by Rob J. Hayes
Keelin let out a ragged sigh. He was more than happy believing Reowyn to be nothing but a myth. “So what did you do to earn the curse?”
“I murdered an entire civilisation.”
Keelin opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it and shook his head. He was more certain than ever that Kebble was indeed a madman, but sane or no, he was also a very useful man to have around.
“And you still think I may be able to find some god to take pity on you and kill you?” he said.
“I hope so,” Kebble replied, still staring out at the ocean.
“Well, if you see any gods or ghost ships, let me know.” Keelin turned and started away.
“I see land,” Kebble said.
“Aye, that’ll be Cinto Cena. Looks like we’re home.” Keelin squinted, but he couldn’t make out the telltale line on the horizon that would indicate an island. “This is where the fun starts.”
Keelin knew that before long they would be standing back on the dry land of New Sev’relain, and not long after that Tanner Black and Drake would be arguing. Given Keelin’s history with both captains, he was more than sure he would be arguing too.
Chapter 9 - Fortune
Beck waited, watching Drake out of the corner of her eye while trying to seem uninterested. He was a mystery to her despite the amount of time they spent together, and every time she thought she’d unravelled a part of that mystery, two more questions sprang up to take its place. It was beyond maddening.
Drake’s resistance to her compulsion, her magic that forced the truth from people, was as enticing as it was irritating. Of course, it helped that the pirate captain was handsome, and even more so that he knew his stuff between the sheets. Beck had been with a number of men in her time – some Arbiters, some not – but rarely had they left her feeling satisfied afterwards. Drake was different, and the fact that he knew it was insufferable.
For months they’d been stuck together. An order from Inquisitor Vance had driven Beck to the Pirate Isles, an order to protect Captain Drake Morrass, for reasons unknown to her. Since then she’d learned that there was a Drurr matriarch after Drake, and she could only conclude that that was the reason for her orders.
The Drurr were malevolent and evil on a scale that the Inquisition could not allow. There were some few exceptions who were allowed to live in a peaceful community in the northern reaches of Acanthia, and then there was the Queen of Blades in the free city of Larkos. But most of the Drurr haunted the places where humanity, even the agents of the Inquisition, feared to tread.
Beck had been able to glean some information about Drake and the Drurr from her time with him. He’d been a prisoner, a slave if the tattoos he wore were any indication, and for years he’d been held deep underground, tortured and likely worse at the hands of the Drurr – a matriarch no less. Beck had never heard of anyone escaping from the Drurr before, and that was yet another mystery she desperately wanted to solve.
New Sev’relain had grown again in the time they’d been away. New buildings, new ships, and new faces. Already the fledgling town had become a true settlement in its own right, and if it continued to expand it would soon match some of the smaller towns in Sarth for size. The Five Kingdoms’ attempt to purge the isles had failed to wipe out the pirates, but it had funnelled them into one place and united them under one flag. Drake’s flag.
Already Beck could see the evidence of industry. Smoke rose from the town, maybe from a bakery, maybe from a blacksmith – she didn’t know, but its mere existence was sign that New Sev’relain was on its way to becoming a living city.
Folk crowded the docks, waiting for the Fortune to secure its berth and its captain to depart. Beck spotted many of the people who had been elected as representatives for the townsfolk, those who weren’t pirates but were now living under Drake’s rule all the same. She saw Riverlanders too, dirty and dishevelled with their tattooed faces. She’d never seen so many of the vagrants before.
The Riverlanders tended to be secretive and violent towards outsiders. They mostly travelled the riverways in the densely packed jungles south of Sarth, living off the land and whatever they could trade with those they didn’t attack and eat.
Beck counted eight ships floating in the bay, and that was more than she’d ever seen in one place in the Pirate Isles. Judging by the whispered talk of the crew, it was as rare as Beck thought it to be. With the Fortune, The Phoenix, and The Black Death, that took the count up to eleven, and the docks looked crowded. As they approached, one of the ships at berth was towed away by dinghies, and the Fortune made for the free spot right away, leaving the other ships to wait in the bay.
