Dead Men's Tales (Tales of the Brass Griffin Book 5) (33 page)

“I’m fine, Angela,” Thorias lied with a painful smile, “don’t worry about me.”

Thomas Clark moved at that moment, as did Captain Hunter. Captain Clark, despite his hands being bound, lowered his shoulder to ram into Dr. Hardy. However, he took no more than two steps before one of the Fomorians,
disguised as one of the
Intrepid's
crew, shoved him aside. Two of the real
Intrepid's
seaman started to rise, but stopped when the Fomorian sailors turned on them, ready.

Just as Clark bounced off the ship’s wall, Hardy turned, swiftly pointing the revolver at Anthony’s chest. The doctor narrowed his eyes, as if taking a careful measure of the man, much as a scientist would examine a caged, wild animal without giving any thought to the immediate danger the animal actually presented.

“How very wasteful of you, Captain,” Dr. Hardy said with a smug arrogance. “You cost the Royal Navy a sailor,” he shook his head with a mock sadness, “he might have grown to do … oh,
something of moderate importance. Though likely he would have been a destitute drunkard, so perhaps I should commend you instead.” The doctor said as he inclined his head towards Hunter in a mock-bow and an impish smile, “good show, Captain!”

"The shot will have been heard by my crew," Thomas Clark snarled at Hardy as he stepped back from the Fomorian sailors, keeping them at arm’s length from him, "they'll be here in moments!”

"Idiot," Dr. Hardy snorted, "I assist with your duty roster. Had you been less obsessed with your 'mission' you might have noticed a few shift changes. The only sailors nearby are mine," the man hissed, “save for the sheep trussed up on the floor.”

Dr. Llwellyn waved Angela’s concern away, grimacing as he pushed up, slowly struggling to stand. "Are you a doctor or a butcher?” Thorias demanded with a venomous look at Dr. Hardy.

“No, I consider myself a visionary,” the murderer replied as if he was explaining to a child. He looked down his long, thin nose at Thorias. “Given you are an elf, and a Welsh elf at that, I doubt you are any less of a cur
than your Tuatha Dé Danann ancestors. So, naturally, I won’t waste my valuable time trying to explain Fomorian enlightenment to a lesser race.” Hardy sniffed, giving Thorias a sour look, “now be good and shut up. I wish to speak to someone of more reasonable intelligence.”

Captain Hunter was tense, every muscle on the verge of motion for the instant that Dr. Hardy became vulnerable. Anthony ached for a pistol, a knife, anything at that moment. “What,” Hunter said ice crackling from each word,” … do you … want?”

Dr. Hardy smiled brightly, “direct and to the point, eh, Hunter?
 
Commendable. First, I want you away from that door to the infirmary, and more out in the open. Wouldn’t do for you to interfere.” Hardy gestured with the revolver for Hunter to stand next to Thorias and Angela. Slowly, Hunter complied, his entire demeanor indicating he would break Hardy the very moment the chance presented itself.

The captain stopped a few paces short of Thorias and Angela, anger seething in his eyes. One of the Fomorian sailors walked over
and roughly searched the captain for weapons. After a moment, the seaman shook his head, releasing his grip on Hunter’s clothes.

“Not even a knife on ’em,” the Fomorian sailor said to Dr. Hardy.

Hardy smiled, “excellent. Perhaps now we can reach an amicable agreement over this,” the thin man said as if searching for a word, “misunderstanding, wouldn’t you say?”

Hunter’s frown darkened, his eyes burning with the fury of a blast furnace. “No, I would not.”

“Ah, Captain,” the thin doctor, still dressed in the senior lieutenant’s uniform, said as he casually began to pace, waving idly with the revolver, “such a narrow view. Still a touch of anger over that dust up on the
Fair Winds
? It was just a small bit of appropriation. Pity you were in the way and all that.”

“Those were people that were abducted,” Hunter said slowly, words thick with tension, “not cattle.”

Hardy spun quickly to face Hunter with reptilian smile, “now that would depend on one’s point of view, wouldn’t it? However, that’s unimportant for our little discussion.” The doctor gestured towards Thorias with a free hand. "I doubt your doctor will enlighten us on this matter, so I will present my demands to you. The Hellgate formula. Hand it over and we can leave all of this behind us.”

Hunter folded his arms over his chest, a stubborn look on his face. "Pray tell, why do you think I know where it is? During your masquerade, you knew when I was brought aboard. I've scarcely had time to shave, let alone run about the ship and track down the whereabouts of your illicit toxin.”

