The Free Company and the Spanish Gold

[Amric]

July 29th, 1565 - The Randy Porpoise

Both Cai and Mario looked unhappy about the newest situation at the Captain's Table. Mario looked at Diego and nodded quietly. The Spaniard smiled briefly and settled more firmly in his chair, although he did loosen his weapons. Mario looked for Von Stark and didn't see him immediately.

Where the hell is he? Mario thought to himself.

He took stock of the situation. Cai had melted away from his side and was talking quietly to some men off to the side. Perhaps to convince them to stand down. But Mario didn't know for sure.

He made a motion to those men looking toward him to sit back down. Most of those who were paying attention began to sit back down, but tensions were still high. He pressed his lips together and waited to see what would happen. He was ready to explode into action if he had to, but he hoped it wouldn't become necessary.

"Mario!" MeiFeng exclaimed," What do you think of my friend Vosho?"

"I've known him for some time," Mario shrugged," A decent enough fellow, I suppose."

"So you approve of him?" MeiFeng smiled beatifically.

"Sure, why not?" Mario wasn't really paying attention as he was focused on the center table.

"So you think I should see more of him?" MeiFeng looked at him in some irritation.

"Wouldn't that be up to you?" Mario shot back quietly.

MeiFeng sighed in exasperation," Why, yes. I suppose it would be up to me, wouldn't it?"

"Didn't I just say that?" Mario hissed.

"Yes, you did," she said frostily.

Mario's eyes snapped in her direction fully for a moment. Her look of anger and disappointment was plain to see. He repressed a shudder. She was not a happy woman, and he was certain he was going to suffer for it.

"I did what?" He asked in some confusion.

"Haven't you been listening?" she snarled.

"To be honest," Mario sighed," No."

"Mario Chen!" She shouted," Don't you think you should be paying attention to me! I am here with another man and you just sit there like a drooling moron!"

Mario wanted to slide out of his chair and ooze through the floorboards, but of course that wasn't possible.

"MeiFeng," Mario shook his head," Does everything have to revolve around you?"

 

[unmerged(10397)]

July 29, 1565 - The Randy Porpoise

Erik von Stark signed the cross as he stood up quietly. He had just finished more than just daily prayer, but had also prayed extensively for victory over the Turks, and the strength to serve God. Erik was a Catholic. And a rather devoted one at that. He passed several Muslims on the path to the Randy Porpoise. Though he disagreed with men of other religions, he respected them. On more than one occasion, he had dined with Muslims, back at his home in Spain.

Reaching the Porpoise, he heard, above the normal sounds of the tavern, the outburst of Gunshy. Von Stark quietly moved along the wall of the tavern. Having been in only briefly earlier for a drink before leaving to take a long nap and say a brief prayer, Erik had returned only as Gunshy had his outburst and tensions flared at Captain's table. Around the room, he observed wrist flicks and arm movements, as a dozen men's weapons slid quietly into their hands.

He noticed Mario a bit to his left. He continued along, gently sliding closer, staying near the wall. He noticed Mario entangled in discussion with MeiFeng, who he had seen on several other occasions. As usual, her voice was audible over the background noise, and Mario was visibly frustrated, though under control. Quietly coming to a halt at Mario's table, he nodded to his Lieutenant, putting a hand on the back of a vacant chair and leaning on it casually, his other hand silently resting on his sword hilt.

 

[HolisticGod]

The Randy Porpoise

"Gunny shut up." Glorious said under his breath, trying to pull the artilleryman back into his chair.

Gunshy cursed and pulled away from the reiter lieutenant's hand, in the process he surged forward from the sheer force of his movement.

Only to find himself staring at the chest of one of the curiously garbed bodyguards. Silent eyes looked down at the blocky man. Gunshy just sneered, his face a rictus of disgust. "Get your dog out of my way girl, or Ill break him."

Amina laughed and shook her head.

"You're lucky he doesn't speak Italian."

"You're lucky he's between you and me," Gunshy growled. Amina laughed again and translated for the giant, but stayed his arm as it shot out toward the smaller man's neck.

"Uh, Gunshy," Glorious whispered urgently, pulling at his arm again. "This is God damned foolishness, even for you."

Gunshy shrugged him off.

"I said get your dog out of my way. I won't say it again."

"I should hope not. You sound like a child when you do."

"Easy to wag your tongue at me with these things protecting you."

"They are Imouha," Saul broke in, his voice quiet. "And I suggest you not offend them any further."

"I don't take orders from you, pirate."

"And I don't give them to you. Merely a friendly warning."

"If you're so damn friendly," Gunshy said, finding himself now sandwiched between three of the four, the other watching the room, "why don't you go ahead and tell them to get off me?"

"I would, lieutenant, if it would be of any help. But I'm afraid they do not listen to me."

"Yeah? Well, who do they listen to?"

Saul sighed and gestured at Amina. Gunshy looked at her and then back at the Corsair leader, his voice as strangled as a Sultan's brother now.

"You're kidding."

"And only me," Amina said with a smirk.

"You're outnumbered, girl," Gunshy growled, sweeping his gaze at the Company men whose weapons were loosened, gripped, even in their hands. Of course, he wasn't sure how many of them were for him, but she didn't know that.

"Oh, I know. But these are men of Africa, not children who play with fireworks, and they have sworn a blood oath. They might not leave this room, but they will kill you."

To her surprise, and even that of those who knew him well, Gunshy didn't flinch. He drew himself up to his full height and gave a rumble deep in his chest. The Imouhar in front of him gripped his blade over his head and drew it, ever so slightly, from the red leather. Where the quarrel had so far attracted only the attention of those nearby, this small flash of steel in the fire light silenced the room.

"Zere," Amina snapped, the words of what Gunshy assumed was his native language rolling off her tongue as though it were hers. After a moment, very reluctantly, he sheathed his blade, and waved his brethren off. They withdrew, silently, back to their corners.

"That was close, you flaming mo..." Glory began, but his voice dropped as fast as his jaw, and Amina's dagger. It was curved, shinning silver, serrated in the eastern style and as beautiful a blade as he had ever seen, not the least because it was now at his nemesis’ throat. “I spoke too soon,” he finished, and dropped a hand to his own weapon.

This didn’t surprise Captain. He had witnessed her movements like lightening before, and her temper as fast and as deadly. What surprised him was the pistol Gunshy had firmly lodged in her firm, sleek stomach in the same instant. He shook his head.

