Those Condemned to Freedom

[Captain Del]

Thank you, mates!

Now, I had originally planned to have this chapter in two parts, but I felt that I could edit out a few unneccesary parts and condense it in to one, which is exactly what I did. This one is a little Christmas directed, so I guess releasing it on the 26th counts

So, without further adue, I give you:

Havana

The crew pulled in to Havana just days after their encounter with Corsair's, and with magnificent timing. They were hoping to pull in to port just in time for the holidays, so they wouldn't have to spend it aboard the ship, and they conveniently did, porting in the overflowing Cuban city just at dawn on Christmas Eve. They were accompanied by a beautiful sunrise that broke just off to the side of the stone, fortified face of the fort. As they passed in between the massive Spanish War Ships that danced around the bay, some twice the size of the Shark, the half-constructed City Walls revealed themselves to be lined with beautiful decorations of the holiday, wreaths and other delicate plants hanging from it. Behind the walls were rich, gothic buildings, short and stout, so uniquely designed, even though they were just common stores and homes.

As they walked on to the dock, Low came down to Delmaria, who waited on the long stone structure. They met eyes, as Low raised his hand. The two nodded as they shook hands, and Low threw his free one over the pirate's other shoulder. "You will do great things, my friend. Keep the faith." With that, he slipped away, off in to the crowd of the port. The last sighting of Captain Edward Low.

The crew went their merry way, look around the beautiful port. As the crowds move around them, they pointed out to each other marvelous do-dads, eyeballing decorations, and festive revelers and merry-makers that preached old Spanish carols. Le and Sierra were extremely weary, staring suspiciously at anybody they say wearing red, yellow, and orange. At one point Corsaire was even prepared to jump out at a soldier who was prancing around his a French flag, as his friends laughed at his foolishness. Delmaria, however, drew him back with a hand.

Sierra seemed to be listening to Le's whispers, then turned to her captain as they walked around the port. "Captain, aren't you... worried, about our safety?"she said as she looked around worriedly.

"Nah, relax, mate. Back when I rebelled against Porc, he sent word to the big shots down in Pointe-à-Pitre, who were trying to found the city at the time. Had my name plastered on any piece of parchment they could grab. Naturally, the Spanish heard of this, and ordered an entire convoy to ensure my passage to here. Once I got here, they gave me an immediate commendation, and handed me down my first real good ship - the Dragon. Anytime I needed anything, these mates supplied it. Fitting to spend Christmas here." Delmaria told.

After spending anything they had in their pockets down to the last morsel, they got to work. Every crew member headed off to a district of the packed city, looking for some sort of marker to match the map. The map depicted a large, carved bell tower, with a grand christening light emanating from it's beautiful crown where what it seemed like a figure stood. All but Grace, who insisted on staying aboard the ship to practice a specific spell, were shifting through taverns, shops, even barging in to homes just to try and find an answer.

Delmaria was just passing along the side of a long aqueduct that cut through the city, the buildings rising on both sides of it, when somebody violently brushed past him. When he turned to look, he felt his arm tugged toward, and out of his hand slipped the map, flying away in the hand of another. He caught a glimpse of the figure before he ran through the crowd, and the pirate immediately ran in a violent pursuit after him, pushing people this way and that to gain speed on his robber.

As they entered a large, open square near the harbor, Darkskull lifted off his feet and rammed himself right in to the back of the thief, hurtling them both to the ground. He then assumed a flurry of punches to the man's face, spilling blood across the cobblestone. This soon ended, however, when a found a ring of swords pointed down at his neck.

1

The group of red figures escorted Delmaria in to the main entrance of the Church of San Francisco de Asis quietly, shoving him if their pace turned out faster than his. They headed down the long aisle, passing the dark, wooden pews, as Delmaria from the corner of his eye gazed over the features of the stunning, huge cathedral - the stained glass, the dramatic depictions, the great sculptures. As they approached the alter, shimmered in gold and white, Darkskull found himself before an elderly, withered, Irish-looking bishop, dressed in red and white, staring gravely down at the pirate from his stand.

"Good evening, Your Excellency." Delmaria nodded as he walked up the steps, alone, to face the figure.

"Good evening, my son. What brings you to my church?" The old man greeted in a lightly accented, dry-cracked voice.

"Apparently you do."

"Ah, yes. So I suppose you are the infamous Captain Delmaria Darkskull?" He questioned as he rounded his alter.

"Who needs to know?" Delmaria took a step back.

"The Spanish Inquisition does, my dear friend." He said as one of musketeers came up and handed him the map, the corners dipped in dried blood. "It appears to me you have recently come in to acquiring an artifact which is of great interest to us - this map. Do you have any profound idea what this leads to?"

