Pillars of Six

by St Clare, Kelly

  She lifted her eyes to look at Jagger as the cutlass was pressed against her throat. His silver eyes regarded her without a flicker of emotion, dark smudges of exhaustion underneath.

  “I guess ye’ve outlived yer useful’ness then,” Mercer whispered in her ear.

  “Are ye sure that be wise, Captain?” Jagger asked. “We haven’t found her ship the last month or more. If they be in hidin’, it doesn’t seem likely we’ll catch them.”

  As she swallowed, her throat pushed out against the blade. The knife dug in, and her eyes widened. Was this it? She’d assumed she’d have so much longer.

  Ebba waited for Mercer to draw the cutlass against her throat and end it all.

  “Ye know once the taint takes her, ye’ll have all the inform’tion ye want.” Jagger spoke again.

  Pockmark adjusted his grip. “There ain’t no time. My masters want it now. They’re close, so very close to regainin’ their strength. If I fail, they’ll cast me to Davy Jones’.”

  “If ye don’t want to fail, ye need to think longer on this, Captain.” Jagger took a step toward her. “What will take longer? Waitin’ her out another two or three days, or tryin’ to find Felicity for another few months? Ye know her fathers be wilier than they let on.”

  “My masters will drain the soothsayer afore three days be out,” Pockmark snapped. “Then they’ll be able to get the truth from her themselves. I need to deliver the truth to them.”

  Verity only had three days? She couldn’t tell how much Jagger knew about the evil within the ship. His silver eyes darted between the captain and the deck. If Ebba had to guess, she’d say he had little notion of what was happening.

  She latched on to Pockmark’s last comment. “Ye’ll never find my fathers. Yer pillars o’ six will never come back.”

  Pockmark reeled back from where he still held the cutlass to her throat. The blade fell to the deck with a clatter, and he stared at her with wide eyes. Ebba sucked in a breath at the darkness of his irises. She glanced at Riot and Swindles and found their eyes in the same condition. There was something about the sight that shouted a warning at her, but the answer eluded her exhausted mind.

  “What did ye just say?” he hissed.

  Coughing, Ebba fell to all fours, lifting a hand to the small cut on her throat. It came away bloodied. “Bringin’ yer evil friends back won’t work,” she gasped. If she died here, nothing would stop her fathers from finding the root of magic and taking the pillars out. And if she got free, nothing would stop her from doing the same.

  Mercer kicked out, his boot catching her beneath the ribs. She wheezed and rolled to her back. He drew his pistol, and his hand shook.

  “Ye’re wrong,” he said to her. “I’ll be the one to succeed. They picked me because my father was too weak to hold them. I did that until they were ready.” He cocked the hammer and shoved the barrel under her chin.

  Ebba gasped, squeezing her eyes shut. What was he saying? That his father had been the pillars’ puppet before him? Was he the one to hold the pillars and their taint inside until they were strong enough to reside within the ship?

  “It’s just a matter o’ breakin’ her quick-like, so the taint has no res’stance,” Jagger said, still in the same spot, his silver eyes shifting like quicksand.

  The ship groaned, and Pockmark jolted, staring down through the deck. The ship groaned again, and Pockmark dragged his eyes to look at Jagger. “Breakin’. Aye, they like that. How are ye be supposin’ we do that?”

  “She knows the woman in the room. The soothsayer. Kill her.”

  Mercer snapped, “I ain’t allowed to touch her. They want to drain her powers.”

  “O’ course. I forgot that.”

  Ebba highly doubted that. Was he trying to kill Verity so the pillars didn’t come back? In three days.

  “We ain’t fed her, like ye ordered,” Swindles piped up.

  “No light, no comforts,” Riot added.

  Jagger pressed his cracked lips together. His eyes moved to her, and as Ebba surveyed his angular features, dread swept through her as she came to realize he was about to do something horrible.

  “Her beads,” he said quietly.

  The three other pirates stared at him as Ebba forgot how to breathe.

  Jagger cleared his throat, glancing away from her. “Take her beads. Her fathers gave them to her. That be the way to break her.”

  A wide smile spread on Mercer’s face. His bottom lip cracked, and a drop of blood beaded there.

