Date: April 1783 CE
Location: Louisiana Territory
Participants: PhillipDuBois Phillip Du Bois, Thomas, Luc, Noe, Kaiya, TheHandofGod The Hand of God, Madame Ramsden, Christoph, Simon
Summary: A meeting in the Southern delta goes poorly, leading to a rescue and then an escape.
Next: FrenchRevolution1

The thin crowd filling the few tables looked up as Phillip and Thomas entered. For a moment the two men let their eyes adjust to the dark interior and were silhouetted against the bright spring sun that beat down warmly upon the outskirts of the small southern village.

The barman glanced at Phillip, noted the sword at his hip then gave Thomas a judging look and taking stock of his darker skin along with the height and muscular arms that poured out of his rolled up cotton sleeves, he frowned. Thomas looked back with a steady gaze and the older man back down from his dark eyes and returned to wiping down his counter. The large mans eyes swept across the rest of the room as he hung at Phillips side.

Phillip had pulled off the tri-cornered cap from on top of his dark brown hair tied back roughly at his neck. He dusted it nonchalantly even while his perceptive gaze took in everything and everyone seated or standing in the small tavern.

The room was lit from the opened windows that had some clean linens hanging limply in the humid air. The whitewashed walls helped lighten the space and sported a few well placed tools to decorate the sparse interior and the dark wooden floors were clean and well worn. The wide bar stood as an island in front of a wall with shelves holding a variety of colored bottles and a darkened doorway leading to the back from where the warm aromas of home cooking wafted. Phillip swallowed against the rise of his appetite and locked on to the scattered figures, his hand resting comfortably on the hilt of the blade at his left hip.

With a confident stride, he moved through the room, heading directly towards the far corner where a single hooded occupant sat at a square table. He brushed off the lingering dust and dirt on his hands against his leather vest and walked with flowing steps. Thomas moved with him but stopped at the first stool at the bar, swinging his long thick leg and taking a seat, the hilt of a long dagger slid through his belt at his back evident to the rest of the room. An older man with a scraggly beard, wrinkled forhead and with a wavering balance gave him a disgruntled look but turned back into his glass, mumbling.

Phillip nodded aimably at a trio of men at a long table as he passed them, noting their homespun cotton shirts, dirt stained breeches and bare feet. Then to a pair fellows to his right. Both wore more tailored clothes, appropriate for the southern spring but of a finer quality than he would expect in a such a backwater spot. As he neared the square table he could smell the sweeter scent of perfume and his confidence but also his caution grew.

The feeling he had gotten from the letter still nestled in his vest pocket didn't match this scene. He couldn't place his finger on it, but something was wrong.

Best way to flush a rat is with a little water added to the boat, he thought and pressed on, even as he felt pairs of eyes tracking him as he went. He tipped his head towards a pair of men in the opposite corner, then turned to give the hooded figure a gallant bow, making his motions more extreme to keep the eyes on him and not Thomas and to keep them from noticing Luc who he knew was rounding the perimeter of the tavern. Phillip pulled out the wooden chair across the square table and sat, dropping his hat into the space between them.

"Mademoiselle," he said warmly, his brown eyes seeking a face within the shadows of the hood. The head tipped down in what appeared to be a demur nod but helped hide the covered features. "I apologize for our delay," he continued in undaunted French, "but I believe you have something for me?" He felt the figure tense but he reacted first to the flying dagger that came at his head and the low whisper coming from the corner of the room.

Phillip dove across the table, wrapping his right arm around the shoulders of the hooded figure and pulling them both down onto the floor at the corner of the room. The dagger richocheted off the wall and clattered onto the ground. The hooded figure struggled, but Phillip was too strong. He frowned and adjusted his grip so that it coiled around the neck as his other hand pulled back the hood.

"Merd," he spat as he locked eyes with the lean young man who still smelled of women's perfume.

"Du Bois!" the man murmured with a mix of disgust and awe. Exposed, the fellow elbowed Phillip in the stomach as he pulled at the arm around his neck. In the moment of surprise, he was able to scramble under the table, in the direction of the source of the dagger.

That blade had landed within arms reach, and Phillip grabbed at it even while he drew his long sword. From his vantage point on the floor he could see the young man still on his knees but also the two pairs of booted feet moving at him from across the room.

With a shout he shouldered the table up and towards the two men who were coming at him. The table crashed into the second one, collapsing both down on to the young man still trying to crawl towards his allies. The two facing Phillip had other blades ready. The one who had been wearing a woolen coat that was now crumpled on the floor, raised a sword that was heavy and thick, its hilt wrought in the shape of a cross with ingraved hands around the handle. The other had two long daggers, similar to the one Phillip had gathered from the ground, and, he considered grimly, most likely more to fling hiding within his light coat. The knife throwers lips continued their whisperings "...and tear down all your strongholds", seeming to savor every word.

There was no time to try and place the mans quotation as the longswordsman charged at Phillip, his blade held high, ready for a heavy strike. With his clearer footing, Phillip pivoted and met the downswing with this leaner sword. He continued his turn, letting his attacker's momentum take him into the wall behind him. The dagger in his other hand lashed out and pierced the exposed torso and slipped through the flesh.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught the flash of another set of daggers and dropped to the floor, the murmurings continuing with, "...I will destroy..." One of the blades dug into the wall, the other bounding off of the wooden shutters from the window. He tried to avoid rolling over it as he dodged a downswing from the still standing broadswordsman who had left a man sized impression in the whitewashed walls without seeming to suffer any ill effects. The injury from the sword strike though was long, his silk shirt already swelling with a bright red circle all the way across his chest, but it hadn't been deep enough. The man had to check his swing though to keep the glinting steel from digging into the ground.

