The locations, major events and certain characters in these stories are taken from Theah, the setting for the 7th Sea role-playing game (http://www.swashbucklingadv.com/). These particular stories are based on logs from my own role-playing adventures in this exciting world (http://www.btinternet.com/~s.mci/7thsea/7thindex.html).
Theah is (sort of, but not quite) a fantasy version of 17th century Europe. It is filled with daring swordsmen, dashing pirates and dread villains. These stories are set in Montaigne (sort of, but not quite, France) and Avalon (sort of, but not quite, England). A young sailor joins the Sea Dog privateers of Avalon to find a life of adventure.
Please send any comments about this tale to s.mci@btinternet.com
Chapter Three
"So how exactly do we go about rescuing the captain?"
"Hmm?" Lizbeth moved sleepily in Sean's arms.
"I said, how are we going to rescue Captain Reynolds?"
Lizbeth propped herself up on one elbow and ran her hand across the muscles of Sean's chest, "Oh, the usual way, I suppose."
The two adventurers were sharing a bed in an inn a final half day's travel from Crieux. The 'Kingfisher' had carried the young couple along the Montaigne coast and put them ashore at another hidden inlet. It would be too dangerous for the Avalon ship to sail much closer to the military port with its patrol of heavily gunned frigates. Sean and Lizbeth would continue from here on foot and, hopefully, rendezvous with the 'Kingfisher' after freeing its captain from Montaigne's revolutionary authorities.
There had been no further challenge of Sean's leadership by the 'Kingfisher's' crew. Nevertheless, the pirate had kept Lizbeth locked in his cabin and tied to the bed for most of the short voyage - for her own protection, of course. The fact that she was incredibly beautiful, possessed both wits and charm, and was the most passionately determined woman that he had ever met, only slightly influenced his decision. In fairness, she had been a most willing prisoner. Lizbeth had been impressed by the young pirate's loyalty to his captain. His daring courage and reckless fighting style won further admiration. That he was handsome, strong and could melt her heart with a smile, were mere after thoughts.
As is the way of things, the two had fallen immediately in love - or lust at least, which is much the same thing in adventuring circles.
Sean looked into the deep brown of her eyes, "And what would be the usual way?" He reached out to brush her hair back and stroke the soft skin of her cheek.
Lizbeth nuzzled into his hand and placed a soft kiss on his palm, "Well, it generally involves a loud explosion - just enough to distract most of the guards. There'll be a quick fight through the confusion to reach the cells, followed by a stand-off battle while the guards recover and we free the prisoner. Then a final, frantic escape - possibly involving sewers, leaping from a great height or speeding away on waiting horses. The details tend to vary."
Sean stared at her with his mouth hanging open, "And you say I'm the crazy one?"
Lizbeth grinned and wriggled closer to him. One hand slipped beneath the covers and glided down the pirate's firm body, "You are the crazy one. That's why you'll lead the assault. I'm the smart one, so I'll prepare the distractions and keep you covered with musket fire." She bent down until their lips met in a long, tender kiss.
When they broke, Sean had his broad arms wrapped around her and had rolled her beneath him. His weight slightly crushed her breasts as he buried his face in her long hair, "I'm glad you've got a plan then. For a moment I thought we didn't know what we were doing."
"Oh, I always know what I'm doing," Lizbeth breathed warmly into his ear with a smile, "Here, let me show you ..."
Sean gasped as her exploring fingers sent a wave of arousal through his body. He reached down to restrain her teasing hand, "I hope you're not forgetting which of us is in charge?"
Lizbeth shaped her lips into an impudent pout, "I had assumed that it was me."
"Is that so? You seem to forget that you're still my prisoner. Maybe a little reminder is in order."
The young girl groaned an insincere protest. She frowned when Sean leaned over to pull a rope from their packs, but a mischievous smile still danced in her eyes. She allowed her new lover to roll her onto her stomach and draw her arms behind her back. The rope was loosely wrapped around her crossed wrists and tied in a quick and simple knot. Twisting to test the bonds, she discovered them comfortable and easily escapable - but escape wasn't really an objective at this point.
She heard Sean rummage beside the bed again and caught her breath in surprise. A dark band of silk was pulled across her eyes. He was using her own scarf to blindfold her. The captive grinned in anticipation - this was a new element to their games.
Strong hands shifted her onto her back, one broad arm supporting her below the shoulders. An unseen touch sent a shiver of delight across the girl's stomach. After only a few seconds the tickling caress unexpectedly disappeared, then, without warning, made renewed contact at her breasts, swiftly followed by the rough scratching of his beard as warm lips kissed the sensitive hollow of her neck. She gave a soft, crooning moan of pleasure. Without the ability to predict his movements, every touch felt deliciously exaggerated.
