Death Flag Read online

  “A rat!” someone snarled in a gravelly voice.

  Madison swiveled his head around and craned his neck up to look behind him in time to see a man raise up a sword and jam it down at his head. He instantly jerked to the side again, and the sword stabbed pointed-end first into the deck where he had only just been.

  “Oh, shit!” Madison screamed in alarm, beginning to push himself up into a sitting position. The man swung a low, slashing blow aimed at decapitating him, and Madison flung himself back down in order to avoid it, the sword just narrowly missing his head.

  “Coward!” the sailor roared, pulling his sword back for another swing. “Die!”

  “Wait! Just wait!” Madison cried. He threw up his hands defensively, as if begging the man to stop, but it was useless. The man stabbed down at him once again, and Madison rolled over sideways like a log, the man’s sword jamming down into the dead man he had been on top of. Realizing that he was still clutching onto the pilfered sword, he quickly sat up and jabbed it toward the man’s legs. His harried thrusts were quick, short, and rapid, much like a child stabbing at a piñata with a wooden stick, and he swung again and again.

  The sailor instantly kicked his knees up and jumped back from Madison’s pitiful attacks. His faced bunched up like he was being annoyed by the child Madison looked like, and he bellowed loudly, “What is this?!”

  And then he was run through from behind. There was a glint of silver in his stomach, his mouth pulled back into a grimace, and he clutched at the wound in his stomach as he fell to his knees. There was a loud grunt as someone kicked the sailor from behind and pulled his sword free, and then the sword swung around, slicing into the man’s neck. The dead sailor’s neck was cut halfway through before the blade was stopped, and blood poured out of the gaping wound. The sword’s owner violently wrenched it free from the dying man’s body and returned to the fight, leaving the man for dead.

  Madison stared at the mutilated body and watched as blood pooled on the deck. Where am I? And what the hell is going on?

  He had always thought that he would feel repulsed or violently sick if he was confronted with that type of savagery. The grim thought of being involved in a horrific accident had haunted his dreams ever since he started working around large machinery, and even the thought of a doctor cutting open another human being had turned him away from medicine at an early age. Yet, here he was, faced with the worst type of human violence imaginable, and he felt absolutely nothing of the sort. He had no urge to hurl or gag or vomit. It was simply like watching a scene out of a movie. He saw it, and he understood what was happening, but that was the extent of his empathy. It was just some person he didn’t know, a random stranger who had happened to die. That was it. If there was supposed to be some type of emotional involvement on his part, he was completely disconnected from it.

  Twisting his head around and taking in his surroundings, he realized that the battle was going to be over soon. The original lot he had picked out as the ones defending the ship were fewer in number than they had been before, and they were rapidly being pressed back toward what he assumed was the quarterdeck. He couldn’t clearly make out which end of the ship was which through all the smoke and the eerie red light, but he thought they were moving toward the rear of the ship. He had ended up on the opposite side of the mid-deck, which would put him near the forecastle, so the battle was actually surging away from him at the moment.

  He furtively glanced around, and when he didn’t see anyone bearing down on him, he tentatively pushed himself to his feet. The rocking of the boat kept him off balance, and the strange combination of blood and seawater pooled on the deck made him afraid of slipping and going overboard. Very cautiously, half-bent over, he made his way to the corner where the forecastle met the mid-deck, and hunkered down against the railing. He took several quick glances toward the open ocean before jerking his head back around and watching for any signs of trouble headed his way. He was hoping that he might actually see land somewhere close by. If that was the case, he was better off jumping overboard and attempting the swim than he was hanging around on the ship and finding out the result of this battle—which probably wasn’t going to go in his favor no matter whom the victor was.

