[center][img] http://i.imgur.com/PXheJ60.png [/img][/center]

There was a rumbling. It broke through the rain and the fear, and concentrated minds fully on it. 

Rain fell like fresh taps from a spring morning; like the impatient games of siblings waiting for breakfast. 

[i]It was like one of those spring mornings as Leonard awoke to the blue sky overhead, the smell of the morning dew rising in his perked nostrils, the tickling of the grass on his face. His vision of the sky was interrupted by blonde locks, tumbling waves of light crimson hair which draped over him like a willow weeps. He could smell the hay in her hair and he closed his eyes once more to take in the odor. 

“Are you going to wake up now?” Her curt soft voice said as she righted herself, revealing her heart-like face. She was a child again, and so was Leonard. He’d slept out here all night, wanting to keep away from the ghosts in his home. As he sat up he could feel the wetness on his back. “Your shirt’s ruined! Mum won’t be happy about that.”

Young Leonard just stared ahead at a magpie leaning into a far off puddle. Prissy came into view again and pulled her hair behind her ear as she smiled at her brother. 

“Leo, Lee…” she addressed him softly. 

“Hmm.” 

“Lee, I didn’t see any ghosts tonight. I… I slept in your room and there was no ghost. You can come back now.”

Leonard followed the motions of the magpie as it bathed in the puddle. His lips parted and he glanced at his sister. A pain erupted in his head and he could feel moisture coming from his eyes. A deep sadness overtook him and it was reflected in his face. 

“What’s wrong?” Prissy asked, “what’s wrong, Leo?”

Young Leonard could hardly control his babbling, “I… I—it’s just…. It’s you, Priscilla. Yuh—you’re the ghost.” He said exasperated. [/i]

“It’s you! It’s you!” he screamed in the rocking caverns of the gun deck. The small bursts of consciousness Leonard achieved were generally filled with frightened screaming or gurgled cries. The doctor worked on him currently as several sailors kept Leonard in place. 

“Is this normal doctor?” one of the sailors asked the punchy looking fellow with a slightly balding scalp and mutton chops; this was of course the ship’s very own surgeon Philipe de Alondorese. 

He was an Iberian mutt with quick hands and a sharp mind. His built frame may confuse people into thinking he was a fighter or some sort of journeyman. In fact he was one of the leading experts on field surgery in the peninsula and had several published essays to back him up in that regard. He stitched Leonard as best he could with one hand, as the other held his dislocated jaw in place. Philipe’s dark green eyes moved over the tattered skin and bloody bones with a hesitant interest. He seemed like a man who had to temper his passions; even the mostly unconscious Leonard could see that. 

“As normal as I could ask for in a situation like this. You said it’s a disembodied suit of armor then?” Philipe would rather be distracted from his current work than by it; it was simply a matter of preference for him. 

“Yes, sir. As black as pitcoal, harder than diamond. It let off a red aura…” the scraggly sailor recounted from memory. 

“And you say there was a light after that as well.” Philipe asked as he quickly hooked in another stitch and threaded it through. 

“Yes, and the thing was encased in a bubble of light. It was the most spectacular thing I’d ever seen, the rays of yellow and red crashing against each other in the space before me. It was… it was magical. But we had to bring him to you so I didn’t see much else.”

Philipe finished the row and asked for the thread to be cut by his assistant, what seemed to be a young boy with chin length black hair. The assistant also took hold of the jaw as Phillip slipped away from Leonard’s body. He took a moment to clean his hands in a bucket of pink water and glanced at the tiny holes in the deck above them. 

“There doesn’t seem to be a light anymore.” He said thoughtfully. “It makes you wonder what this trip is really about.” 

The sailor nodded and looked up at the holes himself. Philipe turned in his stool to work on Omero again. He placed a bandage over a sealed cut on the man’s forehead and then tied it with twine. 

[hr]

There was a rumbling. It broke through the rain and the fear, and concentrated minds fully on it. 

