by Rob J. Hayes
Drake couldn’t help but feel the weight of Rag around his waist as an oppressive burden. He was already exhausted, and the creature was weighing him down. With a tap on its head, Drake ordered Rag to climb down and the beast obeyed, if a little lethargically. Once on the floor it wound its way towards Byron’s corpse.
“Don’t you dare,” Drake hissed, fully willing to drag the beast away if he had to.
Rag paused.
“Away!”
After another moment the giant centipede turned and made for Drake’s bed, crawling underneath and curling up to sleep. Drake envied the beast for that.
The door opened again and Princess walked in with a couple of the crew.
“By her teeth,” Goran cursed, refusing to use Rin’s name even over water. “Poor Byron. Get his shoulders, Collo. I’ll get his legs.”
Collo looked down at the dead pirate and paled. “You get his shoulders.”
“Just bloody do as ya told.”
Drake cleared his throat loudly and sent both pirates a scathing glare. They quickly decided it didn’t matter who picked up which end of Byron’s corpse. After a bit of struggling and a few more curses, they dragged the body from Drake’s cabin.
“Reckon they’re about ready to light the pyres,” Princess said after Goran and Collo had gone. “Might be good for you to attend. Maybe even light them yaself.”
Drake picked up one of the charts spread across the floor. One of Beck’s pistols was lying beneath it. The Arbiter was still unconscious; Drake had made every doctor and every fool that called himself a healer look at her, and they all said the same thing. Her immediate injuries had been treated, but sometimes folk just didn’t pull through. He tucked the little pistol into his belt and put the last of the charts into the cabinet, shutting what was left of the door and waiting to see if it stayed shut.
“Cap’n?”
“I’m coming, Princess,” Drake said. “I hear Stillwater is awake. Send someone to fetch him for me. I’ll meet him down on the beach.”
Chapter 19 - North Storm
Fires were dancing on the shores of Cinto Cena, and the sight made T’ruck’s spirits sink, something he hadn’t thought possible any more. He’d known the soldiers of the Five Kingdoms were planning to attack New Sev’relain, and he’d known he was a good few days or more behind them. He’d hoped to somehow arrive in time to help with the defence. Not that he and his seven crew would have been able to do much.
Sailing a galleon with only seven sailors would have been exhausting, and the North Storm was certainly no galleon. She was one of the biggest ships ever built, and every member of the crew, including Lady Tsokei, had been operating on only a couple of hours’ sleep a day. And each one had performed above and beyond anything T’ruck could ever have expected from them. The surviving men and women had gone from a tight crew to a much tighter family.
When T’ruck awoke after the battle he had found the bloody corpse of Yu’truda lying across him and the witch unconscious by his side. He’d been covered in Yu’s blood; he could feel and smell it on his skin and he could taste it in his mouth. At first he’d been furious at Lady Tsokei. The crew explained she’d given Yu’truda’s life to him, and he very nearly stamped the life out of the unconscious witch, but he was beyond tired and his crew pulled him away and convinced him that it had been Yu’truda’s choice.
T’ruck fancied he could feel Yu’truda inside him. Every now and then he felt a twinge of emotion that didn’t belong. When he consulted with the witch about it, she merely shrugged and pointed out that he was no longer living his life, but Yu’truda’s. T’ruck wasn’t about to begin to claim he understood what she meant. Yet he would be damned if he wasted the gift given to him by the last member of his old clan. He was alone now. The Five Kingdoms had taken everything from him. Every member of his clan, his family, his friends. All that was left was T’ruck and his new family. His ship and his crew.
“We could make a run for Fango,” suggested Pocket. The young man had proven himself both in battle and in the sailing of the ship, and T’ruck had been proud to name him first mate of North Storm. There was still a haunted look about the lad, though. Pocket had seen too much death for his short life, and had been the cause of much of it besides.
T’ruck took in a deep breath, then sighed it out with a shake of his head. “Tanner knows we have sided with Drake. He would take the ship from us and we do not have the crew to stop him.”
“We have Nerine,” Pocket said.
