by C. B. Ash
"The shot will have been heard by my crew," Thomas Clark snarled at Hardy as he stepped back from the Fomorian sailors, keeping them at arm’s length from him, "they'll be here in moments!”
"Idiot," Dr. Hardy snorted, "I assist with your duty roster. Had you been less obsessed with your 'mission' you might have noticed a few shift changes. The only sailors nearby are mine," the man hissed, “save for the sheep trussed up on the floor.”
Dr. Llwellyn waved Angela’s concern away, grimacing as he pushed up, slowly struggling to stand. "Are you a doctor or a butcher?” Thorias demanded with a venomous look at Dr. Hardy.
“No, I consider myself a visionary,” the murderer replied as if he was explaining to a child. He looked down his long, thin nose at Thorias. “Given you are an elf, and a Welsh elf at that, I doubt you are any less of a cur than your Tuatha Dé Danann ancestors. So, naturally, I won’t waste my valuable time trying to explain Fomorian enlightenment to a lesser race.” Hardy sniffed, giving Thorias a sour look, “now be good and shut up. I wish to speak to someone of more reasonable intelligence.”
Captain Hunter was tense, every muscle on the verge of motion for the instant that Dr. Hardy became vulnerable. Anthony ached for a pistol, a knife, anything at that moment. “What,” Hunter said ice crackling from each word,” … do you … want?”
Dr. Hardy smiled brightly, “direct and to the point, eh, Hunter? Commendable. First, I want you away from that door to the infirmary, and more out in the open. Wouldn’t do for you to interfere.” Hardy gestured with the revolver for Hunter to stand next to Thorias and Angela. Slowly, Hunter complied, his entire demeanor indicating he would break Hardy the very moment the chance presented itself.
The captain stopped a few paces short of Thorias and Angela, anger seething in his eyes. One of the Fomorian sailors walked over and roughly searched the captain for weapons. After a moment, the seaman shook his head, releasing his grip on Hunter’s clothes.
“Not even a knife on ’em,” the Fomorian sailor said to Dr. Hardy.
Hardy smiled, “excellent. Perhaps now we can reach an amicable agreement over this,” the thin man said as if searching for a word, “misunderstanding, wouldn’t you say?”
Hunter’s frown darkened, his eyes burning with the fury of a blast furnace. “No, I would not.”
“Ah, Captain,” the thin doctor, still dressed in the senior lieutenant’s uniform, said as he casually began to pace, waving idly with the revolver, “such a narrow view. Still a touch of anger over that dust up on the Fair Winds? It was just a small bit of appropriation. Pity you were in the way and all that.”
“Those were people that were abducted,” Hunter said slowly, words thick with tension, “not cattle.”
Hardy spun quickly to face Hunter with reptilian smile, “now that would depend on one’s point of view, wouldn’t it? However, that’s unimportant for our little discussion.” The doctor gestured towards Thorias with a free hand. "I doubt your doctor will enlighten us on this matter, so I will present my demands to you. The Hellgate formula. Hand it over and we can leave all of this behind us.”
Hunter folded his arms over his chest, a stubborn look on his face. "Pray tell, why do you think I know where it is? During your masquerade, you knew when I was brought aboard. I've scarcely had time to shave, let alone run about the ship and track down the whereabouts of your illicit toxin.”
Hardy nodded, followed by a small shrug as he began to pace. "Quite, but you have some sort of influence on your … comrade … there," he replied indicating a very angry Thorias. "Perhaps enough to encourage him to hand it over."
"I’ll not tell the likes of you anything!" Thorias interrupted, fists shaking with anger.
Angela looked wide-eyed from Dr. Llwellyn to Dr. Hardy, then back. Quietly, she stared at her quivering hand, closed her eyes, and concentrated. For a moment, and only a moment, her skin darkened as the smallest down of fur started to grow. As quickly as it started, it then stopped, leaving Angela exhausted and disappointingly still human.
Hardy glared at Dr. Llwellyn, “Doctor or no, be quiet! I’ve no intention of dealing with your kind!”
“Dr. Llwellyn is quite correct,” Hunter replied with a cold, calm voice, his eyes locked on Dr. Hardy’s. After a heartbeat, Captain Hunter slowly started to pace the width of the corridor, causing the thin doctor to constantly shift his aim. “You see, none of us have any intention of letting that formula loose, especially if it means allowing it into Fomorian hands.”
