by Rob J. Hayes
The others started murmuring, agreeing that the whole thing was Stillwater’s fault. They were looking for someone to blame for all the death and pain, and the poor unconscious bastard who had helped saved so many of them wasn’t awake to defend himself.
“You reckon he was in on it?” Drake said. “Because of who his brother might be? Seems that same brother left Stillwater skewered with his own sword and bleeding to death right here on the floor of the tavern Stillwater himself helped to build. Hells, the lad didn’t just help to build this place – he helped take down the monstrous ship it was built from.”
A few of those who had been muttering about Stillwater being a traitor all of a sudden found their feet more than a little interesting.
“You reckon he ain’t one of us because he’s from the Five Kingdoms?” Drake said. “Well, then I ain’t one of us either. I’m Acanthian born.”
Drake pointed at a red-haired pirate with a fiery beard. “What about you? Where are you from?”
The man looked a little embarrassed at suddenly being the centre of attention. “Korral.”
“The Wilds then,” Drake said. “Well, that ain’t here, so you ain’t one of us. What about you?” Drake picked a tall woman with hair that looked like it might have been blond had it ever been washed.
“Flinton,” she said.
“Sarth,” Drake cooed. “Weren’t too long ago they were at our doorstep, trying to murder us.”
“I ain’t no traitor,” the woman said quickly, trying desperately to sink back into the crowd.
“What about you, Tanner?” Drake said. “Where are you from?”
Tanner Black held Drake’s gaze for a few moments, probably deciding whether or not to lie. “Larkos.”
Drake smiled. “Another free city, this one in the Dragon Empire.”
Tanner nodded slowly.
“There’s barely a one of us can say we come from the Pirate Isles. We’re an empire of vagrants. Whether you came from nothing or everything, or all that’s in between, we’re all in this together.”
“Can ya save him?” Tanner asked the doctor.
The man grumbled something and nodded without looking up from Stillwater’s motionless body.
“Then do it,” Tanner snapped.
“You need any help?” Drake said quickly, desperate to regain authority.
The doctor barked out a laugh and shook his head.
“Then the rest of you get outside and let the man do his work,” Drake said. “We got plenty of other wounded to tend to, and even more dead to mourn.”
Drake followed them all outside; he would be better served being seen about the town in charge of the situation than locked away in the tavern worrying about one man. The night was cooling off even though there was barely a breath of breeze, and New Sev’relain was a blur of activity. Some people were tending to the wounded while others stripped the dead before carting them down to the beach. The soldiers of the Five Kingdoms were well equipped, and not a shield, sword, or breastplate would go to waste. Even the shoes were being taken from the dead to be handed out to those townsfolk in need.
Plenty of pirates were still standing guard by the half-finished wall, watching the jungle should some of the soldiers come back for a second attempt. Drake doubted they would be so foolish, but it was better to be prepared in case of fools. Drake looked down at the beach and saw a bald-headed man limping towards him. Kebble looked to be in bad shape, but far worse was the body in his arms. Beck’s long blond hair hung down from her head, singed and clumped, and she had more than a few patches of dried blood on her face, jerkin, and trousers.
Drake rushed forwards, and Kebble almost collapsed as he handed the Arbiter’s body over.
“Is she…” Drake started, struggling with Beck’s dead weight.
“Alive,” Kebble said, dropping to his knees.
Drake searched Beck’s face, and saw no signs of her breathing. He tried to think what to do, but his mind came up blank.
“She needs tending to,” Kebble continued.
Drake glanced at the tavern. He could storm back in and demand Tanner’s doctor tend to Beck, but that could mean Stillwater’s death, and he needed the man.
“Captain Morrass,” someone called, and Drake turned his head to see a bedraggled woman with deep brown hair and deeper lines on her face. “This way, Captain. I can see to her.”
He recognised her as the woman who ran the brothel, and hesitated. “You know what you’re doing?”
