Immortalis Book 1, Act 2, Scene 2: The Pirate’s Rapid Fire

Scene II: The Pirate’s Rapid Fire

 

The 2^nd Day of the 4^th Moon, 1536 P.V.

The Shipwreck Sombre

 

Allyra awoke in the early hours of the morning to find Nicolas gone. An envelope sat on the pillow next to her with ‘Immoless’ scrawled on it in yellow messy handwriting and a yellow and black plaid seal had been used to close the same envelope. Allyra rolled her eyes and tore it open. Inside she found a buried screwed up parchment that took a few minutes to unravel.

 

Once she had stroked out the worst of the creases she read the letter,

 

‘My Beloved Bride,

 

I have been called away on urgent matters that your low intellect could not understand. I appreciate your acceptance of my proposal, and you may select any colour wedding dress that you desire, providing that it is burgundy.

 

Your ever loving husband,

 

Nicolas DeSilva, Your Master, Superior and King

 

P.S. Bigglesworth has dodgy feet, don’t look at them.’

 

Allyra folded the letter, picked her kleptobag up off the floor, and popped the letter inside. She then dressed quickly and wandered to the deck to watch the two suns decide once again not to rise. She headed directly to the bulwark where she instantly forgot about the suns and took to staring at Sihr.

 

Her mind drifted to her daydreams, and she shifted mentally from residing at the palace on Sihr to how she could decorate her ship instead. After careful thought, and Nicolas’s sneaky interference with her brain, Allyra decided that her ship would probably provide more solitude than barging into someone else’s home and demanding that they share it. The necromancer was rumoured not to be a people-person, so she resolved to live aboard her ship and stay away from Elyas. This resolve would not last.

 

Her reveries were quickly interrupted by the sudden intrusion of a deep voice,

‘You have a woman’s feet!’

Allyra jumped and turned. In the hammock behind her kegs lay Nicolas, or at least she presumed it was Nicolas. He certainly looked like Nicolas, only he was wearing a bizarre purple outfit, a cream-white frilly chemise, a feathered hat, and an eye-patch.

 

‘I thought you had gone,’ Allyra said at length.

‘Gone, Madam,’ the pirate replied, ‘I only just arrived, so I can’t very well be gone, since I am here. Can you not see me?’

‘I can see that you are here, but I thought you had gone.’ Allyra wondered if everyone in The Deep was insane.

‘Are you feeling quite alright woman?’ Nicolai-Bigglesworth asked.

‘I am quite myself.’

‘Which tells me nothing. Ibliss was once quite himself, and then the writing started and he became herself, whilst being himself for visitors. I think Ibliss is half the reason Nicolas is the way he is!’

Allyra climbed up onto the bulwark and sat down facing the pirate,

‘You’re Nicolas.’

 

Bigglesworth placed his hands behind his head and swung the hammock from side to side with his body,

‘I am Commodore Nicolas Bigglesworth, but I am not Nicolas.’

‘You just said you are Nicolas,’ Allyra snapped, taking a pre-rolled Ashurrel smoke from her bag and lighting it, ‘Commodore Nicolas Bigglesworth.’

 

Bigglesworth looked up at the stars,

‘Like I said, I am a Nicolas, not thee Nicolas.’

‘Whatever you say, chief,’ Allyra shrugged, ‘I am guessing either you want to engage in some weird role play or there is a carnival in town?’

‘No carnival, except the Dokeshi Carnival, but that was retired years ago. Only the clowns roam its former shadows. Of course you know that. You always sit in there on the big wheel when you’re depressed and want to be alone.’

Allyra exhaled into the sea air,

‘And how do you know that exactly?’ She asked.

Bigglesworth suddenly got quite fidgety and animated. He swung the hammock harder and waved his hands about,

‘We are all very excited, Immoless, so we watch you all the time. Even when you are asleep.’

 

Allyra caught her breath and glared at Bigglesworth,

‘What do you mean ‘we watch you.’ Who is we?’

‘Nicolas is we. Try to keep up. I should like to see you walk the plank, I often wonder if we could not improve your nautical skills,’ Bigglesworth mused as he sat up and jumped from the hammock.