  He peered down at her, and she rushed to smooth her features. “Is that so?”

  Ebba shrugged. “Do yer worst. I can always be replacin’ them.” Her heart took up a wild staccato.

  The ship groaned again, and Mercer’s smile grew. He leaned over and picked up one of her beaded dreads, rolling it between his grease-covered fingers. “Is that so?” he repeated, whispering, “My masters don’t believe you.” He tapped his temple. “They think ye’re bluffin’. Get her on her knees!”

  No.

  Ebba struggled, kicking out at Riot and Swindles, but her attempts were feeble after the beating and lack of food. They batted her fists and legs aside as though they were mosquitos.

  Mercer laughed and stepped beside Jagger, slapping him on the back. “Good work, matey.”

  Jagger laughed with him, and fury filled her as she was slammed onto her knees.

  “Curse ye, Jagger. Curse the day ye ever stepped foot on my ship, and curse the hole ye crawled out o’,” she shouted at him as Riot drew his cutlass and picked up one of her dreads.

  Ebba held the pirate’s pistol-gray gaze as Riot drew the cutlass through the base of the dread. He held the severed dreadlock in his hand and then turned it upside-down. Her beads clattered on the deck, bouncing in all directions. Riot slid his cutlass down the chunk of her hair, dislodging the rest of the beads. Each clatter was a bullet in her heart.

  She forced the lump in her throat back, not moving her stare from the pirate who’d given them the idea.

  Swindles picked up the other dread, and Ebba’s eyes blurred as he did the same, emptying another strand of beads onto the deck of Malice, never to be seen again.

  “Licks, it were yer idea,” Swindles sneered. “How about ye do the last one?”

  Jagger’s jaw tightened, but he drew his own cutlass and approached her. Licks. She’d felt so sorry for him when she’d learned what the name meant. Now, if someone had placed a whip in her hand, she would have gladly delivered the lashes herself.

  Tears poured freely down both of her cheeks as he made quick work of the last dread. She listened as the beads followed the rest, bidding farewell to the memories they’d kept safe for her, to the years she’d collected them, and to the possessions she valued most in the world.

  A sob broke from her lips, and Ebba bowed her head, shoulders shaking violently.

  “It could’ve all been avoided if ye’d just told me what I wanted to know,” the captain snarled in her face. He waved at the others. “Take her away.”

  Ten

  Ebba hadn’t answered Verity’s questions when the pirates brought her back down to the dark chamber yesterday. Or was that two or three days ago now? Uncaring of the filth any longer, Ebba had lain sobbing, feeling the bristly stubs where her three beaded dreads used to be.

  Verity deserved to be alone, anyway. Why should Ebba talk to her? Locks had left the soothsayer for good reason. She’d used him, played with his feelings. Verity was probably the one who’d told Malice where they’d be in Kentro. The woman could see the future. If she’d chosen her path, then she must’ve known this would happen. Maybe everything. The more Ebba thought about this, the more certain she became that Verity had betrayed them.

  She wasn’t the only traitor either.

  Jagger. The black-hearted swine. Ebba would kill him one day. She’d fill him full of holes and latch cannonballs to his legs, and then watch from the deck as he sank into oblivion. He’d taken her beads. She didn’t blame Swindles and
Riot for hating him. Finally, she could see why they loathed him.

  Ebba stroked the bristles again, her face twisting. What did it matter that the beads were gone? Her fathers didn’t love her. They’d lied to her, again and again, her entire life. They’d hurt her, kept secrets from her. They probably laughed behind her back about it. Hadn’t they done just that with Cosmo the other day? They’d known who he was and kept it from her.

  They kept everything from you.

  They’d kept everything from her.

  Her fists curled until her nails dug into her palms. She was all alone in this world. Ebba could only be happy that Caspian got away.

  He was there that day. He could have saved you.

  Ebba scowled. The prince had been at the dock that day. Surely he’d seen her capture. He probably witnessed the Malice pirates marching her onto their ship. He’d been right there. He let them take her. She clenched her teeth. For all his manners and education, for all his words about how she was pretty, and for all she’d done for him, he’d abandoned her. She should’ve known he was truly leaving her when he asked to return to Exosia.