The artillery master was not the most polished and gallant of the Company, by any means, but his father had always warned him never to underestimate the man.

“That’s enough,” he said, firmly, but neither moved an inch. He had no sway over Amina, and he couldn’t order Gunshy to lower his weapon with half the Company officers here convinced the woman would slit his throat.

Hell, even he wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t.

“Why are you here?” Gunshy growled, pressing the muzzle hard against her. For her part, she inclined the edge ever so slightly, drawing blood at the three points.

“She is here because I asked her to be here,” Saul said coolly. Gunshy glanced at him and clenched his teeth. So calm. So collected. So smug.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I lost a ship and a hundred and fifty good men.”

Gunshy studied him for a moment, and then Amina.

“And you? You answer this time.”

“What business is it of yours?” she asked, and David caught in her voice a certain waver, a break so brief he was unsure he’d heard it at all. No one else had, it seemed.

“This is my Company,” Gunshy roared, his face red and blazing, and then his voice dropped so only she could hear it. “And my family. I won’t stand by for pirate scum like you, scheming and conniving with that damnable quartermaster. Waiting for the right time to sell them out to the God damn Turks.”

Amina’s eyes flashed, and her voice matched his.


“I hate the Turks. I hate them more than you could know.”

“As much as you love their dinars?”

“I would live like a beggar whore on the streets of Istanbul for the rest of my days if I could see them all dead.”

Gunshy stared at her, his fist clenching and unclenching around his pistol. He could hear the swords and knives being half-drawn, the wheel-locks cocking, the chairs scraping along the wood. He could hear Glory shaking his head, the air rustling in that fairy mane of his. He could hear his own heart beating in his chest and the graze of the dagger along his skin. But above all the rest, he could hear her pulse.

He lowered his gun and he put it away.

 

[Lord Durham]

29 July 1565, Night: The Randy Porpoise

Maurice picked up one of the bottles and moved to hand it to Captain. "How about some Burgundy? And then we can drink a toast to a quick victory."

Captain nodded in thanks and drank the toast. For a while he reminisced with the young d'Auxonne as the tavern grew boisterous and lively; men chasing flirtatious barmaids and dancing spontaneously amid the cheers and enthusiastic support from their comrades.

He noted the arrival of the young MeiFeng, followed shortly by the fortune teller Mozol. Quite a few heads turned as several men jockeyed for favouritism with the two beauties.

They were followed by Saul, who ignited a few tense moments with the barkeep and a Knight of the order. The matter was barely deflated when Gunshy stormed through the tavern door, bleeding from his right hand, his eyes flat, and his face that of a troll's, carved in stone. He sat down, immediately getting into it with Glory, though he made every effort to have a word with Captain.

Then she walked in. Captain couldn’t help but notice her arrival, even when flanked by the huge gorillas serving as her bodyguard. Amina sat; David moving over to make room. Flushed with wine, he grew conscious of her closeness, the allure of her eyes and husky voice. They were soon locked in silent conversation.

Then it happened.

Gunshy went ballistic, ranting against Saul, Amina and the corsairs. His barely controlled fury was loose. The room tensed.

David’s wine clouded mind cleared, and he sat straight. He saw hand signals flashing; subtle motions that no one but a Company man trained in their use could ever fathom. Though the men pretended not to notice, the room went deadly quiet.

Into the silence Captain growled, "Gunshy." There was no demand for explanation; the name was turned into an order for silence.

Gunshy continued. "Sailor's playing at being soldiers, coming along for the ride, why?" Snarling words, almost gutteral. "Fancy ship Captains, like nobility, pretty with bodyguards and scarves. Rich." The gunner, the son of a poor peasant spat the last word. "Give orders while poor men die. What's their game, Captain, what is their game? I don't believe for a minute they do this out of the goodness of their heart, I don't even believe the girl flirts with you out of innocence. I trust them not at all."

"Gunny shut up." Glorious said under his breath, trying to pull the artillerman back into his chair.

Gunshy cursed and pulled away from the reiter lieutenant's hand, in the process he surged forward from the sheer force of his movement.

Only to find himself staring at the chest of one of the curiously garbed bodyguards. Silent eyes looked down at the blocky man. Gunshy just sneered, his face a rictus of disgust. "Get your dog out of my way girl, or Ill break him."

The standoff lasted several moments. Words were exchanged; until Amina’s eyes flashed, and her voice matched Gunshy’s passion.

“I hate the Turks. I hate them more than you could know.”

“As much as you love their dinars?”

“I would live like a beggar whore on the streets of Istanbul for the rest of my days if I could see them all dead.”

Gunshy stared at her, his fist clenching and unclenching around his pistol. He could hear the swords and knives being half-drawn, the wheel-locks cocking, the chairs scraping along the wood. He could hear Glory shaking his head, the air rustling in that fairy mane of his. He could hear his own heart beating in his chest and the graze of the dagger along his skin. But above all the rest, he could hear her pulse.

He lowered his gun and he put it away.

Suddenly, a young woman’s voice cut the thick air. "Mario Chen!" MeiFeng shouted," Don't you think you should be paying attention to me! I am here with another man and you just sit there like a drooling moron!"

There was a snicker, another, a guffaw, and then the tavern erupted into laughter.

Captain sat down, was surprised when Amina joined him, placing a slightly nervous hand on his shoulder. He looked at Saul. “That was timely.” To the Reiter lieutenant. “Glory!”

“Sir?”

“Get Gunshy out of here. We march in two days, and I’m in no mood to feed him to the sharks.”

Glory mumbled something and put his arm around the smaller man’s shoulder, guiding him toward the door.

Captain looked to Saul. “The men are antsy. Too long aboard ship, and the Rangers spilling first blood has fired them. They’ll see action soon enough. Blood for everyone.” He looked at a knot in the table. My men question me. Was this how it was with Robert?

 

[The_Hawk]

“Glory!”

“Sir?”

“Get Gunshy out of here. We march in two days, and I’m in no mood to feed him to the sharks.”

Glorious wasted no time grabbing his artillery counterpart by the collar and giving him a none-too-subtle shove toward the door. He swept the room with steely eyes as he flashed a Ranger signal. Cool it. Bodies untensed and hands strayed away from weapons as the Company men relaxed. Satisfied, Glorious stepped back to the table, casting a significant glance first at Captain, then at Saul. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, dumping a handful of coins far in excess of the cost of his drinks on the table. A step and a half to the door, he paused and locked eyes with Amina. The smoulder there left little doubt whose side he took. It left little doubt, too, of the consequences of another run-in.

