Captain Fury: Pirate of Berk

16: Is it worth dying for?

Is it worth dying for?

The pressure across his neck was all but unbreakable as he fought against the man drowning him. His eyes were stinging from the salt water and his lungs were burning. Fury struggled in vain, feeling his vision start to fade and the pangs of regret almost choke him: he would break his word and abandon Arild. And then he recalled those trusting green eyes in the thin white face and his hand snaked to his leather vambrace and the little knife sheathed amid the leather that his son had given him. He drew the knife, prayed and stabbed hard into the arm compressing his throat.

A cloud of thick viscid fluid billowed in front of his fading vision but the pressure vanished and he kicked out backwards and swung desperately to the surface, his head flinging back as he hungrily gasped down air into his burning lungs. Gasping, wheezing, he tossed his sodden auburn hair off his face as he swam away. The other man broke surface, his eyes fell and bleeding arm swinging at the pirate. Fury urgently kicked away from Eret, realising the man was bigger, stronger and more dangerous than he could handle right now. He flapped backwards, the tug of the satchel over his shoulder weighing him down.

"Don't you ever give up?" Fury hissed. Determinedly, Eret swum at him, his powerful arms cutting through the waves. Fury backed up, treading water with Arild's little knife clamped in his hand.

"No-because you humiliated me!" Eret hissed with hatred.

"Hmm-didn't take much effort 'coz you did all the heavy lifting for me!" Fury shot back, his eyes seeing the outline of the man against the lamps of the Outcast ships. He heard the thuds of the cannon and saw the flashes of the impacts and prayed his crew were safe. Then Eret threw himself forward and Fury felt a sharp pain across his left arm as a knife flashed. He lurched back and dived into the sea, escaping but hearing rather than seeing the man follow. Eret was still after him.

Lungs still burning, he kicked away, a foot slamming out and hitting the man in the face. Fingers slid over his arm and he winced, kicking up to break the surface. The cut in his arm was stinging and he kicked backwards. A pair of hands closed on his leg and he was tugged under again. His other foot slammed into the man again but Eret hung on. It took another three kicks before he was released and managed to snatch some more air. His throat was burning and he was coughing from inhaling salt water.

He yelped as the knife sliced his left arm close to the shoulder. Unseen, Eret had come up behind him, swinging at him with rage and determination. He kicked away, Arild's tiny knife scant defence against the gutting knife Eret was slicing with. He kicked backwards, his eyes staring at the outline of the man, knowing he was consumed with rage and jealousy.

"Why are you here, Eret?" he rasped hoarsely. "I never knew that courage and single combat were your style! I thought you'd be at home with your wife!"

"That faithless bitch!" the General shouted, slashing again. Fury just evaded him. "I think she'd rather be with you!" Fury coughed and swum backwards warily. This was unexpected...though Astrid deserved her unhappy marriage.

"That makes one of us," he said slowly. Believe me, you are welcome to Lady Astrid!"

"LIAR!" Ere accused, lunging at him again. Ready this time, Fury kicked out and pushed him back, turning and swimming further away. Eret wasn't following him...and he realised a vessel was speeding at him. He desperately thrashed away and dived, felling the hull slam into his side and hip, almost knocking the breath from him. He desperately thrashed away further and grimaced as the vessel swept past, the sounds of shouts calling down to the General in the water.

"Where is he?"

"He was over there!"

"Get the lamps!"