Picaro dropped the teacups and rushed to Lady Chisora's side. He pulled back her hair, opened her eyes which stared beyond, and hollered for help. In a moment the entire crew came crashing through the door and then stopped in their tracks.
Her body was sunken into the small lush bed. Nothing in the room was out of place, as if an angel of death had visited her in her sleep. The only indication of mortal struggle was the wound on her neck, which by now had dried and crusted over.
Charem pushed forward through the other crew. "What the h—"
"Hallo!" a stern voice carried from below the bow of the ship. The entire crew turned to see six city guards boarding their ship. They were solid men, with solid swords and solid clothes and solid looks upon their faces. They showed no signs of compassion or leniency in their solid gazes.
Captain Wilhelm's voice was warm gold. "Hello! To what do we owe you this early morning visit?" He stepped out of the death room and discreetly closed the door behind him. Captain Wilhelm figured word had spread about their scuffle with the temple priests last night, and had prepared a thorough explanation.
The captain of the guard stopped in the middle of the deck below. He brandished a scroll, and staring straight at Captain Wilhelm, spoke as if he had memorized the decree. "We have heard reports that you murdered one Lady Chisora, and have stashed her body on this ship the Bronze Bellwether. By city decree we have come to search this ship."
The Captain almost took a step back, then steadied himself. "That is quite the accusation. Pray tell, who gave such a report?"
The captain of the guard was a mason wall. "That is none of your concern. Gather your men. De-board the ship. You may return once our search is finished." The other guards eyed every doorway and stairway with suspicious eyes.
Captain Wilhelm gave a slight bow. "Of course. Give me a minute to gather my men." He slipped inside the door as quickly as he had slipped out.
"The city guard is here —"
Rickets jumped in. "To search for Lady Chisora. We heard. We've been setup!"
Charem started wondering aloud. "Who could have said anything? There were no witnesses from last night...and if there were, they would have only seen the priests, not Lady Chis —"
Captain Wilhelm inflated and whispered. "We have no time for pondering now. All of you, out! Scour the city and see what you can find. I'll handle the guards."
Picaro shook his head. "We're not going to let you —"
Captain Wilhelm raised his voice. "I said out!"
The crew filed out and dragged their feet. The guard stood right where Captain Wilhelm had left them. As the crew walked by the guard, Picaro reached to draw his sword, but Pengo reached out a hand, caught eyes with him and shook his head. Picaro's eyes flared but then he relaxed. The crew filed down the gangplank, got to the dock, and kept on walking. One of the guards narrowed his eyes. "Where are they running off to?" The captain grunted. "It does not matter. We have their ship. And their captain. Let us begin the search."
~*~
The clouds were oppressive. A light breeze whipped up the dust and leaves along the bare path to Pot's temple. The Bronze Bellwether crew looked like a gang, and Picaro was their leader. They arrived at the building, a two-story wooden structure with dark engravings along the outer walls.
Picaro knocked. There was no answer. He stepped aside and Charem stepped forward, dug his boots into the ground, squatted and then lunged shoulder first. The door cracked inward. Another shoulder ram and the crew were in.
In front of them the room opened up to a quaint chapel. The floor was swept clean and appeared to be made of stone. There were cheap wooden pews that lined either side of the room and stopped before a daius, pulpit, and a small, still-smoldering altar. Behind the platform was a mural, and marked in what looked like charcoal was a giant inverted "V" with one circle below the point and one circle above it: the symbol of Pot.
From behind the mural an acolyte appeared, shrieked, then disappeared. Charem motioned to give chase, but Picaro held out a stern hand. A moment later, twenty hooded acolytes and bald priests appeared. One of the acolytes was taller than the others with a large bruise mid-forehead, and Charem recognized him as the archer from the market. A priest in red wool robes stepped forward.
The priest's eyes were lightning and his voice thunder. "You dare intrude upon the temple of Pot? Explain yourselves our I will kill you were you stand." The other priests shifted their feet ever so slightly, widening their stances.