Out in the night air, he had to jog to catch up to Gunshy, the stocky artilleryman already receding into the darkness. “What the hell was that, Gun?”

Gunshy whirled on his compatriot, exploding like one of his cannons. “What the hell do you mean, what the hell was that? I don’t trust her, Glory, and neither should you! Certainly, neither should Captain!”

Glorious held up his hands defensively. “Who ever said I trust her, or her pirate friends? You said it back there, Gunny, they aren’t Company.”

“But you didn’t mind laughing it up with her over the Quartermaster’s earlier!” He balled his fists and advanced a step toward the reiter. “You fucking popinjay!”

“Hey!” Glorious took a step back. “I didn’t know anything about this. And just because I’ll let her sit at my table doesn’t mean I trust her. If it did, this Company would never have a contract.”

“Captain trusts her,” Gunshy retorted sulkily.

“And we have to trust him! You know that. That’s how it works. If we don’t trust him off the field, we won’t trust him on it, and that’s the surest way to a grave I know of.”

“And if he’s more interested in chasing a tail than running the Company?” Gunshy snorted. “Hell, he’s learning well from you, Glory.”

“Screw you, Gunshy. I’m looking out for David the best I can. You should be doing the same, instead of picking fights with his allies. But he’s still the Captain, damn it!” He sighed, crossed his arms. “You remember what Edward said to us on his deathbed, don’t you?”

Gunshy scowled. “Of course I do. I’ll never forget. It’s not every day you have to watch your Captain die.” He frowned with the memory. Look after my son, he remembered. And my Company.

Glorious nodded. “Yeah. That was for us, Gunshy, and us alone. He didn’t give anyone else those final orders.”

“What about Mario? And Chen?”

Glorious shook his head. “No. I asked around. He trusted us to do it.”

Gunshy shook his head, his anger fading. “But why?”

Glorious shrugged. “I don’t know. Mario Chen is a young guy. Chen Cai is an old guy. Doesn’t matter.” He tapped Gunshy on the chest, then himself. “This is you and me. This is our job, to watch out for David – Captain – and make sure he becomes the man his father was. He trusts us. His father trusted us. And we’re gonna do it. Yeah?”

Gunshy clenched his teeth, finally succumbing to his more rational instincts. He nodded. “Yeah.”

Glorious smiled. “Yeah.” He smacked Gunshy on the shoulder. “Go get some rest. I’m gonna make sure nothing unpleasant develops over this. The last thing we need is a bunch of drunken gunners going after the pirates to avenge the sullied honor of their poor, defenseless Lieutenant.” He cracked a grin.

Gunshy rolled his eyes and turned away. “Christ in Heaven, Glory, will you grow up?”

 

[LordLeto]

29 July 1565, Night: The Randy Porpoise


"Mario Chen!" She shouted," Don't you think you should be paying attention to me! I am here with another man and you just sit there like a drooling moron!"

Mario wanted to slide out of his chair and ooze through the floorboards, but of course that wasn't possible.

"MeiFeng," Mario shook his head," Does everything have to revolve around you?"

With that Vosho abruptly stood up and looked at YaoHui chatting with the fortune teller. "YaoHui, tell your father I am most gratified he allowed me at his table, but I will excuse myself now. " YaoHui nodded. "Mario. Mozol." MeiFeng's face swung around to greet this new development.

"What, why Vosho?"

He met her eyes but only for a moment and turned away without a word heading for the tavern door.

"Look at what you did Mario!"

"What I did!?" shouting to her back as she quickly trailed after the slighted companion. "Really, what I did?" Mario looked at his two companions still at the table, but they had eyes only for each other at the moment. "Really....what I did." He stood up and joined his uncle.

"Poor MeiFeng."

"MeiFeng? Poor Vosho, I don't see why he let himself be lead around like that."

"Like you would have done better YaoHui?"

"I believe I would."

She simply smiled. "YaoHui, have I ever read your palm?" Her hands took hold of his and lifted it from the arm of the chair it had been grasping turning it over so the palm faced her, she began to lightly trace the creases there in. YaoHui balled his other hand and faked a stretch to stop the trembling.

"Once when we were still young Mozol."

----------------------------

The conversation at Bexhet's table quieted as the soldiers watch events unfold hands slilently moving to weapons each knew the other possesed. As soon as one diffused another seemed to spring up. Soon Vosho was racing out the door with the briefest nod to his Kapo, MeiFeng not far behind. Again their attention was diverted from the Pirates to the Chen table, now devoid of all but a smiling YaoHui and Mozol.

"Are you sure the chase is worth all that Deigo?" Bexhet grinned at his Sargent. "Arranged marriages do have their advantages. Do they not?"

 

[Valdemar]

Diego smiled and began twirling his sword between his feet like he had on the ship, slow movements of his hands sending the blade spinning on the floorboards.

“The Chase, Bexhet, the chase is were all the excitement is, arranged marriages are for when you are ready to settle down.”

He looked at the retreating back of MeiFeng,

“Though I will grant you that girl carries more luggage than a porter in the harbour of Naples, I think you are right,”

He looked thoughtfully at Mozol and the Chin in deep conversation, his eyes dwelling long at her face, animated as she talked to the young man, but he didn’t say anything.

With a visible effort he drew away his gaze and stretched, winking at Rodriquez as he did, then as he stood he spoke loudly into the low din of the resurrected conversations. Spoke in the lilting and beautiful accent of the Moorish Arabic, in the almost lost syllables of Al-Andalus, in a language so poetic and different from the coarse Arabic of the Egypt, or the rough speak of the Osmali tribes, a language almost lost under the Ottomans, but surely to be understood by Amina and her father, and likely not understood by a single company man, except perhaps Martel.

“Quite a show they put up, don’t you think Rodriquez?”

His second in command smiled sadly at the choice of language, and nodded. Diego slowly sheathed his blade, still speaking loudly enough to be heard at several tables,

“One can only wonder why they chose this Island to test the resolve of the company, or as a place of suicide.”

He grinned and nodded at Amina, choosing her title amongst the Berbers rather than the one amongst the Corsairs

“Beautiful Princess, grief and pride do not work well in harmony with armed men and confined spaces. These men would have cut you and your men to ribbons, do not mistake your crew’s prowess on a boarding deck with that of a combined army. Consider that had you carried through you had sentenced not only yourself, but also your men and you father.”