“Indeed?” Dr. Hardy replied, his eyes cold as ice while his frown deepened.
“If at all possible, yes,” Hunter continued with a faint smile. “You see, I, for one among us, never bargain while being held at gunpoint. I’ve found in doing so, I will forever be on the wrong end of the deal.” The captain stopped pacing, just a half-step in front of Thorias and Angela. “Also, I prefer to know the real identity of whom I’m dealing with.”
“What do you mean?” Dr. Hardy demanded, adjusting his grip on the weapon.
“You’re no more this ‘Dr. Hardy’ than I am,” Hunter explained with a smirk. “You Sirrah, are a bold deceiver … a lackey to the real Dr. Hardy. Dr. Llwellyn is actually a real doctor. You? I suspect are merely a cheap fraud.”
Chapter 36
The corridor was unearthly still. Two of the Fomorian sailors looked uncomfortable, though the man calling himself Dr. Hardy maintained a superior look on his face, even if panic shone for a moment in his eyes. "I … I am a fraud?” Hardy said in tight, thin voice. “Where is your proof?”
Hunter nodded, folding his arms over his chest, accepting the challenge, "simple enough, really. You worked your way onto this ship to gain a Senior Lieutenant's position. That takes time and dedication. Something that would never allow you the opportunity to gain access to the items stolen from the Fair Winds, nor to examine them, let alone appear on Port Signal to sell them. Or, specifically, in a stroke of sheer idiocy, sell the very formula you're hunting. No matter who or what else you are right now, you are not this ‘Dr. Hardy’.”
The gunman’s hands shook with anger, knuckles turning white as he gripped the revolver. He forced a thin smile upon his face. “Bravo, Captain. Excellent deduction. My real name is Brin Nash. However, I am the one with the weapon, yes? So who here is the fool?”
Captain Hunter smiled, “the man who employs a crew incapable of properly searching a captive!”
Anthony yanked a small dagger free of the sheath hidden up his sleeve. Quick as a blink, the captain flipped the knife over in his hand and hurled it at the false ‘Dr. Hardy’, then spun to square off against the nearby Fomorian sailor.
At the first glint of the knife, Nash jerked to his right, but only a fraction of a second too slow. The knife slammed into the man’s left arm, just below the shoulder. He glared hellish daggers at Hunter.
“An eye for an eye, Captain!” Suddenly, Nash turned again and squeezed the trigger. His revolver bucked in his hand, and a bullet slammed into another helpless sailor, killing him instantly.
“No!” Hunter shouted, too late, as he sidestepped his Fomorian guard and surged towards Nash. However, before he was out of reach, the Fomorian hammered a hard right fist into the captain’s mid-section, which dropped Hunter to his knees.
Dr. Llwellyn also tried to rush the lunatic, but was bodily slammed against the wall for his trouble. Waves of pain shot through him, radiating from raw wound in his side.
Angela jerked wide-eyed at the shock of the noise, then squeezed her eyes shut, desperately concentrating. She turned even more pale as she shuddered, trying to force herself to change. Despite her best efforts, she failed.
Behind Nash, Captain Clark dove at the gunman with a snarl, bound hands outstretched for the killer’s throat. The young man managed only two steps before one of the Fomorian sailors rammed a strong, calloused fist across his mouth, splitting his lip. Clark staggered forward, falling face first onto the deck.
Nash immediately turned his
revolver back on Hunter, allowing the captain only a moment to take just one more step closer. “I will kill as many as it takes!” The gunman yelled, reaching up to slowly, painfully pull the knife from his shoulder. “You, your doctor, the girl! Anyone! Now the formula, if you please!”
Hunter exchanged a glance with Thorias. The elven doctor’s face was conflicted mix of rage and pain.
Nash grimaced as the knife worked its way free. He slammed the blade to the floor, then started to turn his pistol towards Captain Clark, who had just rolled over onto his back, dazed and unaware of the risk to his life.
“Stop!” Thorias exclaimed. “Enough!” His voice cracked with stress and exhaustion, “for Heaven’s sake, enough butchery … you won’t find it in the infirmary. I keep it on me at all times.” As Dr. Llwellyn explained this, he slowly withdrew a small sheaf of papers covered with calculations from his vest pocket.