That gave Phillip and his lighter sword a chance. He rolled again and snapped up to his feet, and with a curving swing of his sword, struck out at the exposed neck of his downward facing attacker.

This was no novice swordsman though and he sense the swing coming and ducked down and twisted as he brought his own sword up at a sharp angle. Avoiding that strike kept Phillip from being pierced through the chest but almost had him suffer a dagger in the leg, but he brought down the other knife in his hands and blocked it nimbly as it flew in from across the room along with "...will no longer cast spells," as he turned towards the crouching broadswordsman.

Blocked by the wall on one side and with the now empty long table where the well dressed pair had been filling the space behind him, the broadswords man had little room to maneuver. With a shout he pressed on, the thick blade arching up behind his head and back down at Phillip as he stepped towards him.

Phillip met the strike, the exposed muscles in his forearm from his rolled up sleeves straining against the other mans strength. He held it for a moment, then shifted his stance and threw in the power of his legs and shoved the man back into the wall. Knowing his own back would be exposed to the daggar thrower, he swept his sword in a circle, raking back across the broadswordsmans chest, being sure to cut more deeply, and dropped to the ground again in one smooth motion.

He took a breath, sounds of another fight ringing dimly in his adrenaline soaked ears and kept moving as the large swordsman fell to the floor. Rising to his feet Phillip brought his long blade forward, his left hand extending to provide him balance and finish his stance.

The eyes of the dagger thrower widened and he started back peddling as his hands slipped into his coat again for another pair of blades, his lips still whispering, the words, "you will no longer bow down" trying to give accuracy to his attack. He had one in the air by the time Phillip was half way to him, easily dodging the attack as he bore down. The second dagger tried to block Phillips strike but it was no match for the skilled swordsman who slid down the smaller knife, cut into the throwers hand and then across his chest with a single fluid stroke. As the man clutched at his slashed skin and clothing he stumbled backwards and into the wall of the tavern, falling wide eyed to the ground at Phillips feet, "work of your hands..." whispered through his dying lips.

Phillip frowned down at the verbous attacker then turned just in time to step out of the way of the last man engaged with Thomas. The larger man had lifted him by his collar with a huge amount of strength and tossed him across the room and into the back wall where he left another spiderweb in the whitewashed surface and then crumpled to the ground. Phillips gaze looked over the other two farmers Thomas had dispatched, one still slumped over the table that now sported a fist sized crater while the other was a heap underneath.

They both turned at the sound of musket fire from outside the front door. A body thumped to the ground and then there was the clash of steel against steel, a cry of pain, another crack of gun fire, a second thump, and then silence. Phillip frowned, knowing Luc had been the source of the first warning shot but that the man was no match when it came to sword play. Stepping to the threshold of the door he peered outside carefully, sword still held tense in his grip.

On the ground by where a crowd of horses were dancing nimbly on nervous hooves, lay the two well dressed men who had escaped earlier, through the kitchen, he guessed. Both might have still been breathing, but neither moved, they only bled slowly through their clothing and onto the ground. Luc moved in the shadows near the corner of the tavern, his sharp blue eyes flashing about in search of something. With the fight over though the mid spring morning was only filled with the chitter of birds, the light whinny of the nervous horses and the sound of the town milling about down the road.

Phillip turned back to Thomas, "Search them," he ordered crisply. He then strode off towards the kitchen, leaving Luc to guard the outside. There was someone else around, his instincts told him, but who he needed to find was his fare. "Where the hell is she?" he spat as he crossed in front of the bar.

"Right here," said a silhouette now standing in the doorway.

"Is that so?" Phillip asked tersly, turning with restrained apprehension towards the newcomer, evaluating the feminine tone yet masculine garb with a perceptive eye while his grip readjusted on the hilt of his still drawn blade.

The woman tipped back the soft wide brimmed hat, exposing tusouled blond hair tied up off of her neck and a piercing set of blue eyes. Her other hand flipped at her side. In a flash she held out a broken half of a coin she held in a small piece of bright blue silk and cocked an eyebrow expectantly. He could sense Luc moving around the corral of horses, obviously hearing this new conversation and adjusting his position so Phillip locked eyes with the woman, keeping her gaze on him. He gave the coin a speculative glance, and then one with more focus.

The small broken coin had the figure of a bird etched into it and the gentle curve was marred by the sharper edges that ran down the center. The edges, he realized, would match the one he carried in his pocket. He tipped back his blade, pointing its tip towards the ground and allowing the bright blue nub at the end of his hilt to catch the mid morning sun. She nodded almost imperceptively and slipped the coin back into whatever hiding spot she had taken it from.

That settled, he let his grim face brighten slightly. He was about to break the hanging silence when they all heard the cock of a musket from underneath the two collapsed square tables. Each turned as the young man stood, swinging the barrel at Phillip. "You Devil!" he shouted in a trembling tone.

Thomas was there in an instant, his size belying the speed with which he could move. His thick arm swung up under the barrel, bending it and sending the shot into the ceiling, dusting them all with woody shrapnel. With another swing, Thomas had the man stumbling from his feet and down onto the ground.

"Hold him," Phillip ordered and his large companion complied, staying a hand that would have snapped the mans neck and instead easily twisted him onto his stomach and pinning his arms at his back, holding them there with one large caloused hand.

Knowing Luc still had the woman in his sights, Phillip moved to kneel down in front of the attacker. With strong fingers he grabbed the mans hair and lifted his head from the wooden planks so he could look him in the eye.