‘When I said roleplay, that was not quite what I meant,’ Allyra sighed, taking another drag of her smoke.

‘It’s what I meant.’

‘Is that why you are dressed like that, Nic?’

 

Bigglesworth marched to Allyra’s side, smiling. Not the sort of pleasant smile one has when meeting a friend, more the smile of a man, or monster, who forced the expression poorly. The smile was all teeth and slightly psychotic eyes.

 

‘Dressed like what?’ Bigglesworth asked.

‘Dressed like a toadstool-licker,’ Allyra replied.

‘Toadstool-lickers are the domain of The Pied Piper; my function is nautical.’

‘Of course it is,’ Allyra muttered, then elected to change the subject rather than go around in circles of silliness, ‘Nic?’ She began.

Bigglesworth raised one eyebrow,

‘Commodore!’

‘Commodore, you know how I told you I don’t care for the Electi or the other Immolesses?’

‘No!’ Bigglesworth replied.

 

Allyra sighed a sigh of deep annoyance and went to flick her smoke into the sea. Bigglesworth caught her arm,

‘The Necromancer does not like it when you pollute his ocean! We do not like it either.’

‘Fine!’ Allyra nodded, jumping down from the bulwark, dropping her smoke and smothering it with her boot. Bigglesworth growled a deep nasal groan of disapproval.

 

Allyra tried to free her arm from his grip, but he would not let go.

‘Continue, Immoless!’ The commodore commanded.

‘As I was saying,’ Allya said, shaking her arm to no avail, ‘as much as I have no care for them, I should like to know my sister Immolesses’ current situation.’

Bigglesworth started walking and dragged Allyra by the arm with him,

‘Why does it matter?’

‘It matters,’ Allyra replied desperately trying to resist his pull, and failing, ‘because I want to know when it will be my turn.’

‘Are you afraid of dying?’ Bigglesworth asked as he led her back to her cabin.

‘No. Not dying. I am afraid of not living. You didn’t listen to a word I said last night, did you?’

‘I was not here last night, but I can reflect on your words now and find out the situation with your sisters.’

 

Bigglesworth led Allyra, quite forcibly, into her cabin and shoved her onto the bed, releasing his grip. He then sat beside her and his eyes rolled back into his head. His entire body stilled and silenced. Allyra crawled next to him and waved her hand in front of his eyes. There was no response. She waited for five minutes, then tried again, still there was no response.

 

For a moment Allyra thought she heard whispering. Bigglesworth’s mouth started moving but no sound came out. The whispering continued like shocks of wind blasting around the cabin.

 

Feeling a little fed up with The Nicolas Show, which was only just beginning, Allya dropped her kleptobag from her shoulder, pulled out Dr Otto Von Riesigerschwanz’s book, ‘Hit That Bitch!’ and opened it at the bookmarked chapter. She was soon engrossed.

 

After reading the bookmarked chapter entitled, ‘Women, Whips and Warts,’ Allyra noticed some movement from the pirate as Bigglesworth decided to reboot his brain. His eyes blinked several times, then returned to their normal position,

‘Your sisters…’

‘Yes?’ Allyra asked, closing the book and placing it back in her bag.

‘Stacia is to be collected by Robert, Theaten, in due course, and Lucia…,’ Bigglesworth laughed, ‘I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise. But you will be dispatched soon. You shall go to Corax…’

‘That’s not my plan!’ Allyra exclaimed.

 

‘You SHALL go to Corax and, hang on, I want to get this right,’ Bigglesworth said, then his eyes wandered back into his own brain again. He returned a lot faster than the first time, ‘They say you will give yourself to Nicolas as our bride, but Webster thinks you will create a massive scene first.’

‘Does he now? And who might Webster be?’ Allyra asked surreptitiously.

‘Nicolas.’

‘And what was the whole eye rolling thing about?’

‘We were communicating as you asked,’ Bigglesworth explained in an almost patronising tone.

‘Communicating with who?’

‘Nicolas.’

