Death Flag

  Garin twisted his body to the side with his unnatural speed, and Madison’s sword cut through the air, missing him entirely. The pirate swung his massive fist around wildly as he turned, catching Madison in the shoulder and spinning him back in the opposite direction. Madison staggered back several feet while doing his best to keep his sword up in front of him and regain his balance, and he was instantly aware of a dull throbbing pain where he had been struck. Compared to his shattered nose and the cuts in his side, however, it was nothing. His attack had been an awkward maneuver, and it kept him off balance for longer than normal, actually making it harder for him to recover, but there was no way he was going to let his guard down for even a second and give Garin an open shot.

  Garin stepped forward, following after him, and aimed another attack at Madison’s body. Reacting as much on instinct as with any actual plan, he reached out with his free hand and slapped one of the lit torches. It flew through the air directly toward Garin and smacked him in the chest, sending up a bright-red shower of sparks. The impromptu attack slowed Garin and threw him off by just enough that the large man missed, allowing Madison to continue backing up.

  The giant stuttered to halt, swatting at his chest with one massive hand, and when he pulled it away, Madison could see large, splotchy, fresh, pink burns. They weren’t anything serious, but they’d be enough to aggravate him the longer the fight drew on, just as Madison’s own unhealed wounds were doing, and he was happy to take advantage every little bonus he could get at the moment.

  Madison pushed forward, closing the distance between them and hoping to take advantage of the fact that the larger man was distracted by third-degree burns. He brought his sword around in a fast slashing motion, and Gavin jumped out of the way as if he were surprised by the aggressive attack just a little too slowly. The tip of Madison’s sword cut through the larger man’s chest, carving a solid line across from one pectoral muscle to the other. Garin was cut and bleeding on both sides of his torso now, and Madison could only hope that it would start to take its toll and sap the strength of the large man. Every movement he made sent a pain through his side, and it was a constant reminder that he was operating on a clock as well.

  He pressed forward once more, stabbing out with a fast thrust in the hopes of catching Garin off balance again before he could recover. In almost an exact reversal of what had happened earlier, Garin turned Madison’s sword away and then stepped inside his attack, quickly thrusting his sword toward Madison’s exposed side. Madison twisted his torso and tried to pivot away, but he wasn’t nearly fast enough to avoid the well-executed counter. He spun away from Garin, briefly exposing his back to him, but he still felt the sword cut a line above the one that was already there and slide across his lower ribs.

  Madison risked a glance down at his side as he repositioned, and he didn’t like what he saw there. His shirt was matted to his body with a giant, red bloodstain, and he could feel the blood flowing freely down his thigh to his calf. There was no way for him to stem the bleeding without bandaging it, and that was completely out of the question at the moment. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he shifted his weight and then lunged forward again, faking a one-handed thrust aimed at Garin’s left side. The larger man didn’t take the bait. He stepped to the left and began circling around to Madison’s already-weak left side, and there was nothing Madison could do expect to match his stride and continue turning to face him. One step at a time, he slowly rotated so that he was constantly in front of Garin. Then, on a hunch, he awkwardly shifted his weight when his left foot came down and allowed it to drag slightly through the dirt when he lifted it up again.

  Just when he thought that his rouse hadn’t worked, Garin shot forward. His sword flashed out from a low angle, aimed directly at Madison’s wounded left side. Thankfully, Madison had been prepared. He brought his own sword around sideways, neatly parrying the low attack with the tip of his blade before leaning forward, reversing his sword completely, and driving its hilt up toward Garin’s chest. The larger man tried to twist his body around to match Madison’s movement, but he presented too big of a target. The pommel of Madison’s sword crashed up into the pirate’s sternum, and Madison heard him gasp as the breath was expelled out of his body.

  Madison bounced back onto the balls of his feet and watched as the monster sagged forward, stopping just short of collapsing onto his knees, wheezing for air. Madison’s heels didn’t even touch the ground before be sprang forward again, aiming a series of one-handed jabs at Garin’s feet. It was a maneuver that he had used on Ryder, one that was designed to make a man move away and reposition, but it was impossible for Garin in his oxygen-depleted state. The giant swung out with his sword, trying to swat away Madison’s fast thrusts, and when that didn’t work, he lurched forward with the intention of closing the distance or making Madison back up to give him some room to breathe. Madison dodged to the side, spinning around the much larger man, and aimed a slash at the giant’s exposed back. He was rewarded by the feeling of his sword sinking cleanly through Garin’s naked skin and the sound of him howling in a primal, bestial pain.

  Madison dropped down low and thrust forward just as Garin spun around wildly with another backhanded slash. The pirate’s long sword passed over the top of Madison’s head, and Madison’s sword slid forward, severing the exposed tendons on the back of Garin’s right knee. The giant was carried around by his momentum, and without the ability to stop himself, he toppled to the ground in a massive heap. Madison rolled to the side in a clumsy and awkward maneuver, but he was back on his feet almost immediately.