"How did you know we were coming?" Phillip asked, his tone cold and menacing. The man was panting, his breathing short based on Thomas's weight as well as from his perdicament. The sweat that beaded down his brow turned into a stream. His lips flapped but after a moment his jaw and eyes clenched closed. "Break his arm," Phillip said cooly. The mans eyes flashed open as he felt Thomas start twisting at his right limb.

"No!" he cried out and Thomas stopped, but held the mans arm at the brink of cracking. The man's eyes flickered, trying to look around him for support, to see anyone but the figure on one knee in front of him. All he caught were the crumpled and still forms of his companions littering the tavern. As the seconds lingered he couldn't help it and was caught in Phillips dark gaze. He stuttered and Thomas gave his arm a slight nudge. "Your cousin," he shouted, then winced with the pain of his misspoken words as well as his straining limb.

"What?" Phillip pressed, putting the edge of his blade against the mans throat as his tone turned heated while his anger grew.

"God forgive me."

"Break his hand." said Phillip cooly.

Thomas broke the mans hand.

"Ahhhh..." The man cried out weakly and started to simper, "They found him..." the man began to sputter, giving in, his words mixing with his sweat and the frightened tears that started to stream down his cheeks. "I...I don't know how..." he stared blankly up at the wooden beams that were strung through the ceiling. "He told them you...when you would be here...coming to pick up a passenger..."

"Where is he?" Demanded Phillip, shaking the mans head and trying to get him to face him, further angered by knowing Christoph would never have given up such information unless he was captive. Thomas snapped the mans arm.

The man cried out again, "The church...The church near the Ramsden plantation...they took him there." Phillip slammed the mans head face first into the floor. There was a crunch as his nose broke and the man whimpered slightly as he fainted.

"That damn woman," He said angrily.

After a moment, Phillip looked over at Thomas who was slowly wiping the sweat from the young man that had soiled his large hands on his pants, his large body relaxed, waiting for Phillip to make the next move. "Take her and get the ship ready. If I'm not back by dawn, sail." The larger man nodded and he started to stand.

"Mademoiselle," Thomas said in a low base.

"Non," She said back simply, turning her gaze onto Phillip who was looking inquistively at a ornate chain around the young mans neck. He tensed at her response.

"Non?" he said down to the limp form at his feet, his voice holding on to its heat. "And what do you mean by that, Mademoiselle?"

"I mean that I am going with you."

That suprised Phillip and he rose, turning to evaluate the woman again, the change of pace actually cooling his temper. This time he caught sight of the narrow bag strapped to her back, the bulge of what could have been more knives within her clothing. "I don't think so." He said aimably, forcing on a bit of charm through his simmering irritation. Thomas's large arms folded across his chest, silently reinforcing Phillips decision. "I believe it would be best for you to follow my instructions and be taken to wait on my boat."

"I don't think so," she said smoothly, not backing down. "We have agreement for you," she stressed the word, "to see I make it safely out of Louisana."

"Yes, my dear," Phillip countered, "but as you said, you paid for a safe travel and in order fulfill that contract, I need you to be safely aboard my boat."

"I'm not sure how getting yourself killed is supposed to keep me safe. Furthermore, I don't believe you, even with your man out by the horses are going to be able to save your cousin by yourselves." Her chin lifted slightly, stopping at a challenging angle that was met by a flicker in her blue eyes. "Therefore I'm going with you and be certain of my investment."

"Well, my lady, I fear there will be a fight involved and I would hate to bring someone who might not be prepared for such hostilities. Especially one with whom I am obligated to carry safely away." He poured on the charm and threw in what was usually a disarming smile.

"I've paid a pretty price for your company, sir," she said, easily avoiding the trap from his lips. "And I do not intend to let you leave my sight. And if you don't like it," her face hardened, "you and your cousin, can go to hell." She cocked an eye brow at him, continuing the challenge. Phillips mouth hung open slightly in the following silence. "Shall we?" she asked after a moment, followed by an expectant nod. She straighted the hat on her head and turned, walking swiftly towards the line of horses.

"Francs," Phillip murmured as he watched her go, "remember the damn francs". He tried not to dwell on the fact that she was right, he and Luc could probably use the help but as always, he never had enough men with him. And now he was going after Christoph with some strange woman carrying, what he hoped were more than dilusions of fighting skill.

The clinking sounds of plates and glasses interrupted his musing and drew both mens attention back to the bar. The head of the bar man and that of the older man who had been sitting next to Thomas peered up from behind the counter. Phillip met them with a wide grin and he moved over, digging into his pocket as he slid his sword back into its sheath. He pulled out a few coins and tossed them down on to the wide smooth surface.

"That should cover it," he said warmly. The barman didn't even look down at the money, his wide eyes stayed on Phillips face and he nodded briskly. "I hope you don't mind but we'll be helping ourselves to some of the horses out front as I don't believe these fine gentlemen will be needing them and then we'll be out of your way." Again the tavern owner nodded in absolute agreement. Phillip stepped back, picked up his hat from the floor near the corner of the room and rested it back on his head at his favorite angle. "You gentlemen have a pleasant day," he said, tipping the brim at the two men still at the bar as he walked across the disheveld room and out the door. Thomas gave the room and two men one more look then turned to follow.

Phillip slowed his step as Thomas joined him. Without taking his eyes from the woman who was inspecting the horses, he spoke to Thomas, "Get going." Thomas looked down at him for a moment, a hint of concern passing over his stoic features.

"Captain..." he started but Phillip turned to him with a surprised frown.