A flickering tongue toyed with her ear. Sean whispered a playful rebuke, "Now we see who is in command. We'll have no more of your cheek, my beautiful little vixen."
Lizbeth laughed at the simplicity of males. She lay back happily and luxuriated in Sean's sensual embrace. It was so easy to let men think that they were in charge, but a smart woman would always get exactly what she wanted.
"I'm sorry, what was the first question?"
Michel LePrev nodded to a guard and watched with grim satisfaction as a clenched fist was slammed into his prisoner's stomach. The Sea Dog captain doubled over, only held in his chair by the manacles locked on his wrists. The guard drew back his arm for another blow, but LePrev raised his hand to signal a halt.
"You must realise that I will learn all I desire eventually. You might as well save yourself some pain and just give me my answers."
Reynolds pulled himself upright and tried to regain a measure of composure. He had been held with only bread and water for the five days since the 'Kingfisher' was attacked. His interrogators had shown themselves more than willing to subject him to physical punishment. He was tired, in pain and weak, but he was damned if he would give this man what he wanted. Too many people would risk capture and execution if he betrayed them to this bloody revolution.
The captain glanced around the small cell and feigned a light-hearted air, "I must say, I don't rate these accommodations too highly. Is this what comes of letting servants act as rulers? I can't imagine that the idea will catch on."
LePrev glared. That arrogant, dismissive attitude was exactly what he loathed about so called nobility. The world would be a much better place when every nation threw off the shackles of monarchy. Let the streets run with the blood of kings if that was what it took.
He shook his head and moved to the cell's exit, "You disappoint me, captain, But no matter, I can be patient. Perhaps some time alone with my associates will loosen your tongue."
A bright moon shone down on the prison tower of Crieux. Pale, white light glowed on four cannons pointing over the military harbour and bathed the half dozen soldiers slowly patrolling the perimeter. The squat stone tower stood alone, four floors built from thick granite and surrounded by an outer defensive wall. A cleared area of some twenty to thirty yards isolated the fortification from the cramped warehouses and taverns of the neighbouring merchant docks.
Lizbeth leaned against one of those warehouses and checked her pocket watch. A few more minutes should give Sean time to creep into position. Gloved fingers cradled her rifle and cocked the hammer to its firing position. Lizbeth grinned with building excitement. Tonight's escapades would be by far the most daring of her adventures to date. As expected, a few hours brisk march had brought her and Sean into Crieux by noon. The rest of the afternoon had been spent in careful preparation. A few trusted contacts had confirmed the presence of the Avalon prisoner and had helped acquire the vital munitions that were the key to their plan's success.
The hands on her watch ticked around to midnight. Time to make some noise! The masked highwaywoman struck flint against tinder. Blue sparks jumped to life and leapt to the small mound of grainy, black powder at Lizbeth's side. The fuse powder flared with sulphurous smoke. With a slow, red flame it crackled and burned along a trail leading back across the cleared ground, arcing towards several crates and barrels stacked half way to the tower's imposing wall. The girl watched in wide-eyed fascination and clamped hands to her ears. There was an impossible moment of breathless pause when the burning fuse disappeared among the crates - and then the night exploded!
Barrels rocketed into the sky. A thunderous roar shook wooden buildings. Bright flames lit the docks and smouldering splints of wood rained down across the harbour. Chaos erupted at the prison tower. Guards on the walls rushed across to point towards the explosion. Those on the ground raised their guns and scanned for signs of attack. Now to let the hounds see the fox.
Lizbeth leaned out of her cover and fired her musket. Not pausing to see if her shot found its mark, she sprang to the opposite corner of the warehouse, drawing a pistol and firing again. The guards spotted her attacks. An alarm was shouted, return shots were fired and soldiers charged across the distance to the warehouses. Lizbeth was already running, taking a careless backwards shot with her second pistol.
She ducked between wooden buildings, dodging flying lead and pulling down obstacles to slow those in pursuit. The highwaywoman paused in a dark alley to reload her weapons, nimble fingers ripping open powder magazines and ramming home moulded shots. She could hear the calls of the soldiers fanning out to flush out their quarry. She edged cautiously out of the alley before firing two quick shots to begin the chase again, drawing the guards further away from the tower. Her twisting route curved away from the waterfront and towards the town centre.