Picaro spoke. "Last night, a couple of your thugs came onto our boat to kidnap a very special passenger. That was mistake #1." A couple of the acolytes gasped, but the rest remained silent.
"This morning, our special passenger was found dead. That was mistake #2." The rangy acolyte almost tripped over his feet to the priest. He whispered something in his ear that the crew could not overhear.
The priest's eyes flared. "Lady Chisora was simply a consolation prize for Pot. She's worth nothing to us dead. But you have become more than a nuisance to use, you fools. You attacked those of our order. And now you dare intrude upon this sacred space? You will pay with your lives."
Picaro looked over his shoulder to the crew and smirked. "These guys are a bunch of windbags, am I right?" He turned back to the temple group, who had now assumed battle stances. "We know you killed Lady Chisora. You were after her last night before we killed your priests. You're going to tell us everything you know, if I have to slice it out of you myself."
The priest could take no more. "Attack!"
The group swelled and heaved as if a cloud releasing a torrential downpour. They swarmed the aisles down the middle to break them, around the edges of the pews to surround them, and a few stayed back and prepared spells to overwhelm them, all the while whooping and hollering with the guttural noises of a wolf pack.
Pengo said a quick prayer to Per and then readied his shield for the onslaught. Rickets reached behind his head and unsheathed two hand axes then twirled them. Charem crouched low into a defensive position and drew his heavy sword. Picaro's cutlass swished from his side and bobbed up and down as he charged forward.
The priests were unarmed but unafraid. Dark reflective red hands met Picaro's first slash but it was a feint. As the blade glanced off the many hands Picaro spun, raised his blade high as if to hack, then jutted out a kick that cracked an acolyte's sternum and sent the rest sprawling.
The spellslingers were in position now, lobbing angry red balls of crackling energy over their rushing brothers right at the center of the defending three, but Pengo raised his shield and caught every one of them and they dissipated on impact. Charem took the left and Rickets took the right. More dark red hands lifted to block their blows, but Charem was stronger and Rickets was faster. A heavy slash from Charem caught an acolyte in the nook of his fingers and sent him flying. Another hack was blocked with both hands by a priest but brought him to his knees; a kick with Charem's big brown boots and he was sprawled out on the stone floor.
Rickets was a whirlwind. Three acolytes rushed him and he dropped to his knees and spun like a whirling dervish with both axes extended, forcing them to jump back. Rickets hopped to his feet and thrust at the closest acolyte who attempted to parry. Anticipating the parry Rickets rotated his ax mid-thrust, catching a red thumb and pulling the surprised acolyte forward. An ax to the neck changed the expression from surprise to glazed over. Feeling it now he dove at the other two, grinning and raising his eyebrows with glee as his tattoo danced across his face.
Two of the spellslingers realized the folly of targeting the three with Pengo defending and switched their strategy to the lone Picaro. The five acolytes and priests that had rushed Picaro were down to four now and had adopted a defensive position. They stood high and low, red hands outstretched like phalanxes to defend against any attack from Picaro's blade.
The crackling balls of red energy fell towards Picaro and Picaro danced. Two balls missed him, a third landed just after his foot left the ground and sent him sprawling. "I could use a shield here!" Picaro rolled as all 4 defenders lunged with red hands, hitting the stone concrete with such force that sparks flew.
Pengo heard the call for help and reacted. He sprinted two steps and then dove, shield first and legs trailing like rudders in the wind over the rolling Picaro. Eight red hands abandoned their chase, and snaking together, coiled and then thrust at the center of Pengo's shield.
The tip of the hand serpent pierced into the shield to the sound of screeching and a bevy of sparks. In an instant it seemed as if time froze. Then it began again. The screeching stopped, and wherever hands touched shield they became pink and delicate again. The shield was not delicate. The weight of the man and the shield carried forward, bending and breaking and dislocating fingers and wrists and arms as the four were bowled over. There was a loud cry as Pengo crunched bodies under the weight of his defender.