The woman fixed Drake with a stony glare. “Captain, I have dealt with more banged up women than any of your doctors. I can set bones, clean wounds, and sew better than anyone in this shit hole of a town, and I’ll wager my supplies are better too. If you want her to live, then heel.”
The woman turned and marched away. Drake ground his teeth together, but hesitated for only a moment before hurrying after her.
Chapter 17 - The Phoenix
Keelin opened his eyes to see a familiar wooden roof. He heard the creak and moan of a ship, and footsteps on the decking. He could smell the sea, the familiar salty tang that permeated every aspect of life on the oceans. He had no idea how it had happened, but Keelin was back on board The Phoenix and lying in his own bed. And if he lay really still, he could even pretend he didn’t hurt all over.
It was daytime; he could tell by how well his cabin was lit. Turning his head to see the window would have required a lot of effort, and all Keelin really wanted to do was drift back off to sleep. Unfortunately, his stomach wasn’t so easily appeased, and it chose that moment to let out a growl that would have sent a wolf fleeing with its tail tucked firmly between its legs.
“You’re awake.” Aimi’s voice drifted over, and Keelin lethargically rolled his head to the side. His right shoulder blazed in agony. He ignored it with only a wince to show his discomfort.
“It’s not entirely by choice,” he croaked, realising then how thirsty he was.
Aimi was sitting in the chair behind Keelin’s desk, looking over some papers. She sprang up and grabbed a mug and a clay pitcher. She looked different somehow. Gone were her normal stitched trousers and blouse, and in their place she wore a dark red jacket, a ruffled white shirt, black leggings, and boots that reached halfway up her calf, shiny with polish.
“New clothes?” Keelin said.
Aimi stopped by the bed and poured a mug of water, holding it carefully up to Keelin’s mouth for him to sip. It felt like life running down his throat, giving him new energy.
“I’ve had a bit of time to kill while looking after you. I bought these a while back and spent yesterday altering them to fit better. What do you think?” Aimi took the cup away and gave a twirl. The clothes suited her, and though they wouldn’t be practical for ship-board use, they would certainly catch a few stares around town.
“Beautiful,” Keelin said.
“I bet you say that to all your crew,” Aimi said with a grin.
“How long have I been…”
“Two days.” Aimi refilled the mug and held it to Keelin’s lips again. “Captain Black’s doctor said you would live, so we brought you here. I volunteered to look after you.”
“We won?”
Aimi smiled and nodded. “The town is still standing. We lost a lot of people though.”
“My brother?”
The smile slipped from Aimi’s face. “So it’s true. You’re Five Kingdoms nobility.”
Keelin froze. He had no idea how to answer. He’d kept the secret for so long he thought it was lost. Ever since leaving the Five Kingdoms he’d been pretending to be just another pirate. If his secret was now common knowledge, he could only guess how long it would be before a mutiny removed him from his ship and probably his life. The crew would never follow if they knew where he came from.
“Apparently some folk wanted to kill you. They were blaming you for all of this,” Aimi said. “Drake didn’t let them. He convinced them you were one of us.”
“So Drake survived.” Keeli
n was more than a little relieved.
Aimi nodded and started towards the cabin door. Keelin tried to push himself up onto his elbows and promptly collapsed. Aimi opened the door.
“He’s awake,” she said. “Go get Morley.” Aimi returned to the bed. “He wanted to know the moment you woke up. I’ll help you up.”
With gentle care, Aimi helped Keelin to sit up and swing his legs over the bed. She then fetched a jacket from his wardrobe and draped it over his shoulders before pouring him another mug of water and leaving it in his left hand. She went back to the desk and back to studying the papers arrayed upon it.
“What are you looking at?” Keelin said.
“Letters from the ship My Salty Wife. After all the soldiers were killed, the ship was taken. Drake found these in a chest, but he doesn’t have time to look them over at the moment. I volunteered for that job too, as I was going to be sitting in here waiting for you to wake up.