"I'm sure you do?" The pirate puzzled.

"Ah, you know as much as we do. I guess I shall explain, then;

"Many months ago, we were doing a little work to ramble through some things one of our passed brothers left behind. Among his things, we found this map. Unsure of it's meaning, we sent it off to the Governor, who in turn sent it to our freebooting friend Mr. Avaricia, so that he may send it to one of our newer branches on Padres. Of course, the ship was raided by a brigade of Undead pirates, for whatever reason. We were afraid it had fallen to their hands - but seeing that you hold it makes it much better circumstances."

"So, you're saying, the reason Roger has been dismantling the higher offices of the Caribbean is-"

"-because he believed that we were trying to hide the map away from his grasp. Whatever that map leads to, is definitely important. Which is why we need your help, Mr. Darkskull."

"I'll help you when your soldiers will stop pointing their swords at me."

The bishop nodded, and waved the soldiers away. They instantly went off in a separate corridor to the back of the church. "Anyway. My studies have suggested the map once belonged to a line of Mozarabic knights from Toledo in Spain. And it just so happens, this map would, if it belonged in said line, be in the hands of Havana's very own Governor, Cervantes Aguilar."

"And how exactly am I supposed to be involved in any of this?"

The bishop turned away, to scribble something on a piece of paper, before handing it to Delmaria. "Tonight, the Governor will be holding a Christmas Eve Ball at his manor. I was originally invited, but I feel that editing the invitation to send you off would work much better for the both of us. I must attend to a vigil anyway. When you get to the Ball, I'll need you to pull the Governor away secretly to go over the map with him. Understood?"

"Hopefully."

2

It was bleakly dark outside at night, but that was covered well by the great illumination of the huge amounts of torches and lanterns that danced around the streets of the city. Groups of beautifully and gorgeously dressed nobles, dignitaries, and other people of some form of social status came in groups through a large, lit garden of shrubs and greenery to approach the official, gothic front of the royal manor, designed like the mansion of a plantation, only much larger, and more dramatic. Among the crowd was Delmaria - just it wasn't really him.

He had once again ridded himself of the Blackbeard gracing of facial hair, for a simple, tamed gotee, with hair cut to hug his head without hanging or bushing up. He was wearing the usual formal attire of the times - the little coat, the tunic, the ruffled shirt, the tight pants and the high stockings, although the attire was as a whole directed towards the Christmas-like end of the spectrum - warm, vibrant colors, like red, yellow, and slight areas of orange and green hued lightly. His head was topped off with a yellow and white feathered hat, as usual.

He walked through the white, luxurious doors, down a long, carpeted hallway, in to a long, high ball room, complete with beautiful wall paper, fine woodwork, and a grand, shimmering chandelier to top it off. The pairs of people swirled regally to the music of the band of instruments that played off to the side, in a little break-away from the room set aside just for them. The mood was charming a lively, but Darkskull ignored any of this.

All Darkskull did was stand in the background, watching, waiting, like a vulture ready to swoop down and claim it's prize. He watched the medium-sized Governor, dressed in an array of frills and pleasantries make his way around the room, chatting with others about things from trade to opposition in the Caribbean. He was wearing a huge, breath-taking hat, which made up for the eye patch that covered his tanned, Spanish face. He watched them laugh, disgusted. To think beyond these walls, people were starving, dying of disease and of poverty.

When Aguilar finally broke away to be by himself, Delmaria followed him. Out of the noisy ballroom, down the carpeted, narrow hallways, up two flights of stairs, and then quietly on to a balcony that looked over the port, glistening in it's own celebration of the holiday as the armadas of ships rocked off in the distance, the land slowly running from the manor, in a slight downward slop to the harbor. The pirate stepped out on to the marble structure, still undetected, where it was only he and the Governor, away from the rest of the world.

"Good evening Mr. Darkskull." Cervantes said over his shoulder as he leaned over the stone railing, still having not looked behind him. The pirate was shocked, and the feeling must have run through the air, as the Governor continued. "Please, like you think I didn't know you were here, following me. Like I didn't recognize that cunning face of yours when I looked over the room."

"Fair enough, Governor." Delmaria walked forward. "So we can make this quick and enjoyable." The pirate proceeded to pull the map out of his coat pocket, and handed it to the Governor, who had turned around in curiosity. "I'm hoping you'll recognize that somehow."

The man's eyes widened in excitement. "How could I possibly? This is amazing! I never believed to h-"

"Easy, sea biscuit." Delmaria put his hand lightly on the top of the map, to reassure his possession of it. "I need you to tell me what exactly this leads to, and what the hell this map is, anyway. After all, a map with no idea what it is has no purpose."