"Enough!" the head priest held up his hands as if beseeching his god. Soft moans rose from the ground. Pengo stood atop a pile of still bodies, shield forward, not twenty feet from the head priest. Rickets and Charem heaved heavy breaths but still stood at the ready. Then the room fell silent.
"Leave at once and we will assure you no harm will come to you." The thunder had turned to a soft hoarse rumble. Picaro sneered and glanced about. "It looks like you're the only ones worse for the wear." Picaro stuck the tip of his cutlass into the ground. "But I'm feeling generous. I'll make you a deal. Tell us why you murdered Lady Chisora, and I might let you live."
The head priest glanced about to his downed brothers. They were now down to a weary ten and had not made a mark on Picaro's gang. The head priest straightened up and the corners of his mouth stretched a millimeter. "Fight me one-on-one. If you prevail, I will tell you everything you wish to know. If I win, leave and never come back." Behind his back the head priest motioned to the two other spellslingers. They stood up straight and placed their hands behind their backs.
"This'll be good." Picaro picked up his sword, threw it over his shoulder, and walked up to the head priest. "Give us some space please." The priest motioned to Pengo, and Pengo stepped back a few paces. The acolytes near Charem and Rickets stood statue straight and assumed the same position as the priests flanking the head priest.
Picaro stopped and readied his sword. The head priest's mouth stretched from taut lips to a joker's grin as he threw his hands from behind his back at Picaro. Picaro dove to dodge but was hit in the stomach by an angry red bolt. At the same time the remaining acolytes cast their readied spells at Pengo, Rickets and Charem. The three dove as well as death energy flew past their quick heads.
The head priest was cackling now. Picaro was face down but heard the direction of the laugh and rolled just before a bolt of energy left a dent in the stone where his head was. The two flanking acolytes hurled their bolts as well. Picaro held up his sword to deflect the blows and the second bolt knocked his sword from his hand. As the sword clattered and slid away Picaro rose to his feet and raised his hands.
The two acolytes came forward and guarded the head priest. "You think you can defeat us with just your fists?" Picaro grinned. "Watch me."
Picaro sprinted forward as if to dive between the acolytes. He crouched, then dove straight at the acolytes askance. The first acolyte anticipated a dive over and threw an energy bolt that left a jagged hole in the rafters. The second acolyte aimed true and connected with Picaro's exposed back. But it was not enough to stop Picaro's momentum. His body crashed into the acolytes and the acolytes were taken off their feet.
Behind Picaro the gang was gaining position. Pengo's shield deflected bolt after bolt, and the group made quick dashing movements towards their dropped weapons. Pengo glanced over towards Picaro. Picaro elbowed one downed acolyte in jaw and then pointed with his eyes towards his sword. Pengo gave him a quick nod before deflecting another bolt from the ambushing acolytes.
The acolytes were not effective on the ground. Picaro kicked back a heel and hit an acolyte in the jewels. The acolyte sat up in pain, and Picaro rolled behind his torso as the head priest fired a bolt. Inside the acolyte's guard Picaro gave an effective headbutt that put him out. Picaro was on all fours and rolled again as the head priest attempted to drive him back.
Pengo whistled and Picaro leapt forwards into a sommersault. Behind him, his sword sailed in the air. The priest anticipating Picaro grabbing the sword readied his aim at where Picaro would land. But Picaro kicked out of his sommersault and connected with the head priest's chest and knocked the wind out of him. The sword landed in front of Picaro, who calmly picked it up and pointed the blade at the stunned man.
Behind Picaro the temple was quiet. Pengo, Rickets and Charem stood over downed priests and acolytes and watched as Picaro closed in. "You priests have a thing for ambushes. I'd think you'd be better at them."
The head priest's eyes were brimming red. "I curse you in the name of Pot!" Then with one last burst he thrust a dark reflective red hand at Picaro's chest. Picaro batted the hand away with his sword then sliced the head priest's head clean off. It rolled to the foot of the altar. Picaro sheathed his sword.