by Rob J. Hayes
Chapter 11 - Fortune
Beck stumbled over to one of the tables set out in the sand and collapsed onto the bench. The temperature had dropped considerably in the last hour as the sun sank down. A brilliant golden sunset was waning to the west.
Someone gave Beck a hearty slap on the back. Rather than bristle and threaten the offender, she accepted it as the comradery that it was. She was beyond exhausted from the labour, and there was still so much to be done. In just a few days they’d erected all of the support pillars and had started with the even lengthier process of actually building the wall plank by plank. It would never be the sturdiest of defences, but it didn’t have to be. The pirates didn’t intend to sit behind their wall for a lengthy siege, but rather use it to slow down any enemy who somehow made it past the flaming cliffs, sand monsters, and enchanted forest.
“Drink this,” Drake said as he sat down opposite Beck, placing a tankard in front of her. “It’s water.”
Beck took the tankard gratefully and started sipping at it, only then realising just how thirsty she was. She’d been working for most of the day, chanting blessings of strength to do the work of four or five people at once, or blessings of stamina to keep her muscles feeling fresh and energetic. It had taken its toll, and dehydration was only one of the issues she now faced.
“You need to slow down,” Drake said.
Looking up, she saw real concern on the captain’s face. He was ruddy-cheeked and sticky with sweat, his hair a tousled mess, and his face seemed to have sprouted some new lines. Beck sighed and took another sip of water, her head drooping.
“I don’t know what it is you think you need to prove, but folk here are impressed. You’ve already done more than your share of work, but I need you to slow down. I need you ready for a fight, not collapsed in a heap like Tatters.”
Beck glanced sideways at Admiral Tatters. The man was an unconscious drunken mess. He’d helped a little with the defences, erecting a pole or two, but the lure of booze had quickly taken hold and before long he was more liability than asset. To think he’d once been a loyal, respectable admiral in the Sarth navy, and now he was the town drunk of a pirate colony at war with Sarth.
“I’ll be fine,” Beck insisted, not looking up from her tankard. She didn’t want to look at Drake lest he see the guilt she was feeling. Inquisitor Vance had given her very specific orders, but for now she was to help the pirates against Sarth and the Five Kingdoms and protect Drake against any and all threats.
For a while Drake said nothing, and Beck was content to pretend he’d gone, but she knew he was still sitting there, watching her.
“Here,” he said eventually, and Beck heard him drop something heavy onto the table. “We might all be working together, but you really shouldn’t leave valuable things like this just lying around.”
Beck looked up to see her leather jerkin on the table. She’d taken it off early in the day when the sun was high and hot and labouring in such heavy clothing became unbearable. She was more than hot enough in just a blouse and trousers.
“Looks like someone made off with one of your pistols. Might be I can ask around and find it.”
Beck looked closer and saw that one of the guns usually strapped to the front of the jerkin was indeed missing. She shook her head, still refusing to meet Drake’s eyes. “I think I left it in your cabin when I was cleaning it the other day.”
“Maybe we should go and retrieve it then, eh?”
There was no mistaking the suggestion in Drake’s voice. They’d fucked on the way back from Ash, and Beck wouldn’t deny she’d both wanted and needed it, but she also couldn’t deny she was getting too close to Drake. The pirate was her mission, not her friend or lover, and she didn’t need the distraction. She looked up at him then.
“Sure,” she said, and cursed herself for giving in so easily.
Drake grinned and disentangled himself from the bench. Beck stood slowly, finishing her tankard of water and scooping up her jerkin as she followed the pirate towards his ship. She knew she should have said no – she’d meant to say it. She’d meant to find some food and crawl into her bunk to spend the rest of the night asleep in preparation for another hard day of labour, but she wanted Drake. She wanted to taste his lips and feel him inside her. Inquisitor Vance had given her specific orders, but he hadn’t forbidden her from having sex with Drake, so she was breaking no rules other than her own.