A row of weathered shop signs were stacked beside the wall of a small workshop, waiting for repair and a fresh lick of paint. They provided excellent cover for Lizbeth to crouch and kneel behind. One, two, and then a third soldier moved past, glancing left and right, but never down. When the last had gone by and their voices drifted into the distance, she stood up and stepped into the open, tugging down her silk mask and revealing a broad grin. The distraction had worked perfectly. Hopefully Sean's job would be made that much easier.
"Very clever, my dear, but you weren't fast enough to escape all your hunters."
Lizbeth spun at the sound of the sinister whisper. A lean figure crept out of the darkness, moonlight gleaming on one golden tooth. A pistol was pointed in her direction.
"Tom Evans." Lizbeth raised her own gun on recognising the vile pirate, "What are you doing here?"
"We have unfinished business, you and I. O'Brien's not here to save you this time and I intend to make good on earlier threats."
"You fool! We're in the middle of a rescue, now is not the time for this." She lifted her pistol level with the man's head, "And besides, I am quite capable of defending myself."
Evans gave a soft laugh and stepped closer, "That gun has already been fired, whereas mine, I can assure you, is still primed and loaded. So unless you want your brains splattered on that wall, I suggest you turn around and place your hands behind your back."
He was right. Neither of her pistols carried shot and she could never hope to draw her sword before the pirate managed to fire. Lizbeth looked around. The signs which had provided cover now blocked her escape. If she ran blindly or raised too much noise then the soldiers would return - that would only mean more trouble. For now, it seemed surrender was the only course open.
The empty pistols were dropped to the ground. The girl turned away from the pirate and resignedly brought her arms back. Evans didn't waste time. Her wrists were immediately seized and twisted violently. Lizbeth gasped in pain as she was levered down to her knees. The sound only earned a sharp cuff to the back of her head.
She winced as rope was wound tightly around her wrists. Even through her gloves, she could feel the coarse fibre as it was pulled desperately tight. Her wrists had been crossed with her elbows sharply bent so that fluttering fingers pointed up towards the opposite shoulders. It was an incredibly painful way to be tied. Her joints immediately began to ache, protesting at being pulled so far from their natural position. Evans showed no mercy. He formed several more intricate knots, ensuring that the bonds could not slip loose and biting the rope even more severely into the abused heroine's wrists.
Yet still he wasn't done. One end of a second rope was secured again at her wrists, vertically cinching the first savage ties. A cruel pull of this new rope yanked Lizbeth's hands even further up her back. She stifled a cry and blinked tears from her eyes as white hot pain shot from shoulders to elbows. But this was to be only half the torment. The rope was looped twice around her neck, trapping her hair before being drawn dangerously tight. It felt like a band of iron was crushing her throat. The rough strands of the rope rubbed her soft flesh raw and it seemed like the very air burned as it tried to reach her lungs. Lizbeth's head was pulled backwards as the end of the rope was dropped down her back to be tied off at her aching wrists.
The girl was in agony. She didn't dare cry out or struggle, for fear of strangling herself still further. With her head tilted so far back, she could only stare helplessly through tear-filled eyes at watery stars. She couldn't concentrate on what was happening, couldn't focus on a plan of escape. Her thoughts were fully occupied with the distress of her torture and with the effort needed to continue sucking breath past her constricted throat.
Evans gave another callous laugh, delighted at the anguish in his captive's eyes. He seized a handful of chestnut curls and dragged Lizbeth away, "Better get off these streets. We'll need plenty of time and privacy for what I have in mind."
Drawing his cutlass and long knife, the young pirate crept along the stone bridge connecting half way up the tower. Moving with great stealth, he slipped inside the forbidding building and slid to a shadowy corner just inside the doorway. He paused to get his bearings.
To his right was the main floor area. An empty cell and bare table took up most of the space. Two of the prison guards stood at the far wall, watching the gun fight outside through a barred window. To his left a U-shaped balcony circled the other half of the level. It overlooked a drop down through the whole tower onto the ground floor far below. Two sets of stairs in the corners of the balcony's U lead to similar floors above and below.
Sean glanced at the guards and across to the nearest set of stairs. According to his information Reynolds should be held one level down. He weighed up his chances of sneaking down the stairs without the guards noticing him. Ah bugger it, he thought, he'd only have to fight them later anyway - best get it out of the way while he had the benefit of surprise.
