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“We need to talk about the dwarf,” said Mr. Underbrook. “Will he live?”
“Not for long,” I answered. I was damn near delirious from the loss of blood, but nothing could have killed my mood right then and there.
“Perhaps he will,” said Renna, “although he will require treatment shortly.”
“We need to make sure he doesn’t alert the guards to us,” Mr. Underbrook said in a voice much darker than I was used to hearing.
“I don’t think we need to worry about that,” Renna replied while moving to the dwarf’s singed and bleeding body.
Mr. Underbrook walked over beside her. He nudged the dwarf’s arm with his foot a few times to make sure he was really out cold.
“Then leave him to his fate,” he said, finally. “If the gods will it, then he will be fine. If not...”
He trailed off, leaving the thought to hang in the air.
“Well,” I said, wanting to participate in the decision, too, “he doesn’t deserve any better than that.”
“He certainly does not,” said Renna.
The decision was final. Life’s too short to save those who would see you dead. With that order of business taken care of, Mr. Underbrook’s mind went straight to the next.
“We need to get off this island,” he said, thinking out loud. “I suppose the only way would be by boat.”
Renna took a few paces around the table, looking through her open cell door as she did. She got to the doorway, stopped, and lifted her hand to point outside.
“There’s a boathouse out there,” she said. “I’ve been staring at every day since I got here.”
She paused as the sounds of the drunken pirates shouting brought another crucial thought to mind.
“I just hope they don’t see us leaving,” she said with her head cocked in the direction of the shouts.
“No need to worry about that, miss,” I said. “The jailhouse’s entrance is facing away from the pirates’ campfire. I noticed that when they dragged me in here, biting and screaming. Plus, your view is a boathouse and a lovely ocean. Mine has been these baboons drinking their sorrows away each night. By this point, they’re too drunk to walk, let alone think about us.”
Mr. Underbrook laughed despite himself.
“That is probably true, Chip,” he said, “but we should still take caution. One drunk monkey is not a threat, but 50 of them will give us some trouble.”
Renna walked back to the middle of the room and took a chair opposite Chip at the large table.
“So, our plan is to steal a boat and sail into uncharted waters,” she said.
“With no idea where we are or where we are going,” I added.
“I admit we may sooner perish from thirst and hunger than find land. However, I’d rather take my chances with the mistress of the sea than stick around here and end up in an Akadeli mine shaft.”
“I like your thinking, Mr. Underbrook,” I said, as I struggled to my feet. “What are we waiting for?”
Mr. Underbrook grabbed my arm and helped me the rest of the way up. Then Renna picked herself up, and we made our way to the door. Renna carefully pulled down the door handle and cracked the door open. The yelling pirate’s noise flooded through, but upon creaking it only enough to get some eyes out there, the coast was in fact clear.
Just before we took a step out the door, a thought came to me. With the help of Mr. Underbrook, I hobbled over to where Junk the dwarf lay.
“I thought about maybe taking some souvenirs with me,” I said to him.
He looked down at me, slightly confused at first. I could see in his face when he clicked onto what I was saying. He smiled at me and said, “Something to remember them by, perhaps.” He bent down and picked up the two blades that had so nearly taken my life just minutes earlier. Once he had secured them to my belt, he said, “Just try not to stab yourself.”
As we headed out, I asked a question that had been bugging me for days: “How much gold did they think they would get for a kid like me, anyway?”
It took a minute to adjust to the light just outside the jailhouse. Once we did, we could see a large two-storey house just in front of us, with the entrance facing the campfire. All the lights were on, and we could see a variety of pirates walking to and fro, bumping mugs of ale, and singing songs about topics I’d rather not revisit. We thought it best not to linger there for too long.
It was slow-going due to my injuries, but we were making our way down the hill towards the boathouse in good time. We had gone about halfway down when a voice from behind us stopped us cold in our tracks.
“Going somewhere?”
Our hearts stopped, and we quickly turned to greet a pair of glowing red eyes in the darkness.
ns 15.158.61.8da2![[on hiatus]](https://static2.penana.com/fit-in/40x40/images/users/large/20/79/20798490015bfcd72f82c3f0.77917309-39622.jpeg "[on hiatus]"){kind=small}