Angela reached over, clutching at his sleeve. “Doctor, no, please don’t!” she begged in a hushed tone.
Thorias gave the girl a sad glance, then looked away, “I have to,” he replied quietly, “I won’t risk any more lives over it. As long as there is life, there is hope. If he kills us all for it, then there’s no hope.”
“Bloody sweet sentiment, Doctor, now give me those!” Nash said as he rushed over and snatched the notes away from Thorias.
“Choke on them,” Thorias growled.
Nash ignored the comment, instead greedily sifting through them. “Excellent,” he purred, “you made a wise choice, Doctor, most wise. We’ll be leaving all of you now to your ‘hope’ and ‘life’.” Nash stuffed the papers into a pocket, then waved a hand idly in the air as he walked away down the corridor. “Take the girl. We’ll need to examine her more closely.”
“No!” Dr. Llwellyn roared, lunging forward while Angela yelped, backing away as far as the wall would allow. All around the corridor, everyone moved at once.
One sailor grabbed Angela and hauled her, along with her blanket, over next to him. The girl’s legs collapsed, as she was still suffering from the after-effects of the elixir. She frowned in hard concentration and clawed at the Fomorian, but with little effect as her strength – and her ability to change shape – had not quite returned.
Another Fomorian henchman turned on the doctor, intent on slamming the irritating Welsh elf into the wall again. He swung and missed as Thorias, in a burst of anger-fueled adrenaline, ducked low, then hammered a hard right fist into the side of the sailor’s knee!
Howling in pain, the man fell forward, grasping for the doctor as he easily slipped past to charge at the man holding Angela. A few steps away from the young girl, Nash turned at the commotion, holding his wounded shoulder and glowering toward Thorias.
“Deal with him already!” Nash ordered sharply.
Captain Clark shook his head, quickly rolling over and unsteadily scrambling to his feet. Beside him, two of the remaining sailors loyal to him climbed to their feet, rushing at another Fomorian who had turned towards Thorias with a drawn knife! The two seamen slammed the Fomorian into a wall, knocking the wind out of him.
Hunter, meanwhile, took the opportunity to ram his artificial fist across the jaw of the Fomorian closest to him. The sailor staggered back, shook his head, then lunged for Anthony. However, Captain Hunter was ready.
As the Fomorian stepped in close, Hunter moved to the guard’s left, ramming a punch into Fomorian’s stomach, followed by a hard right to the point of the guard’s chin. The Fomorian swayed on his feet, his eyes slowly crossing.
“Fragile as glass without your little concoction,” Hunter said with a smirk to the dazed sailor. “Let's keep it that way, shall we?” Reaching into the sailor’s uniform, Hunter pulled out a now familiar vial of elixir, then shoved the Fomorian away.
The guard fell like a tree, collapsing to the floor, then groaned in pain. Hunter smashed the vial to the deck at the Fomorian’s feet, the yellow liquid, pooling uselessly on the floor.
Watching the fight, Nash’s left eye twitched with barely suppressed rage. He stepped back as Thorias collided with the Fomorian holding Angela. The doctor knocked the guard against the wall, nearly knocking the wind from him.
Angela immediately squirmed, clawing furiously at the guard, but with little result. The Fomorian simply tightened his grip on the girl, determined to keep her captive. With the other hand, he swung to block a punch from Thorias. Immediately, Thorias redoubled his efforts, smashing a fist across the point of the guards jaw!
“I hate Tuatha Dé Danann! I should’ve killed you the moment I saw you!” Nash snarled. He quickly stepped over and hammered the barrel of his pistol across Dr. Llwellyn’s head, instantly knocking him unconscious.
“Idiot!” Nash roared to the surprised Fomorian, shoving the papers at him. “Get these and her out of here! Now! I’ll tidy up this mess.”
“Aye,” the sailor replied, tossing a shivering, weak Angela over his shoulder like a sack of flour before racing away down the corridor.
Nash raised a hand to his coat just as Captain Thomas Clark shoved a shoulder into the gunman’s ribs, bending the man sideways!
“Not bloody likely!” Clark roared, jamming a knee into Nash’s midsection and ripping the wind from him. Despite the rope still binding Thomas’ hands, he balled his fists and swung, but missed as Nash managed to just dodge aside while wheezing for air.