Saul lifted an eyebrow at the small Spaniard, Diego nodded in return, unsure whether it was his choice of words or language that caused the Pirate to be surprised.

“Honourable Captain, yours is a lifelong tale of renown and mystery, but in the old land of Al-Andalus there are tales equally mysterious. Consider my company and trust that there is more to Spain than Felipe’s Castillians.”

He gestured at the empty chair where Yussuf had sat and silently wondered how many in the room knew the story behind the Moriscos who filled his ranks. Bowing at Captain’s table he turned for the bar and another drink.

This night had proven more eventful than he had expected, and surely Yussuf would be sad not to have seen it.

 

[redwolf]

29 July 1565, Night: The Randy Porpoise

Gunshy lowered his gun and he put it away.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Cai put his hand way from his weapon which was ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.

Suddenly, a young woman’s voice cut the thick air. "Mario Chen!" MeiFeng shouted," Don't you think you should be paying attention to me! I am here with another man and you just sit there like a drooling moron!"

Cai suppressed the urge to groan aloud. Now what, he thought to himself as he turned back to his table only to see Voshos leave the table, followed closely by MeiFeng.

Mario half rose to chase after MeiFeng but Cai managed to catch his eye and gave a slight shake of his head.

Sighing, Mario nodded in agreement and moved over to Cai instead.

"I think you made enough of a mess with MeiFeng tonight. Chasing after her now will only make matters worse." Cai explained.

"I guess you are right, uncle." Mario pointed to Captain," Captain doesn't look too happy. Think we should talk to him?"

Cai glanced over," I will talk to him. You better go take a look and see if Glory needs any help calming the fool of a Gunshy down. What the hell does he think he was doing? If he had any disagreement with Captain, talk to him in private, not challenge Captain like that in public. It's not good for morale for the men to see dissention among the officers."

"I understand, uncle. I will see if I can knock some sense into Gunshy." Mario turned and left the tavern.

After Mario left, Cai went over to Captain who was sitting with Saul and Amina.

Cai nodded to them and took a seat beside Captain," Do not fret about the incident Captain. Your father also had the same problem when he first took over from de Bloomfielde."

Captain kept silent and continued to stare at Cai. Cai leaned towards Captain and spoke in a low voice.

"Just remember this Captain, whatever happens, you must always look confident and in control of the situation, regardless of how bad the situation is. Never show doubt in whatever you do. You are our leader, the Captain of the Free Company. The men look to you to lead them and any doubt they see in you may prove to be fatal in the upcoming fight with the Turks."

Cai leaned back in his seat and finished off the drink from his mug,"Ah, this is good stuff. I think get another." Cai gave the men at the table a slight nod of his head and he moved off to pour himself another drink.

 

[stnylan]

The Randy Poripoise - July 29th

Andrew let the image of Amina entrance him for a final moment, before taking another healthy swig. There was something about the woman being so brazen that sat poorly with him. He know of course what it was, he always did. As if on purpose his entire left side seemed to stiffened once again, and he muttered a small curse just as the confrontation at the Captains' table broke.

Arpad started to ready his knifes. "Put those away," Andre hissed quietly," We really don't want to start a battle in here."

Privately Andrew agreed. He'd seen this sort of thing a couple of times before. Best then to pretend otherwise.

"Doesn't seem like a good idea to me," he said, shaking his head once to signal disagreement.

"I said pretend," Andre replied," Not actually not pay attention. But by acting nonchalant about it might just help defuse the situation."

"The Hell it will" Arpad hissed through gritted teeth, still not moving. "No one was ever convinced to stand down through non-chalance."

"Look, I don't trust them either," Andre agreed with him," But we're Rangers. It looks more impressive if we pretend nothing untoward is happening. If it does, we'll respond as necessary."

"Who put you in charge?" Andrew inquired mildly, with a mocking lilt. His eyes remained fixed on Amina's bodyguards. He paid little attention to Andre's answer. He was wrong of course. Everyone in the tavern was paying attention, to do otherwise was idiotic. Of course, most of them were looking at the Captain, but that was not where the real entertainment lay.

"You do it your way, I'll do it mine" the Hungarian said, finally.

"I don't like it either," Andre admitted," But all of us standing up and looking threatening isn't the answer either."

"This is my Company!" Gunshy roared, and then said something quieter that Andrew could not hear. And then the was putting away his pistol, and Glorious was hauling him off.

Andrew sighed as people relaxed, and drained the last of the wine, some dribbles runing down one side of his face. He stood, "Well, I'll be turning in for the night. To be sure we won't get much sleep in the days ahead."

He turned and marched from the tavern, not really caring anymore. Damned Captain more concerned with his spear than his men, he thought bitterly in the privacy of his head. Damned woman. He needed to sleep. And to think.

 

[unmerged(6528)]

Glorious smiled. “Yeah.” He smacked Gunshy on the shoulder. “Go get some rest. I’m gonna make sure nothing unpleasant develops over this. The last thing we need is a bunch of drunken gunners going after the pirates to avenge the sullied honor of their poor, defenseless Lieutenant.” He cracked a grin.

Gunshy rolled his eyes and turned away. “Christ in Heaven, Glory, will you grow up?” Gunshy waved his arms a bit, it it made him feel better. Sort of.

"Relax you old fool, you need to stop and think as opposed to angrily spout off like you did tonight." Glorious folded his arms across his chest, and turned back toward the artillery lieutenant.

"Yeah." Anger and bitterness. "I know." Somber and pain filled. "I miss Edward, it was always so sure with him. He was Captain."

"So is David." Glory commented dryly. "At least in name, taking on the mantle of his father and his forbears will take some time though, like all journeys." A half-smile. "I mean look at you, there's no way you popped out of your mother's womb that ugly, it must have taken time and effort and a lot of lost fights."

Gunshy sneered at the reiter lieutenant. "Idiot." He sighed. "I could have handled that better." Muttered cursing.

"Well, a mule could have handled that better." Glory responded.

Gunshy shook his head, ignoring the joke. He glared half-heartedly back at the tavern. What had begun in there wasn't over, not even close. But at least for tonight, the rage had drained out of him.

"Are you two doing alright out here?" Mario cautiously approached, his footseps qiuet.

"Oh were fine, Gunshy was just heading off to his billet and I was heading back inside." Glory explained quickly, casting a glance at the short gunner.

"What the hell was wrong with you in there Gunshy?" Mario demanded. "Your an officer of the Free Company, act like one. We don't question Captain's authority in front of the men."

