Indebted (working title)

Offers (part 1)

William H. Melody... was dead. Louis wasn't sure of when it had happened... but he knew how. For hours they'd been tied to the mast, and for hours Melody, roasted under the sun's full barrage, unable to seek respite in the shade. He did not beg for his life... he was too proud. When his rants ended, when he'd all but lost his voice from screaming, when he ran out of curse words, threats, and condemnations... when he finally realized... it was over, he fell silent and he cooked, Louis had been fortunate enough to be tied down in a shadier position but he knew it would not be long before he would succumb to the same fate. How long had it been since he'd eaten he wondered. He was so hungry so thirsty. The thought of water made him swallow involuntarily and he could feel the ache in his dry throat. He imagined he'd be crying right now if his body had the moisture to spare.

He wasn't ready to die. He was too young, and what had he done to deserve this? Why would God see fit to punish him so? The Almsgiver was not his ship. With or without him it would have made its journey and collected a haul of savages as it had dozens of times before. Why was this happening on his first voyage, and why was he still alive. This woman... no this devil was no goddess of his. If she was meant to assuage suffering why had she not freed him? Where had she come from? What was she, and most importantly, would a bullet to her head do the job.

It was night time now and there was less activity on the deck. He had seen the last of the corpses dragged from the hold. Bloated black bodies were tossed overboard to float alongside what Louis considered to be good men who'd died trying to protect the ship from mutiny. It angered him at first but as he watched the process, heard the bastards cry as they laid their dead to rest, listened to dozens of prayers in dozens of different dialects and compared it to funerals he'd attended back home, the rage and fear that had become his world since the battle ended, started to give way to something akin to... shame., but why? He was just doing a job, he was secure in the morality of these decisions but... as the fires of his passion died down, this failed to bring him peace. He thought of the one they all respected, the tall one, with the scars on his arm like a zebra's pattern. He thought of how he cut down Francios, killed him without a thought. These people are monsters, and their pagan god showing up to aid them, is the proof.

He felt a chill run through his body when he saw a big one shambling up from the galley. One of his eyes was cloudy and white and he was holding something in his hands. He locked on to Louis. Passing a few scattered souls on the deck but never breaking eye contact with him. Louis took a breath, this was okay, he was ready, better to be bludgeoned to death by a brute than starve or bake like his captain. He was close now, and bigger than Louis thought, but that's good, right? At least it will be quick, at least he won't suffer. He could almost see the objects in his hands but it was so dark. What could they be?. Pistols... knives... no... something else. He wished he'd get it over with, that the bastard would walk faster and end this.

Finally his tormentor spoke. "Are you hungry? We finally caught some fish".

Amobi untied Louis' hands and he ate quickly, ravenously, forgetting to breathe while he wolfed it down. He choked as he swallowed It, the fish was best thing he'd ever tasted, but his mouth and throat were so dry that it hurt going down.

"Thank you.", He said through gasps of air and the sounds of gulping. "Thank you!".

But... the gratitude was a cold comfort for Amobi. He hated the part of himself that had compelled him to feed Louis. He was soft, he knew that, but this boy was not as vile as Melody. He was eighteen, maybe nineteen, the evil that had corrupted the Almsgiver's captain had not yet taken root. There was hope for him, hope that even a nearly blind man like Amobi could see. It was this hope that compelled Amobi to grab a flask from that was attached to a strap on his waist and he hand it to Louis. He took the flask with wide eyed disbelief and drunk it fast, as if he was afraid that Amobi would change his mind if he waited too long. The warm water slid down his throat and before he could stop himself, he sighed in audible relief. There was not much water in the flask and not much meat on the fish, but they had both come from Amobi's personal rations and Louis knew that. He could see the scowls on the faces of Amobi's fellow crewmen. They whispered amongst themselves, afraid that the gentle giant might become... less gentle if provoked by their words.