As Marianne looked around for Liza, de Vega's rapier cut away the black hood, revealing the thin face of a youth of about 17 years old, with sandy hair and sharp eyes.  But de Vega could not land a strike, and was once again knocked back by a flying kick.

Liza, bundles in her arms stacked higher than her head, was trundling along toward the fountain, trying vainly to see what was going on, apparently too keen with curiousity to be concerned with danger.

McCurdy watched the sudden swordfight with a bit of surprise as well as interest.  His initial shock quickly faded as the fascination of the dance of steel took hold of him and then he saw the woman appear from inside the church.

She was definitely not a native.  McCurdy leaned against the wall and raised a hand to loosen the black tie around his neck.  Then he pulled his fedora a bit more snugly on his head and slipped a hand inside of his dark grey suit coat.  There it rested near his side, just below his left arm.

His grey eyes looked at the woman and his other hand slowly moved to indicate she should get out of the way of the swordfight.  Then his eyes slipped back to Hawksmoore and the Spaniard.

"Liza!" Marianne called, hurrying towards her friend and pulling her aside. "Oh, good! I was worried. Careful! There's a sword fight going on and it's... well... unbelievable!" She noticed the man in the corner motioning to her and frowned absently, momentarily distracted from the fight. "Do you know that man?"

The scrape, clang and clash of steel on steel was harsh to the ears.  The two men seemed well-matched, until Marianne saw the youth smirk at the Spaniard - and saw the Spaniard scowl.

"He looks like my cousin Ralph," Liza said about the man waving at them, waving one hand back and dropping all her packages.  There was a smashing sound from within one of the boxes.  "Oh, bugger !  I had a pretty little donkey-shaped vase in there!"  She seemed oblivious to the danger of the two combatants.

Hawksmoore, the lean and quick youth, suddenly lashed out with his boot again, throwing the Spaniard to the side, tumbling toward Marianne and Liza !

McCurdy reacted then, slipping one Colt out of its holster.  He hugged it to his chest, keeping it close, but moved so it was pointing in the direction of the Spaniard.

The look on his face was a mix of concern and irritation, and the look he flashed in the direction of the women and the Spaniard was one closer to anger.

Marianne quickly jumped out of the way, reaching out and pulling Liza back, nearly yanking her arm out of the socket as she did. She twisted around, watching the Spaniard and the young man with no less interest or fascination for her near accident.

"Isn't this absolutely fantastic?!" she asked Liza excitedly. she lowered her voice and leaned closer to her fellow author. "And there's a rather creepy story to go along with it..." she said.

She didn't seem to notice the man who was glowering at them from the other end of the square.

Liza yelped as Marianne grabbed her and hauled her out of the way of the rolling Spaniard and his blade, which struck sparks off the cobblestones. The lean youth was removing the rest of his robes, revealing a strange outfit; a vest-like harness laden with gun holsters, and trousers with pockets sewn all over them, tucked into high laced-up boots.  Thus unencumbered, he stood before the fountain as the Spaniard got up, full of fury, and charged at him, howling in Spanish.

"You son of a peasant whore and a pig," Liza translated absently, watching the action keenly. "Well, that's not good enough, have to change that. Story, dear ?  What story - OH !"

The fighters had rejoined combat, with the Spaniard pulling a knife from his boot, in a thefty move, and striking.  Hawksmoore leapt back, a line of red showing on his arm, and then leapt into the air again, with a grace and speed that was startling, and drove the cutlass through the Spaniard, right through his heart.

 "The peasant bests you anon," he said, smirking, and let the body fall back, leaving the red-coated cutlass behind, in the young man's hand.

The young man turned, and motioned impatiently to the man who had been gesturing at the two ladies. "Hastily !"  he said, "Ere he rises again."

Then he staggered, and looked at his arm, where the wound was showing dark now, and smoking slightly. "Poisoned."  he muttered, and then collapsed !

McCurdy paid no attention to the audience.  He just walked across the square like a man that had just seen his tenth swordfight for the day and was really getting bored with them.  He eased over to Hawksmoore and carefully hefted the fellow over his shoulders.  The action suddenly reminded him of a battlefield far away, and a German pilot he had saved from a burning wreck of a plane.

