[Durelin]

"They're here," Rakein muttered under his breath. He often spoke to himself, especially when distressed, and this was a very distressing moment. He gripped his knife tightly, knowing that this was his only protection. He did not let how scary that was affect him. All that would give him the chance for revenge was a dagger, a belt-knife for cutting lines, which he had thanks to a corsair. Dead though he was, he had been kind enough to wash up on the beach in a convenient place. Rakein smirked at the thought of a dead corsair being convenient, and it helped. A smile always helped. He could make them bleed a little with what he had.

Rakein cut quickly away from the makeshift Gondorian camp, taking cover in the darkness, so that any passing eye would not notice him. Waiting, perfectly still, he looked for a man that drew near enough for Rakein to strike out with greatest effect. But bad luck foiled Rakein's plan, and a man happened to look closely at all his surroundings, his eyes stopping on the figure in the dark. Cursing, Rakein wasted no time, but ran swiftly, dodging around a corsair charging at another Gondorian, and flung the knife as he went. The corsair was caught off-guard by this speed, and though the knife did not aim true, hitting the man in the shoulder, he stood frozen. His eyes were ever widening as Rakein came racing at him.

Finally the man found his ability to move, and he began to reach for the knife in his shoulder, but Rakein sped up in earnest need, and ran his shoulder into the one that contained the knife. The man screamed with pain and fell to the ground, Rakein's body falling on top of him. Again he wasted not a moment, and the Gondorian's hand reached for the knife and pulled it out, then brought it down to the nearest vital region: the head. Rakein could feel the man's body move slightly underneath him for a few moments longer, but it soon stopped. The screaming had been the first thing to stop.

Rakein pulled the knife out of the man's forehead with some difficulty, and found himself exposed to an enemy sword, as his movement had alerted the wielder that Rakein was not dead. Without a second to think, he threw up his knife in a clumsy block of the much larger and stronger sword. A loud crack rang in his ears, and the knife was on the ground. A fire shot up his arm, and his wrist burned cold. Looking down at it, he saw misshapen bone coming from out of his arm. The shock of this made him freeze just as his last enemy had, even though he knew it was a costly mistake. He had never believed that a wrist could brake in such an extreme way. Luckily, neither had his enemy, it seemed.

The two men both looked at each other, their eyes rising from Rakein's wrist. It was Rakein who moved first, once again, and with the pain in his wrist and his desire for revenge driving him, he tossed away all reason and ran his head into the man's stomach and lower chest. His aching head told him that he had hit rib cage. The loud groan escaped from the man's lips, and his mouth and lips were becoming a shining red, but he picked up the sword he had dropped from the blow. Rakein tried to quickly move in on the man again, hopefully dealing the man another hard blow whilst bring him closer to his own knife still on the ground. But the corsair had come to judge his opponent's speed, and though Rakein did his best to dodge the blade, it sliced down his arm, shaving skin off.

The pain caused Rakein to fall forward, but he had managed to get close enough that he knocked the man over in the process. In the few moments while the corsair was tumbling over and recovering from the fall, Rakein groped for his knife, but all he found was warm sand. Then he felt something heavy hit his back in a heavy blow, and the corsair was on top of him. Rakein struggled to roll over, but when he found that the man had him pinned, he positioned his leg so that when brought up it would hit a rather vital spot...

Rakein heard the man yell and felt the body removed from on top of him. He quickly jumped on the corsair, who had let his pain steal away his attention. Rakein found it incredibly easy to grab at the man's throat, but he was not very efficient with one hand, and the corsair gripped both Rakein's hands to bring them away from his throat. The man was very strong, and too strong for Rakein, so before the man could pry off his hand, Rakein jerked them away quickly, ignoring the pain that shot up again from his wrist. The corsair lost his grip in surprise, and the Gondorian's one useful fist was free to strike the man. He fired a blow at the man's face and another at his chest. When Rakein drew back his hands, he found his knuckles covered in blood from the man's nose, which he ignored. Another blow to the face, and another to the side of the corsair's head. The man had blood coming from his nose, mouth, and ears, and yet a roar rose from his mouth and his strong arms pushed Rakein off of him.

