The Endless Night

Introduction

                The serene silence was broken at once by the wounded, choked wheeze of the woman buried beneath the slosh and debris that littered the lower deck of the Sandstorm.

                As soon as that first flood of air filled her lungs, she broke down into a horrific, bloody coughing fit. She curled in on herself, a tattered rope wrapping around her ankle and tightening to the point where it cut off her circulation, tears streaking down her muddy, swollen face. A sudden lurch of the ship sent her flying into the wall, the rope never slackening as it carelessly whipped her to and fro. The material bit into her ankle and made it bleed.

                A groan tore from her throat, drawing more globs of dark, congealed blood. Dirty water entered her mouth and she quickly spat it back out, nose scrunching up at the vile taste that was left behind. Frantically, her hands went down and started to pull at the tattered old rope. It seemed that the harder she tried to pull, the tighter the rope became. Finally, with a grunt, she collapsed into the murky water once more. Well, fuck.

                In the distance, she could hear a man laughing. And, as if to add insult to injury, he was clapping at her little display. When she stopped, glaring at him, he said, “Oh, don’t mind me. Continue on, m’lady.”

                She spit in his general direction, lifting her head just enough to keep it out of the water, and scowled. “What the hell have you done to me, urchin?”

                “Ye best be watchin’ how ye speak to me, m’lady.” He approached the bars of her cell, some sort of weapon clapping against his hip. “I have a lot more power over yer fate than ye might think.”

                “Where is your captain? I demand to see him this instant!” She was pulling at the rope, trying to claw closer to her captor, groaning with pain as she stretched out the ligaments in her ankle.

                He laughed. It was a broken, drunken sound. “Ye think yer in any position to be demandin’ things from me, m’lady? Yer a funny one, yes-siree!” He turned around, returning his attention to the half-washed floor.

                “I’ll kill you!” She warned, snarling through chapped, bloody lips. The man only laughed.

                “I’d like to see ye try. I really would. ‘Specially considerin’ all yer weapons be over there.”

                Her captor inclined his head to the far wall. The woman allowed her head to sag for a moment, bringing sweet relief to her screaming neck and shoulders, and then raised it again. Sure enough, attached to one of the nails that haphazardly stuck out of the wall, were her weapons. The whole lot of them. And while she didn’t have them on her, she was certainly thankful that none had been taken from their proper place.

                She coughed again, body rattling weakly, and the man smiled. Finally, she forced out, “What do you want with me?”

                “Aye, that’s not a question for me to be answerin’.”

                “And why not?” Now it was her turn to incline her head to the side, blonde curls tumbling over her shoulder. “After all, you have so much control over my fate, don’t you?”

                The ship violently rocked to the left and she was sent into a stack of crates, which floated on the inch and a half of murky water without a care. At first, they simply moved with her body. But then, when the first collided with the wall of the brig, her body crashed through the first crate and became lodged halfway through the second. Blood ran over her eyes, staining her already dirty skin, and began to mix with the water.