  Then something else caught his eye, and he turned his attention back to the battle. The fight had taken a turn for the worse for the defenders. The seemingly-endless stream of sailors coming over from the other vessel had been stemmed, but now something else even worse had taken its place. Madison watched in fascination as a behemoth of a man came over the railing and hit the deck of the ship, practically crushing three of his own men in the process. The giant stood up straight, and Madison would have bet that the man clocked in at just under seven feet tall. He wore a pair of simple black breeches that looked like they had seen better days, but his upper body and arms were completely exposed, revealing broad shoulders, a wide chest, and thick, veiny arms. His skin was crisscrossed with scars, some of which were still angry and red, showing proof that he was a veteran of numerous fights that he had walked away from. Although he had a thick, bushy, black beard, his head was completely shaved, and he carried a wicked-looking curved blade in one hand that was probably as long as a young girl was tall.

  A cry went through the knot of sailors defending the cabin door when they saw him hit the deck, and they began attacking with a renewed vigor. Weapons flashed out and flickered with the sudden burst of adrenaline that was most likely spawned from primal fear, and several bodies crumpled under the furor of their assault. But it wasn’t meant to last. The giant waded into the back line of attackers and began shoving them out of the way with his free hand with as little care as he would have shown the defenders.

  The giant made it to the front of the line, and the first backhanded swipe of his sword took a man’s head clean off. His second was a diagonal slash that cut a man open from shoulder to waist, and his third speared a man clean through his gut. The entire attack took only a matter of seconds, but by the time he was finished with the simple combination of attacks, the defending sailors had completely lost all heart. Whatever second wind they had picked up at the sight of this monster was blown right out of them at the first signs of his savagery. Several of them broke and ran, attempting to push through the semi-circle containing them and make it overboard, and several turned and forced their way into the door they had been protecting. There was a momentary struggle as they fought to get the door shut, but they eventually succeeded with a loud bang.

  Men began beating on the door with their fists, but within a matter of seconds, they began hacking away at it with their weapons. Chips of wood flew off in every direction, and Madison knew that it was only a matter of time until they made their way through.

  Now that the fight was temporarily put on hold, several men began moving about the mid-deck, going from man to man and stripping them of anything valuable. Bodies were quickly flipped over and searched, their boots stripped off and turned upside down for any hidden valuables, and weapons were gathered up and put into a pile. There were a few survivors, men who had been knocked unconscious or who hadn’t died from their wounds yet, and they were quickly rounded up and lashed to the railing of the ship.

  Madison was just about to risk jumping overboard and taking his chances with the open ocean when one of the sailors spotted him hunkered down in the corner.

  “Hey!” he called out to the others. “We have ourselves a cowardly rat! And this one’s still whole!”

  “What?” a voice answered back, astonished. He walked over and joined his companion, following to where he pointed at Madison. “One who didn’t even fight?”

  “Dunno,” the man answered, as much to himself as anyone else. He was studying Madison like he was something the sailor had never seen before, and it gave Madison the creeps. “Covered in blood like he fought, but I don’t see any injuries on him. All cowered and backed in the corner like that, makes you wonder. And look what he’s wearin’. Maybe he has what the boss wants?�
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  The second sailor started appraising Madison the same way as the first. “Lash him up with the others. Let Garin deal with him. He’ll decide.”

  Madison listened to the entire exchange without saying or word or making a move. The two men clearly didn’t think much of him since they carried on the entire conversation as if he wasn’t even there. But, then, with as many men as they had on the ship at the moment, he was probably insignificant to them regardless of whatever ability he might possess to put up a fight—which was absolutely none. They knew that there was nothing he could do to them, and so did he. As far as they were concerned, the battle was fought and won, and now it was just a matter of collecting their loot and finding whatever it was they were after. He briefly thought about putting up a fight as they approached him, but in the end, he knew there was no point. He dropped his sword as they approached and stood up.

  The pair grabbed him roughly by the arms and twisted them around in front of him. They lashed his wrists together with a coarse rope, and then he was frog-marched over to the railing with the rest of the survivors.