Gunshy said nothing, he was busy staring up at the canopy of stars.

"God damn it." Mario snorted. "I came out here to see if you'd calm down, well, you've at least done that. I hope you think about what you did in there, and how it might affect us in the future." The infantry lieutenant turned to walk away.

After a moment, Glory followed him, leaving Gunshy staring up at the night sky. Neither of them heard Gunshy's muttered farewell. "We'll see Chen, we'll see. David's not infallible, but Ill burn in hell before I let him fall too any enemy, even to himself."

A minute or two later, Gunshy was gone, heading towards his billet.

 

[Lord Durham]

August 7, 1565 - Senglea/Birgu - Morning

They’re at it again. Ahmed shook his head at the on-going dispute between the young Turkish admiral, Piali Pasha, and the aging general, Mustafa Pasha. Though he remained discreetly distant and out of earshot, Piali’s frantic arm waving spoke volumes against Pasha’s arm-crossed indifference.

Ahmed sighed. Why had Allah allowed taken the corsair Dragut from them? He’d been the only man capable of advancing the siege, responsible for the eventual fall of St. Elmo. But now he was dead, and these two bickering adversaries were at it again.

He watched disapprovingly, until distracted when the siege cannons fired again, another round in the continuous series of blistering salvos bombarding the fortresses of Birgu and Senglea with relentless, ear-deafening ferocity.

#​

South of the Siege - Morning

The Free Company infantry marched in three parallel columns, flanked by Reiter cavalry to the right and a small force of Knights Hospitilars with attendant men-at-arms on the left. The light cavalry provided the vanguard, several hundred paces forward, with the mounted Rangers fanning out another several hundred paces beyond. Behind the infantry, the wagons and carriages belonging to the 3 falcon cannons and the same number of organ guns creaked noisily under the strain of weight.

Captain rode in the lead, surrounded by a small cluster of officers and staff. He was dressed in blackened armour, with a chain mail coif folded back across his neck. A red sash around his waist bulged slightly with the imprint of two wheel-lock pistols. A baldric slung diagonally over his shoulder held both sword and dirk, while his legs were protected by black pantaloons and heavy leather boots. Blackened metal gauntlets encased his hands.

The morning was dry and hot--nothing new--except for a warm breeze blowing overland from the Mediterranean. The sky was clear, the air holding a sharp tang of salt and fish. A dull roll of thunder echoed distantly.

“Sounds like waves on rock.” Captain ventured.

Gunshy, somewhat subdued, mumbled, “Siege cannon. Large calibre, I’d say. Be nice to have a couple, except for the number of horses required to haul the buggers.”

The commander of the Knights’ detachment said, “The Turks used oxen to haul the cannons into position, then ate the beasts over time. They only brought a few horses. Too much effort to feed and water them. They prize their mounts more than their men.”

Glory looked at all the horse flesh that the Free Company and Knights rode, and chuckled. “Not smart like us, eh?”

Martel said, “The Turks have been here a while. Long enough to burn through their supplies. We’ll be in the same position too, if we have to hold up on this rock for long.”

Captain adjusted the iron helmet slung against his saddle. “Then we’ll just have to do something about that.”

Moments later a scout rode toward them at speed. He pulled up beside the group and manoeuvred his horse near Captain. “Compliments from Lieutenant Renault, sir. We’ve come across the Turkish baggage camp, not more than an hours march.”

David nodded. “And the army?”

“Well beyond the other side of a hill, at least two leagues from the camp. Captain, their camp is exposed. I don’t think they’re expecting an assault from the south.”

The Knight grunted. “They had nothing to fear from us. Such was the terms of our agreement. I better see to my men.” Without another word, the aging, bearded Knight spurred his horse away.

David watched him go, said to the Ranger. “Anything else?”

“There’s that hill separating the camp from the siege army. Renault doubts the Turks would even know we arrived, assuming we do it carefully.”

“Depending on surprise.”

“Yes sir.”

The low undertow of cannon thunder was replaced by the closer sounds of iron-shod hooves on hard-baked ground. The Company men looked over at the Knights. To a man the Knights were heading north at a steady trot.

Glory’s mouth worked, and he spat. “Where they going?”

Saul, who had been riding quietly with Amina and two of her bodyguards, ventured, “I’d suspect they’ll be making up for past inaction.”

Captain swung on him, his eyes flicking quickly past Amina. “Are you suggesting they’re attacking the camp?”

The corsair leader shrugged. “It’s what I’d do.”

Gunshy snarled. “A baggage camp. I’m not surprised. Hard killing, that. It’s what I’d expect from your lot, though I’m surprised at the Knights.”

“Enough, Gunny.” Captain said, softly.

Lieutenant Cai’s voice was tight. “Let me take my men and stop them.”

“And fight two enemies? No, what’s done is done. Henri, the Ranger mentioned a hill.”

The envoy closed his eyes. A moment later he said, “If I remember the map right, he’s referring to the Corradino Heights. They have a commanding view of the Grand Harbour and both Senglea and Birgu. I imagine we’d have a good look at the Turks, too.”

Martel said, “We have to assume there is a steady flow of supplies from camp to army. There will be guards.”

Captain nodded. “And the guards will be alerted when the Knights go barrelling into the camp.” He lapsed into thought, his mind working over the situation. Amina made to speak, but he held up his hand for silence. Finally, he looked ahead, jaw set. To the Ranger. “Get back to Renault. Try to secure the heights as quietly as possible. Impersonate the Turks if you have to. Cai?”

“Sir?”

“Take your men and pace the Knights. When they attack, and I’m assuming they will, insert yourself between the camp and the Heights. Cut off any escapees. No one must pass to alert the army. We’ll be close behind.” He looked at the two men. “Go.”

They rode off, the Ranger riding fast into the distance. Cai joined his men and passed out orders. Moments later they rode north, too.

Captain regarded his officers. “Let’s move this army. I want to be on the heights by noon.”

Duncan Stiles asked, “Shall I unfurl the banner, sir?”

“No. Not yet. If we’re spotted, I don’t want them to know who their up against.” David suddenly grinned fiercely. “Not yet, anyway.” He glared at Gunshy, who nodded quietly in return. The small man's features softened, ever so slightly...

 

[Mettermrck]

August 7, 1565 - Rear of the March

It had been almost a week since they broke camp from Medina, Adelmar fortunately finding himself to be, most likely, the most sober man in the entire Company as it set out. It was with a particular bit of glee that he espied weary cavalrymen, groaning, and in some cases dredging up what remained of their sport the previous evening. Served them right, he thought with a grin. Gentlemen didn’t conduct themselves in such ways.