Sprawled on the ground, with a throbbing head from a hard blow that had been dealt while he was being thrown off the corsair, Rakein watched as the man rose, quickly for one so large and wounded. Only now did Rakein realize the man's size. He turned his head from side to side, but there was still no sign of his knife. Luckily, there was also no sign of the corsair's sword. The man came rushing at the Gondorian on the ground, obviously trying to use his much greater bulk to do damage to as much of Rakein's body as possible. But Rakein new that he still had an advantage over this man, and so he quickly picked his body up enough with his one hand and his legs to launch himself forward at the man's legs. He grabbed the corsair's ankle, attempting to use both hands, and pulled it up from underneath him. The man tumbled sideways, and a sickening crunch came from the crushing of his head on a large rock.

Rakein rose from the ground, staring at the sand turning red around the bottom of the boulder. Looking around him, he saw that the area was clear for a good distance, and so he took the time to search more for his knife, as well as the corsair's sword. The latter was easy enough to find. It lay a good ways behind the corsair's body. The two men must have landed on it countless times. But Rakein would not give up on his knife. He searched the area behind the man, but only when he drew near to the dead corsair did his eye catch a glint of steel. Looking more closely, he saw that the steel shown through the blood, blood from the dead man's leg, which it now stuck half way out of. Again, Rakein smiled.

Rising with the sword in his hand and the knife tucked away in his ragged pants, the smile helped him gather the strength to move quickly along the beach, to find a familiar face, he hoped. Soon he had his wish, as he stared into the dead eyes of a Gondorian. He did not know the man well, but he had known his name, and that was enough. Luc was his name. Something would not allow him to take his eyes away from the dead man's. They seemed to plead with him, beg him to take revenge. But Rakein had only ever thought of his own revenge. It had never came to his mind that the other prisoners would want the same revenge, would be fighting on the same side as he. Both the men he had killed he had bled for himself. He had felt alone every moment since he realized that it was time to take his revenge. It seemed that, in this case, he had realized that he was not alone much too late.

A sword came down and pierced him in the back of his neck. Rakein screamed in agony as he felt nothing but pain in his entire body. His head wished to burst, as he could not scream loud enough. The pain would not escape through his mouth, and would not cease. It persisted and grew worse, and then, all of a sudden, through the screams and the blood and the sweat, Rakein felt blissfully calm, frozen in an icy world of growing darkness. In that calm, he let the darkness consume him, to protect him from the pain.

~

Adeline let the screams continuously escape from her horrified soul as the man, the man who had just seen her kill his comrade, came nearer, holding up a knife blade. She was not sure whether or not she screamed at the thought of her own death, or the death of the man she had just killed. The man's eyes shined with tears of anger and the hatred in them made her look away. Her eyes came upon the knife point, and the fear choked her. Her scream was cut short. The moment stretched out as she watched the man's steps draw him nearer, and there was complete silence. Then she heard distance shouts. So did the corsair, and he stopped short.

"Avershire!" She discerned the cry as a name. It was not one she recognized, but the voice... All her fears of her own death and her dealing of death faded. Only the thought of Devon filled her mind with frantic fear. The franticness caused her to charge past the man with the knife, too fast for him to react, and up the stairs onto the deck. She ran to the side, and ignored the men on guard that shouted at her. Climbing up on the railing, she took one deep breath and jumped.

She splashed into the cold water, and soon found the bottom beneath her. It was too far down for her to keep her head above the water, but she was able to use it to bring herself up. Hearing the shouts grow louder as she bobbed to the surface once again, she decided to toss away all dignity. She struggled for a moment before she was able to find a seam in her dress, but Adeline was able to tear it off. Being only her underdress, though heavy this was, was considerably lighter, and she found herself swimming toward the shore. She heard a loud splash behind her just as she found that she could stand up, and she redoubled her efforts. Soon she was climbing onto dry land, thankful that it had taken the men on the ship time to decide on a plan of action.

As soon as her ankles were free, she felt a heavy weight lifted from her feet, and she was able to run quickly across the sand on her bare feet, as she had long since lost her shoes. Soon her feet slowed once again, though, as her eyes saw what was before her, a ways off, but clearly visible. Doran stood over someone - she would recognize that man's flaunting arrogance from a mile away. And the man that knelt before him she would never fail to know in a hundred years from a hundred miles away. "Devon!" she cried out in both desperation at seeing him in such a position, and in joy. It was a joy to see anyone she knew again, no matter where, in what position. But even as the cry escaped her mouth, she realized how big of a mistake she had made. But for now, Adeline did not care, as long as Devon was alive and she knew that she had escaped from that ship, her long time prison.