Hardy nodded, followed by a small shrug as he began to pace. "Quite, but you have some sort of influence on your … comrade … there," he replied indicating a very angry Thorias. "Perhaps enough to encourage him to hand it over."

"I’ll not tell the likes of you anything!" Thorias interrupted, fists shaking with anger.

Angela looked wide-eyed from Dr. Llwellyn to Dr. Hardy,
then back. Quietly, she stared at her quivering hand, closed her eyes,
and concentrated. For a moment, and only a moment, her skin darkened as the smallest down of fur started to grow. As quickly as it started, it then stopped, leaving Angela exhausted and disappointingly still human.

Hardy glared at Dr. Llwellyn, “Doctor or no, be quiet! I’ve no intention of dealing with your kind!”

“Dr. Llwellyn is quite correct,” Hunter replied with a cold, calm voice, his eyes locked on Dr. Hardy’s. After a heartbeat, Captain Hunter slowly started to pace the width of the corridor, causing the thin doctor to constantly shift his aim. “You see, none of us have any intention of letting that formula loose, especially if it means allowing it into Fomorian hands.”

“Indeed?” Dr. Hardy replied, his eyes cold as ice while his frown deepened.

“If at all possible, yes,” Hunter continued with a faint smile. “You see, I, for one among us, never bargain while being held at gunpoint. I’ve found in doing so, I will forever be on the wrong end of the deal.” The captain stopped pacing, just a half-step in front of Thorias and Angela. “Also, I prefer to know the real identity of whom I’m dealing with.”

“What do you mean?” Dr. Hardy demanded, adjusting his grip on the weapon.

“You’re no more this ‘Dr. Hardy’ than I am,” Hunter explained with a smirk. “You Sirrah, are a bold deceiver … a lackey to the real Dr. Hardy. Dr. Llwellyn is actually a real doctor. You? I suspect are merely a cheap fraud.”
 

T
he corridor was unearthly still. Two of the Fomorian sailors looked uncomfortable, though the man calling himself Dr. Hardy maintained a superior look on his face, even if panic shone for a moment in his eyes. "I … I am a fraud?” Hardy said in tight, thin voice. “Where is your proof?”

Hunter nodded, folding his arms over his chest, accepting the challenge, "simple enough, really. You worked your way onto this ship to gain a Senior Lieutenant's position. That takes time and dedication. Something that would never allow you the opportunity to gain access to the items stolen from the
Fair Winds
, nor to
examine them, let alone appear on Port Signal to sell them. Or, specifically, in a stroke of sheer idiocy, sell the very formula you're hunting. No matter who or what else you are
right now, you are not this ‘Dr. Hardy’.”

The gunman’s hands shook with anger, knuckles turning white as he gripped the revolver. He forced a thin smile upon his face. “Bravo, Captain. Excellent deduction. My real name is Brin Nash. However, I am the one with the weapon, yes? So who here is the fool?”

Captain Hunter smiled, “the man who employs a crew incapable of properly searching a captive!”
 

Anthony yanked a small dagger free of the sheath hidden up his sleeve. Quick as a blink, the captain flipped the knife over in his hand and hurled it at the false ‘Dr. Hardy’, then spun to square off against the nearby Fomorian sailor.

At the first glint of the knife, Nash jerked to his right, but only a fraction of a second too slow. The knife slammed into the man’s left arm, just below the shoulder. He glared hellish daggers at Hunter.

“An eye for an eye, Captain!” Suddenly, Nash turned again and squeezed the trigger. His revolver bucked in his hand, and a bullet slammed into another helpless sailor, killing him instantly.

“No!” Hunter shouted, too late, as he sidestepped his Fomorian guard and surged towards Nash. However, before he was out of reach, the Fomorian hammered a hard right fist into the captain’s mid-section, which dropped Hunter to his knees.

Dr. Llwellyn also tried to rush the lunatic, but was bodily slammed against the wall for his trouble. Waves of pain shot through him, radiating from raw wound in his side.

Angela jerked wide-eyed at the shock of the noise, then squeezed her eyes shut, desperately concentrating. She turned even more pale as she shuddered, trying to force herself to change. Despite her best efforts, she failed.

Behind Nash, Captain Clark dove at the gunman with a snarl, bound hands outstretched for the killer’s throat. The young man
managed only two steps before one of the Fomorian sailors rammed a strong, calloused fist across his mouth, splitting his lip. Clark staggered forward, falling face first onto the deck
.