His brow cleared as he caught the actual issue that was on Thomas's mind. "Don't tell Noe, not yet."

Thomas's face stayed hard for a moment, then a flash of better humor flickered over it as he nodded and headed towards the slowly simmering town.

Phillip couldn't help but smile as he saw that the two bodies laying near the horses had already been relieved of the contents of their pockets. He frowned though, unsure if that had been Luc or the woman who had been so bold. He eyed the beasts grimly, gave a nod to Luc and turned towards his passenger. "Before we ride," he couldn't help but say that last word like a curse, "we should be properly introduced." She tilted her head up at him, an amused smile playing on her mouth. He tipped his hat towards her with a little bow, "Phillip Du Bois," he said smoothly.

"Yes, I know," she countered, her eyes swinging to Luc who stood quietly in the shadow of a large bay, his hands lightly gripping his long rifle.

He tipped his own tri cornered hat slightly, his face still carrying a confused and disjointed expression, "Please call me Luc, miss," he said, his French very poorly accented, English obviously his native tongue.

"My name is Kaiya," she said to them both, tipping her own hat to them then turned her eyes on the horses with an appraising look before selecting one.

"Wonderful," said Phillip, his tone growing harsher as he picked out a horse for himself and maneuvered up into the saddle. His bitterness grew as Luc and Kaiya swung easily onto their own chosen mounts and rested comfortably astride the beasts. "Damn horses," he muttered as he turned his horses' head out from the trough. His kick accentuated by his irritration started them off at a fast canter down the road past the tavern and into the wilderness that surrounded the town.

The road would stretch on through the forest, branch off towards the various farm and villages that struggled to survive in the marshes and tropical heat. It had been years since he had been to the little white steepled church near the Ramdsen estate but the paths were still the same, and he kept the fast pace as they rode towards it.

After an hour or so, Phillip pulled up and slowed to a trot. Luc read the signal and maneuvered his horse up next to him. "The church is another half hour or so on. Stay left at the next fork and let me know what you find. We'll be waiting there." Luc nodded and spurred his horse back to a full gallop and rode off down the dirt path. Phillip slowed them to a walk and shifted uncomfortably in the saddle.

Kaiya, swaying easily with the motion of her horse looked over at him from beneath the wide brim of her hat. "What's your plan?"

"That will depend on what Luc finds." he answered simply. She gave him a slightly surprised glance.

"I find it hard to believe that you don't already have something in mind. It seems you already know what you are dealing with."

He shrugged with a bit of a laugh. "You're a perceptive one," he murmured. He gave Kaiya another look, glacing once more at the narrow sack on her back and the hint of a hilt poking through the drawstringed top.

"I don't think these are men that are going to negotiate," he began, trying to reign in the anger that threaded his voice. "Their positions on such matters are rarely swayed." He paused, glancing back over at her, wondering if she would catch his meaning. She nodded slowly and slipped her hand into a pocket along the leg of her native style breeches. Her fist came out, fingers wrapped around something that she tossed over to him.

He caught the golden chain easily and looked down at it. The small figureless gold cross had a hand gripping the longer end. He tossed it back at her with a bit of disgust. "You've come across the Hand before then?" Again she nodded. "Well, they don't think much of me and my cousin foolishly followed his heart right into the lions den."

"So this would be his fault?" She questioned with a touch of irony.

He frowned with irritation at her tone. "He's chosen to stay." He answered back firmly. "Never seems to see what's right in front of him," he continued at a murmur. "They've tried getting to me through him in the past, but never so openly. Perhaps this time he'll see..." he shrugged.

"So your plan?"

"I'll cut through them all and force him on the back of this horse if I have to." Phillip said simply. "Hopefully Luc will get sight of Daphne and Simon, his wife and son. I doubt he'll leave without them." She knodded with understanding and he could feel caculations churning behind her blue eyes.

They continued the ride in silence, pulling up as they reached the fork in the road that would lead off towards the church. As they waited, Kaiya swung around the bag and pulled out what Phillip had expected, a long sword of a style he couldn't quite place. He looked on with growing satisfaction as she adjusted the sword onto her back and seemed to do the same with the various knives she had around her person obviously comfortable with their weight. She lashed the bag behind the saddle and then shifted to wait with calm patience.

It wasn't long until they heard the soft sounds of hoof beats up the road, but even though it was most likely Luc, both put their hands on their hilts. Luc did emerge, riding quietly but quickly towards them. He gave Kaiya a still unsettled glance before focusing on Phillip.

"There are about a half dozen men present," he began in his poorly accented but at least understandable French. "Some rifles and some look like regular swordsmen," he reported the last with a bit of annoyance. His blue eyes flashed to Kaiya and the sword on her back and he continued along what seemed like a different track. "There's an older woman with a boy. But I didn't see Christoph. He might be inside...the church is not big. The pastors house is right behind and there's probably a cellar. That's where I would keep him." Luc shrugged. "They don't seem too worried but are obviously expecting some kind of news soon. The guard on the steps kept looking out down the road."

Phillip pondered a moment. "With enough of a distraction could you get into the back and find him in the house?" Luc's face hardly changed but his eyes twinkled with a bit of excitment as he nodded. Phillip looked over to Kaiya who had been listening quietly. "Are you up for that?" She met Phillips eyes and then turned as it was Luc who spoke first.

"They way she took care of the two at the tavern," Luc shrugged and looked at her with a surprising respect, "she could probably take all six of them by herself." Phillip tried not to let his eyebrows rise as Lucs statment. He had never been a man to exaggerate, let alone be so complimentary. Must be the pretty face, he thought smuggly.

