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...
The second deflagration came as no surprise. Tiago pressed his face in the dust anyway. He also held his unexisting breath, and his tricorn with both hands. Right next to him, Stalker let out another of his insanities. Strangely, Ricardo remained silent.
When Tiago lifted his head again, the rookie guard looked as pale as ever, but the terror on his face had been replaced by shock and incomprehension. Staggering, he extended a floppy arm towards the cell bars. His hand passed right between two of them and fell back on his thigh. He lowered his head and his chin hit his torso. Tiago winced at the sound of the boy's teeth clacking. A few inches from Ricardo's nose, on the crimson uniform, between two golden buttons shining in the torch light, a dark stain was spreading quickly.
The young man looked Tiago right in the eyes, opened his mouth on a silent question, and fell to his knees. He swayed back and forth, like he was unsure where to collapse, but his body went limp before he made any decision. Ricardo sighed a last time and died in a strange, hunched up prayer position.
Tiago knew that praying was useless though. He closed his eyes, but he could still feel the poor lad's gaze on him. He had to look. Over the huddled, lifeless body stood a dark silhouette; a blurry, slightly glistening version of Ricardo. Tiago felt the temperature drop, so he pressed his face on the ground once again, and waited for the loud pop that came with crossing the Styx.
"What the fuck ye doin'?"
Quickly, Tiago let go of Stalker's arm. He gave him a playful, impish smile, actually relieved not to have been dragged to oblivion by the guard's spirit, or soul, or whatever.
"Look!" he said.
Stalker turned his head toward the body. "Bloody shite!" He leaned on his elbow and yelled toward the origin of the shots, "He was one of yers, ye fuckin' dimwit!"
O'Ma's voice rang, low and calm, "Only two shots, no warning, I don't think we're facing guards over there."
"And now what?" asked Tiago.
"We don't have many alternatives! Cap is still here, somewhere, and we're as trapped as he is. Let's go deeper in this rathole, find him and, if possible, a better place to retaliate."
"Fuck!" was Stalker's only answer.
Tiago stood up. "Well, I guess it's time to bravely run, companheiros!" He took his heavy, three-barreled pistol from his silk belt, drew the hammer back and smiled widely, barring his white and gold teeth. "Let's dance!"
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