The lad had become quite close with the witch since they’d taken North Storm. T’ruck didn’t know the extent of the relationship, but the more ties the woman had to the ship and crew, the more T’ruck trusted her.
He shook his head again. “That would serve no one, lad. If I am to waste our lives, I would do it crushing the skulls of Five Kingdoms pigs, not fighting our own. Besides, we need help clearing the bodies from the ship before the rats mutiny.”
They’d been sailing ever since taking North Storm, and were lucky they hadn’t run across another ship or foul weather in that time. The crew had had very little opportunity to clear the dead from the bowels of the ship, and while the smell had been rancid for some time, the risk of disease was becoming a real danger. T’ruck had one thing to say for the bodies that littered his new ship, though – they were keeping the rats away from the food stores. Why chew into a barrel when there was dead flesh aplenty, just lying around?
“Those are big fires,” Pocket said. “Looks like the whole town is burning.”
“The choice has been made,” T’ruck rumbled. “If we are to die today, we will make it glorious.”
“Aye, Captain.”
As the ship sailed closer, the pirate taking a turn in the nest, a woman by the name of Coral, scuttled down the rigging at a dangerous pace and ran across the deck towards T’ruck. He glanced at her before turning his attention back to hauling in the front sail.
“I see four big fires and a fuck load of ships, Cap’n,” Coral said, her voice whistling through a gap in her teeth.
“Ours or theirs?”
“Hard to say,” Coral said easily. “It’s a bit dark, Cap’n. Don’t look like the fires have touched the town though. They’re all on the beach.”
It wasn’t long before T’ruck could make out the faint shapes of ships in the bay. Between the fires and the moonlight they were well lit, and he recognised the hulls of both The Phoenix and the Fortune.
They sailed North Storm right into the south bay of Cinto Cena. He’d never realised how large the bay was until it swallowed up his giant of a ship. They’d been spotted, there was no mistake about that; T’ruck could see hundreds of folk scrambling about on the beach.
They lowered the anchor and then a dinghy into the water, and T’ruck ordered everyone aboard it. He would leave nobody behind for now. He set a brisk pace, rowing with the help of Pocket and Durance, and made Coral stand at the front of the dinghy and wave a white square of cloth in the air.
As the little boat drifted up alongside one of the free piers, T’ruck found a small host of bows and spears pointed towards him – but they were held by pirates, not soldiers of the Five Kingdoms. It didn’t take long for the weapons to be put away as T’ruck and the few surviving members of his crew were recognised.
Amidst congratulations and cheers, T’ruck departed the dinghy with his crew behind him and they were escorted from the pier. He found Drake, Keelin, and Tanner Black crowded around a small fire.
“Captains,” T’ruck said with a nod.
“T’ruck, you insane bastard,” Keelin Stillwater said. “We thought you were dead.”
T’ruck’s gaze drifted around the fire, coming to a sudden halt on the white-skulled face of Deun Burn. “You!”
Drake Morrass was up from his seat in a moment, placing himself between T’ruck and the filthy Riverlander. “Calm it down, Captain Khan,” Drake said, a dangerous note in his voice.
“He sent us into a trap.” T’ruck c
ould sense the remaining members of his crew at his back, and there was anger there too.
“Wasn’t him,” Drake said, waving his hands in front of T’ruck’s face. T’ruck glanced down at him. “Was the other dumb bastard Riverlander, and he’s been… dealt with.”
T’ruck clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, his eyes darting from Drake to Deun Burn. “I would see his body.”
“They ate it,” Drake said quickly.
T’ruck stopped cold. “What?”
“Show him the face,” Drake hissed to the Riverlander.
Deun reached for the bag on his belt and pulled out a patch of leather, unfolding it and holding it up to the firelight. There were tattooed scales on the leather, and T’ruck had to admit it did look a lot like the face of the Riverlander who had sent them to die. The rage drained out of him as quickly as it had appeared, and T’ruck found himself tired and in desperate need of a drink, which Tanner Black handed over. T’ruck found it hard to believe that Drake had succeeded in gaining the alliance of Captain Black, yet here the man was and, judging by the smell of burning bodies, they’d only recently fought off the Five Kingdoms invaders.