  Finally seeing his opportunity, he lunged forward one last time and drove his sword down into Garin’s back. His sword was stopped before passing clean through his body, but Madison knew that it was a fatal blow. Still, unwilling to leave anything to chance, he hastily bent over, drew his boot knife, and dove on top of the larger man. The two struggled briefly as the giant tried to roll over on top of him, but the sword in the middle of his back made that impossible. Madison won out in the end by driving his knife into the side of the man’s neck. He twisted it around violently and then ripped it free, leaving behind a wound that he doubted any amount of healing or magic would be able to repair.

  Madison heaved giant breaths as he looked up from his position astride the fallen giant. The ground was marred by the signs of their battle, beaten and stained with blood, and the torches set up there had been cast aside and displaced. Alyanna had moved off to the side and was crouched just on the edge of the flickering light, and she was watching him with a fierce gaze that was a mixture of fear and fascination. He pushed himself to his feet, pulled his sword free from the pirate’s back, and slowly spun in a circle. He was watching the darkness for any sign of what it hid, but it was impossible to make out much of anything. He knew that there had been men all around the small, makeshift arena at the start of the fight, and he knew that they were still there now. What he couldn’t understand why. He could see their shadowy forms next to the brightly-burning braziers, but a heavy silence hung in the air and no one made so much as a move.

  Finally, Madison heard someone start toward him. He turned to face the man even before he stepped into the light, bringing his sword up in front of him uncertainly. Alyanna slid over to stand behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder protectively and peering out from around him. The man emerged from the darkness a moment later, and Madison dropped his guard down slightly. He was still ready to react at a moment’s notice, but he felt like he would have more than enough time to defend himself if it came to that.

  The man who stepped into the circle of light was clearly past his prime. He was middle-aged with dark, leathered skin and a portly belly, and he walked with a slight limp that was likely as much from an old injury as it was from the fact that he was on land not the deck of a moving ship. He was mostly bald with only a thin ring of wispy, white hair around the rim of his head, and while he looked like he could likely still hold his own in a fight, his
only sword was sheathed at his side. He studied Madison with an appraising look for a moment and then shook his head and sighed.

  He looked down at Garin’s corpse and said, “Ain’t our way to interfere with a duel between two captains, but I wish this had gone differently. I’ve no love for the bastard, but he’s what kept us united. Now, there’s goin’ to be in-fightin’ and squabblin’ over who’s the next cock to rule the roost.” He turned and spit into the dirt and said, “You’ve twenty-four hours reprieve, but you can almost guarantee that whoever comes out on top is goin’ to come after yah sometime sooner or later. They won’t want no loose ends, ya see. But, I suppose you know all that already.” He glanced down at Garin’s body once more and said, “Personally, I’m glad I was here to see this.” He turned then and started hobbling away as casually as he approached, leaving Madison and Alyanna to stare after him in disbelief.

  CHAPTER 25

  Madison had no idea what strange code of honor or behavior or whatever it was they followed said that pirates allowed a twenty-four-hour window of reprieve after two captains fought to the death, but he wasn’t going to correct anyone’s assumption that he wasn’t a captain. He stood planted until he saw the shadowy forms along the sides of the arena start silently filing out. Once that happened, he optimistically assumed that the older man had been telling the truth, so he turned away from Garin’s corpse and made his way back toward the gate.

  Much to his pleasant surprise, he found the others waiting for him there completely untouched.

  “You’re alive,” Shayna remarked even as Erin rushed to him. She began poking and prodding at him as was her usual custom. For all their fancy magic and healing abilities, he was becoming convinced that they still relied on winces and screams and pained facial expressions to tell whether or not someone was seriously injured. She pressed in on his ribs, fingered the cuts along his side and his ribs, and poked and prodded at his injured face. He could still taste the faint metallic tang of blood, but it wasn’t flowing as freely as it had been before he drank the little bit of medicine.

  “No more healing drought,” he said, suddenly remembering what had happened to the precious bottle. “We’re going to be relying on the little one from here on out and— Ah!” Madison winced as she poked the cut that ran along his hip particularly hard. He caught her glaring up at him from the tops of her eyes, and he assumed that she didn’t like being called little—another thing that she and her sister apparently had in common. Madison just snorted and then chuckled to himself, which earned him another sharp poke in a wound.

  “You really need to learn some bedside manners,” he said accusingly, glaring down at her.

  He looked over to Lord Fox next and found him studying his daughter’s face. Madison could only imagine the number of things that needed to be said between them. He had sold her out, and she knew it. She had damned him, and he knew it. Once their tempers died down, however, Madison had a feeling that they would find a way to work things out. They were both fiercely determined to protect their people at all costs, and no matter what, he knew that they would put them first no matter what their personal feelings for one another might be. It was clear that Fox wanted to say something, but whatever it was would have to wait.

  “Later,” Madison grunted. “This isn’t the time or place.”

  Fox’s gaze flickered over to him after a moment, and he nodded slightly. “Later then.”

  “If what they said is correct, we’ve got twenty-four hours to make good on our escape,” Madison said. “I have a feeling that window doesn’t apply to the groups of slavers or religious fanatics that call this place their home at the moment, however. So, pirates aside, there’re still hundreds of people between us and freedom. Anyone have any suggestions? Something better than charge forward, hack and slash our way out?

