Interlude 5: Seize the Booty (2/2)
She looked to her crew, found them forming into rough lines between the unexpected reinforcements and the drama in front of the stage. That was good, but she had no idea what they were up against.
But then she had other worries, as she heard a deep voice bellow from her flank.
“Rammit!”
Moving with instinct, moving before she had time to think, she dove forward and tucked herself into a roll as she heard a row of chairs explode behind her, heard the thundering, hollow, armored footsteps of the minotaur crash past, then turn and wheel around. She rose to her feet drawing two pistols from her brace and sent two shots toward the great towering golem. One struck home, but it barely seemed to dent his chest a bit.
Anne laughed and threw the pistols aside, cross-drawing her cutlass and her off-hand knife, shot a quick glance back toward the stage, then charged him.
“Ya lost the second you came here, me bucko!” she roared, ducking as he tried to sweep his battleaxe through her. “We've got a job to do and yer in the way!
She played the drums with the armor, clattering her blades off it, checking the numbers when she could spare a quick look. She was hurting him, aye, but not much. He was made of armor, plain and simple. All the dirty tricks she could bring to bear, all the tendons she was used to slicing, all the bleeding cuts she'd usually try to gouge... none of those things would work here. So after a few hard strikes she switched to the flat of the blade, to try and spare her weapons some sharpening later.
“From what I'm told you're not a bad lot as pirates go,” the minotaur said, as she barely dodged a snap-kick that would have probably broken her knee. “Surrender and you'll be well treated.”
“From what I've seen you're not a bad lot as townsfolk go,” she said. “Surrender and we'll borrow yer dolly and be off.”
He caught her in the face with the butt of the axe, sending her back a few steps, and tried to grab for her arm. But with grace no human could match, she was rolling to the side, hitting the ground shoulder first and tumbling, before snapping to her feet again.
She got a look at the stage while doing so, and saw that the fight had done what she'd hoped. More crew were pouring out of the hatches, some heading down to reinforce the ones who were keeping a cordon around Cecelia and Jean, and more moving into positions on the deck.
Anne parried the axe, fell full-on shocks up her arm as she took stamina damage from the impact, and used her knife to make a few signals.
Unfortunately her foe was pretty sharp.
“What? Oh, you're playing shenanigans, aren't you?” the minotaur said, and looked toward Jean and Cecelia. “Get through the line! Get her to safety! We win if she escapes!”
The second he looked away she dropped her knife, pulled a pistol, and shot one of the golems off the shoulder of his battle-buddy. Surprised, the warrior looked down, and the crewbunny he was fighting stabbed him in the face.
“What? No!” the minotaur shouted, and Anne laughed and two-handed the cutlass, catching a brutal swipe of the axe on the side and deflecting it to the ground.
“If ya don't want dead friends then deal with me, bucko! I'm your problem now! You're up against Captain Anne Bunny!”
“And I'm Garon. And that was Snapper you shot, and his husband James who's down and bleeding over there. So with all due respect I'm going to kill you and get the answers I want from your corpse if you don't KNOCK IT OFF RIGHT NOW!”
He punctuated the words with short, fast thrusts and swings of the axe, poking at her with the spike on the end and driving her back. She let him gain ground a bit at a time, grinning as she went.
And as he drove her back, she heard a snippet of Jean and Cecelia's conversation.
“We weren't. I swear. That man, he wasn't with us, we shot him, why would we shoot him if he was ours?”
“You wouldn't be the first to sacrifice a minion for your goals. That was how my father did business. You remember him? The daemon summoner? The mad tyrant?”
“And we're not him! We... please. We just want to take you to meet someone. The future of your nation, your future, your happiness, all of these things depend on it!”
“Then why are you attacking my friends! You could have just asked!”
“Could we? There's a strange assassin dead at your feet! What do you think they would have done if we tried to come in good faith? You have enemies here, and you can't see them because you're too close! Come with us, please! You don't have to trust us, you can hold those knives to my throat the whole way if you like. You don't have to trust... me.”
It was a beautiful little bit of drama.
Too beautiful. Too... distracting. And Anne realized that just a second too late.
Garon's axe caught her square in the chest, and she doubled over, feeling the pain, feeling ribs give...
And in that instant of slowed time, in that fraction of a second before blood gushed up and out her throat, Anne whispered, “Cannon Fodder.”
The crewbunny who'd stabbed James screamed as she tore in half.
And Anne straightened up again, her hide whole, but her blouse cut where the axe had cleaved it.
“Of course,” Garon grumbled. “Bandit tricks. You can shunt damage to anyone you've promoted.”
“That's how Band O'Bastards works, aye.” Anne said, stowing her cutlass back in its sheath. “And I think our time is about up, mister bull.”
“What?” she pointed, and clearly against his better judgment he turned a bit, brought a red eye to bear over to where Cecelia had taken Jean's hand, and was walking toward the ship. “No! Cecelia! It's a trick, don't follow her!”
Anne dodged past him in that moment of distraction, leaping into the air as he grabbed for her, missed. “Too slow! It's over!” she said as she grabbed a swinging line, and rode it back to the stage.
“I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but you're not getting away from me!” Garon bellowed, lowering his horns and starting his charge. “Rammit!”
Anne nodded, as he came thundering down the aisle. Then she drew her cutlass, looked to the crew gathered around the railing, and raised it. “Oh me poor metal bucko. I told you. You lost the second you came here!”
She slashed the cutlass down, pointed it to Garon.
The firing ports of the “stage” slammed open.
And four full cannons worth of canister shot blew away chairs, carpets, decorations, and one very surprised doll haunter.
“Garon!” Cecelia shrieked, caught midway up the ladder. “What have you done?” she struggled free of Jean's hand and started down the ladder again...
...and yelped in surprise as Anne scooped up her whip from the deck, lashed out with it, and pulled her in. “Oh no ye don't! Hold tight me pretty. We've gone to too much trouble to collect you.
Five knives cut through the air, and hovered in front of Anne's face. “Let. Me. Go.”
“Reload the guns!” Anne barked. “At the first stab, open fire on them armor remnants! And keep firing until everything's pulverized! Including soulstones.”
Cecelia hesitated. Glass eyes met Anne's own.
And Cecelia blinked first. “No. I... damn it. I surrender. Don't hurt him. Don't break any soulstones.”
“I agree to yer terms. Welcome aboard! Go over and keep Jean company, lass.” Anne smiled, and tried not to look too gloaty. “We're done. All right! All hands on board! Anyone who ain't on board gets left behind!”
She turned then, headed for the wheel, then stopped and frowned. There was one last bit of business to attend to. “Karey! Get our prisoners! Kick them off the ship! They can explain matters to the town guard for us!”
There was no reply.
“Karey?”
The sounds of battle had died down now, and she was certain that her first mate would have heard her. She headed toward the stairs down to the forecastle...
...and paused and stared, as a halven stepped out of the shadows, flaring a hand full of silvery metal cards.
A halven who by rights should be behind a sturdy locked door, guarded at all times, and out of earshot of anyone, anyone at all who didn't have the strongest possible willpower to resist her silvered tongue. A halven who was easily the most dangerous of Anne's five very dangerous prisoners.
“You!” Anne barked.
“Me,” said Chase Berrymore.