“How did you do it?” Stillwater said, his voice full of awe. “How did you take that monster fucking ship?
“With just twenty-two of us,” T’ruck rumbled.
A murmur ran through the crowd, and only when T’ruck looked up did he realise how many folk had gathered. It looked like everyone. His own crew had collapsed onto the sand behind him, and even now he could tell that some of them were asleep already. Unfortunately he wagered it would be some time before he would find the sweet bliss of unconsciousness.
T’ruck told them then of how North Gale had been sent into a trap, and how they’d taken one of the ships before Storm Herald smashed into their midsection, splitting them in half and sinking them. He told them how he and his crew had been plucked from the water only to be thrown in the brig to languish until they reached the Five Kingdoms, where they were to be hanged. He told them of his escape and freeing the crew, and he told them nothing of the witch. His crew were sworn to secrecy; Lady Tsokei’s powers were to be revealed to no one. T’ruck told them little of how they’d taken the ship, only that they’d moved from cabin to cabin, murdering hundreds of men.
One of the other captains laughed when T’ruck said they must have killed a thousand soldiers, but he just stared at the man and challenged him to check the ship and the bodies that were still inside it. When T’ruck was done, Drake gave his own story, spinning a tale about how they’d guessed the attack on New Sev’relain was coming and had started preparations, but the losses had still been great.
T’ruck asked about Captain Damien Poole, and a new sadness washed over the crowd. Drake claimed Poole had been a true hero, and that he’d sacrificed himself to give the others time to get away from Ash. T’ruck would have found it hard to believe the man had even a drop of courage, and even harder to believe Poole would sacrifice his own life.
“We got a bit of a problem,” Drake said eventually. “People.”
“Reckon we got a few problems, mate,” Tanner barked.
“We need fresh blood,” Drake continued, ignoring Tanner. “Not just for our ships. For the town as well. We’ve lost too many of us already.”
“Ya want us to start breeding, do ya?”
Again Drake ignored Tanner. “We also need to start pirating again. Bastards sailing through our waters have been left too long, unharassed while we’ve been running and hiding. No more. From now on we travel in packs, and we take every fucking ship we can find. Merchants, navy, slavers…”
Another murmur ran through the crowd.
“There’s no money to be had from slavers,” Keelin said. The man’s arm was in a sling, and his leg was stretched out awkwardly in front of him.
“I don’t mean to take them for money,” Drake said. “I want you to take them and free the poor buggers in the holds.”
The crowd got louder.
“We need people more than money or food or weapons or anything else right now,” Drake shouted, loudly enough to silence the folk around him. “Reckon most folk who wear a collar would welcome a chance at freedom here on the isles.”
“You’ll be starting a war with the slavers guild,” Keelin said, quietly enough that only those nearby could hear.
“No,” Drake said with a shake of his head. “We’re just laying down the rules. Anyone – anyone – who wants to sail our waters has to pay. Slavers have had free passage for far too fucking long. I also need someone to sail to Larkos. Talk to the guilds, ask them for help.”
“I’ll go,” Keelin said quickly. “I have some contacts in Larkos that might be able to help.”
Drake looked torn for a moment, but nodded. “Good. This war ain’t won yet. Next time they come, they’ll come with everything they have, and we need to be ready. We need to meet them in the water, and we need to sink every last fucking one of them.”
Part 2 – All Hands on Deck
There will be a traitor in your midst said the Oracle
Who said Drake
Someone who was once an ally said the Oracle
Chapter 20 – Land's End
When the door to his cell opened, Daimen started. After days upon days upon days at sea, followed by a long stint in a gaol cell, he’d just about decided the bastards had all but forgotten about him. He fully expected them to parade him about the city before tying a rope around his neck and giving him the drop he deserved. As far as Daimen was concerned, he did deserve it.