"Maybe I should have stayed back and had a drink," he countered cockily. "Or just gone back to the ship," he said with a bit more earnest as his horse started dancing under him. He patted the beast with an illpracticed hand, trying to quiet it while he thought. "There's an orchard on the right of the road as you get closer. At dusk we'll leave the horses there and go in on foot. You'll head around back," he said to Luc then his eyes flickered to Kaiya, again weighing her unknown skill, "we'll sneak in as close as we can and then start making a ruckass. When you hear that, go in, find him and start heading back here. We'll get Simon and meet you."

"Do you plan on killing them all?" Kaiya asked. Her tone was measured, not hinting a preference for either way that question could be answered, just wondering how he wanted to deal with the situation seeming to be aware that he had chosen to interrogate one of his attackers just a few hours earlier.

Phillip laughed a bit at her coolness but his voice carried a bitter tinge, "I'd rather leave them alive just so that they can wallow in defeat." She nodded with what seemed like understanding, but he continued coldly. "If it's us or them though...I'll let God sort it out." He caught her eye, again weighing abilities he had yet to see as well as her mental fortitude as they faced a possible slaughter and smiled inspite of himself at her steady gaze. "Let's move." He said with a commanding tone and started walking his horse down the left fork.

They continued on in silence, each pair of ears sharpened to pick up the sound of anyone else ahead or behind them. As they neared the orchard Phillip held up his hand, his signal to stop clear. They dismounted and started into the forest, picking their way carefully. The sky was just hinting at dusk as they reached the start of the orchard. The humid air was heavy with the scent of the peach blossoms and the petals strewning the ground and filling the branches made their progress all the quieter.

Luc tossed his reigns around a low branch and headed off after a nod from Phillip, his footsteps amazingly silent and he faded from view within a few seconds. As the shadows lengthened Phillip nodded towards the church, its steeple just visible over the orchard and he and Kaiya made their way towards it, both heads bear and bodies braced for action.

By the time the short stoop was clearly in view his confidence was growing. There was only one man standing guard and he stood as if a bit bored, a rifle leaning against his shoulder. The soft sounds of conversation from within the church wafted through the half opened wooden door at the mans side.

Phillip laid a hand on his hilt, about to start a quiet charge towards the lone sentry when he felt Kaiya's hand land softly on his bare arm. He turned with a frown, worried that she was getting cold feet now that it was time to follow through with the rescue. Instead his lips curved into a smile inspite of themselves as she motioned with a large rock, waving it in front of his eyes and then towards the oil lantern that was hanging on an iron rod out from the front face of the church. She shifted near silently into position and gaged the distance for a moment before hefting the rock.

It crashed into the lantern, knocking it on its side enough to pour oil and flame down onto the exposed wood of the outer wall. The sentry cried out, "FIRE!" as the flames bloomed. His attention was fully diverted, making their approach easy. He saw them almost at the last moment, pulling around his rifle and angling it at the enclosing Phillip. The shot went off early, and sailed wide. Although caught off guard, the sentry back pedaled, giving himself more room against the pair of foes as he swung the rifle around to try and block the sharp strikes. Phillip pressed quickly and within a few strokes, cut into the mans hands, forcing him to drop the rifle, then to his arms and a quick strike into his thigh, forcing him down towards the wooden stoop. The man had kept his wits but now disarmed he stumbled onto the ground and looked up with wide, frightened eyes. Phillip struck him across the temple with the hilt of his blade, knocking him unconcious.

Kaiya had waited by the side of the half closed door while Phillip had dispatched the first foe. She glanced at him when he turned, holding out her hand to indicate more on the way. "Five," her fingers said silently. He caught the sound of their feet heading towards them down the center aisle and the two positioned themselves at the door to be able to take them on once they stepped out into the growing night.

A strong voice spoke from within, "Bedeau, Ockley go." Phillip winced on the inside, realizing that their surprise attack had somehow been thwarted. The smell of the fire had wafted inside and the men heading towards them quickened their pace. They stepped out, rifles ready, their metal barrels reflecting the growing flames. One of them, Phillip decided he could be Ockley, caught sight of Kaiya as he stepped through. He swung his rifle around with a shout, "Attack!".

That caused Bedeau to turn away from the fire as well, "Du Bois!" he shouted as much in surprise as a warning towards those within when he clashed his rifle barrel with Phillips' steel. He dispatched with Bedeau swiftly, cutting across the back of his knee and dropping him to the ground and with a swift kick sent him splayed across the grass near the first man. He glanced up when he was through and realized that Luc had not been exaggerating.

Kaiya swung with a well mastered stroke, moving easily against the larger opponent, disarming him and slicing in and out of his belly. The man fell with a grunt, clutching at his stomach and at the unused rifle and they turned to the door as he fell face first onto the church steps. Phillip led the charge, the growing flames allowing them to carry a stream of smoke with them into the house.

As they crossed the threshold, two cracks of gun fire exploded, but they had both anticipated the obvious attack and had moved quickly even as they slipped to the side. With in a few steps they clashed with two more within the confines of the pews. Their long swords matched against bayonets that were weilded with practiced hands. A shout from a younger voice echoed in the air, rattling against the sound of metal on metal. Although skilled the two fell quickly while a third, Phillip guessed the man who had given the first order, watched on.