‘Who was?’ Allyra snapped impatiently.

Bigglesworth lay on the bed,

‘Who was what?’

‘Who was communicating with Nicolas?’

‘Nicolas,’ Bigglesworth replied, patting the sheet next to him, ‘lay here Immoless, under the sheets to keep yourself warm. You seem so cold.’

 

Allyra shook her head,

‘I’m not cold. So, let me get this straight, you, Nicolas spoke to Nicolas about what I said to Nicolas and were advised by Nicolas to reply but then cautioned by Nicolas that the reply may have inaccuracies and in between you had to check with Nicolas?’

‘Yes, you understand. Good. Lay here, you are cold and wet.’

‘I am neither wet, nor cold. Do you always confuse Immolesses on purpose?’ Allyra asked.

‘I waterboard them sometimes. Have you ever been waterboarded?’

‘No, and I don’t want to be.’

Bigglesworth rubbed his chin,

‘What if it improved your survival skills?’

‘I don’t think drowning me is going to help me survive, do you?’

Bigglesworth shrugged,

‘Depends on the context. Now come, warm yourself with me.’

‘I told you NO!’ Allyra barked.

 

No sooner had Allyra spoken than Bigglesworth grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. He stormed out of the cabin to the deck and stomped along the plank, with Allyra kicking and shouting,

‘NO!’ all the way.

Allyra’s use of THAT word just strengthened Bigglesworth’s resolve.

 

Allyra stopped shouting when the water came into view and stared down at the furiously frothing sea,

‘What are you doing Nic?’

Bigglesworth stopped at the very end of the plank,

‘Testing you, so recommendations maybe made for improvements.’

‘I don’t want to be improved,’ Allyra snapped glaring at the unwelcoming sea, ‘put me down this instant.’

‘As you wish!’ Bigglesworth replied, leaning forward.

Allyra panicked,

‘No! No! No! No!’

Bigglesworth released his grip and threw her over the side of the ship. Allyra plummeted into the ocean, disappeared under the waves, then returned to the surface, coughing and spluttering as her feet trod water.

 

‘That is incorrect!’ Bigglesworth bellowed, ‘You will wear yourself out. Float.’

Allyra kicked about some more.

‘Float woman!’ Bigglesworth yelled.

Allyra trod water harder, flapping her arms like Polly Parrot.

‘Will you relax and float. Relax or drown they’re your options.’

Allyra dipped under, then bobbed up again coughing some more. She attempted to swim to the rocks. Bigglesworth shook his head,

‘Don’t swim against the tide, idiot girl, do you think you are as strong and mighty as the ocean? Just float. Keep still. On your back. You usually like being on your back.’

 

Allyra collected herself, and tried to relax, whilst avoiding the rocks.

‘Feet first!’ Bigglesworth yelled.

Allyra paddled horizontally.

‘Feet, Madam. Feet! You shouldn’t have got in the water with those boots on anyway.’

Allyra swivelled with her hands. Her feet faced the rocks, and she did her best to trust the water to carry her.

 

Bigglesworth was satisfied, so satisfied that he held the skull on his cane towards the sea. The water suddenly had a change of heart and swirled around and around engulfing Allyra’s body.

 

The swirl deepened as did the suction.

 

‘EDDY!’ Allyra screamed, ‘GET ME OUT!’

Bigglesworth smirked then disappeared.

‘Nicolas! Nicolas!’ Allyra yelled, ‘You asshole.’

Bigglesworth returned, tied a rope to the pole jutting out from the bulwark by the plank and lowered himself down,

‘Swim perpendicular to the edge,’ Bigglesworth yelled.

Allyra flustered and flapped.

‘Woman, swim perpendicular to the edge. I won’t help you unless you help yourself. Punch forward with momentum.’

Allyra adjusted her gait and forced herself to follow the instructions.

 

The baers had spent five years teaching Allyra advanced swimming skills in the lake at the Twin Lakes, the Kapparu lake and the Kapparu river. They had also taught her to row, sail, climb and hunt. She was used to following instructions, and the baers shouted just as much as Bigglesworth, especially in overzealous white water.