“You coming?” Drake said as the Fortune came to a stop and its crew started to secure the lines.
Beck waited for a few moments, gazing out into New Sev’relain. “No,” she said eventually.
Drake stared at Beck for a while longer before snorting out a laugh and turning away. “Suit yourself, Arbiter.”
The pirate captain mounted the gangplank and swaggered down it, greeting those waiting for him at the bottom with open arms, a warm smile, and plenty of reassuring words. He glanced back towards Beck once, but she made certain she was looking elsewhere. Once Drake was off the docks and heading towards the town, Beck turned and walked towards his cabin.
“Can I help you, Arbiter?” Princess, Drake’s first mate, said just as she reached the door. He was loyal as a dog where his captain was concerned, and Beck was in no doubt that Drake would hear of her attempt to enter his cabin.
“Actually, yes, Princess, you can,” she said with a predatory smile. “I need to clean my pistols and I’ve run out of metal oil. You can fetch me some.”
“To the captain’s cabin?” Princess persisted.
“My cabin used to be yours,” Beck said. “Do you believe there’s enough room in there to perform the proper maintenance?”
Beck’s compulsion locked onto Princess’ will and forced the truth out of him. “No,” Princess said, and let out a shiver. It was unlikely he would have lied, but Beck found using her compulsion to dominate folk from time to time reminded them of their place. “I bloody wish you wouldn’t do that, Arbiter. I’ll fetch ya oil, just… don’t go magicking me any more, eh.”
As Princess hurried away, Beck put her hand to the door handle and twisted. The door didn’t budge. Drake rarely bothered locking it when he was aboard ship, but at times like this it didn’t surprise Beck that he had. She was starting to understand bits of Drake, and it was obvious his circle of trust was small.
Beck whispered two words into her hand and then placed that hand against the lock. There was an immediate click as the bolt slid back, and she tried the handle again. The door opened and she stepped inside. Of the three schools of magic employed by the Inquisition, she was most proficient with sorcery, using her potential to directly affect the world and, when need be, drawing upon the vast power of Volmar. Opening locked doors was little more than a trick, but she was capable of real magic when the need called.
The school of sorcery was the most diverse, with further sub-divisions in elemental magic, conjuration, and alteration. Beck had found an affinity for alteration very early on in her training and had specialised in it. It was the most literal form of sorcery, the ability to change the world around her, and its uses were near endless. Of course, there were the darker sub-divisions of sorcery such as necromancy, but the Inquisition did not teach, nor condone, practitioners of those evil arts, and the eradication of those that did was one of the organisation’s chief mandates.
Beck had encountered necromancers before, and their ability to breathe life into the dead was both horrifying and unforgivable. Necromancers’ powers were never stronger than when they were near the Land of the Dead, and Beck had seen first-hand what such heretics were capable of when they could draw upon the power of that cursed place. She shuddered at the memory and pushed it away. That they’d recently witnessed a Drurr ship carrying a necromancer worried Beck greatly. The Drurr had always
abhorred the practice as much as the Inquisition did; it was, after all, responsible for the downfall of their once great civilisation.
It occurred to Beck that Princess might not be so easily fooled by her ruse. She took a pistol from her jerkin and laid it on a nearby cabinet before approaching the window and waiting. The first mate would appear with the oil and she would instruct him to place it next to the gun to secure her alibi. As soon as he was gone, she would contact the Inquisition.
Arbiter Darkheart may have recently freed the demons of the Void from their indenture, making long-distance communication harder, but there were still ways. They were limited and draining and required absolute concentration, but the Inquisition had come up with an alternative and Beck needed to talk to Inquisitor Vance. He needed to know everything that had happened so far, and she needed new orders.
“Reparations will be made,” Drake assured the skinny woman. “Store what’s left in the cellar for now and come by the Fortune tomorrow with a number. If it’s reasonable, I’ll see you’re paid for the inconvenience.”