As the brilliant bolt of light shone from the hands of the woman on the stern she let out an inaudible shriek. As the light came into contact with the Harbinger, the metal suit was enveloped. 

Red splattered against the inside of the bubble of yellow light and pounded to release itself. A low humming came from somewhere in the bubble as it slowly ascended above the broken roof of the navigation room. Suddenly the bubble expanded to double it’s size, nearly enveloping the people below. Just as suddenly, however, the bubble collapsed in on itself and imploded; leaving nothing behind but sparks of red and yellow. The ship shook a bit with the explosion and slowly rocked back into the metronome of the sea. The lance hidden under rubble disappeared and more of the debris collapsed into the captain’s quarters. It's proprietor would not be happy with that, though he could hardly complain with his life still intact as it was. He coughed a fresh breath into his lungs and groaned in pain as he released himself from the hole in the wall in which he was currently lodged. “Christ, that fucker can kick.” He said in a strained voice. All in all, however, he seemed fine. He helped Alistair up from where he laid, grasped his hand tightly after he was up.  “Thank you” was etched into his dark eyes, though he never said the words. He hobbled away toward Epu and the main deck. 

“Where’s Leonard?” was the first thing the Captain asked. 

“Downstairs, being taken care of. Are you alright?” Epu asked incredulously. 

“Yes, I’m fine. What happened to Leonard?” Emilio asked as he took a look at his broken ship. 

“He’s battered and bleeding, has a broken jaw. Philipe said he should be able to fix it.” Epu rushed out, grabbing his captain gently by the arm, “are you sure you’re alright. I watched you get hit by that thing. It seemed like a force of nature.”

“And he hit like a thunder strike, too,” Emilio joked as he tried to limp toward the main deck. 

“I’m not kidding.” Epu said quietly, yanking Emilio back. “You should have died.” He whispered. 

Emilio could only glare at his friend. He couldn’t lie to him, but he didn’t have to tell him the truth either. “You should know more than anyone that I am quite difficult to kill.”

The two shared a moment of truth together, one of those moments which seeps into the fabric of time like cheap wine; it will always be there, but no one ever wants to talk about it. At that moment the woman draped in black sauntered down the steps from the poop deck. She walked toward the little group with a smile. 

“Well done, Cicatrise. You managed to keep most of your crew members alive.” She said placing her hand on her hip. “I thought maybe you’d find some way to fuck it up.”

“Take a good look around. Some would say I have.” Emilio responded. Epu wanted to leave but could tell Emilio wanted him close by. “The deck is partly blown to hell. The navigation room is unusable.” He whispered these next words, “and according to you there’s a marauding ship somewhere between here and Morocco. How do you expect I feel?”

“You’re a talented man,” she responded cooly, “I’m sure the Dread Pirate Cicatrise isn’t afraid of some second rate brigandines.”

Emilio scoffed, “you don’t know shit, lady. This ship can’t handle a fight. Do you understand? The sailors need clear flooring to move and efficient organization. My boatswain has a fucking dislocated jaw and the main deck is battered to shit!”

“Who is this woman? Why do you need to explain things to her?” Epu asked.

“I just saved all of your lives, and it looks like I may need to do so again. So I’d watch your words, American.” She responded bitingly. Epu chuckled at her haughty ignorance and walked away. “I’m sure you can handle some holes in the ship and your communications, you’ve proven yourself to be resourceful."

“You know a fair bit about us, but I don’t even know your name.” Emilio said, frustrated, as he slicked his hair back again in the dwindling rain. 

“Alana, does that make it easier?” she said with a smile. 

“Not particularly, but it’s nice to know. We’ll have to speak about what you did to the Harbinger later.” Emilio said. 

“No, we don’t have to, but I imagine that you’ll want to anyway. I’m sure everything will be clear to you in time.”

“In time I’ll be dead, and it’ll be all your fault.” Emilio said facetiously. 

