little bastard would soon get what he deserved, but not now. Now, he was still useful. Hopefully.
The three of them moved on, navigating between glass splinters, metal bits, and wood pieces. The air, very still but consistently fresh, turned sweat into a cold snake clinging to Etienne's limbs with every movement
"I suppose you don't have clothes. Or shoes, even."
Etienne didn't expect any answer, but the brat answered anyway. "As a matter of fact, I do."
Etienne kept quiet, waiting for it.
"I'm wearing them!"
So predictable. Tired, Etienne sighed. Card would get along well with his men.
Before he could find anything to cave the lad's face in with, the latter opened his wiseass mouth again. "Old men could rejoice! Here we are!"
And then he disappeared inside the biggest barrel Etienne had ever seen.
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