They made it all the way to the beach in silence before an interruption both saved and disappointed Beck. Captain Sienen Zhou shouted to them as he hurried over. The captain of Freedom was short and wiry with long hair and an even longer moustache that dropped down past his chin and towards his chest.
“What is it, Sienen?” Drake said tersely. “I’ve got plans.” He glanced back at Beck. “Good plans.”
“Some of my boys are missing,” Captain Zhou said. “Light’s all but gone and they should’ve been back long ago.”
“Missing from where?” Drake said.
“Water collection out in the trees.”
“They may have stumbled into one of the magic traps,” Beck said with a sigh. “I can take a team to look for them.” She wasn’t sure if she was glad or not for a reason to be away from Drake.
“They’ve made the run… must be twenty times,” Captain Zhou said indignantly. “They know the route.”
Beck saw Drake glance towards his ship and then back up towards the town. He was obviously torn between the desire to get Beck back to his cabin and the need to take the missing pirates seriously.
“Raise the alarm, Sienen,” he said. “Every man, woman, and drunk who can hold a sharp object gets one.”
Beck swung her jerkin off her shoulder and pulled it on. “Drake, if you wouldn’t mind doing me up,” she said quietly.
“Aye, probably for the best.” Drake started pulling on the laces to tightly secure the jerkin as Captain Zhou ran off towards the town, shouting for people to raise the alarm. Within a minute small bells were ringing all around New Sev’relain, the signal to warn of a possible attack.
Beck counted eight camp fires on the beach between them and the ships. They ranged from cook fires to small blazes, each one lighting only a small area in the encroaching darkness. Each ship in the bay was also lit with a number of lanterns, and Beck counted twelve vessels, all floating on water that looked almost ethereal as the light from a waning sun gave way to that of a new moon.
“There’s a new ship in the bay,” Beck said as Drake finished tightening up the laces and tied them off.
Moving to stand beside her, Drake stared down the beach. “That one,” he said, pointing at a ship sitting at the docks between The Phoenix and the Fortune. “I don’t recognise her.”
An ear-splitting whistle sounded from the town and both Beck and Drake turned to see a bright light rocket upwards, leaving a trail of red behind it until it finally exploded into shards of crimson high above New Sev’relain.
“What in Volmar’s name was that?” Beck said.
“Sky fire,” Drake said. “The Dragon Empire use them for celebrations and for signalling armies from a distance.”
Another whistle behind them turned them both back towards the bay, and the sky was lit by another small explosion a moment later, this one green. In the dim light Beck saw men dressed in armour rush down the gangplank of the new ship before forming up and spreading out along the docks while more men climbed down behind them.
“Bastards are in among us,” Drake said, and started down the beach just as the unmistakeable sound of steel on steel floated down from the town.
Beck took a deep breath and banished all thoughts of sleep or sex or anything but blood and death. “Go to the town,” she said coldly. “They’ll need you.”
“But my ship,” Drake protested, caught between the docks and the town even as the pirates around the camp fires started to react to the small army gathering on their beach.
“I’ll deal with them.” Beck pointed towards the sh
ip and the soldiers pouring off it. “I can fight better without you getting in my way.” She didn’t wait for Drake’s reply. She set off down the beach and towards the ship, hoping he would survive the battle without her protection.
Chapter 12 - The Phoenix
The walls were next to useless in most places, little more than ankle-high fences. Soldiers from the forest swarmed over them in units of five or six, forgoing the usual formations for a more skirmish style of combat. Keelin had to admit it was a wise decision, given the distance between buildings in New Sev’relain and the sheer number of alleyways and cut-throughs.
The pirates and townsfolk had one thing going for them, at least – the soldiers looked weary and out of sorts. No doubt they’d landed their ships on the north-east side of the island, where the sand monsters would have caused heavy casualties to the unwary, and there was a good chance the magical traps in the forest had caused their fair share of chaos among the ranks.