Tanner laughed from the other side of the table, and Drake suppressed a shudder at the noise. His recent nemesis and now ally had been a second shadow from the moment he made land, following him around and participating in his discussions with the inhabitants of New Sev’relain. It was an annoyance, but one Drake could abide, as not only did it seem to be cementing their new-found alliance, but the people of New Sev’relain could see just what kind of man Tanner was and they were quickly learning how different life would be under the blackguard’s rule rather than his own.
“Still want to be king, mate?” Tanner said with a dark grin.
They were sitting either side of a table in the Righteous Indignation while a veritable celebration went on around them. Pirates from all the crews socialised together, and though there was a strained atmosphere in the air, the folk of New Sev’relain appeared to be accepting of those from Fango. Tanner was nursing a mug of ale like it was the last in the world, and Drake was already on his second and wishing it was his fourth.
“Still want to take it from me?” Drake replied with a golden-toothed grin of his own.
Tanner laughed and slapped the table hard. A couple of nearby pirates, men from Drake’s crew, turned and looked, but they soon realised violence wasn’t on the cards.
“Why be king though, Drake?” Tanner said. “Word as I hear it says ya got all the money of a king with none of the shit that comes with it. So why? Unless it’s just to prove ya in charge.”
Drake narrowed his eyes. He didn’t credit Tanner with an abundance of subtlety, but neither did he trust the man, and that seemed like a decent policy given it wasn’t thirty days ago that Tanner had been about to cut out Drake’s tongue with a rusty knife. Drake rubbed the scab on his nose and winced.
“Legitimacy,” he said, and it was almost half the truth. “I might have money, but if I sail into Sarth I’ll still get my neck stretched just the same as any common criminal. If I can legitimise the Pirate Isles, make peace with Sarth, and the Five Kingdoms and Acanthia and the Dragon Empire, then I can go anywhere. We can go anywhere.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Think, Tanner. No more hiding, skulking into shit hole ports to sell things at a tenth of what they’re worth.”
“No more piracy,” Tanner rumbled, his smiles and laughter long gone.
“Nothing ever works out quite the way it’s planned, Tanner. There’ll still be fights to be had and ships to be robbed, but we make it so everyone wants to pass through our waters pays a tax, and we use that money to build real towns here in the isles. We won’t just be pirates any more – we’ll be the greatest damned navy the world has ever seen. That’s real power. The power to influence the world.”
“And that’s why.” Tanner stared at Drake, and there was real evil in his eyes. “Ya want the type of power even money can’t buy, only loyalty, and those that are loyal willing to lay down their lives for ya.”
Drake had to give Tanner something for being more perceptive than he would have guessed. “Aye,” he said, and waited for the pirate’s response.
“Ya got bigger stones than I guessed, Drake. Just remember who’s helping ya get there, and know I can take away my support at a moment’s notice.”
Drake was about to respond to the veiled threat when the door to the tavern opened and three Riverlanders swaggered in, followed by Deun Burn himself, all of them with tattooed faces. Captain Burn snarled at the gathered crowd of drunken, celebrating pirates, before his gaze settled on Drake’s table and he made his way over, his kin behind him.
“You order a Riverlander?” Drake asked Tanner.
Tanner spat. “No one ever wants to see one of those vagrant bastards.”
Deun stopped at the table and made a show of standing over Drake, looking down at him. Drake took the opportunity to ignore the man and sup on his ale, which, unfortunately, was on the verge of running dry.
“Morrass,” Deun hissed eventually, after it became clear to everyone that Drake wasn’t willing to pay the man any attention.
“Captain Burn,” Drake said with false cheer. “I didn’t notice you standing there. Pull up a chair, why don’t you? You know Tanner Black?”
The captain of Rheel Toa eyed Tanner suspiciously before looking around for a chair and finding none spare. “So it’s true? Even Captain Black works for you now.”