“There’s a lot of nothing. It looks like the ship was a passenger vessel used to ferry people of importance from Sarth to the Five Kingdoms. They took her from her captain, filled her with men and pointy objects, and sent her here. There’s a letter signed with King Jackt Veritean’s signet.”
“The king of the Five Kingdoms?” Keelin said, incredulous.
Aimi nodded. “It’s a letter offering a full pardon to any pirate captain willing to turn on their brethren.”
“Bastard!”
A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” Aimi shouted before Keelin could answer. He kept his face carefully blank, but it irritated him that she assumed such authority in his cabin.
The door opened and Morley walked in, treating Keelin to a smile. “Thought we might have lost you, Captan. I wouldn’t mind a cabin this big.”
Keelin wheezed out a laugh, and regretted it a moment later as it set both his shoulder and his leg to hurting. Morley had been part of his crew for almost as long as Keelin had had a crew, and the man had been both an excellent quartermaster and a competent first mate as well as a loyal friend.
“How’s the crew?”
“Anxious,” said Morley. “We lost a lot of good people in the fighting, Captan. Got a few new members too. New ship’s boy, barely ten years old.”
Keelin glanced over to Aimi. “Congratulations.”
Aimi grinned. “No more scrubbing shit off the side of the ship for me,” she crowed. “Finally get a real share of the loot as well. Not that there is any loot right now.”
“That’d be the other issue, Captan,” Morley continued. “Crew want paying. More so after so many are dead. Barely enough to fill two shifts left, and that’s gonna make it awful hard to take any prey. We need money and people.”
“And food,” Aimi put in. “I’m getting right sick of fish.”
Morley sucked at his teeth and shook his head. “We all eat what we can. Be glad there’s plenty of fish to be ate.”
Keelin sighed. “What about the other captains?”
“All in the same boat, Captan. Everyone has lost a lot of crew. With those bastards run off though, they all think we’re finally safe. Others are looking at leaving. They ain’t running away, but we’re pirates. We should be pirating.”
Keelin nodded. “You’re right. We’ve earned ourselves a little freedom from attacks. Paid blood and lives for it. I need to speak to Drake first, but we’ll go find ourselves a ship to take.”
The door crashed open and Smithe strode into the cabin, slamming the door shut behind him with just as much force. Keelin stifled a sigh and attempted to get to his feet. His left leg, however, was not accommodating, and he promptly collapsed back to a sitting position with a pained gasp. Smithe leered at him.
“Any meeting about ship’s business I should be privy to,” Smithe said. “Especially any that the little bitch gets to sit on.”
“I don’t think you’d like to sit on some of the things this bitch sits on,” Aimi said with a giggle, not looking up from the papers on Keelin’s desk.
Smithe looked confused for a moment, and then a longer moment after. “What?”
“You weren’t missing out on anything, Smithe.” Keelin tried to draw the surly quartermaster’s attention away from Aimi. “Morley was just bringing me up to speed on what’s been happening these last two days.”
“Aye?”
Morley nodded. “Aye.”
“What would the crew say to a spot of good, honest piracy, Smithe?” Keelin said.
“Reckon some money in pockets might not be a bad thing,” Smithe replied, a suspicious look about his face. “Especially if it don’t mean fighting. Reckon some of the boys had enough killing for now.”
“Excellent,” Keelin said with a smile. “We’ll set off as soon as the town is back to some semblance of normalcy and find some poor fuckers to rob blind.”
“Might be worth searching for those bastards over the Sea of Stars,” Smithe said with a greedy grin.
Crossing the Sea of Stars to the Dragon Empire wasn’t entirely what Keelin had in mind. It would take them a fair distance from the isles, and from the young, fragile alliance that Drake had set up. It would also serve to remind Keelin that he was still so far away from his vengeance.
Smithe reached into his jacket and pulled out a large wad of treated leather. “You may have forgotten ya promise to the crew,” he said, crossing the room to Keelin and holding out the object. “I ain’t.”