  “Down!” one of the two men growled, and when Madison wasn’t fast enough to comply, they kicked his knees out from under him from behind, forcing him to fall forward onto his knees. They shoved him up against another scraggly, fowl-smelling sailor who was covered in blood that was already starting to dry and then bound him to the railing along with a handful of others they had already collected.

  One of the two men grabbed a fistful of his hair, jerked his head back, and then pressed his face up against Madison’s. The sailor was so close that Madison could smell the foul stench of breath when he growled, “Don’t test us, coward. We’ve no love for chickens on a ship, so just give me a reason to finish you.” The sailor shoved his head hard, slamming Madison’s forehead into the ship’s railing, and then he let go and walked away.

  Clenching his teeth and fighting down the pulsing pain radiating out from the front of his head, Madison listened as the men hacked away at the door, realizing that the timbre of their hacks had changed. It had been fast and light before, but now that it had turned heavier and more rhythmic, he realized that someone must have come forward with a couple of axes. He looked over at the man next to him, realizing that the brutalized sailor seemed to be only semi-coherent and on the verge of death.

  “Hey,” Madison hissed, trying to get his attention. “Hey!” he repeated when the man didn’t respond. “What the hell is going on here?”

  The man turned his head slightly to look at Madison. His face was streaked with blood and grime, and his right eye rolled back in his head, forcing him to look at Madison out of the corner of his left eye. “Who the blazes are you?” the man asked. “You one of them below?”

  “What?” The question didn’t make any sense. “Who is below where?”

  “You were?” the man asked, his head rolling back for a moment before snapping back up again. “One of the ones chanting and shit all night, keepin’ us awake. Made more noise than my baby girl the first year.” The man’s eye suddenly grew wider as if he realized what he had said and a bit of lucidity returned it. “I have to make it home. My babies are . . .” He trailed off and made a strange choking sound as something caught in his throat, and he sucked in a ragged breath of air.

  “Where are we?” Madison asked urgently, changing the subject to something more important. “Where is the ship headed? Which way is land?”

  The small amount of light that had returned to the man’s eye fled as his head drooped forward and hung there. Madison wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be an indication of where the ship was headed, which way land was, or if the man had finally gone unconscious. After a long moment, however, he picked his head back up, looked at Madison and asked, “Who the hell is you?’

  Madison sighed internally and repressed the urge to groan in frustration. He needed as much information as he could gather, but given the extent of this man’s injuries, he couldn’t blame the guy for being out of his mind. Switching tactics again, he lied. “I was down below the whole time guarding . . . ya know,” he whispered urgently. “I need to get out of here. Which way is land?”

  “Below . . .?” he asked groggily. “You’re one of them?”

  “Yes,” Madison hissed. “Which way is land?” he pressed.

  The man’s head rocked back and forth for a moment, and Madison was afraid that he was going to completely lose consciousness. But, finally, he hauled his head upright again and croaked, “East.”

  Madison quickly turned his head to the sky in search of the sun, but he felt his heart stop at what he found instead. There was no sun. There was only a giant burning red ball. He had thought it was the ship’s sails burning before because of all the ash and smoke in the air, but this was something else entirely. There, a glowing orb hung above the ship where the mast used to be, casting off a dirty red light. He stared at it for a moment, his brain refusing to process what he saw there.

  Snapping himself out of it, however, he pushed for more information, rushing through the questions before the man died. “Which way is east? Which side of the ship? Starboard? Or port?” The man didn’t answer, and Madison rocked into him with his shoulder several times trying to wake up him. The man stirred slightly, and Madison pressed, “East. Is East off the port side?”

  The man gasped, “Starboard. East.” And his head rolled back once again. It swiveled back and forth for a moment, and then there was a flash of steel as his throat was slit by a long, serrated knife. Bright-red blood gurgled up from the wound, and the man was hoisted up and flipped over the railing before Madison could so much as bat an eyelash. The man’s body thumped against the side of the ship and then swung back and forth, suspended by the rope around his wrists that bound him to the railing.