 

Once free from the eddy, Allyra floated as previously instructed. Bigglesworth dove into the sea, disappeared under the abating eddy and the returning waves, and resurfaced next to the poor woman.

‘Did you enjoy that?’ He asked.

Allyra raised her middle finger.

 

Bigglesworth ignored her insolent gesture, wrapped his arms about her neck and dragged her through the water to the rope.

‘Are you going to carry me up the rope?’ Allyra asked.

‘Certainly not!’ Bigglesworth replied, ‘Pull your own weight, and stop acting like a helpless bint.’

‘Rude,’ Allyra replied.

Bigglesworth released her into the sea,

‘Pirates first,’ he said, before quickly darting up the rope.

 

Allyra, who had spent a little too much time in the Sapari bakery, hauled herself up at a somewhat slower rate than Bigglesworth, lurched onto the deck, and collapsed on the boards.

 

‘We have a few issues that need to be ironed out, don’t we?’ Bigglesworth asked, seating himself on a keg.

‘Yes, like kicking my father’s butt for not telling me what an idiot you are!’ Allyra snapped, taking off her water-logged boots.

‘We shall start with following orders. When one accidentally puts their life in peril, one must follow the orders of the superior being who knows better.’

‘It was hardly an accident, was it?’ Allyra said, forcing herself to stand.

‘Further,’ Bigglesworth continued, undeterred, ‘we do not wear boots for swimming. I shall make recommendations to Nicolas that your footwear is addressed. Heels make you look like a tart anyway.’

‘Pardon me?’ Allyra frowned.

‘And then we have the issue of your feet. Like I said earlier, you have a woman’s feet.’

Allyra slopped over to Bigglesworth and collapsed on the keg next to him,

‘And what sort of feet should I have?’

‘Webbed feet!’ Bigglesworth replied.

 

Allyra scoffed,

‘Webbed feet. I am supposed to magically have webbed feet so that when a madman throws me into the water I can swim better?’

‘Exactly!’ Bigglesworth smiled, ‘Webbed feet. I shall make that recommendation to Archie.’

‘You don’t have webbed feet,’ Allyra sulked.

‘Au contraire, Madam,’ Bigglesworth replied, removing a boot, ‘I do indeed have webbed feet.’

Before Allyra could argue, Bigglesworth’s gigantic foot slammed on a spare keg. The toes were spread and giant layers of webbed skin rife with blood vessels and a strange layer of green-grey slimy film soaked the extremity’s revolting appearance.

 

‘Put it away!’ Allyra snapped, grimacing.

Bigglesworth smiled,

‘I shall put in a request for you, and Archie and Demus can do the surgery.’

‘What’s an Archie?’ Allyra asked, then paused before angrily saying, ‘Wait! What bloody surgery? I don’t want frog feet.’

‘You really do need to get out of those clothes,’ Bigglesworth continued, ‘I told you, you are wet and cold. You don’t listen; I shall talk to Nachtvinsky about your hearing. Now, come, follow me.’

Allyra sat perfectly still,

‘I’m not going anywhere with you, you’re barking mad.’

Bigglesworth grunted as he stood, leaned down and threw her back over his shoulder. He strode along the deck and to her cabin, then dolloped her on the floor,

‘Undress before you catch a disease.’

‘Diseases are caused by pathogens, not swimming,’ Allyra argued.

 

Bigglesworth’s eyes glowed red,

‘Don’t lecture me with your womansplaining, Madam, I know more about pathogens than you ever will. You have until the count of three then I shall undress you myself. ONE! TWO!’

 

‘Fine,’ Allyra sighed as she removed her catsuit. Bigglesworth cast his eyes over her body, taking in her lingerie which was even tighter than her suit.

‘And the rest!’ Bigglesworth ordered.

‘Turn around then!’ Allyra grouched.

‘Madam, you spend the better part of your time riding your way through The Deep, I am sure a quick glance from my loving eyes will not harm you.’

Allyra shook her head and dropped her underwear.

‘You are very wet,’ Bigglesworth observed, ‘I would say you rather liked being thrown into the sea.’

