UNCHARTED: Drake's Demise

"Fletcher," Francis said. "You will not be participating in this battle."

"What? But Captain, you need me!" he protested.

"Indeed, I do need you." Motioning to the lifeboat containing the three priests from the church, he said, "These men are good, holy men. They do not deserve any of this. They are your charges, now. I place them in your care. Return with them to the Pelican. Set sail immediately, do not look back. You are responsible for their safety... as well as Cassandra's."

"I... I understand, sir," Fletcher said sadly.

"Good." Taking a deep breath, Francis continued, "Fletcher, I know I do not have long to live, so I must confess my final sin at this time, and I pray that you will listen. Last night, I did a terrible thing. I shared my bed with Cassandra, and took her virginity. She gave it freely, but I still should have known better. As such, she would be deemed worthless to any potential suitor, lacking both her chastity and her dowry. I swore to her that I would find a good, honest man to be her husband in penance for my actions. Fletcher, you are a good and honest man, to be sure. There is none that I would trust with her future more than you. Will you, as my friend and countryman, look after her all the days of your life?"

Taking a moment of silence to comprehend everything that he had been told, Fletcher finally replied, "Sir Francis Drake, it would be my genuine pleasure."

"Thank you," Francis said with a smile. "Take these: my journal, the map of this island, and my ring. They must be separated and hidden away, as they are the only record of the evil secrets this island holds. They must not be discovered, lest the curse of El Dorado be unleashed upon the world. I am depending on you, Fletcher."

"I shall not let you down, Francis."

Wrapping Fletcher in a tight hug, Francis whispered, "Thank you, my friend. Now, be gone with you. Away from this accursed place."

Without a word, Fletcher joined the priests in the lifeboat and took the oars, rowing them upstream towards the ocean. From there, they would circle the island undetected and board the Pelican, setting sail for the nearest safe port. As the group rowed off into the fog, Francis smiled proudly, waving a final goodbye to the brave young man.

"What are your orders, Captain?" one of the crewmen asked, snapping Francis back to reality.

"Onward," he replied, boarding the small boat. "We row downstream, for this river shall take us directly to the Customs House. From there, we shall begin our assault of the harbor."

"Aye, sir!"

The voyage downstream was a rough one, as the boats had to navigate several sets of rapids and small waterfalls. Thanks to the skilled navigating of Francis' crew, however, they soon arrived at the Customs house without any large issues. Francis and his team departed onto land, making directly for the harbor along the bay, while the second team rowed across the bay towards the fortress. Within the buildings of the colony, thankfully, were plentiful amounts of gunpowder barrels, which the crew made good use of, spreading them across the protective barrier damming the water from the colony. As they rushed to prepare the blast, Francis could see the three remaining Spanish ships out on the water. The largest, the Esperanza, was being made ready to sail by Montoya and the last of his crew.

Just as Francis feared that they might escape, a volley of cannon fire erupted from the fortress, peppering the water surrounding the ship. Montoya's men tried to retaliate, but their numbers were too few to be able to fire their cannons in reply and continue their preparations to sail, slowing the ship down to a crawl. After taking four broadside shots in a row, the Esperanza began to take on water, slowly sinking into the waters of the bay. Montoya and his crew had no choice but to abandon ship, making for one of the other ships moored in the harbor in a lifeboat. Francis' men were ready, however, and turned their fire on those ships before the Spaniards could even come close to climbing aboard, causing them to begin to capsize as they were still anchored at port.

"Where do we stand?" Francis asked one of his crewmen.

"The barrels are in place, Captain! However, they will need to be set off nearly simultaneously in order to flood this area."

"Very well, I shall set the gunpowder trail. Keep me covered, both from those creatures as well as the Spaniards," Francis replied.

"Aye!"

As Francis' men formed a perimeter around the center of the harbor where they had placed the gunpowder, Francis took the last barrel and began running trails back from the dam's edge. These trails would eventually converge, allowing him to set off the explosions all at once, flooding the colony completely. As he worked frantically, his men began to defend against the expected onslaught from the creatures, bravely fending them off from every direction. This bought Francis just enough time to complete the gunpowder trails. As the battle raged around him, he took a torch in hand and prepared to light the powder.

