210Chapter Two: Walk The World Alone
"Do you not know? You are wanted, my lady. You are Caroline Spades." Ian answered.
Well at least I know my name now. I thought. Then I realized something. If he knew my name, then he had to know more about me. More than I know about me! This was a perfect opportunity to learn more about my past, so I took advantage of the moment.
"Wanted?" I said mockingly, "Wanted for what?"
Chuckling, Ian's body arched back. His gun fell from underneath my chin, resting in his loose hands. The outline of his body was shaking back and forth, the moonlight shining onto his face as he faced towards the open window. It was the man from the tavern, the only one that wasn't drunk. Great, the one I thought wouldn't try to rape and kill me.
"You are funny Ms. Spades!" He exclaimed as he composed himself, "You have done many crimes! You have stolen, murdered, and are a traitor to the British Empire!"
"How am I a traitor?" I asked, trying to pry more information out. He was clearly distracted from my fake stupidity, so I began taking small baby steps toward the bed. My sword and gun were sitting on the nightstand on the other side. I had to get to them.
The moonlight shed on him once again, making his wicked smile glow, "You have taken money from British personnel, murdered British commanders and the worst of them all, you are a pirate!"
Pirate? It rang through my head; that one word. I was a pirate. Well, it was fairly obvious. I had the sword, the gun, the clothes, even the desire for freedom. I glanced over at Ian, his eyes fixed on me. I was at the edge of the bed now, only two feet away from my escape out of here. All I had to do was get the gun away from him for a few seconds.
"I did all of those cruel and bloody acts?" I said smiling, "I must be one hell of a pirate."
Before Ian could respond, I whipped out my right foot at his gun. It was hanging by his side since he was so dumbfounded by my forgetfulness. He let out a small yelp as my foot impacted his hand, causing his gun to fly. As he turned his head to watch it fall, being the dumb man he is, I rolled over on my bed and grabbed my weapons. Since I wanted an exciting and daring fight, I put my gun in its holster and held my sword upright. It was time for some action.
Ian looked over at me, "Hmm, you are more interesting than the British claim you to be." He unsheathed his sword and the two of us glared at each other.
"The British are simpletons," I replied with a snicker, "Just like you, Mr. Harth."
As soon as I finished my words, I saw his face turn to red and the veins on his hands and arms nearly pop out of them. His eyes were narrow as he snarled, "Shut up! Let's finish this!"
Suddenly, he leapt forward. His feet landed on the bed while he used his free hand to clasp on the bed post.
Ian sliced his sword forward, aiming at my chest. With my right hand, I gripped onto my sword and swung it in front of me, blocking his. I didn't expect him to be so strong, and I staggered backwards. Ian then slashed his blade at me again.
The tip caught me on the shoulder. Blood began trickling down my arm, and Ian smirked at his success.
"I thought that you would be better than this," Ian commented.
I simply narrowed my eyes at him. Rage began to course through me from my lack of skills. I couldn't let this buffoon beat me.
Ian jumped down and took a few small steps forward as he swung his sword at me. I quickly stepped out of the way, the blade rushing past my face. Ian didn't give up though. He whipped around and tried to plunge his sword into my stomach. Somehow, I dodged it. It must have been my instincts, I guess. His sword hit nothing but open air as I took a quick side-step to my right.
Taking advantage of the moment, I slashed my swords towards Ian. It left a huge gash on his chest as I finished my swing. He let out a cry of pain.
Wimp.
The blood cascaded down his chest, as if it was a waterfall. He pushed himself against the bedpost, clenching onto his cut as if it would help the poor fool.
"You wench," Ian muttered, looking up with angered eyes.
I smirked, "It's your own fault for being a lousy sword fighter."
Enraged, Ian took fast paced steps forward and slashed his sword at me. I barely got out alive. His sword caught me in the leg, but then I crashed my sword into his before he could rip apart my flesh anymore. Unexpectedly, he swung his leg at me and caught my left ankle. I fell to the ground, my sword soaring towards the bed.
I didn't watch it fall though like Ian did with his gun. I knew that he wasn't going to waste a second. My eyes saw a flash of metal as he tried to cut me in two. I rolled over just as his sword went by me. While he tried to pry his sword from the wooden floorboards, cursing underneath of his breath, I quickly snatched mine.
Seconds later, I ran at him and jabbed my sword forward, aiming for his chest. Somehow, he snagged the sword from the floor and blocked my attack. We then started parrying, him slashing at me and me blocking all of his attacks. He was better than I anticipated, but I kept calm.
Then, he overpowered me.
Ian pushed all of his weight forward as our blades met again. He smacked me into the side of the wall, my hands trembling as I tried to keep his sword from slicing my head off.
"Say good-bye, Spades," Ian hissed as he drew back his sword.
Everything went by so fast, that I barely remember what happened.
Ian was about to plummet his sword into my skull when I quickly stepped out of the way. His blade sunk into the wall, and this time he didn't get it out. This time, I spun around and slashed my sword across his back.
It was my instincts, definitely. Otherwise, I would have been dead.
"Damn it!" Ian yelled out as he fell to the ground. I glanced at him for a second, wondering if I should finish him.
I didn't have time to kill him. I started hearing more yells coming from outside of the door, and they were getting closer.
As Ian's shouts continued, I quickly tucked my gun in its holster, grabbed my sword and other belongings. I climbed out of the open window, a quick escape from this hell.
