The Black Ledger looked at Gareth who was still down on the deck, his body broken, his breath shallow, his will fading. They had been conversing a strange, quiet moment in the midst of chaos but the scholar's words had shifted, become something darker.
"It seems you weren't fully healed," the Black Ledger said, his voice weak but tinged with irony. "If not, you would have seen this great injury that I have."
He laughed a short, wet, broken sound.
"HAHAHA."
"I never thought that I would face death in such a manner." He paused. "Protecting a great specimen."
Gareth's face was filled with shock. His eyes widened. His mind raced. Why are you saying such a thing? The question burned in his throat, but before he could speak it
He saw it.
A great hole through the body of the Black Ledger.
The wound was massive shattered ribs, punctured organs, sprayed blood. It was a wound that should have killed him instantly, that had killed him instantly. And yet he had been sitting there, speaking, living as if the injury did not exist.
Gareth could not hear the screams of men and beast. Only a few of the beasts were wild now, their roars drowned by the silence that had fallen over the sea. By the time he had noticed, the Black Ledger was already dead.
His body slumped forward, his one remaining eye staring at nothing, his smile still frozen on his face.
Gareth got up.
His body rose slowly, painfully, defiantly and he looked around. A part of the Infinite Sea was filled with blood. The sea itself had turned into the brightest of reds a crimson stain that spread to the horizon, that covered the water, that painted the chaos in shades of death.
All beasts that were in that area were dead. Their bodies formed mountains of corpses, mixing with the bodies of men pirates and navy alike in a grotesque pile of flesh and bone.
Gareth immediately got into a guard position.
But then he thought to himself, his inner voice quiet, uncertain.
Is there any enemy to fight?
He heard the waves.
The sound drew his attention all over this area of the Infinite Sea. Great vessels as large as mountains surrounded him, their hulls bristling with cannons, their decks crowded with navy men. They stretched across the horizon like a forest of steel and wood, their sails blocking out the storm-dark sky.
He then looked forward.
It was Davina Jones.
She was held like a bird that was captured by her neck her body limp, her eyes dull, her will broken. The man that held her smoked a great cigar in his mouth, its tip glowing red, its smoke curling into the air like a serpent.
He blew it out.
"HAHAHA!"
His voice was a thunder loud enough to carry across the water, loud enough to drown out the storm, loud enough to silence the chaos.
"Men!" He raised his hand. "What are you waiting for?!"
He gestured at the sea around them at the blood, at the bodies, at the carnage.
"FISH THIS! THE BRITISH EMPIRE SHALL COVER THE FACE OF THIS WORLD!"
He spread his arms.
"WE SHALL BRING GLORY TO THE CROWN AND CONQUER THIS WORLD VALHALLA!"
He laughed again.
"From this sea, human they may be, beast they may be NONE WILL SURVIVE!"
He looked at the red water.
"We have wasted the blood of the Iron Lantern and all his crew members!" His voice hardened. "We have wasted the blood of great beast!"
He raised his fist.
"This part of the sea has turned into blood red." He smiled. "It shall not be the only one that shall remain like that."
He looked at the body of Rodgers still lying on the deck of his ship, still still, still dead.
"The price that our brother Rodgers paid..." His voice dropped. "...shall be well received."
He raised his arms.
"THE BRITISH OWNS ALL!" He shouted. "WE ARE GODS IN THIS WORLD!"
Gareth was like an ant to the great vessels that surrounded him.
Their numbers were many. And he was only him.
He smiled.
And cracked his neck.
"To talk like a mad man on the battlefield is for the dead." His voice was calm, almost conversational. "The dead like to talk a lot."
He had no weapons with him, so he looked at the broken ships around him. He spotted a pirate who had used a spear the weapon still clutched in his cold, dead hands.
He jumped from the broken ship to the one where the pirate lay. His body moved fast, fluid, effortless and he tore the spear from the dead man's grip.
A voice echoed in his head.
Target the one with the girl.
The voice sounded so persuasive, so certain, so absolute. It did not command. It did not demand. It simply suggested and the suggestion felt like the only truth.
He immediately turned to the sky. His eyes searched the grey clouds, the storm, the nothing above. He thought the voice came from the sky.
This was Darlington's voice.
Because Gareth carried Lancelot on his back, and some of Lancelot's intent was now within him, Darlington could speak to him. The false god's face was filled with absolute joy. He smiled as he drooled it was akin to a child who had been taken out of a game and was now back into it.
It is fulfilling. He felt the words in his chest. Sweet like honey.
Now the false god could once again use his pawns.
Once again.
Gareth spoke to the sky.
His voice was calm, steady, reverent.
"Is that you, god Darlington?"
He paused.
"Are you the one who healed me?" His voice dropped. "And brought me away from the shackles of cold death?"
He bowed his head.
"I thank you, my god." His voice was warm, grateful, sincere. "For you have not forsaken me."
Darlington could not help but laugh to himself.
His laughter echoed through the void sharp, genuine, triumphant.
A great pawn indeed. He watched Gareth bow his head, his heart swelling with satisfaction. He's creating doubt within their minds because they saw it happen his near-death revival. Something that is not possible if you're a wizard. And I don't think there is any wizard on this sea.
He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming.
I wonder the effects this would have on this world.
He smiled.
This is my announcement. His voice dropped. The arrival of a new god into this world of war.
He spoke to Gareth.
"Great." His voice was calm, measured, approving. "You're not as strong-headed as the previous one."
Gareth fed into Darlington's ego.
The smartest and those that manipulate the most have one of the greatest egos. To defeat them in any form of battle, you must feed into their ego. And Gareth understood this better than anyone.
He spoke aloud.
"My god..." His voice was warm, grateful, devoted. "What do you need? Is it the blood of these men?"
He paused.
"If it is their blood..." His voice hardened. "...then I shall give it to you, my god."
He bowed his head.
"I shall present it to you as a way to show my gratitude."
He then said, his voice dropping just slightly, a hint of frown in his tone.
"But, my god..." He paused. "...I do not have the strength to fight such a battle."
He raised his head.
"Give me your power." His voice was desperate, aching, hungry. "Give me the power of hell. Give me the power to devour all my enemies."
He smiled.
Gareth let out a great amount of killing intent.
It spread like a wave from him moving in a wild manner, pulsing with a power that should not have existed, filling the air with a presence that choked the life from everything around him.
His killing intent was greater than it had been before.
He had released such a little amount, but it had such great potency. The air thickened. The waves stilled. The men on the ships froze in terror.
The false god had found his pawn.
And the pawn had found his power.
Gareth stood on the broken ship.
The navy fleet surrounded him.
And the sea roared.