With one glance at the young Spaniard, McCurdy turned his grave eyes toward the two women.  “Afternoon, ladies,” was all he said as he carried Hawksmoore into the church, looking for the inevitable priest.

Marianne gasped in horror and disbelief as the young man ran the Spaniard through and then collapsed. For a moment she could do nothing but stare as the man who resembled Ralph's cousin slung the Spaniard's opponent over his shoulder and greeted them nonchalantly, heading into the church.

As if suddenly unfrozen and regaining control over her limbs, she moved immediately to the side of the fallen man.

"He's hurt!" she said, pulling out her handkerchief. "Is there a doctor here somewhere?" she called out to the villagers in the square.

She turned to Liza, pressing her handkerchief over the man's wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood. "The other man was hurt too! Will you go see? The priest... He might not help them and ... the man had a gun..." She shook her head dazedly.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:14, Mon 04 July 2005.

Hawksmoore proved to be heavier than he looked, and was just so much dead weight on McCurdy's shoulder.  McCurdy strode into the church, where a few peasants were hiding behind the pews, and an elderly priest was mopping at his brow with a handkerchief.  At the sight of the youth, the priest turned a paler shade still and clutched his bible to his chest, apparently having some kind of spell.

Marianne's hands and handkerchief were soon soaked with blood, and the Spaniard was not breathing.  She became aware of a little old lady hobbling along as fast as she could go, heading to the church, while Liza dashed off to natter in Spanish - and throw a coin - to a young boy who was hiding near a building.  The boy raced off.

The little old lady was making determined progress towards the church, but was gasping with the effort.  As Marianne tried in vain to see how bad the damage was - it looked terribly bad - the elder made it to the church.

McCurdy became aware of a breathless voice, speaking to him in Spanish, as he hefted the limp form of Hawksmoore onto an empty pew.  Arthritic fingers plucked at his sleeve - it was the little old lady from before, red-faced and upset.  He caught the words, "Put" and "Water", and then she painfully got to her knees beside the fallen youth, fussing over him like a mother over a child...or a sweetheart over a lover.  She looked back at McCurdy and repeated what she wanted, with tears in her eyes, and this time he caught the word 'River' as well.

Liza hurried back to Marianne's side.  "There's something very strange about this !"  she said. "He's had a chop straight through, and there's a lot of blood in a person.  Why's he not bleeding that much ?"  But she obediently hurried off to the church, and McCurdy heard a woman's voice speaking in English, behind him.

"She wants you to put him in the river," she said.  It was a dashingly dressed woman of 'a certain age', with bright eyes and a pretty blue dress such as the better-dressed locals wore, and a crisp British accent like Hawksmoore's.  "Who is he, and who are you ?  Did I mention you're a dead ringer for my cousin Ralph ?  Have you ever been to Scotland ?"

McCurdy paused only once to look at the young woman translating for the old woman, and then promptly hefted Hawksmoore again.  “So where’s the river, then,” he said, his southern accent thickening.  He was looking at the old woman and repeated the word for river to her and then, “Adonde?”  He ignored the quip about Ralph and Scotland, small talk being a woman’s waste of time, not his.

"Not bleeding that much?" Marianne muttered as she put aside her bloody handkerchief and regretfully unwound a spotless white scarf from her hair and trying to bind the wound.

"Is there a doctor here?" she asked again desperately.

She exaggeratedly acted out taking the Spaniard's pulse and checking for a heartbeat, looking around.

"Ummm Doctor? Medic? Hospital?"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:11, Tue 05 July 2005.

McCurdy got two fingers pointing in the same direction; the little old lady and the not quite so old lady in the blue dress.  The woman translating for the elderly Spanish lady could only be taken for a young woman in very dim light.  Though she moved with some ease, she was at least 50 or so.  "That way," she said. "But you haven't answered my questions !"

She apparently was intent on trailing after McCurdy on his journey.