Keelin had to put the mug of water down to take the piece of leather from Smithe – his right arm hurt far too much to use. It appeared to be a folded sheet of leather-backed parchment, and Keelin had some real trouble opening it out with only the one hand. All the while, Smithe stood by with a smirk on his face. Eventually Keelin placed the thing on his bed and peeled it open. It was a chart, and not one of his. After a moment he recognised the writing as Drake’s, and only a moment later he realised what the chart showed.
“How did you get this?”
“How do you think?” Smithe spat. “Broke into Morrass’ cabin and took it whiles no one was watching. Thought you might have forgotten about it, Captain.”
“You stole it from him?”
“Ain’t that what you was planning to do?” Smithe said. “You promised us riches, Captain. Right here I just delivered you the thing you claimed was stalling us. So how about we fuck off from this little war Morrass is fighting and go get ourselves nice and rich.”
Morley moved over to stand beside Smithe. There was a greedy glint in his eyes that Keelin wasn’t used to seeing. “You did promise the crew, Captan.”
For Keelin it wasn’t about the money. In the Forgotten Empire lay a way to locate Arbiter Prin, and his encounter with his brother had made the vengeance feel urgent all over again.
“I did,” he said. “We sail within the week.”
Chapter 18 - Fortune
Drake looked down at the body on the floor of his cabin and felt a cold rage building inside him. After two days of giving orders, helping to move the bodies of the dead, and regularly checking on Beck, he’d finally given in to the exhaustion. Twice he’d found himself asleep, startled as someone asked for an opinion or otherwise required his attention. He’d decided he needed rest, and there was only one place he was likely to get it undisturbed.
“Must’ve happened during the attack,” Princess said, looking very much like he wanted to be somewhere else. “Fucking soldiers boarded us and we didn’t have much in the way of resistance. Don’t reckon we’d have pushed them off the ship if not for Rag.”
The giant centipede had climbed up Drake’s leg and wrapped itself around his waist almost as soon as he set foot on his ship. Knowing full well how dangerous the beast was, Drake worried about it doing that at times, and it weighed him down – but it also bolstered his courage. Rag’s armour was as hard as steel, and with a venomous bite and razor-sharp pincers, it was a devastating predator of a pet.
“She killed a good three soldiers herself and scared the rest away,”
Princess continued into his captain’s silence. “I guess one of those bastards broke in here first though.”
Drake said nothing. He tore his gaze away from Byron’s crumpled form. The image of the simpleton’s head caved in would likely stay with him until the end of his days. Byron had never held a weapon in his life; he’d never even been involved in a fight, as far as Drake knew. Whenever the Fortune and her crew took a ship he always hid below decks. It made no sense that the man had come to Drake’s cabin, and even less sense that whoever had broken in had not only killed him, but made such a mess of the lad as well.
The room was chaos. Drawers had been opened, their contents rifled through and thrown about the place. Drake’s chart cabinet had been broken open and his charts had spilled out, unrolling across the floor. The door to his alcohol cabinet had been smashed open and the bottles broken upon his desk. The window behind his desk had been smashed, no doubt so the culprit could make their escape with Byron’s substantial body blocking the door.
“At least they didn’t set fire to my bed,” he growled.
“I reckon Byron caught them trashing the place,” Princess said. “Lad probably asked them to leave. He was likely even polite about it.”
“They weren’t polite,” Drake said.
“No. Pyres are almost ready, Cap’n. Should we take his body down to them?”
Drake shook his head. “Byron died on the water. We’ll give his body to Rin. Perhaps she’ll have him spend eternity counting seashells, eh?” Drake barked out a laugh, but there was no humour behind it. They’d all lost so many people. He’d never expected to lose Byron.
“I’ll get someone to help move his body,” Princess said solemnly.
Drake nodded, glancing back once more at the simpleton before turning his attention to his cabin. He knew he’d get no sleep while his room was in such disarray, and especially not with the window broken. He doubted they had the glass to fix it here on Cinto Cena, so he resigned himself to boarding it up until they could find someone to repair it properly.