"Go," said Kaiya as she squared off in front of him and the long sword with a handle wrought in a similar pattern to the one used back at the tavern, held lightly in his hand as he waited with reigned and eager anticipation. Phillip did not give it a second thought and dashed down the row of pews, along the side aisle and towards the sound of the young cry. He made it up to the altar within a few long strides. There were two doors, one on either side and he pushed his shoulder through the nearest one on the left. He cursed as he found one room then another empty with a screen door leading out into the garden in between, and headed back towards the church nave, across the altar and through the other door. As he went his ears caught the clash of metal from the center aisle, Kaiya and the other man still engaged. The thought of fire tugged at him as he crossed as well, and he quickened his steps as the touch of heat began to be felt across the building. He shoved both thoughts from his mind as he heard the slam of a door. He slowed his pace, blade held ready, ears perked to try and pick up any stray sound.

He came across a pair of closets and opened them carefully but saw only well folded linens and neat rows of a few dishes. Leaving them, he moved on. He frowned as he came to another door, this one with a knob and keyhole. He tried the knob and found it locked. Sweeping his eye down the narrow hallway he gripped the metal and flung his shoulder into the wood. It buckled slightly, but was well built. It took two more strikes before it gave.

Inside he found a young lad that had to be Simon, gagged, his arms tied behind his back and his brown eyes wide and frightened. Phillip let the boy be, feeling a pair of eyes on his back. He stepped in, pretending that he had not noticed, but the attacker knew he had been spotted as the young boy tried to cry out in warning against the fabric in his mouth.

Phillip swung up to meet the incoming strike and paried the next few aggressive blows. The small changing room didn't leave much space for maneuvering and the thick attacker pressed on with shorted strikes from his heavy blade. One swing after another pounded down until Phillip had his back up against a wall.

"May you go to hell," man spat angrily as he pivoted his foot to deliver a final blow. That extra moment though was the opening Phillip was seeking and he ducked down just under the blade and barreled into the mans stomach with a shoulder that was already starting to throb against the first attack against the door. The physical strike caught the man by surprise and his feet stumbled back, trying to regain steady footing. Phillip nearly laughed as they neared young Simon who was still on the floor, when the boy stuck out his tied legs. The move worked perfectly and the heavy man fell backwards, falling ungracefully to the ground with a grunt while his legs landed on across the boy. Phillips foot planted on the mans sword hand as he swung down, piercing the man just below the golden chain that hung over his heart.

Simon struggled to get out from under the dead weight and Phillip motioned for him to turn as he got free enough to roll over. With a flash of his hand, Phillip had a smaller dagger out and in a single swipe cut the ropes holding the boys wrists tightly enough to redden the skin. With his hands free Simon rolled back over and Phillip handed him the dagger hilt first. The boy swallowed, tried not to look at the dead body that twitched next to him in the last of its death throws as he took the knife in a slightly trembling hand. The other went to the gag in his mouth.

"Papa..." he said quietly as he freed his tounge.

Phillip nodded. "Where is he?"

"The store room." The boy answered, growing more confident in Phillips steady presence. Some of his youthfulness quieted as he regained his composure.

"Your mother?"

The boys confidence was slightly shaken by that and he frowned. "She died...last spring..." he said slowly. Phillip winced, and figured there was an unopened letter somewhere with that news, but it atleast explained the timing of this attack. He patted the boy awkwardly on the shoulder with some roused sympathy then got him working at the ropes around his feet while he rose and glanced out the doorway.

"Madame Ramsden?" He asked as Simon flung the ropes with disgust towards the still body.

"She went with two more men towards the cellar." Simon answered softly, although his young voice was starting to steady with anger. That made nine, Phillip thought, and hoped Lucs miscount was not more extreme. He knew the tracker would not be favored in a three to one match and turned to Simon.

"Where's the cellar?" The young boy pointed with the dagger down to the right, further away from the nave and tried to mimic the gleam in Phillips eye. "How about we go rescue him?" Phillip asked with a dashing smile. The boys chest puffed out with increased confidence as he nodded briskly. "Watch my back," Phillip ordered sternly as he stepped through the door and down the hall in the direction the boy had indicated. He could feel Simon take his job seriously, stepping lightly behind him.

As they neared what turned out to be a small kichen Phillip saw the wooden doorway on the floor slightly ajar. He squatted by it and held his finger to his lips, ensuring Simon stayed quiet. The boy sucked in his lower lip nervously but held his tounge. As Phillips eyes flashed to movement behind him, Simon whipped around, startled almost into crying out as Kaiya entered the small room. Her blade was cleaned of blood although it spattered her clothing but she seemed unhurt. Simon turned back to Phillip and seeing his rescurer unperturbed by the stranger, calmed down and refocused on the storeroom.

There was a thud and a roar from within and every piece of nearby glass exploded in a loud crash. "Christoph," Phillip murmured angrily as he swung the cellar door open wide. He jumped down the ladder, his blade arching out swiftly to clear a spot for him to land.

Only the feel of the wind made him aware of the axe swung at his head . He dropped down to the dirt floor making the strike just barely miss him. He rolled away, it didn't matter where, as the axe chopped down where he had just stood. As he maneuavered to a crouch he tried to get his bearings in the limited light from the open cellar door. From the darkness, the axe came at him again, the light glinting off its sharp edge making it visible in the gloom. He met the heavy head with his sword and tried to turn the momentum against his attacker. This one dipped his weapon, sliding down Phillips blade and changed his grip on the metal handle so that he could strike across Phillips necks.

Phillips feet stumbled over something on the ground and he lost his balance, falling away just enough to avoid the strike. As he swung back up to his feet he realized he had tripped over Luc who was laying in a heap, his face pale except for the black and blue welt spreading across the right temple. The man was breathing, shallowly and suffered a long dagger rammed through his leg, seeming to pin him to the ground.