Both guards spun at the sound of charging footsteps. Sean slammed the basket hilt of his cutlass into the face of one. A quick blow to the groin caused the unfortunate man's eyes to roll back before he collapsed. The remaining guard attacked with his rapier. Sean's knife deflected the blow and he struck again with the cutlass hilt. He gave a smile of triumph as the guard joined his companion in unconsciousness on the floor. So far, so good. He moved quickly to the stairs down to the next floor.
Unfortunately the guards here were not so sloppy. They were waiting with rapiers drawn and charged along the balcony to meet him as he left the staircase. Behind the guards, Sean could see Captain Reynolds. He was locked in a small cell, but appeared in relatively good health.
"Ah, captain. Good to see you. I'll be with you in just a minute."
Sean lashed out and sliced through ropes securing a large tapestry on the wall beside him. The heavy cloth started to collapse over the guards, but they weren't to be easily fooled. Both deftly stepped to the side before turning to brandish their weapons at the cocky Inishman.
Sean's grin faded in disappointment, "Blast. That was meant to work." He parried the first lunge from the guard before him. The sound of more voices caused his expression to drop further. Two more guards were coming at him from the opposite set of stairs. He found himself cornered with opponents closing from two directions.
"Um. This may take slightly longer, captain."
"Shut up and just fight, boy."
The flashing blades of his opponents gave weight to his captain's advice. Two deep cuts opened on Sean's upper arms and he barely blocked a more deadly thrust aimed at his chest. The pirate adjusted his stance and concentrated on using his cutlass more defensively. He parried another attack from the guard ahead then took a quick step and thrust upwards with his knife. Blood bubbled on the man's lips as he slumped forward. This time Sean did not pause to enjoy his victory. Even as the body was falling he spun around and once more punched with his cutlass hilt. An unpleasant crunch could be heard from the nose of the lead guard on the left before the man fell backwards. Two down, two to go.
The second two guards stepped up to replace their fallen comrades. Rapiers stabbed forward only to be batted back by the heavier cutlass. Sean closed with one opponent, scored a hit with his knife then cried out in pain as his second opponent struck at his exposed side. Regaining his breath, Sean repeated the move. His knife inflicted a fatal wound, but this time he was fast enough to pivot and put up a defence. That left one guard - much better odds. A few more blows was all it took to end the fight.
Sean bent to retrieve a set of keys from one of the defeated guards then rushed across to the cell containing Reynolds. He tossed the keys to his captain and leaned against a wall to rest. His left side was covered in blood and he could feel his arms tingling from the cuts he had been given.
"Good boy, Sean." The captain released himself and slapped Sean on the back, "Are the rest of the crew nearby?"
"Not really, sir. It's just me and a friend outside."
Reynolds gaped in astonishment, "You broke in here alone? That's insane." He paused to reconsider, "Good work, though. Come on, we better get out of here quickly before more guards arrive."
"I'm afraid it's much too late for that, captain."
A Montaigne voice called from the far side of the opposite balcony. A figure in a long overcoat was standing with a blade in each hand. Two uniformed soldiers were moving along the balcony, one to either side, blocking Sean and Reynolds' route to the stairs. The lead figure gestured with his rapier, "Put down your weapons and surrender."
"LePrev!" Reynolds recognised his captor and interrogator, "I would love nothing more than to give you a lesson in sword play. Unfortunately, my young friend here is quite badly injured and I myself still carry bruises from your gentle questioning. So I'm afraid you must excuse us. Sean, follow me."
With that said, the Avalon captain vaulted over the railing at the edge of the balcony and disappeared down the drop through the tower. Sean stood amazed for a second before spitting a curse and leaping after his captain.
Michel LePrev strode to the edge of the balcony and leaned over. The two pirates had crashed into a table on the ground floor below and were now sprinting towards the prison exit. Startled guards were still regaining their wits, picking themselves off the floor and only staring ineptly after the escaping prisoners as they fled into the night.
LePrev turned to his nearest lieutenant in a fury, "Get after those men! Seal the docks - no ship is to leave. And send patrols into the town. I don't care if you have to round up every cursed Avalon sailor in this port - I want Reynolds back in these cells!"
Lizbeth's hair felt like it was being torn out by the roots. Evans maintained his fierce grip on her beautiful, curled mane as he towed her along the narrow alleyways. His poor captive was forced to stumble behind, almost bent double and fighting against the impulse to jerk on the life-threatening rope strangling her throat. Pitiful moans of distress and pain accompanied her faltering progress, but with so little breath to spare, the cries were faint and almost inaudible.
The scarred pirate tested each door that they passed, after first cautiously checking for signs of life inside. The handle of this latest entrance turned smoothly under his grip and opened into a small office of some kind. The room was darker than the moonlit streets outside, but it was clearly unoccupied.