"El Draque!"

Drake turned to find Captain Montoya, his eyes filled with rage and fury.

"Montoya, this island is an accursed place. It must be destroyed," Francis said.

"You are so pathetic! Do you think it will end here?! El Dorado will find its way back to Spain, this I promise you. We are destined to rule this world with its power."

"We shall see about that," Francis said quietly. With a smug grin, he dropped the torch on the powder, beginning the countdown to the explosion.

"Fine. I shall do now what I should have done when we first met," Montoya replied, drawing his sword.

With cutlass in hand, Francis prepared for Montoya's onslaught. Parrying his first couple of slashes, he immediately saw that, despite his youth, Montoya was no greenhorn. Every movement he made was extremely precise, in spite of his rage at the situation at hand. Additionally, Francis knew that his youth and energy would far exceed his own. Thus, Francis would have to win this fight quickly, or risk being slowly overpowered by his tenacity.

As the two men clashed, Francis' men began to be overwhelmed by the monsters attacking from all sides. For a few moments, it seemed as though the creatures would devour them all. In the nick of time, however, Francis' remaining crew arrived from the fortress, strengthening their side and taking the monsters by surprise. Montoya's remaining seven soldiers attempted to kill the Englishmen where they could, but were completely unsuccessful, overwhelmed by Francis' men and thrown into the crowd of monsters, whereupon they were ripped limb-from-limb.

"Your men have fallen, Montoya," Francis sneered. "It is now you, and you alone."

"And what is your point?" Montoya asked, his blade deadlocked with Francis'.

"That we are all destined to die this day. However, you still have a chance to save your soul. Join me in ending this madness; assist me in drowning this city and destroying the cursed El Dorado. Please, Alejandro."

"I would sooner burn in Hell than assist a disgusting ENGLISHMAN!" he spat in anger.

Sighing in resignation, Francis knew that all hope was lost for Montoya. Disengaging from his rival, he spun around and attempted to attack his left side, as it was not as well protected. Montoya was ready, however, and easily defended against his blow. The Spaniard then took Francis by surprise with a ferocious offensive, driving the veteran backwards for several feet until he finally managed to trip him up, landing Francis squarely on his ass.

"This is the end for you, Sir Francis Drake," Montoya jeered, raising his sword to strike the killing blow.

Around them, Francis' men had finally been overrun, the monsters now ripping them to shreds as they screamed in agony. Though his heart broke for them, Francis silently praised God for blessing him with such a courageous group of compatriots. Hearing their final sacrifice gave him just the amount of strength and determination he needed, managing to roll out of the way of Montoya's attack just in time, grabbing his cutlass as he rose back to his feet. As the two men were about to continue their fight, a massive explosion suddenly rocked the entire area, as the lit powder trail had finally reached the stacks of gunpowder along the harbor.

The pair was thrown completely off balance, as were the creatures slowly advancing on them. Francis was able to gain his footing quickly, though, and immediately began to climb up a nearby building to avoid the impending flood as best as he was able. Montoya attempted to follow, but was not nearly as skilled a climber as Francis was, in spite of his youth. As the Spaniard hung for his life on the edge of a balcony, Francis cursed himself for having a heart of gold.

"Montoya, give me your hand!" he said, reaching out for the man.

The Spaniard thrashed about, desperately trying to grab onto Francis, but was just out of reach. As he stretched with all his might, he suddenly felt something grab him by the ankles. Looking down, he was horrified to find one of the creatures latched onto him, digging its claws into his boots.

"No, no, NOOOOOOO!" Montoya screamed in terror, trying desperately to shake the creature off, but it was no use. Another two monsters soon grabbed onto him as well, dragging him back to the ground where he began to be beaten and clawed, his cries of agony echoing throughout the island.

"God have mercy on your soul, Captain Montoya..." Francis mused quietly.

Gazing down on the destruction as the bay flooded the cursed city, Francis immediately sought to put as much distance between him and those monsters as he could. For a fleeting moment, he had the idea to find one of the lifeboats in the hopes of being rescued at sea, but he quickly pushed those thoughts from his mind. He resolved that, as long as he still had breath, he would expend it to the cause of attempting to destroy El Dorado.

