Storm of Sharks

by Curtis Jobling

  ‘He’s awake!’

  It was a child’s voice, raised high in alarm. Something hard – a boot, perhaps – caught Drew in the face, sending his head to one side, his nose bursting with the impact.

  ‘Gerroff ’im, you rotten sod!’ snarled a deeper, youthful voice. A stick struck Drew across the temple, his head bouncing the other way as he relinquished his hold. He was nauseous from the unexpected blows, each catching him utterly defenceless.

  ‘Hit ’im again!’ shouted the first voice. ‘He nearly tore me leg off!’

  ‘Leave him be!’ A feminine voice spoke now, equally young, followed by a scuffle of some kind. Drew growled as he shook his head, trying to clear away the disorientation and bring forth the wolf. The stick whacked him hard in the breastbone, sending him collapsing back. He landed on some kind of rough pallet, obviously what had passed for a bed while he’d slept.

  ‘Growl one more time, pal, and we’ll whale on you like you’ve never known,’ said the second voice, clearly itching to deal out more pain.

  ‘Skipper said don’t hurt him,’ said the girl’s voice, ‘so keep your stick to yourself, Gregor.’

  ‘He might call himself Skipper but that don’t make him the boss o’ me!’

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ the girl hissed. ‘Hackett will hear you!’

  ‘Please,’ gasped Drew, raising his hand in supplication, ‘I’m not looking for a fight; I just want answers!’

  ‘Hush,’ said the girl, her hand going over Drew’s mouth. ‘The last thing we need is Hackett’s men coming knocking.’

  ‘Take your hand off his mouth, Pearl,’ said Gregor. ‘You don’t know where he’s been.’

  ‘We know exactly where ’e’s been,’ said the boy Drew had originally grabbed. ‘Rottin’ on this mattress for the last two days. How ’is wounds ain’t killed him, Sosha only knows!’

  ‘Wait,’ said Drew. ‘I’ve been here for two days?’

  ‘Near enough,’ said Pearl. ‘Thought you were gonna bleed out, number of wounds you had.’

  ‘You looked like shark bait.’ Gregor laughed. ‘I’ve seen chum with more life than you when we pulled you out the sea.’

  ‘Skipper said we should bring you back here, keep you safe,’ said Pearl.

  ‘Who’s Skipper?’ asked Drew.

  ‘Jumped-up little squirt,’ said Gregor. ‘Thinks he can boss us all around.’

  ‘He ain’t bossing nobody,’ snapped Pearl. ‘He’s trying to keep us alive, stop Hackett and the Krakenguard from tossing any more of us into the tide.’

  Drew waved his hand, trying to attract their attention. They went silent.

  ‘Would it be all right if I sat up? Can I expect any of you to kick, stamp or whale on me?’

  ‘Get up, mister,’ said Pearl, clearly the most level-headed of the three.

  ‘But no funny business,’ added the first boy, with about as much menace as a puppy.

  ‘Off your high horse, Kit,’ said Pearl, admonishing him.

  Drew laughed.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘Kit,’ replied Drew, sitting up and rubbing his jaw. ‘I had him down as a Pup.’

  ‘Wouldn’t laugh too loud if I were you, pal,’ said Gregor. ‘If Hackett’s men don’t find and kill you, we might just leave you to Kit. He’s pretty handy with a knife.’

  Drew winced as the boy suddenly poked him in the back with his stick.

  ‘He could finish whatever job those wounds started on you.’

  ‘Stop playing stupid games, Gregor,’ said Pearl quietly, her voice drawing close to the Wolflord. ‘He ain’t gonna cause us no harm. You’re blind, ain’t you?’

  Drew nodded, staring ahead into a white world of nothingness. ‘I was burned some days ago, a brand to my eyes. I haven’t seen since.’

  ‘You’ve really been in the wars, haven’t you, mister?’

  Drew managed a smile. ‘That’s the second time you’ve called me “mister”.’ How old do I appear to you?’

  ‘Into your third decade?’

  ‘I’ve seen sixteen summers,’ Drew replied.

  ‘Sweet Sosha,’ said Gregor. ‘Your ma must’ve given you tough chores!’