Drake smiled at Deun. “More of an alliance, really. What happened to Captain Khan? I’ve heard reports that he sailed away just after meeting with you, and he hasn’t come back yet. I ordered him to guard New Sev’relain. I’m a little curious as to what would have made him sail off like that.”
“He was betrayed,” Deun said with a grim set to his skull-tattooed face. “We were all betrayed.”
Drake glanced across the table to find Tanner looking right back. “Betrayed by who?”
“One of my brothers. Captain of Berris Dey. He tricked the big fool into sailing after a ship in our waters. It was a trap. Set by the Five Kingdoms and baited by my hitschkk of a brother.”
Drake had no idea what the Riverlander had just said, only that the word made his ears hurt. “I’d quite like to meet this captain of Berris Dey,” he said. He’d seen the ship floating out in the bay.
“He has been dealt with,” Deun Burn said with a nod.
“How can I be sure of that?”
Deun looked at Drake. The man might have looked confused, but the skull tattoo that covered his face hid the subtleties of his expression. He quickly fiddled at his belt and retrieved a pouch, opening it and dumping a patch of leather on the table between Drake and Tanner. It was a crude thing, a circle of leather with a few holes and a pattern like scales.
“We removed his honour,” Deun said, straightening up and standing to his full height.
Drake looked down at the circle of leather again, and then up to find Tanner Black grinning madly in the lantern light.
“That’s his face, isn’t it?” Drake said.
Deun Burn nodded.
“You people do some weird shit,” Drake said, glancing at the patch of skin and trying to keep his stomach from turning. “What happened to the rest of him?”
Deun picked up the flap of skin and tucked it back into its pouch. “Dealt with.”
“You ate him, didn’t you?” Drake said.
Tanner Black laughed, a deep noise that somehow drowned out the din around them.
“Did you at least find out how much the owner of that face told the Five Kingdoms bastards before you filled ya bellies?”
Captain Burn’s skull face frowned. “No.”
“Because I reckon there’s a good chance he told them where this place is. If he knew where New Sev’relain is, then now so do they.” Drake slammed his fist against the table, launched to his feet, and stormed past the Riverlander, not caring if either of the other two captains followed him.
Outside the tavern, Drake stopped and stared up towards the treeline and
then down towards the docks. Deun Burn burst outside after him, followed lethargically by Tanner Black, who still seemed more amused by the situation than anything else.
“We’re gonna need folk in the forest, watching,” Drake said, holding up his hand against the bright sunlight. “I was at Old Sev’relain, and they landed on the far side of the island, came out of the trees before any of us knew what was happening. Surprise being their best weapon, I guess.”
“They would never survive the forests of the Isle of Goats,” Tanner said with pride in his voice. “Fango is a safer town.”
“Aye,” Drake conceded. “Maybe. But this little island ain’t called many deaths for nothing, Tanner. They might make it over the beaches and through the forest, but they’ll pay a heavy toll. Still best to have folk out there watching though.”
Looking towards the docks again, Drake saw Keelin Stillwater slogging his way up the sandy stretch. The man had that little wench of his with him and they seemed deep in conversation.
“We’re gonna need weapons,” Drake said. “I want every pirate armed and every spare weapon – sword, axe, or sharp stick – in the hands of the townsfolk. Prioritise those who know how to use them. We arm as many folk as possible.”
He turned back to Deun and Tanner to find the two men not jumping to his commands. Tanner had stopped grinning and was regarding Drake curiously. Deun seemed caught between the two of them, waiting for Tanner to fall in line before he would himself. Drake took a step forward and stared up at Tanner. The big pirate did not look cowed.
“Ya really wanna make ya stand here, Morrass?” Tanner said slowly. “Fango is better for it. With a few bows and those who can use them we could hold Fango against an army.”
Drake shook his head. “We do it here, Tanner.”
“Do what here?” Stillwater said, sounding a little out of breath from the walk up the beach. The little woman beside him was staring with wide eyes at the assembled captains, and she wasn’t the only one. Folk were stopping nearby and edging closer, attempting to listen in.