Keelin leapt into the nearest fight, both cutlasses already drawn and swinging. His swords clanged off the soldier’s cuirass, leaving only a scrape in the bright metal by way of damage, but the soldier retreated from the attack and Keelin pressed forwards. A second man stepped forward with a round shield, batting away Keelin’s follow-up just as a spear came over the top and nearly skewered him. Ever light on his feet, Keelin danced backwards out of the way.
The pirates and townsfolk had all been armed with an assortment of swords, axes, knives, and the odd bow, but very few had been given shields. Even fewer were used to fighting well-armed, trained soldiers on a battlefield that was more stable than not. A group of ten men and women pressed the soldiers Keelin was fighting from the other side, but they were scared to get close with a spear swinging about and shields protecting the men they were trying to kill. It was the same everywhere Keelin looked; the people of New Sev’relain simply weren’t ready for this type of battle. They were well and truly outmatched.
One burly pirate with a cleft chin and tattoos showing underneath his shirt and all the way down his arms ran at the group of soldiers with a howl of rage and a big wood axe swinging above his head. The pirate leapt and, with a scream, brought down his axe on the shield of one of the soldiers. The shield split and half of it fell away. A spear was thrust at the pirate, but he caught it with his right hand and launched himself backwards, away from the group of soldiers, pulling the man on the other end of the spear with him. His fellow pirates wasted no time in stabbing the unfortunate soldier before the rest of his group could rescue him.
Most of the soldiers switched their attention and moved to face the larger, more threatening group. Keelin made his move. He ran at the last man facing him, swatting aside his sword, then leapt to his left, careening into one of the soldiers watching the group of pirates. After knocking the man to the ground, Keelin found himself in among the soldiers before any of them realised what had happened. His swords moved in a blur of low and high slashes, aiming for exposed arms and legs. The soldiers went down in a flurry of blood and screams.
A shield hit Keelin in the face and he stumbled away, tripped over something, and felt the ground hit him hard. He tasted mud and blood and struggled to breathe air back into his lungs as he tried to get his hands beneath him.
Rolling onto his back and blinking away the dark spots, Keelin saw the face of the tattooed pirate staring down at him, offering him a hand. He accepted it and was quickly pulled to his feet. The rest of the pirates had surged forwards and were busy finishing off the soldiers with brutal stabs to their faces or any other unprotected areas they could get to.
“No time fer rest, Cap’n,” said the tattooed pirate, thumbing towards the forest.
Keelin saw more and more troops emerging from the treeline, many looking as though they were being chased out. They were quickly forming into small groups. The pirates and townsfolk were banding together as best they could, trying to outnumber the soldiers and drive them apart, but they were fighting a losing battle and already there were more dead pirates than soldiers.
“With me,” Keelin shouted over the clash of battle, hoping that the group he’d just aided would follow his orders. He charged towards a cluster of soldiers who had just cut down three men and a woman and were heading for the town.
As he sprinted closer, one of the shield-bearers detached from the tight formation and stepped into Keelin’s path. It was all Keelin could do to throw himself to his left to avoid crashing into the man, but it put him directly in front of the soldiers and they stopped to confront him even as the pirates caught up and crashed into the little shield wall like sharp, pointy waves on a rock.
The first shield-bearer went down as one of the pirates got a dagger above his guard and into his neck. Before the rest of the soldiers could react, the tattooed pirate took down another with a swing of his axe that split a shield and damned near severed the arm that held it. One of the pirates took a spear to the chest and Keelin rushed forwards. Chopping the spear shaft in half with one of his cutlasses, he kept another shield-bearing soldier at bay with the other sword as the injured pirate was dragged away from the battle. Again the tattooed pirate leapt into the fray, his big axe whipping about his head and coming down hard on a shield, the force of the blow driving the soldier to his knees.
A second spear, this one still with a head, thrust out between two shields towards the tattooed pirate. Keelin could do nothing to stop it, caught up as he was with two men pressing him with shields. The big pirate screamed in pain but grabbed hold of the spear and ripped it from the soldier’s grasp.