  “You mean you don’t want to just to put on your armor and cut your way through the enemy?” Shayna asked pointedly.

  Madison grimaced. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’m an idiot. Should have worn armor.”

  Erin reached up and punched him in the shoulder as a means of voicing her agreement.

  “Dumbass,” Shayna muttered.

  “Anyway,” Madison urged, “about getting out of here . . .”

  “Standing here doing nothing will not give us a solution,” Fox said. “Moving is better.”

  “For once we agree,” Madison said quietly. He glanced around him, measuring everyone’s fortitude, and then tested the gate. Fox had said it was locked before when he tried it, but it swung open as easily now as it had when Madison opened it the first time.

  “I don’t guess you could have just asked your new friends to let us walk out with them,” Shayna grumbled.

  “What do you mean?” He cast a glance up and down the road in either direction and stepped out into it once he was certain that no one was around. He had played everything casually up until this point so that he wouldn’t draw any unnecessary attention to him, and it had succeeded in getting him this far, but he was beginning to question his desire to escape with everyone alive and intact versus his need to not be discovered. He felt it was safe to assume that at least every pirate was going to know what had happened soon enough, and that would inevitably result in a bit of restlessness as news of their leader’s death spread throughout the entire encampment. He doubted that they would willingly share the news of Garin’s demise with either the slavers or the religious fanatics, but if the other two groups picked up on the fact that something was off, it would only serve to put them on edge and raise their awareness.

  He debated back and forth between donning his armor so they would be prepared for the fight that was inevitably coming and carrying on like he was so as to not draw any extra attention.

  “Where are we going?” Fox asked suspiciously. “Why are we headed west? It would be better if we just went south and escaped that way.”

  “No,” Madison answered curtly, his eyes constantly scanning the sides of the road. It was still rather dark despite moving away from the secluded area that they had been in previously, and every dark corner where a tent or other structure butted up against the road was a hole that could be hiding danger.

  “But—”

  Lord Fox began his protest again, but Madison immediately shut him down. “No,” he answered again. “We’re going west.”

  Madison watched out of the corner of his eye as Fox’s lips compressed into a thin line, but the man didn’t offer any more suggestions for the moment. Instead, he fell back a pace and then matched his strides to Madison’s. It was a simple mannerism, but it made Madison nervous nonetheless. He didn’t trust the man by any means despite his mission to rescue him, and Fox had quietly positioned himself in what was more or less Madison’s blind spot. He was within reach to lash out and attack at any point in time, and Madison wouldn’t likely ever see it coming. Now, instead of simply worrying about what was lurking in the shadows, he was also going to have to be mindful of what was striding along behind him as well.

  A clamor rose up as they made their way toward the west, and it seemed like word of what had happened finally began to spread throughout the camp. Madison had absolutely no idea how rumor could travel faster than they were, but he could watch it happen with his own two eyes. Groups of half-drunk pirates turned and stared in their direction as his small group strode past their campsite, but not a single one made a move to approach or stop them. There was yelling and shouting in his wake along with quite a bit of alcohol-fueled outrage, but not a single one seemed willing to break their code of conduct.

  The slavers, however, were a different story. As Madison had feared, they seemed to pick up on the fact that something had happened. Still, he very much doubted that anyone told them what it was. They snapped to attention and eyed his group suspiciously as they strode past, but there wasn’t enough cause for alarm yet for them to accost his small band outright. They might be on high alert, but that didn’t mean that they were willing to start troubl
e between the factions.

  Then, just as Madison began to believe that they were going to make it out of the camp without incident, he watched a man step out into the road in front him. Madison studied him for a moment, certain that he had seen him before, and when he realized who it was, he swore under his breath. This was the same man who had tried to buy Erin and Shayna earlier after they had first entered the camp. They had been more or less saved by the group of pirates who stuck their noses into the affair, quickly putting an end to things, and the fellow looked like he was itching to finish what he hadn’t been able to before. Madison slowed to a slow walk until he reached the man and then and reached and scratched the back of his head. Looking around, he realized that there was a handful of men openly approaching him and a dozen or so more watching from the safety of their campfire.

  “This really isn’t a good time,” Madison cautioned after surveying their numbers. The slaver had short, greasy, black hair, an overgrown five o’clock shadow, and he had been drinking quite a bit based on the smell of his breath and his glassy eyes.

  “Hello again, friend!” the man said, grinning through his teeth and completely ignoring Madison’s warning.

  “Move along,” Madison urged again, quietly but forcefully. Why anyone would even want to approach him was completely beyond his understanding. He could only imagine how he must look: his clothes were soaked in blood, he was openly carrying a giant two-handed sword that had obviously been used recently, his face had been smashed up pretty badly, and he was absolutely filthy, caked with dirt and mud.

  “We didn’t get to finish our business before, friend!” The slaver swayed from side to side as he spoke, betraying the fact that he was likely as drunk as Madison suspected. “Tell me: Where were we?” The man scowled, scrunching his face together as if trying to remember. “Oh, yes! You were just about to leave those two young women with me and . . . Oh, what is this? I see you have brought me another sweet young—”