  He deserved to lose his arm.

  You are alone.

  “I’m alone,” Ebba whimpered.

  Everyone leaves you.

  “They all leave me,” she choked.

  “Fight back,” a voice called to her from across the dark room. “You mustn’t let them win.”

  Ebba screamed, “They all leave!”

  Digging her nails into her scalp, she rocked on the spot as darkness crushed down on her from all sides.

  * * *

  The door swung open.

  Ebba didn’t care anymore. Sometimes the door opened, and her fathers stood there, smiling, before laughing and shutting the door again. She hated them. She hated the door.

  Hands went to the manacle around her foot.

  She hissed and drew her leg in. The person yanked it back and freed her ankle despite her attempt to kick them off. Probably because her attempts were mere twitches.

  “Leave me alone,” she snarled.

  The person shuffled across the room, and Ebba lay immobile, listening as they unlocked the bitch, Verity.

  The person came back to Ebba. “Ye need to walk. The soothsayer is barely alive.”

  To walk? A faraway part of herself called through the black fog, telling her to go up to the main deck. “Leave her then,” Ebba said, smirking in the dark. “Carry me instead.”

  The man reached down, grunted, and heaved her up against his side, wrapping an arm around her waist. Grunting again as he shifted Verity’s position over his shoulder, the pirate guided her in the direction of the door.

  The ship groaned.

  “Hurry,” the person urged. “Their eyes are turnin’ solid black, one by one. Sumpin’ be happenin’. Ye’ve got to get off the ship now.”

  Ebba couldn’t remember why she should want to be outside, but feet faltering, she obeyed the call of the man. Wavering, held up mostly by the man’s grip on her arm, Ebba forced her feet one in front of the other.

  The man cursed. “This be yer chance. Push harder.”

  She did. Though Ebba couldn’t fathom why.

  They made it out of the room and started down the passage. Ebba wanted to get to the deck. Why was that? The urge to be in the fresh air surged within her. “I ain’t goin’ to make it.”

  Jagger’s face swam before her, searching her eyes intently. He sagged afterward for a brief moment. “Aye, ye are. They ain’t taken ye yet. But I ain’t sure how long ye have.”

  “Ye gutless swine!” She choked on her rage, recalling her beads.

  His black-rimmed silver eyes flickered, but he continued heaving her down the hall as the ship groaned again. “Ye can hate me later. Just get off the ship first.”

  She was going to kill him before she left. But Ebba needed to rely on his strength to reach the top. She’d kill him once she was there.

  They made it to the first ladder, and Jagger disappeared up with Verity, sweat beading his brow. He came back and slung Ebba over his shoulder, pushing up the ladder again. “Come on, we need to make it to the main deck,” he panted. Raising his voice, he called loudly, “We’ll get the rowboat and escape.”

  The ship groaned loudly, and footsteps sounded far above.

  Beside her, Jagger smiled grimly. He set Ebba back on her feet at the top and picked up Verity once more.

  Lanterns were strung down the narrow passage of this deck, illuminating the closed doors which probably led to smaller quarters. She had absolutely no desire to see inside any of the rooms.

  Her eyes watered from the brightness of the lanterns after so long in the dark, but after a minute, the light helped her place each weary footstep as Jagger continued hauling her to the next ladder.

  He shoved her away from him without warning and drew his cutlass. Ebba hit the wooden floor, bouncing painfully. Verity toppled from his shoulder, hitting the deck hard as Jagger rushed a pirate coming down the next ladder. He rammed the cutlass through his opponent’s stomach. The pirate didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink as Jagger withdrew the cutlass and pushed him to the ground, dead.

  Jagger hauled Ebba up and carried her up the ladder first this time.

  “Just leave Verity,” she hissed in his ears.

  “That ain’t ye talkin’,” he grunted, putting her down when they reached the top.

  Ebba licked her lips as he descended for Verity. If she could get ahold of one of his pistols, she could make short work of killing him.

  He reappeared with the soothsayer, tunic soaked with sweat, and she used the wall to help as Jagger hauled her upright. Two more decks. She was halfway.