"Ah, yes." Aguilar pondered as he walked around the moonlit balcony, trying to grasp words to explain. "Captain, I'm assured you know the tale of Baron Blut Schädel, or more properly known as Bloodskull, correct?"

"Trust me, more than qualified on the subject."

"Well... during this unpopular reign over the majority of Antilles, aside from many of his famed personal possessions, he gained control of a very wide range of cargoes and treasures, that he entrusted here, in Havana. Of course, after his death, anything with the name 'Bloodskull' on it was subject to destruction, so my forefathers found it their responsibility to hide it in such a way, that it would be nearly impossible to detect or find."

"No wonder this thing is written in nearly a dozen dead languages."

"Precisely. You see, Delmaria," he said as he walked around the pirate, "We can't let this fall in to the wrong hands, now can we? So, I'm afraid this is where your role comes to an end." The Governor, who was over by the sill of the balcony, then drew his sabre, and snapped in to a ready-to-fight position.

Darkskull backed up a little, his stance widening. "Unfortunately, I don't have a blade on me. But, did you expect me to come here empty handed?" Darkskull quickly tore off his coat, revealing a large, full jar of alcohol, and with his right hand, pulled off the wall a lit torch. He popped the top off with his thumb and poured it in a swing to the ground at the feet of the governor, then throwing the torch on top of it. It instantly busted in to a line of flame between them.

As the Governor tried to turn away from the blaze, Darkskull spun around and picked up a vase that sat on a little table at the wall, empty its contents and then jumping over the flame, to where the Governor was. Aguilar flailed his blade, but the pirate hit the jar with it, smacking it away. When he landed, he switched it to the hand farthest back, swinging it over his head and smashing it in to Aguilar's shoulder. The glass pricked out of it in little cuts as a few lines of blood ran down, and as he began to fall in pain, Darkskull grabbed him by the collar and threw him over the wall of flame, he in pursuit. He stood over the laying, defeated man as he hugged his wound, the Governor's royal, shining sabre in hand. He swooped down and picked the map out of Cervantes' hand, and putting it away in his vest pocket. "Can we actually maintain a discussion, or should I take your head away with me, so I can talk to it later."

Aguilar panted heavily with the heat of the fire a few feet from his face. "Gah, the next spot is Port Royal, alright?! Get that damn blade away from my face!"

As the Governor screamed for mercy, off in the distance, three Spanish guards busted through the door, looking for answers to the yelling. When they saw the pirate standing over Aguilar, the rushed in with their bayonets. Darkskull gave Aguilar a final curb stomp to the stomach, and hurriedly wiggled his left foot out of his boot about halfway. When the first guard got to him, he knocked away a bayonet stab with the sword, and kicked up his heavy leather boot, knocking him in the face. He then began swinging his sabre along a horizon to keep the soldiers backed up, until one of them began to stumble backwards. With that, Darkskull spun the sword to cut the standing soldier across the neck, and impale the other one right at the heart. Leaving the three bleeding to death, he jumped over the ledge of the marble balcony, falling behind a very tall shrub that walled in the walkway leading to the entrance of the mansion.

Darkskull quietly gathered himself, lying down to watch as the guards patrolled back and forth. When they were called in to the house by one of their Officers, Delmaria ran out from his hiding spot, down the path, away from the mansion, under the cover of darkness. The blazed through the garden at top speed, the light of the manor fading off behind him. He could begin to make out the dimly lit gates, closed shut and guarded by a single soldier on the outside. Darkskull crouched and made a sleathly approach behind the guard, wrapping his free arm around his neck and stabbing him with the sabre through the back. He let the man slunk to the ground, as he chipped away at the gate lock with his sword. It took a good few thrusts to chop off the metal lock, but once he did, he pushed with all his might to move the iron gate, slipping through the little exit he made.

3

It took Darkskull a full fifteen minutes to get himself submerged back in to the bustle of the city, blending in perfectly. He had ditched his clothing out in the back quarters for his usual attire that he left hidden in an empty barrel in an alley, and he was now walking around the city, looking for his crew. He knew very well that they had planned to celebrate the arrival of Christmas in a tavern off at the bay, but Darkskull had a different idea.

He walked away from the craziness and caroling of the marketplace, back in to the all familiar square, and through the hardened, gothic doors of the church. He walked in to see only a few elderly men and woman scattered throughout the pews, praying. He walked down the pew, looking at them all. They seemed so solemn and quiet, even with the most anticipated of holidays upon them. Only a few candles lit the huge, majestic cathedral, as his foots on the carpet echoed a smothered sound.