As usual with armies on the march, the artillery found itself at the rear, enjoying the dust clouds kicked up by the soldiers on the march. Adelmar realized it was probably a wry revenge for his enjoyment of their earlier discomfort. There was little in way of excitement as their plodding march brought them closer to the main harbor. The sun beat overhead, and it seemed the absence of a breeze was particularly tuned to torture him. His tunic grew heavy with sweat and clung to him in a most unseemly fashion. From what the little he could gather, his rudimentary skills at topography being put to the test, they appeared to be screening from the west, avoiding the bulk of the Turks – if it were he in command – and approaching from the…east? Southeast? He wasn’t sure…with fortune, there would be good ground to lay down a bombardment on the Turks, and at last he and the others would find hard work at hand. Thus far, the Rangers and the others deemed themselves the leading players in this little drama. Soon, Adelmar thought with a wry nod to himself, the artillery would demonstrate just how effective it could be.

It must have been the sixth day, or eighth, or some part of a week since the march began. For the six hundredth time, he inspected the bindings on the Dai, wondering when he would be able to fire this gun in anger. Gunshy and Llywarch still kept them from live-firing and it was all he could do not to wince at the lack of training his crew would demonstrate without real practice. Targets! We need targets! There was a pause in the march, and he could see a few of the officers riding forward, probably to consult with the Captain. He looked around, wondering where the Welshman had gotten off to, or where the Lieutenant was. His absence was…there was a reverberating rumble in the distance. A gun…Turk judging by the direction and sharpness of the sound. A big cannon…siege, no doubt. His ears perked up. It reminded him of….a serpentine cannon? No, probably a basilisk. That sound seemed familiar, bringing him back to his days of training at Woolwich.

 

[Amric]

August 7, 1565 - Free Company March

Captain nodded. “And the guards will be alerted when the Knights go barrelling into the camp.” He lapsed into thought, his mind working over the situation. Amina made to speak, but he held up his hand for silence. Finally, he looked ahead, jaw set. To the Ranger. “Get back to Renault. Try to secure the heights as quietly as possible. Impersonate the Turks if you have to. Cai?”

“Sir?”

“Take your men and pace the Knights. When they attack, and I’m assuming they will, insert yourself between the camp and the Heights. Cut off any escapees. No one must pass to alert the army. We’ll be close behind.” He looked at the two men. “Go.”

They rode off, the Ranger riding fast into the distance. Cai joined his men and passed out orders. Moments later they rode north, too.

Captain regarded his officers. “Let’s move this army. I want to be on the heights by noon.”

Duncan Stiles asked, “Shall I unfurl the banner, sir?”

“No. Not yet. If we’re spotted, I don’t want them to know who their up against.” David suddenly grinned fiercely. “Not yet, anyway.” He glared at Gunshy, who nodded quietly in return. The small man's features softened, ever so slightly...

Mario's horse curvetted away as he galloped to his unit. He motioned Von Stark and Diego to him. Both men trotted forward to him.

"Captain has ordered the company to move a bit faster, gentlemen," Mario informed them.

"Surely not double time?" Von Stark sighed.

"No," Mario nodded," Just a bit faster. Double time would leave us all gasping in the dust and heat."

"We can do that," Von Stark smiled grimly.

"Indeed," Diego agreed.

"Very good," Mario nodded," A faster pace, but not double time."

Von Stark snorted and stalked off shouting orders. Diego had already begun his own bellowing. Mario nodded sagely. It wasn't long before the elite pike infantry and their attached musketeers began to move faster. The other units also began picking up the pace.

 

[Valdemar]

Diego nodded at the order and hefted his halberd slightly. Today, unlike the march to medina he wore his full Spanish uniform, breastplate and domed helmet, sword at side, halberd in hand. Usually he would have foregone the halberd and helmet and instead carried his personal musket, but his task now was to direct these men and for that he needed to guide them with the halberd. He sighed, the breastplate and helmet may well prove too warm soon, and he was uncertain if he should allow the men to forego them, unlike the pike it was not needed.

He turned towards Rodriquez square and signalled the order then turned to his own men,

“You heard the officer, drummer beat up one fifth if you please.”

As the drum picked up a marching beat he looked around to make sure they kept formation and that his personal runner boy still had his musket on his back. Seeing all was well he lifted the halberd again signalling a change of formation,

“Double columns, one man lose on end.”

The formation flowed into place without breaking the speed of the march though several still bumped into each other. Still they had practised forming and unforming the formations throughout the last couple of days while marching and this was if not perfect then acceptable. Rodriquez formation copied the move and soon four long columns of musketeers headed the march in front of the company followed closely by the pikes.

He fell back through the column until he reached the front of the pike men, falling into step with von Stark.

“They seem to be holding up fairly well, all considered.”

He tucked at the helmet, he had not worn it properly since he was trained in the Tercio of Naples, and really it was too hot and not needed for the musketeers, but he felt it was true to form. He loosened the helmet and handed it to the messenger carrying his musket and cocked his head at the ragged looking mob of corsairs marching further behind, Diego kept his tone completely neutral, not betraying whatever emotions he held for the impromptu allies.

“What do you think of them?”

Giving von Stark time to think he looked back at the pikes,

“We really ought to try combining our forces in a more practical way, making sure that we do not trample each other in a less than perfect situation.”

He paused slightly,

“And perhaps utilize our forces in a more innovative way?”

 

[Petrarca]

August 7, 1565 - Right Flank

The conference among the officers, the gallop of the now-distant light cavalry, and the movements of the infantry all indicated one preeminent conclusion: the Free Company was headed to battle, and from what Adriaen had heard the Turks would be quite willing to give it. He accepted this fact, and his mind digested it and all the consequences it implied. There would be death soon, the death that he was paid to deliver and, if God so chose, suffer on this barren, sun-drenched island. After wiping the dust from his mouth with one hand, he patted Alarik on the neck and watched the new deployments take form as the Hospitallers broke off, their ardor apparent.

While the lancers advanced, leaving the reiter cavalry to screen the main body of the Company, Adriaen spurred Alarik to a quick trot and moved up a few ranks to come alongside the sergeant, Maurice d’Auxonne. Regretting his previous failure to approach d’Auxonne, he bit his lip and pondered a few seconds before speaking awkwardly to the officer.