"Caroline Spades!" Ian shouted, "Next time I see you, you're dead! Dead!"
I jumped from the roof, landing on my two feet gracefully. Inside, I could still hear Ian's threats, the constant clatter of footsteps and panicked words. I looked around, and saw an unattended fishing boat near the docks. I grinned as I began running towards it, the screams far behind me.
I hate the Sun. It wouldn't stop beating down on me and burning my skin; like the black spot incinerating my hand wasn't enough.
After my escape from Ian, I fled to the pathway that the old man said led to Port Ruby. I've been walking on it ever since. On both sides of the path were towering trees, tangled grass, and of course, the annoying insects. They kept on buzzing around my face, and a few even smacked right into it. I swatted them away, but they always came back. Always.
What time is it? I wondered as I kept on treading down the path. I raised my head and looked at the sky. Not one cloud in sight. My lucky day.
That's when I heard the soft murmurs behind me. I didn't bother to turn around, since I thought that it was the bugs.
I was wrong.
Faint footsteps pounded behind me, and the whispering got so loud that I could hear exactly what the three scoundrels were saying.
"She doesn't even know that we're here!" One of them said, excitement tingling in his voice.
"Oliver, quiet down! We have to surprise her!" Another man ordered.
"Tonto," another one muttered in Spanish.
I rolled my eyes at their stupidity. Do they really believe that I couldn't hear them? They were louder than the god damned bugs! Men, typical men.
"On three, ready?" One of them said.
"Okay. One," Oliver said.
"Dos."
"Three!"
As soon as they said three, I whirled around while snagging my sword. None of the dimwits suspected it. My sword was pointed at the man standing in the middle, his dagger now on the ground. The other two men were behind them, and didn't dare to move.
"What do you three think you are?" I asked, pushing the tip of my blade into the man's neck.
The man instantly replied, "Oh my God! 'Tis Caroline Spades!" He exclaimed, stepping back. Surprisingly, he went onto his knees and began to beg for mercy. "I didn't know it was you! None of us did! We could not tell from behind! Please, do not kill us!"
I frowned. I sheathed my sword and told him to stand up. He did so immediately. "What is your name?" I asked. He tilted his head, as if confused. "Well…?" I questioned, getting annoyed.
"Oh, my name is Timothy Sinclaire!" He declared, taking off his hat. He spun around and then proceeded to say, "That is Oliver Fresnick." He pointed to a chubby man who had beady eyes and a thick beard. Then, he continued, "And this is Santiago Ezekiel." He waved a hand at a very muscular and lean Spaniard, who simply nodded his head in my direction.
"Hmm," I said, looking at all three of them. Timothy was a lanky man, who looked as brittle as a twig. His greasy blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and I could see beads of sweat dripping off of it. I cringed. "Fine, I will not kill you three," Timothy's face brightened up, "but on one condition."
Timothy's smile descended into a frown, "And what is that?"
I replied, "If you lead me to Port Ruby."
Timothy chuckled, "Of course we will!" He glanced back at his friends, "Right, mates?"
Oliver responded, "I would be happy to," he smiled and walked towards me, "It's not every day that you meet a pirate legend. C'mon, Santiago."
Santiago grunted, but then treaded forwards as the rest of us kept on walking. I guess he wasn't the type to talk. But, of course, Timothy and Oliver made up for that.
"So, Caroline," Timothy began, "I'm still sorry for attacking you. You see, we are broke and-"
"Do you want me to kill you?" I asked, grinning at Timothy. His face flushed, and he muttered a no. I could tell he wasn't exactly the brightest person in the world. But then again, I do not know what the world is like since I have no memories.
"What takes you to Port Ruby?" Oliver asked, curiosity flickering through his eyes.
"To get more supplies," I lied. No one could know that I have lost all of my memories. Definitely since Chubby said I was a pirate legend. If word got out, I would be a dead woman.
"Ah, that makes sense," he replied.
"Mhm," I said. I did not feel like talking. I was exhausted from the fight with Ian and walking around blindly on this path. As soon as I reach Port Ruby, I am finding an inn and sleeping for a whole day, or maybe even two.
"Oh, did you get injured?" Timothy questioned, grabbing my right hand.
My eyes flashed. I spun around and drew my hand back, baffling him. It was the hand with the hideous black spot on it, and I did not want these three imbeciles to discover it. I grabbed him by the throat, "Do not touch me, ever." I seethed. I did overreact, but that was only because the pain suddenly throbbed in my right hand. Needles stabbed my body, sending waves of pain into my senses. I winced.
Timothy raised his hands, "Okay, I am deeply sorry Caroline. Please, I am sorry, "Timothy pleaded. Oliver and Santiago stood nearby, watching with shock. I placed Timothy back onto the ground, his eyes stricken with horror.
"No need to be sorry," I explained, "I overreacted. I have not been having a good day."
Timothy glanced over at Oliver and Santiago, his shock not yet gone. He then said to me, "That is understandable."
Those were the last words we said for a long time. I shoved my hand into my pocket so the three thieves wouldn't see the black spot slowly growing, and the pain intensifying.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I really do appreciate it! Please leave reviews about your thoughts! :D.
Fun Fact: Music inspires a lot of my writing. For example, I got the idea for my other story, Rise From The Ashes, while sitting in geometry listening to We're All To Blame by Sum41.