Out in the street, the wound had stopped bleeding, and the Spaniard's fingers tightened on the rapier's grip.  The little boy was coming down the street towing a fortyish man in a suit, the man carrying a black doctor's bag.

“No, I haven’t,” McCurdy quipped as he headed in the direction indicated, using every ounce of his gym training to carry the dead weight.  He wasn’t asking questions, he didn’t have time.  Besides, he had seen too much already to figure out which questions to ask.  There were probably a good hundred rattling around in his head right then, but he knew when to shut up and just listen.  Sometimes you could learn more by watching and waiting.

McCurdy watched as the Spaniard’s hand began to move on the basket of his sword, but he wasn’t going to waste any time waiting for him to revive.  Hawksmoore already said he would and by waiting, McCurdy could see that the boy was right.  Resisting the urge to put a bullet in the man, especially with the doctor running down the lane, McCurdy just pedaled on past toward the river, the young old woman in tow.

As he passed the red-headed woman kneeling beside the Spaniard he said, “You might want to get away from him, red.  He ain’t gonna be happy when he wakes up.”

Marianne looked up at the sound of McCurdy's voice. "When he wakes up?" she asked with a puzzled expression, shaking her head with a grimace.

"He won't wake up, not for a long time," she muttered, staring absently at the Spaniard's twitching fingers that were curling around the hilt of his rapier.

"Is the other man alright?" she asked Liza, motioning to the body slung over McCurdy's shoulder. Just then, she noticed the boy and the doctor coming towards them.

"Oh, thank goodness! Liza, have I told you how wonderful you are? I only just managed to stop the bleeding, but he's still badly hurt," she said, visibly relieved. She rose and went to meet the doctor.

Hawksmoore was a limp carcass on McCurdy's shoulder, and his back was already starting to ache.  It was going to be a long walk to the river, but he set off towards it.  Soon he was walking past the house where the old lady had come from, and back towards the docks, wondering exactly how a slip of a boy could be so damned heavy.

At last he was on the docks, and the locals were viewing him with surpise and alarm; there was an excited series of words in Spanish as he simply dropped the body into the murky water.

Liza dithered back and forth, wanting to chase after McCurdy, and wanting to stay beside Marianne.  "Erm, dear, I don't think there's everything all right with this," she said, with a nervous flutter, as the hand tightened on the rapier.  Marianne got up and hurried to the doctor, who spoke English well enough.

The doctor had a weary face, but warm brown eyes.  He listened to Marianne's quick story, then looked beyond her to the patient.  He blinked, clearly surprised to note the patient was still alive after what would be a fatal wound to just about anyone.  But the most alarming part was the red glow that was emanating from the wound, with a sizzling sound.

Liza made a decision, and trotted over to Marianne's side, and tried to pull her away.  "I don't like this, not at all. Right now I would rather stay away from this Spanish bloke.  Or find out where that Yank with the gun is going, with that boy. Or we can go back to the hotel and tell Basil about it.  But I don't wish to stay here !"

McCurdy’s chest heaved and he immediately dropped his hands to his knees trying to recover his breath as he cast a glance back in the direction he’d come.  Gettin’ too damned old for this, he thought as he turned back just as the heavy boy began to dip below the surface of the water.  Not one for testing a theory without another man’s permission, McCurdy dropped to the dock and grabbed for the boy’s shirt.  If he was going to wake up at least he wouldn’t do it at the bottom of the river.

The worried expression in Marianne's eyes turned into fear as the wound glowed red with a sizzling sound. She quickly backed away to a safe distance and motioned the doctor back, nodding at Liza's words.

"I think you're right, Liza. There's something very strange about all this..." she said.

But they couldn't just leave... There was a dead man - or a man who should have been dead - lying in front of them, a red glow around his wounds. What was going on? "Liza... you follow the other man and see where he is going. We need to figure out what's happening," she said, backing away and finding a place to hide.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:39, Wed 06 July 2005.

Marianne backed away and hid, and sent Liza along to follow the other two.