  ‘He ain’t much older than us, then,’ said Kit.

  ‘No fooling you, is there, Kit?’ replied Gregor. Drew heard the sound of a playful smack from one boy to another. Just what Trent and I might’ve done in happier times, he mused with a sigh. Perhaps these boys, too, were brothers.

  ‘You say you pulled me out of the sea. What happened?’

  ‘Gregor found you,’ said Pearl. ‘It’s him you need to thank for saving your life.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Drew.

  ‘Don’t be so quick with your gratitude, pal. I don’t much like you being here, right?’

  ‘How did you come across me?’

  ‘You were foul-hooked – found you tangled up in my nets.’

  ‘Your nets? You have your own fishing boat? But you’re only a boy.’

  ‘Said yourself you ain’t much older,’ said Gregor defensively. ‘Besides which, we do what we’re told since Ghul rounded all the older folk up.’

  ‘So now I’m your prisoner?’

  ‘Well, you certainly ain’t going anywhere.’

  ‘Skipper says we’re to watch over you until you get better,’ added Pearl.

  ‘Ignore Skipper,’ said Gregor. ‘I say what’s what, and I say you stay put. You go wandering off you’ll get us all hung. I want you where I can keep an eye on you, y’hear?’

  Drew sensed that the boy was more than happy to harm him should the need arise. He winced as he tried to get comfortable.

  ‘Fetch a bucket of seawater, Kit,’ said the girl as she manoeuvred round the injured lycanthrope. ‘Reckon I need to change this bandage. Injuries ain’t been cleaned since we first dressed ’em.’

  Drew heard the creak and rattle of a rickety door as Kit left and Pearl immediately set to work.

  ‘You said … you said the older folk had been taken away?’ said Drew, trying to continue the conversation to take his mind off the pain of the bandage removal.

  ‘Aye,’ replied Gregor. ‘Fathers and mothers, all gone. Ghul’s had ’em rounded up. How else do you think he’s winning this war?’

  ‘I don’t follow,’ said Drew, gritting his teeth as Pearl tugged the soiled cloth away from his flesh. ‘I thought Bosa had got the better of Ghul. That’s what we heard on the mainland, anyway.’

  ‘Things change awful fast in the Cluster Isles,’ said Pearl. ‘The Whale had the Kraken on the run, with every free pirate on the White Sea sailing to his side. But Ghul’s no fool. The Squidlord knows how to break the backs of his enemies …’

  ‘How does taking your parents help him defeat Baron Bosa?’

  ‘Just about every man who sails the White Sea has family or loved ones in Cutter’s Cove,’ said Pearl. ‘Every pirate is somebody’s son or daughter.’

  ‘Ghul got tired of being hounded by Bosa’s fleet and took everyone connected to Bosa’s renegades. That’s pretty much every free man and woman in the Cluster Isles,’ Gregor explained.

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Out to sea,’ the boy replied. ‘Dunno where, but whatever he’s done it’s had an effect on the Whale’s ships. Whole crews have turned themselves over to Ghul, every soul aboard getting clapped in irons.’

  ‘What’s he doing with those he’s kidnapped?’ said Drew.

  ‘No idea,’ said Gregor. ‘Little news gets to us here in Cutter’s Cove. Ain’t no ships coming into the harbour, only the military. They fly the Lion’s red and gold, plus other
s – black flags from some distant land.’

  ‘Bast,’ whispered Drew.

  ‘What?’ asked the boy.

  ‘You mean, where,’ Drew replied. ‘It’s a jungle continent, south of Lyssia. That’s where the Lion’s reinforcements have come from, shiploads of soldiers from overseas.’

  He’d travelled to the White Sea with the hope of finding Bosa. To hear that the Whale’s fleet was being whittled away, just as Violca had suggested, made Drew’s heart sink. And what had become of Whitley, he dreaded to think.

  ‘Was there any sign of the ship I’d been on when you fished me out of the sea?’

  ‘No,’ said Gregor. ‘If it was Ghul’s men that attacked you, then there’s a few likely outcomes, none of them good. The crew will have taken the Red and sworn fealty to the Lion, or else they’ve been taken to the same place as our parents. Maybe they’re all dead. Either way, that ship belongs to Ghul now.’