  Footsteps pounded above, and feet appeared down the ladder ahead.

  Jagger drew in a breath. “Hide.”

  He ducked behind a beam, lowering Verity behind a barrel. He jerked Ebba, and she sprawled over him, breathing hard.

  The footsteps swept past them, and Ebba closed her eyes. She didn’t want to be caught. She wanted to be in the fresh air.

  “They’ll be back. Smart-like now.”

  Ebba used the barrel to stand, her arms shaking with the effort. Verity hadn’t made a sound the entire trip, and Ebba wondered how close to death the woman was. Hopefully close.

  Jagger heaved them both up the third ladder, one after the other, but instead of heading up to the main deck, he turned left.

  “Where are ye goin’?” Ebba demanded.

  He held a finger to his lips, pointing at the walls. His usually golden skin was pale and waxy. The pirate was clearly reaching the end of his own endurance, emaciated as he was. It would make it easier to choke the life from him. He’d put her down in that dark room; he’d taken her beads. He’d started the whole war with Malice. He might be taking her where she wanted to go right now, but that wouldn’t last. The world would be a better place without him. She’d be the one to do it. She’d shoot him with his own pistol or strangle him. Maybe she’d pull him under the water and hold him there. She’d enjoy every second of it.

  Groaning, Jagger lowered Verity to the ground. They were on the cannon deck of the ship, an open deck dotted with posts and lanterns, instead of a passage and rooms like the lower decks. Small trap doors that Ebba knew to be gun ports lined the walls of the hull either side, a cannon set up in front of each one. There had to be at least fifteen cannons down here. The presence of the trap doors told her they were now above water level.

  Jagger turned his attention to a cannon. He lifted the back end of the heavy weapon and removed the large wedge behind the wheels. He then hacked at the ropes holding the cannon to the wall of the ship. Wasted muscles straining, the pirate wheeled the cannon back from the wall, clearing the trap door of the gun port.

  Ebba watched as he staggered to the nearest post and grabbed a rope coiled there. Weaving back to where she waited, he looped the rope around Verity’s waist.

  Shouts reached them from farther down the pas
sage.

  Jagger carried the soothsayer to the gun port, wrenched up the trap door, and shoved her out without ceremony. A distant splash sounded below. He turned to Ebba, his back to the hole. “I’ll keep ahold o’ the rope up here until ye find Verity in the water. Put her on her back and float on yers. The tide be goin’ in, and we ain’t far from Maltu. It’ll carry ye. Ye just need to make it three hundred feet, Viva. Do ye hear me?”

  Ebba glanced up from his pistol to his face, hearing footsteps pounding behind them. Jagger planned to stay behind? Unfortunate, then, that she had other plans. He’d be dead in a few minutes, gone to Davy Jones’ locker where he belonged.

  Dropping her shoulder, Ebba used her remaining strength to ram into the pirate’s stomach, sending them toppling through the square hole and into thin air.

  He twisted as they fell, but Ebba clutched at him with one hand, reaching for his belt with the other. Where was his pistol?

  They hit the water, and Ebba was ripped away.

  The cold shocked her, breaking through a haziness she hadn’t realized was there. The shock shattered through the black fog around her mind, and Ebba’s face slackened under the water as her last moments came flooding back to her. She’d been about to kill someone. Not just anyone—Jagger. She’d been ready to shoot Jagger. Failing that, to strangle or drown him. Ebba choked on water and kicked upward as her breathers tightened in warning.

  As she burst through the water and sucked in huge gulps of fresh air, Ebba felt the cloudiness over her thoughts receding. The pressure on her chest didn’t ease in the slightest, but it was as if she could see the world again. Ebba gasped for more clean, wholesome air, driven by some primal urge to regain her senses. What had happened to her? It was as though she’d woken from a nightmare, or from another lifetime.

  Horror flooded her as she circled her legs under the surface to stay afloat, struggling to collect herself. The things she’d thought only moments before . . . it was as though she’d been Swindles or Riot. How hadn’t she recognized the taint was at play, making her say and do those awful things? It was like at some point her reason, her very awareness, had switched off.