He took one of the sheets from the bed and used it to towel dry her body.

 

Once Bigglesworth was satisfied, he rubbed the same sheet through her hair,

‘Now get under the dry sheet and keep yourself warm.’

‘What, so I can sleep for five minutes, and you can wake me up again with more nonsense?’

Bigglesworth gripped Allyra under the arm, frogmarched her to her bed, peeled back the remaining blanket and pushed her in. He then removed his own clothes at haste.

 

‘What in Irkalla do you think you are doing?’ Allyra asked.

‘You don’t want me to catch my death of cold, do you?’

‘I already said pathogens cause… Oh forget it,’ Allyra moaned, cuddling up to the warmth of the sheet.

 

Once Bigglesworth was fully naked, Allyra copped a sneaky eyeful.

 

He climbed into bed next to her.

‘I presume you are aware of the wedding plans by now?’ He asked.

‘I am aware that you think we are getting married, you told me that earlier, you senile old git.’

Bigglesworth shifted up to Allyra,

‘Body heat to keep you warm,’ he whispered. ‘And don’t be insolent to your betters,’ he growled, then his mood shifted again. This time to an eerily cheerful disposition, or, as Allyra considered it, creepy.

‘Since we are all marrying you,’ Bigglesworth grinned, ‘I think a little pre-wedding taste would not be considered too forward.’

 

Allyra did not answer, as she was not really sure how to handle, well, any of it.

 

Bigglesworth ran his hand through her hair,

‘Nicolas made the right choice,’ he said, stroking her gently.

‘Did he now?’ Allyra asked, ‘Nic, is this some sort of game before I am dispatched to lower my guard? Or do you just drive all Immolesses nuts?’

‘Don’t insult us,’ Bigglesworth commented as his hand moved to her cheek, ‘I like you, Allyra. I really do.’

‘Are you going to kill and eat me like the others?’ Allyra asked.

Bigglesworth bit his tongue until it bled,

‘Our marriage is eternal,’ he replied at length.

‘That is not what I asked.’

 

Bigglesworth ignored Allyra’s comment, pulled back the sheets and took in her body. His stomach lurched, and a warmth spread throughout his belly. The warmth then travelled up his throat, into his mouth, and he vomited a thick pool of dark red blood on the Nicolai bride.

 

Allyra’s mouth opened as if she was just about to say something, when a second waterfall of blood cascaded onto her tongue. She froze,

‘What the fuck?’

Bigglesworth took the opportunity to further his romantic gestures by shoving his boner into her belly button.

‘You are most beloved,’ he sang as Allyra wiped the vomit from her tongue.

 

Bigglesworth rubbed his horn up and down her body some more and whispered,

‘I should like to make gentle love to you until mid-morning, then you may rest.’

‘I can rest?’ Allyra asked as she wiped more blood-vomit onto the sheet.

‘Yes.’

‘Is that a promise?’

Bigglesworth looked from side to side,

‘And I shall send you flowers of the deepest black to your home in Togaduine.’

‘I live in Thanata,’ Allyra replied.

 

Bigglesworth rubbed himself harder against her opting to ignore her obvious confusion over her place of residence.

 

Like all women, Allyra found nothing more arousing than to have a dick poked into her flesh.

‘Fine, make love to me,’ she said with the enthusiasm of a confused and chronically depressed lemming.

 

Bigglesworth kissed her gently on the lips.

 

He stroked her breasts.

 

He parted her legs.

 

His body climbed in between her thighs and prepared to enter her waiting body…

 

Then, without warning, he blew his load.

 

Allyra snorted a laugh. Bigglesworth quickly jumped up and dressed barely looking at her, then sat beside her with his head in his hand.

 

Allyra could not laugh again. She had not the stomach for it. She placed an arm around his shoulder instead and whispered,

‘Why don’t you man the cannons? You do seem remarkably quick to fire once the target is in sight.

 

Bigglesworth’s hand dropped. He jumped on her with a fury, pinned her to the bed, and his eyes flashed a hypnotic fluorescent green.