McCurdy grabbed for the boy's shirt, but he was sinking like a stone.  The dark waters closed over the form, to the consternation of the nearby fisherman and dock workers, who were starting to back away from the scene.  He also heard a shrill voice, and the patter of little leather sandals - the 50-ish woman in the blue dress had tracked him down.   "Cooee !"  she was calling cheerily, and waving, on her way over to him.

Then the water burst open, Sebastian Hawksmoore flailing with the now-clean cutlass, looking around and cursing furiously in a peculiar fashion, "I'll have thy guts, hogspawn Spaniard, wi' a curse, bedamned to thee !"  The water was hip-deep to him, and he was of course dripping wet.  But the dark line along his arm was pink and healing.

At the sight of the beaming lady in the blue dress, and McCurdy, the boy suddenly stopped cold, still holding the cutlass, which he now lowered.  "Beg your pardon, m'lady," he said to the woman, and bowed.  The woman dipped a rusty curtsey, still smiling happily.  Then Hawksmoore turned his attention to McCurdy.
"I expect you wish an explanation," he said, sourly.  It seemed that thanks was not going to come along quickly from the prickly fellow.


Meanwhile, Marianne watched as the Spaniard suddenly revived, and slashed without caring at the nearest target - the doctor who was leaning over him.  Blood sprayed across the cobblestones and the doctor fell, his throat cut.  The little boy stood stricken dumb and still with fear, staring at the impossible sight of a dead man rising to his feet.

McCurdy looked at Hawksmoore with a glare filled with apathy and irritation at the same time.  His brain was already overloaded.  “You know, I don’t really know that it would make that much of a difference right now.  All I’m interested in is whether or not bullets will kill him?”

And by "him" he clearly meant the Spaniard.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:06, Wed 06 July 2005.

"No," said Hawksmoore, simply. "'Bullets' will not slay him.  Hist; if he was in the church, he lit a candle, and his lwa is fire.  He will be coming after me."  He slipped the cutlass into a loop on his belt and made to hoist himself from the water.

McCurdy just nodded as he backed away to give Hawksmoore room to maneuver, and turned on the woman that had followed.  He stared at her, his eyes piercing and hard underneath the rim of his hat.  “The redhead didn’t follow you, eh...”  He shook his head in disgust.  “Hope she’s still alive?”

He turned back to Hawksmoore.  “So what’s to do about this Spanish fella?  If bullets can’t kill him what will?”  McCurdy couldn’t hardly believe the question came out of his mouth.  The fact that he was actually entertaining such a notion that someone couldn’t be killed was making him numb.  If not for the fact of seeing it with his own eyes...

“What did you say his name was?”

Marianne bit back a scream, clapping her hand over her mouth to forcibly prevent herself from making a sound - or being sick. She tore her eyes away from the sight of the doctor lying dead on the ground, blood flowing from his wounds. She had sent that kind and gentle man to his death. Marianne felt sick all over again, and then suddenly went cold... that boy was standing in the path of that... monster!

Hawksmoore slung himself out of the river with an ease that suggested familiarity with such matters, and was looking around the docks, causing the dockworkers and fishermen to scatter.  "Don Miguel dos Silandros de Vega," the boy replied, "Spanish dog, bedamned to him.  I'll tell thee all, God's truth, Yankee, but hastily, a boat !"

The little lady in the blue dress pointed to one, a white and blue painted fisherman's boat with an engine on it. "I'll buy the petrol if you'll wait but a moment for me." she said. "It's out of petrol; it belongs to a man named Pedro, and he was in town trying to buy more."

Meanwhile, back in town, the Spaniard was shouting. "BASTIAN !  Come here !"  And looking around very angrily.  The boy seemed to be beneath his notice, as was the dead man at his feet.  Marianne nearly screamed though, when a hand touched her arm; it was Liza.  She had a large tin container that had two handles, and was red in the face and sweating from exertion. "Come on," she whispered, indicating that Marianne should grab a handle. The tin can was full of something liquid, and was heavy.

Marianne nodded and readily followed Liza, clearly shaken by what she had witnessed.

"He killed that doctor! He didn't see or care who it was, just lashed out. He's furious... and looking for the other man right now.

I'm just so glad to see you're safe! What happened?"