Nash immediately turned his revolver back on Hunter, allowing the captain only a moment to take just one more step closer. “I will kill as many as it takes!” The gunman yelled, reaching up to slowly, painfully pull the knife from his shoulder. “You, your doctor, the girl! Anyone! Now
the formula, if you please!”

Hunter exchanged a glance with Thorias. The elven doctor’s face was conflicted mix of rage and pain.

Nash grimaced as the knife worked its way free. He slammed the blade to the floor, then started to turn his pistol towards Captain Clark, who had just rolled over onto his back, dazed and unaware of the risk to his life.

“Stop!” Thorias exclaimed. “Enough!” His voice cracked with stress and exhaustion, “for Heaven’s sake, enough butchery … you won’t find it in the infirmary. I keep it on me at all times.” As Dr. Llwellyn explained this, he slowly withdrew a small sheaf of papers covered with calculations from his vest pocket.

Angela reached over, clutching at his sleeve. “Doctor, no, please don’t!” she begged in a hushed tone.

Thorias gave the girl a sad glance, then looked away, “I have to,” he replied quietly, “I won’t risk any more lives over it. As long as there is life, there is hope. If he kills us all for it, then there’s no hope.”

“Bloody sweet sentiment, Doctor, now give me those!” Nash said as he rushed over and snatched the notes away from Thorias.

“Choke on them,” Thorias growled.

Nash ignored the comment, instead greedily sifting through them. “Excellent,” he purred, “you made a wise choice, Doctor, most wise. We’ll be leaving all of you now to your ‘hope’ and ‘life’.” Nash stuffed the papers into a pocket, then waved a hand idly in the air as he walked away down the corridor. “Take the girl. We’ll need to examine her more closely.”
 

“No!” Dr. Llwellyn roared, lunging forward while Angela yelped, backing away as far as the wall would allow. All around the corridor, everyone moved at once.

One sailor grabbed Angela and hauled her, along with her blanket, over next to him. The girl’s legs collapsed, as she was still suffering from the after-effects of the elixir. She frowned in hard concentration and clawed at the Fomorian, but with little effect
 
as her strength – and her ability to change shape – had not quite returned.

Another Fomorian henchman turned on the doctor, intent on slamming the irritating Welsh elf into the wall again. He swung and missed as Thorias, in a burst of anger-fueled adrenaline, ducked low, then hammered a hard right fist into the side of the sailor’s
knee!

Howling in pain, the man fell forward, grasping for the doctor as he easily slipped past to charge at the man holding Angela. A few steps away from the young girl, Nash turned at the commotion, holding his wounded shoulder and glowering toward Thorias.

“Deal with him already!” Nash ordered sharply.

Captain Clark shook his head, quickly rolling over and unsteadily scrambling to his feet. Beside him, two of the remaining sailors loyal to him climbed to their feet, rushing at another Fomorian who had turned towards Thorias with a drawn knife! The two seamen slammed the Fomorian into a wall, knocking the wind out of him.

Hunter, meanwhile, took the opportunity to ram his artificial fist across the jaw of the Fomorian closest to him. The sailor staggered back, shook his head, then lunged for Anthony. However, Captain Hunter was ready.

As the Fomorian stepped in close, Hunter moved to the guard’s left, ramming a punch into Fomorian’s stomach, followed by a hard right to the point of the guard’s chin. The Fomorian swayed on
his feet, his eyes slowly crossing.

“Fragile as glass without your little concoction,” Hunter said with a smirk to the dazed sailor. “Let's keep it that way, shall we?” Reaching into the sailor’s uniform, Hunter pulled out a now familiar vial of elixir, then shoved the Fomorian away.

The guard fell like a tree, collapsing to the floor, then groaned in pain. Hunter smashed the vial to the deck at the Fomorian’s feet, the yellow liquid, pooling uselessly on the floor.

Watching the fight, Nash’s left eye twitched with barely suppressed rage. He stepped back as Thorias collided with the Fomorian holding Angela. The doctor knocked the guard against the wall, nearly knocking the wind from him.

Angela immediately squirmed, clawing furiously at the guard, but with little result. The Fomorian simply tightened his grip on the girl, determined to keep her captive. With the other hand, he swung to block
a punch from Thorias. Immediately, Thorias redoubled his efforts, smashing a fist across the point of the guards jaw!

“I hate Tuatha Dé Danann! I should’ve killed you the moment I saw you!” Nash snarled. He quickly stepped over and hammered the barrel of his pistol across Dr. Llwellyn’s head, instantly knocking him unconscious.