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...
Tiago laughed and fired his enormous pistol over his shoulder. Stalker, silent for once, drew his nasty long knife and picked a torch from the wall. O'Ma grabbed his two weirdly named guns and armed them. All started to run. Dune followed, still holding his captain's belongings tightly against his chest. If it was a new game, it was not a funny one.
It was so dark in this place. Stalker was leading the way at a fast pace and the torch was casting dancing shadows over the stone walls. Dune followed as fast as he could on his short legs. He had no choice. He didn't want to be left behind, alone in the dark. Luckily, Tiago was on his side, still laughing, still firing on the thing that was following them. Each shot burst in a flashing light, hurting Dune's eyes, so he kept them fixed on the torch.
The loud explosions of the shots made his ears ring, too. But it was not enough to muffle the scary sounds coming from behind the wall, from the darkness ahead. Screams and whining, cries and whimpering, calls and curses. And, sometimes, demented laughter. Dune wanted them to stop, to be quiet, to leave him alone. He wanted to cover his ears to make them, but he would have lost Cap's stuff. So he simply ran, holding back his own wails.
After each detonation, the smell of burned powder filled the air, covering everything else. Dune liked this smell. It reminded him of the big fights on the boat. Unfortunately, the nice flavor soon faded and the stench of the place assaulted his nose again. It was even worse than the smell of the boat's belly after a long time on the sea. And Cap wasn't here now to order some men to clean and scrub and rinse and freshen. Dune could almost feel it in his mouth, he could almost taste the shit, the vomit, and the pus. He suddenly gagged and swallowed bile. His eyes watered and the torch went blurry, but it was an improvement anyway.
"Over there!" called Stalker.
Suddenly, the torch disappeared on the left. Suddenly, it was pitch black. Suddenly, Dune was alone. He stopped dead in his tracks and started to moan. Something grabbed his arm and Dune let out a cry.
"Relax amigo! It's me. Come!"
Tiago! Relieved, Dune followed his friend. They took a few steps, turned left and there was the torch again.
"See? Here they are," said Tiago.
Dune laughed, almost reassured. Tiago let go his arm and shot once more.
"Now run!" he said.
Dune obeyed and joined O'Ma and Stalker a few yards further. They had stopped and the tall painted man was yelling at the round bushy one, trying to rush him. With no apparent result. O'Ma slowly raised his gun toward the cell bars and shot. The echo of the explosion died in the depth of the maze and silence fell at last in the prison. In front of O'Ma, a door creaked open and clanged violently against the metal bars. A hundred voices erupted in unarticulated joy and scrawny, smelly, disheveled men flooded the corridor. They passed Dune without a single look in his direction, even if some bumped into his unmovable body.
"Can you now validate my ingenuous intention, oh man of little faith? Would you dare say it won't give us some time?" asked O'Ma.
Stalker grunted an unintelligible answer, turned around, and started to walk away. O'Ma shot other padlocks and keyholes, opening cages, freeing forgotten men as he followed the torch holder. Tiago grabbed Dune's arm again and pull him forward.
Against the tide of men, they went deeper in the prison's bowels.
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