“You fought at Dreux with Montmorency? I was there as well, except on the other side of the battle line, with Condé and Coligny. I gained new respect for pikes when I saw the stand of the Swiss despite the assault of our entire left against their squares. I confess I heard you speak with a pikeman about Dreux, and I intended to buy you a bottle as a gift from the vanquished to the victors, but certain affairs killed the evening. I digress a bit; the fight does that to my nerves.”

He cleared his throat in the dusty air, still shy about speaking to his superior, and blurted out his concerns:

“Sergeant, you are a man of high birth, for you said your uncle was the comte d’Auxonne. Perhaps seigneur, I did hear it too clearly. I wonder if you could tell me whether what I heard is true—that the Pope has granted plenary indulgence to all those who fall in battle against the Turk. You see, after that day—Dreux, I mean—I became concerned with such things. That day, I was on their side,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of their march, his baleful emphasis on their making clear that he meant the hostile army that sat somewhere on this rock. Looking at the sergeant expectantly, he finished, “against men such as those who employ us.”

 

[Lord Durham]

August 7, 1565 - Turkish Camp - Late Morning

Simon Baker reined his horse in near the spot where he’d left Renault and the Rangers to report to Captain. It was a series of abandoned hovels barely within sight of the massive, sprawling Turkish supply camp. What few men who had guarded the hovels were stacked up like so much lumber in the rearmost building.

As he made to dismount, a Ranger appeared beside him, causing his horse to startle. He looked down. It was the newcomer from the Far East -- Saito. The man quickly grabbed his horses bridle and ran a calming hand along the muzzle. The man’s good, Baker thought. He asked, “Where’s Renault?”

Saito pointed to the forward-most building.

Baker nodded and dismounted. Saito led his horse away to the other mounts.

The messenger entered the building to find it occupied by several men. He recognized Arpad, Andre and Andrew standing with Renault. The Sergeant tossed him a water-skin, eyebrows raised in silent question.

Baker took a drink. “I assume we haven’t been spotted?”

Renault frowned. “Now that’s a stupid question. Report.”

“The army is less than an hour behind us. Captain wants us to secure the heights, if possible.”

“What? How?”

“Well, there’s been a development.”

“How so?”

“Have the Knights arrived? Never mind. We would have heard them.”

“What in God’s name are you babbling about, Baker?”

Baker paused to take a deep breath. “Captain suspects the Knights are going to attack the Turkish camp. He wants us to try and secure the heights during the confusion. He even suggested we pose as Turks ourselves.”

“Oh, he did, did he. And how are 50 men supposed to accomplish this?”

“Lieutenant Cai is coming, should be here shortly. He’s to insert himself between the camp and the heights to cut off any escapees.”

“Oh? This is becoming really, really interesting. So, we’re to use the confusion to supplant the Turkish guards?”

“Just like I said, sir.”

Before Renault could answer Lieutenant Cai stormed in with Saito leading. For a moment the Sergeant studied the two men. So similar in appearance, yet so different.

Cai pointed at Saito, “This man almost caused my horse to throw me. Does he have to be so silent?”

Renault shrugged. “It would be self-defeating, otherwise.”

The elder cavalry Lieutenant grunted; looked to Baker, said to Renault, “You’ve been informed?”

“Indeed. Are these Knights really going to...”

The words drifted away. They all heard the low thunder of hooves, different from the throaty sound of the continuous cannon fire several leagues distant. Rushing to the window, Renault and Cai could barely see the Turks in the camp reacting in panic, scattering from some unseen danger. A moment later several Knights Hospitilars rode into view, sword arms rising and falling with deadly efficiency.

Cai swore. “Dammit. It’s begun. I must see to my men.”

Renault clapped the shorter man on the shoulder. “Luck. Remember, stay on this side of the heights.”

The cavalry Lieutenant ran out. Renault looked to his men. “Well, we have ten dead Turks with salvageable uniforms. We’ve scouted at least 15 guards on the heights. Maybe this hair-brained scheme will work. Who’s game to pose as the enemy?”

There was no shortage of hands.

 

[TheWildFerret]

August 7th, 1565 – Turkish Camp

Cai swore. “Dammit. It’s begun. I must see to my men.”

Renault clapped the shorter man on the shoulder. “Luck. Remember, stay on this side of the heights.”

The cavalry Lieutenant ran out. Renault looked to his men. “Well, we have ten dead Turks with salvageable uniforms. We’ve scouted at least 15 guards on the heights. Maybe this hair-brained scheme will work. Who’s game to pose as the enemy?”

There was no shortage of hands.

“Alright then,” Renault picked out fifteen men and then pointed at ten of those men, “You ten go grab those Turkish uniforms. You look to be about the right size. The rest of you, we move in five minutes. We’ll fan out at the base of the slope and move up slowly and silently. Take the sentries quickly when you happen upon them. I’m not too worries about the noise with those damnable siege cannons firing. Just makes our job a little bit easier.” Renault smiled and several men chuckled.

Renault waited five minutes and then signaled for his men to move out. They left the horses in the care of a couple Rangers and moved out on foot. Time was of the essence but horses were easily seen and that just wouldn’t do. Renault and his Rangers had to balance speed with stealth. Never a good combination. He was hoping that the commotion from the supply camp would keep the sentries preoccupied for a bit of time.

A whole lot of hopes and maybes… I don’t like it one bit.

The Rangers moved quickly to the hill and began to make their way up it using as much of the cover they could find. Renault moved up behind one of the sentries that were more interested in watching the Knights run down their countrymen then in trying to sound an alarm or anything. He rose up behind the Turk and quickly placed a dagger through his windpipe. Not a sound was made as the man tried to stem the blood flowing from his neck. The Turk gurgled once and then fell lifeless. Renault caught him and lowered him to the ground quietly. The man behind him quickly stripped the Turk down and started to put on the clothes.

Renault moved on…

 

[redwolf]

August 7th, 1565 – Turkish Camp

The words drifted away. They all heard the low thunder of hooves, different from the throaty sound of the continuous cannon fire several leagues distant. Rushing to the window, Renault and Cai could barely see the Turks in the camp reacting in panic, scattering from some unseen danger. A moment later several Knights Hospitilars rode into view, sword arms rising and falling with deadly efficiency.

Cai swore. “Dammit. It’s begun. I must see to my men.”

Renault clapped the shorter man on the shoulder. “Luck. Remember, stay on this side of the heights.”

Cai was panting heavily by the time he got on his horse. I am getting old, he thought to himself. His men were already ready and waiting for his orders.