His crew were dead. Every single one of the poor bastards, and it was all his fault. He’d led them into death, promised them a rescue that never came.
A right fancy looking man walked into the cell. He was followed by a giant of a knight dressed from the neck down in shiny steel and carrying a metal spear that looked as though it weighed as much as Daimen himself. The fancy one wore a dazzling blue suit and carried a sword at his hip, his posture suggesting he was well used to the weight of it. Daimen had seen a fair few aristocrats in his time, and he’d have happily bet his right testicle – the smaller of the two – on the man being noble born.
“Captain Daimen Poole,” the fancy man said in a fancy voice. There were no chairs in Daimen’s cell, only a small cot lined with straw and a bucket, so the man stayed standing. “My name is Jackt Veritean.”
Daimen laughed. “Fuck off, are ya.”
The man frowned, and Daimen had to admit it looked a very royal frown, but he wasn’t about to believe the king of the Five Kingdoms had climbed down off his golden throne to talk to one shipless pirate.
“I assure you, Captain Poole, I am…”
“Do ya see a ship round here anywhere, mate?” Daimen said. “Perhaps it’s in me bucket sailing on a sea of my shit? No? I ain’t captain of fuckin’ anything no more.” Daimen paused before adding, “Ya Majesty.”
The man who called himself king stared on with impressive patience. Daimen had a knack for grating on folks’ nerves, and he wondered how long it would take this man to learn it.
“Daimen Poole, I assure you I am Jackt Veritean…”
“Best keep ya royal distance then, mate. You’re in a cell with a dangerous pirate, don’t ya know?”
“I assure you, I am quite safe from any sort of attack you might be able to muster,” the king said with an air of confidence. Daimen looked from the sword at the man’s hip to the big knight with the spear, who looked unconcerned by the whole situation. “Believe it or not, I am trying to save your miserable life.”
Daimen laughed again. “Thought ya said ya were king. Don’t take much ta save my life, mate. Just don’t kill me.”
“If only things were so simple.” The king smiled. “You’re a pirate. Self-confessed and guilty of a number of crimes. I must admit, when the list was relayed to me I stopped listening after the tenth or so. Suffice to say, by Five Kingdoms law you should be hanged until you are dead.”
“Best get
on with it before the rats decide to steal ya chance. They keep coming back for a nibble no matter how many times I chase ’em off.” It wasn’t even a lie; Daimen had a number of little bites from the pests, and it was likely because he smelled like ten-day-old carrion.
The king sighed. “I’m told you sailed your ship right into mine. My captains tell me it was a suicidal manoeuvre to stop them going after Drake Morrass and the others. You sacrificed your life, your ship, and your crew, all for Captain Morrass?”
“Amazing, the sort of shit a man will do and sacrifice for his king, eh?” Daimen couldn’t keep the bitter edge out.
Jackt Veritean nodded, smiling. “As are the things a king will do for his kingdom. Do you believe in Drake Morrass?”
Daimen met his eyes. “Aye, I do.” It was only half a lie. Daimen had believed in Drake. He’d believed Drake was the only man the isles could unite behind. And he’d believed Drake would sail in and save him, his ship, and his crew. Instead the bastard had turned tail and left Daimen and all his men to die.
“Would it shake your belief to know that this war we are all currently fighting was by his design?”
“Eh?”
“He came to me, your king, with a plan to rid myself of you and all the other pirates. It was true my merchants had been requesting aid against your brethren for some time. However, I had no way to deal with you, no way to find you. Drake changed that. He came to me with charts, and upon those charts were the locations of a number of your little towns.”
“Ya full of shit, mate.”
“I offered him lands and a title in return for the deaths of all the pirates inhabiting your Pirate Isles, and he agreed. He told me to start with a town called Black Sands before moving on to any of the others, claiming it was some sort of lookout town. An early warning for the rest, unless it was promptly burned to the ground. My allies in Sarth jumped upon the chance.
“Of course, Drake disappeared, and I have since learned that a number of the other locations he’d noted on his chart were false. Why do you think he would do that, Captain Poole?”