  ‘One of my friends was aboard,’ said Drew, sick with worry.

  ‘Then you’d best pray the Kraken’s in a merciful mood,’ said Pearl, tugging the last tattered cloth from Drew’s back. He cried out as Pearl gasped.

  ‘I don’t believe it. The wounds have healed! They’re –’

  Pearl’s words were cut short by shouting outside. A whip crack and a child’s cry sent shivers racing down Drew’s battered spine. More calls followed: it sounded like a chase was under way, the calls of the men slowly growing distant. The door suddenly creaked open as a panting Kit returned to the room. Drew was utterly lost, still unsure of who he was with, let alone what his surroundings were.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he said.

  ‘Looks as though the Krakenguard collared Kit,’ said Pearl quietly. ‘Here, let me look at that.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ said the young boy. Drew heard the anger in his voice as he tried to stifle his sobs.

  ‘Collared him?’ said Drew. ‘Why would they beat him for fetching a pail of water?’

  ‘There’s a curfew at night,’ replied Gregor. ‘You take your chances if you’re out after dark. Did he follow you, Kit?’

  ‘I lost him on the front. This bucket had better be worth the skin it cost me.’

  ‘Good lad,’ said Pearl. ‘Seems our guest’s wounds are healed, Sosha only knows how. May yet need that bucket for the whip welts on your own back, little brother.’

  ‘So where are we now?’ asked Drew as he heard the bucket handed over, and smelled the salt water. ‘And I mean precisely.’

  ‘You’re in a hut in Cutter’s Cove – one of many – and it happens to be our home,’ said Gregor. ‘You understand now why I ain’t keen on Hackett’s men finding us harbouring you? They’re killers. There’s been four hangings already this last week. We all got homes in the town, but they turfed us out, stuck us in this work camp in sheds and lean-tos. And they work us like slaves, trawling the sea and tilling the land for them. We weren’t born to serve others. We’re the Pirate Isles – we plunder, we steal, we take what we want. Cutter’s Cove was once home to the most feared captains of the White Sea. Ain’t a soul on these islands who isn’t connected to piracy in some way, shape or form.’

  ‘Ain’t a soul left on these islands, apart from us children,’ said Kit.

  ‘They’ve taken every adult?’ asked Drew, incredulously.

  ‘All the able-bodied.’

  ‘So there are some adults left in Cutter’s Cove?’

  ‘A few dusty old seadogs and retired tavern wenches. The town’s manned by children now, forced into labour by Hackett and the Krakenguard.’

  ‘And who’s Hackett?’ said Drew, struggling to piece the puzzle together.

  ‘He’s the Steward of Cutter’s Cove,’ said Pearl, tearing a cloth from somewhere and dunking it into the bucket. Drew heard the water slosh as the girl soaked it in brine. ‘Hackett runs the place in Ghul’s absence. He’s one of them Werelords.’

  ‘You won’t ever find a meaner piece of pond scum than the Crab,’ added Gregor. ‘Let me help you with that, sis.’

  Drew listened to the younger boy’s sobs as his siblings saw to the wounds the whip had inflicted.

  ‘You mentioned Skipper,’ said Drew. ‘Who’s he?’

  ‘He’s the jumped-up little toad who thinks he can tell us what to do,’ said Gregor.

  ‘And he works with Hackett?’

  ‘Sosha, no!’ exclaimed Pearl. ‘He’s one of us, another kid, but he’s got big ideas.’

  ‘Big ideas for a small fry,’ muttered Gregor. ‘Thinks he can turn up and just start telling us what to do.’

  ‘Gregor’s bitter because Skipper’s half his size.’

  ‘He thinks we should do as he says just because he’s served time on a ship,’ said the boy moodily. ‘That don’t make him better than us.’

  ‘So then where’s Ghul?’ said Drew. ‘If Hackett runs Cutter’s Cove in his absence, where’s the Squidlord?’

  ‘That’s what Skipper’s trying to find out,’ said Pearl. ‘He and a few other lads took a fishing boat out, to see what’s happening out there. We’re just praying they make it back here.’

