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...
It had been pitch black inside the prison and even darker in the gigantic barrel. So when Card opened a door on the other side of it, sunlight rushed inside and, for a moment, Etienne was nearly blinded. He stopped and shielded his eyes with his hand.
Looking at his feet, he took a few more steps toward the light at the end of the tunnel. He had spent only a few hours behind bars, but when the sea breeze, fresh and salty, brushed his cheeks and weaved its way through his tangled beard, it felt like the caress of a lover. Etienne let out a sigh of relief. The sea, greedy mistress, was calling him again.
"Come on!"
Logan's voice, gravelly and broken, couldn't have been further from the sea's—and brought Etienne back to the pressing matter at hand. He blinked, wiped his hurting, teary eyes and found himself facing the docks.
"The port?"
"Yes, the port!" Card answered, grabbing his arm in an attempt to force him into motion.
The dark glance and low growl the unwanted contact caused went totally unnoticed. Etienne freed himself curtly, craving to teach the lad the lesson he deserved. But it was not the time for that. Not yet.
"Did you really think the entrance uphill was the only one?" continued the oblivious brat. "Sure, prisoners can walk all the way up there, only to be locked deep down in the prison's basement. But when this was still a cellar, barrels couldn't exactly roll by themselves, see? And the dockers were not as obliging as the convicts. Lucky for you, I found this forgotten entrance, at the foot of the hill. You're welcome!"
The heavy wooden door looked ancient indeed. The huge lock had been crudely broken, and the heavy grating that had barred it now hung piteously from the wall, brown and dusty from rust. Old, broken crates—whitening and rotting under the sun—were piled up around the door, hiding the fugitives from the harbor's buzzing activity. Logan was already trying to squeeze his broad belly between them. His son started to show signs of impatience, shifting his weight from one foot to another while making a lot of unnecessary movement with his arms.
"Wait!" called Etienne.
The old man stopped wriggling to turn a crimson face towards him. It expressed pain, oxygen deprivation, and curiosity in an ridiculous mix. Unsurprisingly, his son simply looked annoyed and bored.
"What now?" he asked, as if he was the one in charge.
"I can't walk to my boat in this... outfit," answered Etienne, trying to look superior—even if he was fully aware of how ridiculous his appearance was. He could feel the edge of his long shirt flutter around his bare legs, tickling the old scar crowning his left knee.
Card rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. Again.
Etienne bit his tongue, but took note of this renewed impudence. He stood tall, crossed his arms on his chest, and ordered, "Bring me clothes!"
"And where am I supposed to find any?" barked the yappy little dog.
"You live here. You'll figure something out."
"I'll leave you here half naked, that's what I'll do! Come on father, let's go!"
Before Logan could open his mouth or move, Etienne went on.
"Listen to me, you little piece of shit, I don't know who you think you are, but you'll respect me or I'll teach you the manners your genitor forgot to! You want to go? Fine! Have fun hiding! I bet that your corpse swinging in the wind next to your father's will be a lovely sight. Too bad I won't be able to enjoy it, as I'll already be sailing miles away by then!"
Logan laid a hand on Etienne's arm, like a peace offering. He turned to his son.
"Go home, quickly! Grab clothes for our... host. And—"
"But dad—"
The slap took Etienne aback. Card too, judging by the shocked expression surrounding the red, hand-shaped mark on his cheek.
"Shut up and obey your father, Cardamom!"
Etienne couldn't hold back a snigger and a nasty grin. The nickname suddenly made sense.
Cardamom seemed to hesitate. He opened his mouth, closed it, frowned, pouted, sighed, and gave up.
"Yes, father."
"And as it looks like we're not coming back, pack some of our things too. Only what matters!"
"It's not like we have anything of value anyway..." mumbled the slow-learning kid.
Etienne rejoiced too fast. There was no second slap.
"Go now! Hurry!" The old man's voice was firm, definitive.
Card nodded and hopped on the nearest crate. But before he could disappear on the other side, Logan called to him again.
"And Card, don't forget my map."
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