The sound of shuffling feet behind him brought him back to the attack. He turned as a shadow descended from the square hole in the roof, Kaiya he guessed, followed by the sound of a sputtering, blood filled mouth and then a heavy thump and clatter on the packed dirt floor.

"Caro Dio," murmured a voice and Phillip turned to locate and strike at the source. Phillip didn't linger as his gaze adjusted to the shadows and swung across the slowly clearing cellar.

He could now see that the small room was cluttered with stores of food and a few broken bottles of wine, but what caught his attention was the limp form of his cousin on the ground across the dirt floor. Next came the presence of Madame Ramsden, glowering at him from above Christoph. At her side was a short thick man, both his fists red with blood and glinting with the brass knuckles that covered them.

With a face filled with rage, Phillip lashed out towards the man with the bloodly fists, sparing no mercy as he struck with his sword at the mans face, his arms, stomach and legs, slicing him over and over. The man put himself between Phillip and the elderly woman and tried to defend himself but his fleshy palms and threatening knuckles were no match against Phillips steel and anger. As he hacked his final stroke, he failed to take in Madame Ramsden and for an older woman she lashed out with ferocity, pulling a dagger from beneath the shawl around her shoulders and striking with fury into Phillips side. He cried out with pain but the adrenaline rushing through him pushed him on and he twisted from her blade, swinging out and backhanding her across the face. The older woman fell, her frame much weaker than her intentions.

"God will see you for what you truely are." She spat up at him, her blue eyes fill of anger, her wrinkled hands and bony fingers clawing into the dust.

"Good," Phillip spat back striking out and slamming his fist into the womans head which collapsed with the sound of crunching bone. Her body tried to hold on but shuddered with the impact and lay still.

Breathing hard, Phillip stared down at her elderly form, his eyes still full of hate. A groan brought him out of his stewing and he turned to see Kaiya nearby, trying to roll Christoph over onto his back. His cousin was coming too, but the damage was bad.

The mans hands were bloody and swolen from the ropes that dug into his wrists. Circular welts were on his chest, each patterned after the brass knuckles and coloring his cotton shirt with bloody patches. His face carried a pair of dark welts that matched the one growing at Lucs temple. Kaiya scooped up a handfull of wine that had poured out of one of the shattered bottles that lined the interior of the cellar and tried to get him to drink. The feeling of liquid against his dry lips started to bring him around, but what helped the most was Simon.
"Papa?" the young boy whispered down from the hole in the ceiling. His voice was barely audible but it reached Christoph. His swollen eyes strained to open.

"Simon?" He said with confusion, blinking around him, obviously trying to locate his son. Who he locked on to was Phillip and his senses started to return more quickly as he coughed and breathed deeply. "Phillip?" Phillip smiled grimly, trying not to feel the wound in his side as he knelt down in front of his cousin and cut away at the ropes. "I'm so sorry..." Christoph started but Phillip quickly silenced him.

"Shut up you dolt." Christoph stuttered then tried to laugh, but winced with the pain in his sides and coughed deeply again. He lips remembered that there had been wine recently and his eyes went in search of it. He found Kaiya holding a broken bottle and pouring out another liquid handful that she offer to him. He blinked slowly, as if trying to believe his eyes. "Drink," ordered Phillip and he did.

Phillip rose and saw to Luc, pulling the blade that had pinned him to the ground with a swift hand and pressing down on muscle to keep the blood from pouring more heavily. He held Lucs hand over the wound, keeping it under pressure as he tore a strip from the dead womans dress and tied it tightly around Lucs leg.

"Here," Kaiya said from behind him, holding the shawl out expectantly. He tried to wave her off but she would have nothing of it, and quickly pressed it to his own wound and forced his hand on top of it to keep it in place.

"Papa?" cried Simon as he started down the ladder. "The fire..."

"Fire?" Christoph said, still groggy. His eyes latched on to his son though and he tried to give him a confident smile through the swelling and bruises.

"Oui, the chruch is on fire." Phillip said quickly through clentched teeth as he helped Luc get to his feet with a wince.

"Then we should go..." Christoph added ponderously.

"Exactly." Phillip got Luc to the bottom of the ladder and he started hopping up into a haze of smoke, Simon scampering quickly ahead. Kaiya turned with him to Christoph and they gingerly got him to his feet, to the ladder and up into the kitchen.

The five of them hurried out of the far door that led out towards the gardens and back yard, coughing as the black smoke continued to build. As he crossed the threshold, Phillip looked back grimly, the hallway to the nave clear, and he crossed himself with a shake of his head then hurried his feet along. They made their way around the growing blaze, Luc walking unsteadily under his own power while Phillip and Simon supported Christoph.

Kaiya trotted a head towards the orchard and returned quickly with the three horses that were dancing with apprenhension, their eyes wide with the close blaze. Simon swung up onto one of the horses, and Phillip and Kaiya helped Christoph to a seat behind his son. Simon tried to keep his fear at bay as his father tried not to slump onto him too severly.

"You have him?" Phillip asked and the boy steadied and nodded, wrapping one young arm around his fathers to keep him in place. Phillip tried not to wince as he swung up into his own saddle. Kaiya settled into the third and held her hand out to Luc who was having trouble mounting given his wounded leg. She pulled him up behind her and Phillip turned his horse, kicking its sides and starting them off, away from the burning church.

They rode off down the road, the crackle of fire and the sound of the collapsing steeple spurring them on. The injured tried to stay conscious and steady in the saddle as they made their way in the growing night. Kaiya took the lead, her eyes seeming to adjust easily to the dimming light and lead them down the road back towards town and port at a brisk walk.