“Really? Hmm, you seem to be quite susceptible to life. And if memory serves, I can’t even get a scratch to stick on you.” Alana rebutted as she brought her hand to his neck, the same place she’d let her knife cut him before. There was nothing, no pain, no blood, no cut. “Spiritum Aeternum, Cicatrise. Your spirit is your body, and your spirit is eternal.” She said as she brought her hand to his chest. 

Waves of fear and excitement and anxiety wracked Emilio’s entire body as those words were said to him again. His confusion turned into some degree of understanding, and he was resigned to annoyance instead. 

“How long do we have?” he asked. 

“Maybe a day. Perhaps less. I’ll have a better answer in a few hours.” Alana said as she walked back to the stairs to take a seat. The rain had begun to die down, Epu was guiding the sailors into position. 

“It could happen in a few hours.” Emilio opined.

“Yes,” Alana admitted, “it could.” With no more than a second glace Emilio headed toward the gun deck to check on Leonard. On the way he asked a boy to gather others to fetch Pablo’s corpse from under the wreckage in his quarters.

[hr]

In only a couple of hours most of the wreckage and debris had been removed from the ship, and some of the gaping holes had been covered with plied boards. It wasn’t perfect, but the [i]Burned Bitch[/i] was in mostly working order. The entirety of the boat seemed alive in the twilight hours, even if that activity was muddled by dread and distaste. As the ball of energy and fire rose into the sky Emilio came back up from the gun deck, bags drooping under his eyes. The sun seemed to shock him as it illuminated the effects of the botched first night. He sat at one of the only undamaged tables and contemplated the business at hand; the herald of which was making her way over to the table. Alana leaned against the banister and glowed in the sunlight. Now that he could see her clearly in the light, Emilio noticed an eminent darkness about Alana. Her makeup was dark, but her pale skin seemed to accentuate the even darker tones around her. She had soft and round features which were framed by sharp bangs. She wore slick black leather armor from neck to toe, most of which was covered with pockets and belts. Her hands and parts of her arms were covered by a dark blue velvet, and the entire suit seemed to have an unearthly sheen. 

“I’m almost done with the calculations, it shouldn’t be much longer before I have the information you need. I should say that I’ve been impressed by your crew. Not just your mates either.” She said in a slight sweetness. 

“You’d be surprised what true sailors could do to keep a ship running.” Emilio responded from between his hands. 

“Oh? It’s not all that different from what a man might do to save his own life. There is nothing surprising about situations like that in this world, and certainly nothing surprising about what one will do to release oneself from those situations. In fact, I think you might be surprised by how little surprises me.”

Emilio tried to wade through the cloudiness of his mind for something sharp, but gave up, “Of that I have no doubt. Surprise seems to be under your employ.”

“Perhaps you should take a page from my book then. For example, no one is expecting you to tell the truth.” Alana said with a devious smirk. 

Emilio peered into her eyes, the rich amber hue calling out to him. He seemed to have a realization and went to fetch Epu. 

The Incan warrior was busy detailing some boys on needed resources from the stores when Emilio interrupted him. “I need all non-vital personnel above deck.” He whispered to his confidant before walking away.
 
As Epu handled the arrangements of the meeting Emilio went to his cleaned out quarters. Some loose debris still littered the ground. Near the entrance was a white fabric draped over a frail body. Emilio dropped to the ground next to it. He’d asked for it to be left in the room in order to maintain some semblance of order among the crew, he wished now that he hadn’t. He brought his head down to the corpses chest, heard the silent echoing chant of the dead. Something uncurled in Emilio’s chest and he felt an onslaught of emotions lapping over the edge of the bulwark of his confidence. Like a tipping cup, there was nothing at first. It was only until the first tear fell that it all came out at once. He wept over Pablo’s body as his mother would, and he felt a certain reassurance in that. Someone would need to weep for this boy, and Emilio could only hope someone would do the same for him when his eternal soul was returned to the earth at last.