"Alright men, we ride now. You know what you got to do. No Turk must escape to tell their main force that their camp is being overrun. Now let's ride!"

As the Light Cavalry rode, Cai could see the Knights were doing an efficient job of slaughtering the Turks in the camp. Further away on the far side, Turks were trying to make it to the heights and safety.

"Archers, target those on the far side fleeing on the far side of the camp. They must not be allowed to escape us!" Cai shouted.

Even as he spoke, archers were already loosening their arrows on the fleeing Turks, but already a small knot of about 10+ men were beyond their range.

"Ogedai!" Cai shouted.

"I see them Sir. Raymond, Frederick, Radziwill! Do not let those men escape!"

The 3 horsemen acknowledged the order and sped off after the feeling men.

Cai glanced back for another half second before returning to the task at hand," Oegedai, your jaghun take the centre. Sergeant Horn and Sergeant Edwards, your men will cover the flanks. No one escapes!."

The Light Cavalry spread out across and waited for any Turks coming their way...

 

[redwolf]

August 7, 1565- Free Company on the March

YaoHui was very excited. From what he know, there is likely to be a battle soon, maybe even within the next couple hours and he was looking forward to it already. He had trained for this for some time now and he was ready, ready to fight and ready to bring more honour to the Chen family.

Behind him he heard the galloping sounds of horses. He turned around and was surprised to see WeiBao riding up towards the infantry. He got an even nastier surprise when MeiFeng rode up beside her brother.

"Brother, sister, what ARE you doing here? We may be heading into battle anytime soon and you shouldn't really be here now."

WeiBao jerked a thumb in MeiFeng's direction,"Try telling that to her."

YaoHui glanced back and seeing the determination on MeiFeng's face nodded," I concede the point." YaoHui pointed to the head of his formation," Mario's ahead there. But for goodness sake, whatever you gotta say, do it fast."

But MeiFeng was already moving forwards. WeiBao threw up his hands in helplessness and then went riding after his younger sister.

Mario was deep in thought when he suddenly noticed MeiFeng, with WeiBao close behind him, riding uo towards him.

"WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING. HERE?" Mario half shouted in an experasted tone," You should be back with the bagga..."

"Shut up Mario and listen to me! I know you are heading into battle and I know you might be headed into danger's way anytime soon. You look after yourself, you hear me? Stay alive and don't do anything stupid. I will be very put off with you should anything happens understand."

Mario started to try and say something but the next thing he knew, MeiFeng flung herself off her horse and onto Mario and before Mario could react, he suddenly found her lips locked in place with his....

 

[von Streusser]

August 7th, 1565 - Corradino Heights

Arpad tugged at the sash again, hating it. 'This has got to be the stupidest thing you have ever done, old man' he thought to himself as he adjusted for the 1000th time the Turkish uniform he was now casually strolling around in. They had seen very few Turks on these hills so far...in fact, every Turk that the Magyar had run into had turned out to be a disguised Ranger. He thought over his orders again...secure the Heights, prevent communication between the camp and the seige army, and alert the main body of the company if the seige army began to return. But to be doing so in Turkish uniforms? This was foolish, this was insane, this was...

He startled as he heard something. Something in a strange tongue, the language of the Turkmen. He whirled around to see a man in a Turkish uniform approaching him, shouting...he had no idea what. Arpad's heart rose nearly into his throat as he tried to think of something to say back. He had heard the Turkmen speak many times in Hungary and down the Danube, how did they greet each other? Words suddenly shot into his brain, and he grasped onto them. "Allahu Akbar!" he barked at the Turk.

The approaching man cocked his head ever so slightly to the side and regarded the Magyar as he closed the remaining distance between them. "Allahu Akbar..." he said back, then reached out and pulled at Arpad's sash, adjusting it into the same position as the one he wore. The Turk began to speak quietly as he fixed the Hungarian's uniform, in a tone Arpad thought was admonishing him. 'I must be a problem soldier' he thought to himself. The Turk's speech suddenly turned up at the end, and Arpad realized he'd been asked a question. He stiffened, staring off into the distance at attention, hoping that would be a sufficient answer. The Turk was not satisfied, and the words were repeated, more intense this time. Arpad thought hard...he didn't know what he'd been asked, let alone the words for an appropriate answer. He heard the Turk ask a third time, more insistently, with extra words tacked on at the end. Though he didn't speak their language, he knew well enough what it meant...'I will not ask you again'.

Arpad nodded, hoping it was a yes or no question. The Turk's eyes narrowed, and he began to study the Hungarian intently, suspiciously...'shit!' he thought as the Turk reached for his sword and began to bark at him. Arpad balled his hand into a fist and suddenly lashed out, not to strike the man, but pointing towards the skirmish beginning in the camp below them. The Turk turned and gasped in surprise, and that was all the time Arpad needed. The Magyar lunged forward and grappled the man into a headlock, smothering his windpipe with his right arm, and began dragging him towards the cover of some rocks. The heathen kicked and clawed, trying to scream, but no sound came as he feebly lashed out at his captor.

Once he had dragged his prey behind the rocks, Arpad slammed the Turk into the ground, trying to batter the man's head in against the hard surface of the Isle of Malta. He pulled back and slammed it forward again and again, until the ground came away bloody and his foe went limp. He dropped his victim, and was drawing his knives to finish the job when suddenly the Turk rolled over, lashing out with a fist that connected squarely with Arpad's jaw. The world spun for a moment, and a warm salty taste filled his mouth. He recovered in time to see the second fist coming, but not in time to do anything about it, and suddenly was on his back, spitting out blood. The Turk was on him in a heartbeat, and he felt strong hands close around his throat, and something dripping onto his face. As the Turk squeezed, Arpad suddenly found himself losing the will to fight, losing the will to care about what was happening. His vision began to go fuzzy and dark, and all he managed to do was gasp "Ava..." before he blacked out.

* * * * *​

There was a bright light, obnoxiously bright he decided, and a pressure coming from somewhere, like someone was pushing against his back. He opened his eyes, and was briefly disappointed to find himself not in Heaven, but on the god-forsaken rock of Malta. The Turk was lying face-up next to him, a surprised look on his dead face. Someone was propping him up from behind into a sitting position, thumping his back and speaking. The words were a clouded mess, but the voice was familiar. Gradually the noises coalesced into words, and from out of the haze he heard "you all right, Arpad? Talk to me."

In response, the Magyar threw up blood.