The gunman immediately replied to the captain’s assault by smashing an elbow into Clark’s face, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch! Clark’s knees buckled as he dropped to the floor.
“Where’s the captain?” A muffled voice shouted from another corridor away. “Captain Clark?” Running footsteps immediately followed, heading towards the infirmary.
Standing over Clark’s battered form, Nash pulled back the hammer on his revolver, “yes, it’s past time to tidy up!” Then squeezed the trigger.
Chapter 37
As the revolver spat flame, Thomas Clark jerked to his right, still on his hands and knees, knocking Nash’s feet out from under him with a mule kick. The gunman fell hard to the floor sideways with a grunt of pain.
“Here!” Clark shouted. “Near the infirmary! There’s a mutiny! Senior Lef’tenant …”
Clark's last words were abruptly cut off as Nash rolled over and slammed a fist into the side of the captain’s head. Captain Clark’s head turned sharply before he collapsed, prone, to the deck. With a sneer, Nash started to climb to his feet, but got only as far as kneeling before one of the Intrepid’s sailors struck Nash across the mouth with his bound fists.
Nash fell backwards hard, shaking the cobwebs from his head. Immediately, with murder in his eye, he raised his pistol and fired, the bullet catching the sailor in his arm and spinning him off his feet. The gunman hesitated as the sounds of running footsteps and angry shouts drew closer by the second.
“You’ve lost, Nash!” Hunter growled, “surrender!”
A few feet away, the last Fomorian guard battered the nearest bound sailor against the wall until he hung limp in the guard’s hands. Regaining his breath, the guard tossed the limp victim aside like a discarded sack of grain, then painfully scrambled to his feet. He turned just in time to avoid a wicked uppercut to the kidneys from Captain Hunter. The guard swung at Anthony with a snarl of rage. Anthony quickly ducked under the blow.
Nash leaned against the wall, slowly, painfully pulling himself upright, glaring around him like a caged animal. He glanced over his shoulder through the hatch. In the distance, seven sailors armed with pistols were heading their way. Nash glanced back to where Hunter desperately fought to subdue one of the guards.
“Surrender?” Nash said, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip, favoring his undamaged left leg, “not before I’m done with you!” He pulled up the revolver, aiming for Hunter’s back, and squeezed the trigger. Save for a deadly-sounding click, nothing happened. The revolver had jammed!
Hunter hammered a blow to the guard’s stomach, doubling him ove
r. On hearing the telltale click, the captain glanced quickly towards Nash with an alarmed look, only to be struck across the face by a calloused Fomorian fist. Pain exploded in his skull as his vision momentarily blurred. He lashed out with two quick punches, like a snake striking out for its very life. The first doubled the Fomorian over, the second smashed across the guard’s face, dropping him his knees, stunned.
A few feet away, Nash shook the useless revolver, yelling in a wordless rage as his temper exploded in a white-hot fury. Slamming the revolver to the deck, he ripped a small vial of yellow liquid from his coat. He shattered the neck of the container against the wall, then downed the entire contents in one swift drink.
No sooner had Nash swallowed the elixir than it began to take its usual effect. The gunman gasped, as if unable to breathe. His skin flushed, turning a deep crimson. The man’s eyes bulged while he struggled for air. All over, his body began to spasm uncontrollably.
Panting heavily, Anthony snatched up the jammed revolver, slamming the barrel down across the skull of the last Fomorian guard. The man twitched, falling to the deck unconscious. Quickly, Hunter kicked his bloody knife over to the wounded, gunshot sailor who was coming back to his senses.
“Cut yourselves loose! Help your captain up, then make for the main deck!” Hunter said, quickly examining the revolver, then shoving it into his holster. “We’ve only a few minutes before that bastard completes his change. Seal the door shut behind you! I’ll go the other direction and shut that one. Also, send word to stop anyone seen carrying a young girl!”
“Sir, we’ve reinforcements coming,” the sailor protested. “We’ve won …”
“Belay that!” Hunter barked back, “Take yourselves, your captain and your reinforcements away from here. What you don’t know is that the Fomorian’s have left a bomb in the infirmary, strapped to someone in there! Don’t argue with me, lad! Move! I can’t worry about all of you while I’m seeing to that bomb and the others here!”