  “I told you: Give me a reason, coward,” a voice hissed.

  Madison felt the man wipe something on his shoulder, and when he turned and looked, he could just make out streaks of bright-red blood there where the man had used Madison as a rag to clean his knife with.

  He heard the thud of heavy boots on wood as they approached him, and then he felt a presence tower over him. He craned his neck around so that he could try and peer around behind him, but he was quickly punched in the back of the head, forcing him to look forward again. The boots continued on down the line and stopped at the end. There were only four men remaining now that one was dead, including Madison. Everyone else had either been butchered or had managed to hole up inside the ship; although, with the way things were going, that door wouldn’t last much longer, and they would probably join their fallen brethren before long.

  Madison watched as the giant crouched down and leaned over the first man. He grabbed a fistful of the sailor’s hair and pulled his head back until the man stared straight up at him. “Where is it?” he asked in a smooth, rich, deep tone.

  “I . . . I don’t know,” the man stammered. “Honest. I don’t know where nothings at. Only the captain knows what we’re haulin’.”

  “Do you expect me to believe that?” he asked, his tone remaining sweet and silky despite the obvious threat behind his words. “Do you expect me to believe you’re serving under Janos and don’t know what your cargo is? Do you understand what is about to happen to you if I don’t find it?”

  The man gulped loudly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down noticeably because of the angle at which is head was pulled back. “I swear, I don’t know. I’d be tellin’ ya if I did. I ain’t loyal like the rest of them is, honest. I’ve only been with them for this job, and that’s it.”

  “Oh ho . . .” The giant laughed, and it came out as low rumbling from his chest. “That’s too bad then.” He let go of the man’s head and stood up, lifting his impossibly-long sword. Then, in one swift motion, the giant brought the long, curved blade he wielded down into the man’s head. There was a sickening crunch as his skull was split open and a second sucking noise as the blade was pulled free.

  The
mammoth of a man took one step to the side and stared down at the next in line. The second sailor grinned up at him through a bloodied mouth, and Madison saw that he was already missing several of his teeth. “You can just go screw yourself, Garin. You’ve known me long enough to know I don’t know shit and wouldn’t talk if I did.”

  “Haron!” the man exclaimed in greeting, his voice almost affectionate. “How long’s it been since we served on the same ship together? Seven? Eight years? That’s no way to greet an old friend!”

  “You’ve never been my friend, Garin. Don’t go acting like you are now. Same as always: sweet words and bloody fists. You’re a real sad sack, you know that? Stop wasting my time and just get this over with.”

  “Oh, no. Not yet, Haron. Not yet,” he cooed, moving to the next man in line. “Now, what have we here? Hmm?”

  The man didn’t look to be in any better condition than the one Madison had exchanged words with. His face was swollen and bruised, and he couldn’t even hold his head up for more than a few seconds at a time. He looked like he was wavering on the edge of consciousness, though it was more likely the edge of death. “Ahh . . . such a shame,” Garin Fane muttered disappointedly. He hacked away the rope holding the man to the railing, reached down, and grabbed the man by the belt. Then, with a single arm, he lifted him up and flung him over the railing.

  “Now, you . . .” he rumbled, turning to Madison at last. He squinted at Madison as if he were appraising Madison’s value. “What are you?”

  Madison stared up at the giant, quickly trying to decide how he should play this while doing everything he could to keep the level of terror he felt off of his face. This guy clearly wasn’t the kind of man who was going to screw around for very long if Madison didn’t provide him with the answers he was looking for. Still, he was reluctant for some reason to start selling out the crew. He had no idea who the good guys or the bad guys were in any of this, but he felt some strange allegiance to the people defending the ship simply because of the brutal assault he had witnessed since appearing there. Some sixth sense seemed to tell him that no good and righteous person would attack with such a savage nature, so it seemed obvious who was right and who was wrong. Yet, despite that, he simply didn’t have the answers this man wanted.