Francis leaped from rooftop to rooftop, making his way back towards the jungles while avoiding the attention of the creatures. He soon was able to make his way through the brush back towards the mountains, arriving at the monastery after about an hour. Though the creatures were not in his immediate vicinity, he knew it would not be long before they found him, thus he would have to work quickly. Again traveling through the church, the mausoleum, and the maze-like treasure vault, he finally arrived once more at the statue of El Dorado.

Trying with all his might, Francis sought a way to move the statue, thinking he could drown it in the deep waters below the maze-like vault he had come in through, but to no avail. The statue was simply too much for one man to move alone. Breathing heavily, he sat on the stone floor, his back pressed against the cursed statue, and began to hear the familiar hissing of the creatures making their way up from below him. Taking a small slip of paper from his pocket, Francis began to pen his final message to the world, in the event his body should ever be discovered.

My end is near. The devils hunt for me in the darkness. The gold of El Dorado bears a terrible curse. The Spaniards have unleashed hell, and become as demons. My men have all been murdered, leaving the task to me alone. No ship will depart this island. I destroyed them all. Drowned the cursed city. A thing of such great evil must never leave these shores. In my final hour, I commend my soul to God. May He have mercy on this unholy place. Francis Drake.

Satisfied and content with his life, Francis folded the paper and placed it underneath his armor, protected against the violence he was sure to endure in the coming moments. As the hissing sounds drew closer, he stood and drew his cutlass, praying to God for forgiveness of his shortcomings while rekindling his courage with the words that had brought him so much comfort throughout his days on Earth.

"There must be a beginning of any great matter, but the continuing unto the end until to be thoroughly finished yields the true glory."

As the creatures began crawling up through the gratings on the floor, Francis faced them defiantly, readying his weapon and shouting his life's motto as he charged.

"SIC PARVIS MAGNA!"

*****

Cassandra slowly awoke in bed, looking around her room. She smiled warmly as she noticed Fletcher, asleep in the rocking chair in the corner. Carefully exiting the bed, as she was still weak on her feet, she strolled over to him and kissed his forehead lovingly.

"Good morning, my love," she whispered.

"Mmm... good morning, Cassandra," he said sleepily. "How are you feeling?"

"Quite well, considering I gave birth only three days ago," she said with a sweet giggle.

Smiling, Fletcher rose to his feet and kissed his wife's lips tenderly. "And how did our little man sleep?" he asked.

"Completely. He never stirred even once."

The couple walked over to the crib in which their son was laid, still fast asleep. Fletcher was so in awe of him... even if he knew it was not truly his son.

"Cassandra... I know I have said this before, but I wish to say it again. I bear you no grudge in knowing whose son this truly is."

"I know, Fletcher. His father chose wisely when he made you promise to look after me," Cassandra replied. "Though I must admit, you really do move very slowly!"

Chuckling, Fletcher replied, "I simply wanted to insure you were in a receptive mindset! You had just lost your father, your home, and the man who took your virginity, so I had to proceed slowly!"

"But three months, Fletcher? It took you three months to tell me of your promise to Francis and propose marriage? Admit it, you were scared," she teased.

"I certainly was not!"

"You were as frightened as I was floating on that debris! The great, brave sailor afraid of professing his love to a woman, how quaint," she continued.

"Oh, really?" he said, grabbing her playfully by the waist. "Perhaps I shall have to show you how scared I truly am."

"I would enjoy that very much, my love," she replied. Cassandra's face softened, as she remembered something important. "Fletcher, have you decided what we should name our son?"

Grinning, he answered, "I have. I've always dreamed of naming my firstborn after my father, Nathan. Additionally, I think it only fitting that his name includes the name of the brave man that saved both of our lives. How does Nathan Francis Morgan sound to you?"

Turning her eyes to their infant son, Cassandra said, "It is perfect." She took her son in her arms, rocking him gently and cooing, "Oh, how I love you. My little Nathan..."