Swashbuckling in the Dark

Chapter Six

Things were not going at all well.

Worthington was a bonny fighter, and he always seemed to catch up to him at the worst of times. Perhaps Worthington knew when Dark was at his most vulnerable.

"Curse you, Byrne!" he spat, taking a step backwards and narrowly avoiding tripping.

Dark managed to keep his balance atop the cart, keeping his hunter at bay. On his ship, fighting was easy and natural. Land was not his element, however, and as a result Worthington had caught the upper hand.

Still, the element of surprise worked in Dark's favor. He kicked out, startling the captain, and leapt off the cart, taking them both into the dirt.

Dark drove his fist into Worthington's face, momentarily stunning him. When he stood up, Dark came face to face with Tallera. She was loose.

"Tallera!" he growled, part in surprise and part in anger.

"Damn you, Dark!" Tallera cursed. She was equally disgruntled to run into him as he was to discover that she'd escaped. Her hands were unbound.

Worthington was getting to his feet, using the nearby cart for support. To Dark's surprise, Tallera launched at the other captain, knocking him down once again. With a grunt, he toppled over, landing flat on his stomach. She drove her knee into Worthington's back, slipping a dagger from her boot and holding it to his throat.

"Don't move," she warned, tapping the edge of the blade against his skin. Dark grinned. She hadn't changed.

Seeing that she had the situation with Worthington under control, he spun to assess the progress of the brawl. His men were scattered through the street, entangled with Worthington's men. Next his eyes landed on Zaina, who had just emerged from the squabble, dusty and annoyed.

A spark of fear crossed her face and Dark stopped in his beeline towards her. There was a warning in her eyes.

The thunder of a horse's hooves in the dust reached his ears, and the next moment his arm felt as if it had been torn clean off. The entire world flipped, and then disappeared as seeing became impossible.

Something had taken hold of Dark's arm and was trying to pull it free from his body. All he could do was thrash blindly in an attempt to get loose.

He couldn't see. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even scream as his body collided with the ground a thousand times over, every single bone seeming to crunch as he was dragged through hell itself.

After he was no more than a pile of bones being tossed around in a bag of skin, he came blissfully to a stop.

Everything hurt. Dark wheezed, finally able to see after the dust cleared from his eyes. A cheery blue sky greeted him. He wanted to die.

"Oh, thank God!"

          Damn. He was still alive.

          Someone moved his arm and he howled from the pain. Dark's shoulder was on fire, and breathing was causing considerable pain to his ribcage.

          "I think I broke some ribs," he managed to say.

          "You think that, do you?"

          Zaina's voice. Dark would have sighed if the action didn't hurt so much.

          She did her best to fix him, but all he could feel was the unimaginable pain. Dark barely heard her commands, and he was too weak to protest while she worked on his injuries.

          Unconsciousness seemed likely from all the pressure Zaina was putting on the arm, but Dark remained awake, half-heartedly wishing for death. He was certain that Worthington would oblige.