"Get in here, bitch," Evans hauled Lizbeth over the door step and shoved her inside.
The violent action caused the girl to lose her balance completely. She fell heavily onto the wooden floorboards, the jarring landing practically wrenching her twisted arms from their sockets. Her convulsive reaction could not help but spasm her bound wrists, in turn constricting the throttling neck rope by another few precious degrees. She gasped noisily and desperately for air, her face awash with unhindered tears of helpless despair. Booted feet scrambled for purchase on the floor, trying frantically to push herself upright, but her actions were too panicked and clumsy and she only crashed into a chair and flopped to the ground like some caught fish on a river bank.
"Keep still!" Evans snarled and reinforced his harsh words with a vicious kick to the stomach.
Whatever air she had left was expelled by the blow. Lizbeth's head was swimming. She was delirious with pain, terror and the lack of oxygen. The room seemed to glow brighter at the sound of a struck match, but Lizbeth's own vision was starting to blur, fading into a terrifying blackness. Her body felt cold, her mind numb and strangely detached.
"Oh, no, you're not getting away that easily."
Lizbeth had barely any perception of the movements around her body. Something large loomed over her and she felt a sharp tug that reduced the tension on her arms. Rough fingers fumbled near her neck. The burning ache at her throat subsided and, at last, she could inhale vital air. She lay quietly, without energy to even open her eyes. The pounding in her head continued, but her hammering heartbeat steadied and her breaths slowly grew stronger. The damsel passed into a faint, letting her body see to its own recovery.
Eyes fluttered open and awareness of the world gradually returned. She was still lying on the floor of the small office. A candle burned on a desk nearby, its flickering light revealing sparse furniture in a room barely ten feet square. Lizbeth's wrists were still securely tied. They remained crossed between her shoulder blades, no longer pulled quite so high, but still a terrible discomfort. The ache in her shoulders and elbows persisted and showed no signs of dulling. A rope was still coiled at her throat, but it was loose and, mercifully, no longer anchored to her wrists. The flesh of her throat felt that it had been rubbed raw, but at least she was in no danger of strangling herself.
Wincing at the effort required, the bound girl rolled onto one side. Evans stood by the window, peering into the gloom outside. His pistol rested on the desk beside the candle, but a sharp knife was in easy reach on his belt. The highwaywoman's own sword and guns were stacked on the floor beneath the table.
"Please," Lizbeth's pleading voice was shaking, weak and afraid. "Please," she begged, "Let me go. I'll say nothing to Sean or your captain. Just let me go free." She was too tired, too sore to struggle or make an effort to escape. She could only pray that her captor would find some compassion in his heart, that he would change his mind and end her suffering.
Evans turned from the window and sneered with contempt at his defenceless prisoner. Compassion had never been one of his virtues. "Good, you're awake again. I would have been disappointed to lose you so quickly." He strode across and knelt by Lizbeth's head, "It's pretty deserted outside at the moment. I doubt we'll be disturbed before morning, but I think I'll take measures to ensure you stay nice and quiet."
A soft rag was taken from his pocket and folded into a large wad. His hand reached forward and stuffed it past Lizbeth's curved lips. Evans' actions were as brutal as ever. He forced the cloth deep past the captive's teeth and into the back of her mouth. She choked and tried to spit the foul material out, fearful of suffocating again. The pirate responded by drawing back his hand and slapping her across the cheek.
"You don't dare defy me, girl," he warned, lifting his hand back and leaving a stinging slap on the other cheek.
More tears welled in her eyes, but Lizbeth's struggles subsided. Another rag was pushed into the half-filled cavity of her mouth. Evans' grubby fingers prodded the cloth until it settled behind her teeth and bulged out her cheeks. He brought out a final long length of cloth and used it to complete the gag, wrapping it around her head and between her lips. A firm knot secured the band tightly behind her head, holding the packing in place and preventing all but the faintest of sounds from escaping. Lizbeth's nostrils flared. Her cheeks were crammed and her jaws held wide, but, thankfully, she could still breath through her nose.
Gnarled fingers clawed into her hair, locking onto each side of her head and forcing her glistening eyes to look into those of the pirate. Evans' stare smouldered with malevolence, "Trust me, you'll be grateful for that gag when the screaming starts. The inconvenience of a few ropes will be nothing to the pain I plan to show you. And when you have no more screams to offer then I'll use your broken body to take my own pleasure. You're mine, bitch, and no one will save you this time."