  ‘I hope my friends make it back,’ said Gregor. Drew heard the boy spit. ‘As for Skipper, Sosha can take him, for all I care.’

  ‘You really don’t like him, do you?’ said Drew.

  ‘You’ve Skipper to thank for still being a free man, pal,’ said the boy, his breath warm on Drew’s face. ‘Believe me, I’d have handed you over to Hackett when we dragged you ashore. He’s the one who said we needed to hide you. The way I see it, the longer we do that, the longer we put ourselves in danger with the Crablord’s men. If it weren’t for your little guardian angel, and the song and dance he made over keeping you safe and alive, you might’ve been hanging from the gallows in Cutter’s Cove by now.’

  Drew heard the boy rise. ‘Lights out, Pearl. Guards’ll be round shortly.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Drew suddenly. ‘I had a sword on me when I was tossed overboard – at least I think I did. I don’t suppose it was still in my weapon belt when you found me.’

  ‘Weapon belt? Sword? Are you having a laugh? You must have lost it, and I’d be grateful too, if I were you. A piece of steel would’ve dragged you to the ocean bed for sure, dirtwalker.’

  ‘So you never saw it, then?’ said Drew, irritated.

  The stick was under his throat instantly, cutting off his air supply.

  ‘I don’t take kindly to accusations. Your sword’s gone. If you ask me, Skipper’s a fool to protect a dirtwalker like you. What makes you so special, exactly?’

  ‘Leave him alone.’

  The voice was new to Drew, coming out of nowhere, causing Pearl and Kit to gasp.

  ‘Never heard you come in,’ grunted Gregor to the new arrival. ‘Taken to creepin’ around like a mouse, have you, Skipper?’

  ‘If it keeps me alive, I’ll creep like a roach,’ said the boy quietly, his voice strangely familiar to Drew. ‘Step away from our guest, Gregor.’

  ‘Or what? I’m getting tired of you flouncing around like you own the place, just because you once served some highfalutin’ Werelord. You’re no better’n us, Skipper.’

  ‘Maybe not. But I’ll put you in the dirt if you cross me, Gregor, I swear to Sosha. Now clear off.’

  Drew heard the bigger boy depart, Pearl and Kit following him to the other side of the hut, where they were soon engaged in muted conversation. Drew blinked, grey shapes shifting through the white mists that fogged his eyes. Is my sight returning, or is my mind playing tricks on me?

  ‘My lord,’ whispered Skipper, his voice suddenly close to Drew. ‘I can’t believe
it’s really you.’

  ‘Do I know you?’ said Drew hesitantly, afraid of what the answer might be.

  ‘I should hope so,’ said the boy. There was a lightness to his voice, as if he were smiling.

  ‘I can’t see – I’m blind,’ said Drew.

  The boy gently traced his finger around the Werelord’s eyes. ‘It’s me, Drew. It’s Casper.’

  1

  Below the Surface

  Staring up into the clear blue sky, the water of the Redwine lapping about her ankles, Gretchen couldn’t help but be transported to her childhood. There was a pool in a glade, deep in the heart of her father’s woodland, far removed from the city. As a child her nurse would accompany her, enabling the young therian to play to her heart’s content. Occasionally her friends might join her in the glade, girls from other courts across the Seven Realms, daughters of nobles her father entertained. They would laugh, and play, and sometimes just lie on the bank, staring at the clouds while their toes dangled into the pool. This was a place secret and special to the ladies of Hedgemoor. Her mother had told her about it, and Gretchen had hoped to tell her daughters about it. One day. She sighed as the daydream jarred her back to reality: that day would never come.

  Gretchen allowed herself a moment more of relaxation, closing her eyes while the Redwine massaged her feet, the sounds of spring surrounding her. She caught the distant voices of her men from their campsite, the odd peal of laughter carried on the wind to her secluded spot. She ground her teeth. If she could hear them, who else might?

  Sitting upright, she reached a hand through the grass to snatch at her boots, her eyes trailing over the river. They skimmed over the moss-covered outcropping of a rock, its tip breaking the surface as the Redwine raced over it. At that instant, the ‘rock’ shape blinked. She dropped her boots, her eyes flying back to the river, just in time to see it disappear.