He finally reached the furthest up pew, where there kneeled the Bishop. Delmaria slid down the pew and knelt down next to the Bishop, making not a sound. "I assume you found everything out?" He whispered to the pirate.

"Aye. The map continues on at Port Royal."

"Interesting. Tell me, did he say anything about what it leads to?"

"Supposedly what we're looking for is an artifact left behind by the tyranny of Baron Bloodskull. Of course, he drew the line in the sand at that, and that's where he became less than friendly."

"Bah, good for nothing politicians. Looks like we've got somebody else looking for it, along side the other two."

"Other two?" Delmaria puzzled. "I thought the only other way Roger? Who else could it be?"

With the end of that sentence, the smooth, faint blurbs of cannon fire exploded out from the bay, a light shining through the windows high at the top of the church. The other people in the church began flocking out, and the Bishop hurried up, over to his office. "You'll find out mighty soon, my son. Please, make it out of this port alive tonight, and do not delay in your travels to Port Royal. Everything else will become clear from there.", slamming the door.

4

Delmaria walked out in to a heavy, chaotic night, with a large buzz of noise roaring past the flurries of people running around the courtyard, over by the bay. Darkskull pushed his way through the aggressive, fleeing people, out in to a little alleyway, and then right out in to the bay, along the pathway that hugged the long length of stores before the docks. What he saw was less than expected.

Out in the bay, the waters churned in a great, destructive swing. The armada of Spanish War Ships out in the bay was under attack by an equally large fleet of pirate ships, pounding their guns in to the hulls of each other. At the center of the epic battle was a group of Ship of the Lines swirling around, their sheer size creating a kind of awe, as though the giants of the Earth were battling before you. Darkskull was caught in this trance, the vagueness of the battle, when across the dismantled crowd, and group of Spanish soldiers noticed the pirate, and began to charge towards him.

Delmaria ran back down the alleyway as a bunch of rogue cannonballs ripped through the air to pocket the town. Stones, dust, fire, and sparks were thrown every which way as he ran through the courtyard, back along the canals, and across a small stone bridge, the soldiers slowly gaining on him. He tore himself through a tented marketplace, pushing away dirtied merchants as he sprinted by like a deer pursued by a pack of wolves. He was nearly cut off by two soldiers who intercepted his path, but he was able to slip his way around them, and continue his run.

So much whirled in his mind as he went on, almost without using any brainpower. Why was the port being attacked? Who was behind the other group after the map? How would he be able to breach through Port Royal?

Finally, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a little path in between two buildings, and he slowly meandered over to it, then violently dodging in to the dirt and grime of it. He crawled behind a stack of barrels, and waited until the Spanish soldiers bypassed him before he let out a sigh of relief. Or should have he?

He turned his head down to the other end of the alley, when a figure who must have been running down the chaotic streets as well stopped before it, then slowly turning to look across, where Delmaria was. She stood there, silent, until she laggingly walked in his direction. As she neared, her face became clearer and clearer. There was no denying it.

"Good evening, Del." Leanne called as she came closer and closer with every step.

"Leanne!" He hurried to his face and began pacing towards her in excitement, before he heard the familiar sound of a pistol being pointed at him. He stepped back, shocked, as the front of the pistol stared at him as serious and blunt as she was. "Leanne...?" He questioned her. Did she notice it was him?

"I wouldn't come any further if you want to live." She urged, glaring at him through the darkness.

"Leanne, what is the meaning of this!? I don't see you for months, and now you come only to pillage the city and point a gun in my face?" He protested, clenching his fists. He didn't feel as angry as he did disappointed.

"I'm only ever so friendly when you don't stand between me and what I want. The map, please."

"Ah, so you're after it to? I can't believe you would let something like this stand between us! I thought we had.."

"All we had was convenient company, Mr. Darkskull. Don't let the empty void in your heart where a family should be cloud your ability to think. I want what is mine, and I wanted it now."

Delmaria was instantly heartbroken. The one link he thought he had in this world returned to him, only to shatter in his face. His stomach sank and his heat fell, as he shaking reached in to his pocket for the map. He pulled out the old crinkled thing, and carried it towards O'Malley. She reached out her hand, triumphant, as the near-defeated captain approached her. Of course, she didn't feel so high and mighty when he kicked up his foot, sending a cloud of disgusting muck in to her face. As she stumbled back to clear her eyes, he ran up, pushed her, pulled away from her pistol, and continued out of the alley, sprinting towards the harbor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There you go mates! Next chapter should be out before the new year, so not much waiting left!

Loved it? Hated it? Please be sure to post! I find it that I have a lot of readers that do not post! In that case, I need all those shy readers out there to please take a moment to review my chapter. It will only make my writing better!

Thanks mates!