The ride was uneventful but as they neared the port, Phillip trotted up to the front, trying not to wince at every bounce in his horses' step. He guided them towards the far end of the port but cursed slightly when he took in the scene at the pier.

Walking in rounds around the port were soldiers dressed in Spanish garb, muskets leaning against their shoulders. He could see the sail of his ship drooping in the humid air and even in the dim light, caught sight of Thomas on deck. The large man straightened from where he had been leaning against the railing, obviously catching sight of them and their perdicament. Phillip nodded to himself with satisfaction as he saw the other man call out to Noe and began working on the ropes mooring them in place.

Phillip kept them moving, knowing they were in no condition for a fight and that he didn't have the papers to press through with charm, almost as irritating he finally realized he had lost his hat. He cast his annoyed gaze over the soldiers and calculated quickly as the rounds repeated. As the soldiers turned at the furthest point from his ship he dug his heels into his horse, grit his teeth against the pain and drove the beast down the set of piers towards his ship. He heard the others right behind him, Christoph and Luc both grunting with their injuries but holding on.

A shout from the soldiers increased their haste but the horses strides were longer and within a few moments they were at the gangplank. Phillip, Kaiya and Simon dismounted first and Phillip made straight for his boat, found his ship ready to sail and headed for the wheel. Kaiya and Simon helped Luc and Christoph down and Luc managed to give a shoulder to Christoph in order to help Simon get him on board.

The shouting continued, the soldiers feet pounding on the wooden docks as they hurried closer and multiplied as others joined them, their commands ordering them to hold and disembark. Kaiya tore off her bag from behind the saddle, wacked the three horses on the rump in turn and sent them racing towards the oncoming squad of soldiers half a dozen. Their shouted orders turned panicky as the beasts bore down. She turned away as the collision became imminent, a look of tempered concern on her face as she raced up the gangplank. As she landed on deck, Thomas lifted the wood and Noe turned his narrow eyes on the newcomer, his mouth opened, about to cry out.

"Noe!" Phillip caught the mans attention and Noe clamped his mouth shut with a frown, turned back to his task and released the sail to its full measure. They all waited with held breath for the sail to expand but in an instant every wisp of wind died. It was if they had entered the doldrums but here they were within reach of one of the most powerful rivers and the air was dead still.

Meanwhile, the soldiers worked their way around the horses, some pulling themselves out of the water and back onto the dock and kept coming.

"Push us off!" shouted Phillip from the wheel. Thomas responded quickly, using the gangplank as a heavy pole, lifting it easily overboard and shoving it against the dock on the far side. His pure strength was countered by a shift in the current that smashed the hull into the wooden pier. A few of the soldiers stumbled but they kept their pace.

Kaiya glanced about, and as she saw another long pole used for retrieving those fallen overboard she dropped her bag and raced to it. She hefted it easily and moved to follow Thomas's lead on the other side of the stern. As she reached the railing and lifted the long pole over the side, two of the soldiers were waiting with targeted barrels. With a simulatenous blast their shots caught her point blank in the chest while another two lept for the ropes looped on the side of the hull.

"Merd!" Snapped Phillip at the sight of the musket smoke and Kaiya, who dropped the pole as her hands clutched at her chest and she back pedaled unsteadily from the railing.

At the sound, Luc swung around from his position at the jib, lifting and firing his musket at the trespassers, catching one of them in the head.

Kaiyas her feet took across the deck to other railing, her feet tangling with the oiled ropes. Thomas gave the pier another heave then tried to swing around and catch her as her momentum carried her overboard but another surge of the waves send him slamming into the end of the stern. As the sound of the splashing waves rippled through the air Thomas turned again, the gangplank still in one hand and swung it into the face of the soldier who had managed to avoid Lucs shot. With one swing of the long plank Thomas sent the soldier back towards his compatriots on the dock below. Another hail of fire poured over the railing of the ship just as the current shifted again.

A wave seemed to push off from shore as an offshore wind grew, filling the sail and pushing at its seams. Noe reigned in the blast of air and the boat leapt forward, away from the dock and soldiers and into the Mississippi. A last shout and pound of lead filled the air and thudded into the wooden hull as they sailed out of range. Phillip strained at the wheel while Noe and Luc dealt with the sails, each trying to keep them from being tossed across the river and into the opposite shore while the rest held on as the boat surged through the water.

As the current calmed and wind steadied, Phillip looked at the ropes where Kaiya had gone overboard. "Thomas," he shouted as another roar of wind poured down upon them. The large man was already turned to the railing, struggling to get his feet steady as they surged out of the port, and finally was able to lean over the side. He jolted back, surprise evident on his dark face before collecting himself and reaching down and hefting the thick ropes back on board. After he dumped the first load of coils onto the deck, he reached down again with his thick arms and pulled her back over the railing.

"N�ste kal�," whispered Noe in spite of himself and using his native Greek with unrestrained shock as he saw Thomas lift Kaiya back onto the deck.

The woman looked up with flashing silver eyes, long silver strands billowed in the night wind, her face slashed with threads of gray. Her arms drapped across the tattered remains of her shirt, where there should have been tattered remains of flesh. Soaked to the bone, she shivered in the cooling night air in the lingering silence as those on deck looked on with disbelief.

"She's alive?" asked Luc after a moment, falling into English, looking back from the bow with blatant surprise.

Phillip caught the woman's gaze as he swiftly recovered from the shock. The expression on his face rippling from concern to surprise to frustration and then finally he shook his head in disbelief and an unsteady laughter passed his lips. "Welcome onboard Atlantis," he said, settling into a satisfied grin.

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