The soldiers weren’t advancing; they hid behind their shields and slashed at anyone who came near. They were most likely waiting to be reinforced, but Keelin wasn’t about to give them the opportunity. A roar went up from the forest, the geyser choosing a good moment to go off. Everyone from New Sev’relain was used to the noise by now, but the soldiers weren’t and it caused just the distraction Keelin needed.
Advancing, he brushed away attacks then kicked hard into the shield of the soldier to his right, forcing the man back a step. Keelin stabbed at the soldier to his left, feeling his cutlass dig deep into the flesh of the man’s shoulder.
With a scream of pain, the soldier to Keelin’s left fell back just as the man on the right pushed forwards to protect his injured comrade. A moment later the soldier on the right fell down dead with a spear lodged firmly in his neck. Keelin glanced to his group to see the tattooed pirate grinning madly beneath his patchy beard.
With their group broken, the remaining two soldiers bolted back towards the treeline to reinforce another squad. There were battles all over the place, and the soldiers were starting to outnumber the pirates as more and more poured from the trees and more and more of the pirates fell.
“Take weapons and shields from the fallen soldiers,” Keelin called to his group.
“Don’t know how to use a shield,” one of the men said.
“Hold it in front of you and stab around it,” Keelin said. “You’re better off having one than not. What’s your name?” he asked the tattooed pirate.
“Ferl,” the man said as he looked down at the fallen soldiers’ weapons and decided to keep his axe instead.
“You’re a useful man to have around, Ferl. Who’s your captain?”
“Don’t got one,” the big man said through his beard.
Keelin grinned. “Then stick with me. All of you, with me,” he shouted as he charged towards a hard-pushed knot of pirates.
Kebble knelt in the dirt, raised his rifle, and sighted down the barrel. He picked his target and held his breath. The soldier was jabbing a spear over the top of his shield-bearing comrades and he kept dancing behind those shields to stay out of harm’s way, but Kebble was watching the man from the side, hidden far away from the combat.
He squeezed the trigger and braced against the recoil. The bullet impacted into the soldier’s shoulder and he went careening to the ground. Kebble had been aiming for the man’s chest. He hadn
’t taken the crosswind into full account.
With a frown, Kebble stood, shouldered his bag, and turned away from the battle, already reloading his rifle. The pirates and people of New Sev’relain were losing the fight, and if it continued the way it was going they would soon all be dead or forced to flee again, and Kebble doubted their morale would recover after another massacre. Luckily for the people of New Sev’relain, they had him. Kebble had changed the tide of battle before, and he would do it again. Perhaps if he fought for enough lost causes he might even find a way to lift his curse.
He walked through deserted dark alleyways lit only by the light of the rising moon, setting a brisk pace but refusing to rush. People who rushed forgot things, missed things, made mistakes. Kebble had lived long enough to realise that calm hurry was far more useful than a mad dash.
A building loomed up ahead, though it wasn’t his destination. The warehouse would be far too obvious a hiding place. He turned left and walked past a few more dilapidated shacks until he came to a half-collapsed building that looked on the verge of total dereliction. It was, however, purposefully designed to look that way.
Kebble slung his rifle over his shoulder and pulled the door open. Inside there was barely enough room to move, and a part of the roof had fallen in, covering much of the floor with brittle palm leaves. A rolled-up shirt in the corner of the open area suggested someone had recently been camping out in the building, but they no doubt had no idea of the fortune they’d been sleeping on top of.
Kneeling down, Kebble shifted a pile of the leaves that had fallen in, scattering a variety of insects including one large, sluggish, grumpy-looking spider. Kebble had seen the pain that a spider bite could cause and he had no wish to experience it first-hand, so he calmly shooed the little beast away with one of the fallen leaves, inwardly cursing at the delay. After the spider had departed, he finished clearing away the debris and felt around for a loose floorboard, finding it in no time and quickly tearing it from its neighbours. After three more floorboards Kebble reached in and lifted out a single barrel from its hiding place.
