Captain Fury: Pirate of Berk

11: You Never Should Have Come

Advisory: Violence and references to wounds

You should never have come

Time had slowed to a crawl as Fury snapped his head round at the roar behind him-and he saw the man's fist crash into the boy. He watched Arild's fragile shape slam into the wall and crumple in a heap, motionless. He saw blood marking the side of the boy's face, staining his black hair and his pale skin. And he felt as if he had been stabbed in the chest at seeing the boy fall. Everything shut down

"ARILD!"

Was that his voice? That hoarse scream, filled with pain and rage? It had to be because he felt as if he couldn't breathe, the pain in his heart almost unbearable at seeing the boy fall.

And then he felt...nothing...

To Astrid, she saw light suddenly fade from his eyes and his arms swing out, a sword slicing with inhuman accuracy to send Drago's man-who was still staring at the fallen boy-to the ground. Not even checking his kill, Fury spun, his swords slicing wide, cutting two men down and impaling a third before the two men had even hit the deck. Astrid slammed her opponent aside and knocked him out but Fury was suddenly all grace, power and rage, any man in range falling to his swords. The others stared in shock as their leader annihilated the enemy forces. The last man fell, sliding gracelessly from Fury's sword. He stared blankly for a long moment-and then he turned, stumbling to the little crumpled shape at the side of the corridor.

The clang was loud in the shocked silence as he dropped the swords and dropped to his knees by the boy, his emerald eyes sweeping over the limp shape. He swept the boy tenderly up into his arms, seeing the head hang back, blood smeared over his right temple and cheek, a huge purple lump on his forehead. Fury lifted the little body quietly, pressing his head to the thin chest...listening...

His brows dipped...and then his emerald eyes flicked up in sudden hope. He could feel the chest rising and falling shallowly and the steady thump of the boy's heartbeat. His hand slid up, pushing the shaggy hair off the white features and pulled the boy close to his chest. "I'm sorry, bud," he murmured. "You never should have come." Then he lifted the boy against his chest, ensuring he was safe and snatched a sword as he rose achingly. His berserk rage had faded, leaving him exhausted and aching. Every wound Drago's torturers had given him was magnified and he winced as he turned.

"Now," he hissed. "Get out of here. The twins have had enough time..."

They needed no further invitation, sprinting down the stairs. Astrid twirled the axe in her hand and glanced back as Fury stared back, his shoulders slumping at the carnage. Astrid recalled that he very rarely killed during his raids, that he almost went out of his way to spare life...until today. Her mind was whirling at the level of skill and ferocity he had shown: who was this man, who could do this after clearly being badly hurt by Drago?

Fury stared at the corpses and felt the sword heavy in his hand. Then he staggered down, his eyes dark with anxiety. He knew more men would be along soon: their only advantage was that the ship was so huge that it would take a time for more men to arrive. He motioned his team to the chain and watched them help each other scramble up to the chain and begin to slowly crawl down. The holding party of Mulch, Bjarne and Sven Two had already begun their way down the chain already and Fury clutched the boy more firmly against his chest as he stared towards the hold. He could hear footsteps in the distance and shouts.

"TWINS! Outta time! Now let's get out of here before they decide they want us to stay for the weekend!" he shouted. "LET'S GO!" He turned to their way out...and saw Astrid waiting. She offered him a hand and he winced, managing to scramble onto the chain with her help. He paused as she shimmied down the chain and began to crawl down but Fury rose unsteadily to his feet and secured the boy in his grasp, then stared down the chain and began to walk after the crawling others. He paused and listened and then smiled under his scarf as he began to walk down after them. He knew that he was more agile and able to follow them with ease...usually. Now, feeling half-dead and exhausted, he walked steadily after them, feeling his legs waver and gritting his teeth. If he fell, neither he nor Arild would make it out of the water-so he forced his legs straight and continued his slow but competent way down until he was just over the deck, above the stern. He leapt and joined his waiting crew, his knees buckling and dumping him onto the planks, the boy clutched to his heart.