by A F Stewart
Rafe turned his head, still grinning. “Close. Pirate Keys.”
Blackthorne raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Only cutthroats and pirates this time around. A quiet change of pace.”
“That’s what Mouse said. I’m glad you agree.” Rafe teased, “We’re due for a gentle peaceful trip.”
Suddenly, as if in defiance of his very words, the sky rumbled in thunder across soft pale clouds and the bluest of sky. A fierce wave rolled under the Jewel tossing her like flotsam and creating a flurry of curses from the crew. Another wave rolled, rocking the ship, and a familiar shriek echoed through the sky.
“Man your stations, men!” Rafe barked the command in his first breath after the sound. “Prepare for battle! Blackthorne take command! Hold the line!” The crew raced across the decks, swords in hand, ready for a fight. The clang of the ship’s bell echoed through the rigging for what little protection it could offer.
Without further explanation, Rafe dashed off, weaving past his brave men, running below decks to his quarters. He yanked open a drawer and snatched up the stone he received from Mother Abel. Racing back above deck, he darted out as the cry of ‘Rising bones’ hit the air.
Rafe ran to the quarterdeck to witness the sea ascend in the distance, the wall of water holding an awful sight. Dozens of skeletons and half-rotted corpses rode the sea wave, embalmed in the water, writhing and groping in some twisted semblance of life. Above the unnatural tide of ocean, Sea Ghouls flew, and they all bore down on the Jewel in a screaming cacophony of death.
Rafe didn’t hesitate, pouring his magic into stone and shouting, “Shadows of Spirits, Shadows of Worlds, be gone from this place! Back to the depths!”
A counteracting wave of magic shot outward, meeting the sea as it crashed into the ship. Screams of undead things shattered the air as water swamped the Jewel, and the ship careened, listed, and nearly capsized. Men shouted and tumbled, gear went flying, and pieces of bone bounced off the rigging while lines snapped and sails waved free.
Rafe fell to his knees as the vessel came about, One-Eyed Anders struggling at the wheel to hold her true. Rafe pressed his fingers against the deck, calming the ship, pouring magic into her timbers. She settled, her planks groaning, her rudder straining, but still afloat and in one piece. Wave and ghouls had vanished as well as corpses and skeletons, though the deck was littered with pieces of bone and flesh that the spell had missed.
Rafe looked around, his ship scattered with debris and drenched, his crew piled in battered heaps. He heard the sounds of moaning, but everyone looked ambulatory and relatively unhurt. Rafe glanced at Blackthorne who clung to the rail, water dripping from his brass buttons, and then at Anders who grasped the wheel in a pale death grip. He climbed to his feet and shouted, “Head count! We need a head count! Anyone overboard? Anyone injured?”
Rafe stumbled down to the lower decks, and Blackthorne scrambled to his feet, his boots squelching as he followed the captain. Through the puddles and the jumble, they took count and, thankfully, found not a soul lost if several suffering bumps and bruises. Those that could manned their duties and the ship began to hum in a mode of recovery.
“We’ve flooding below decks, but we won’t sink, and we’ve lost a good third of the gear that wasn’t tied down.” Blackthorne’s voice shook as did his hands, but Rafe let him speak. He seemed to need it. “There are dead bits and bones across the deck, but that will get cleaned, and the injured are being tended. Cuts, bruises, and a broken bone or two, though poor Red Wilson took a shard of bone in his arm. Sticking out right above the elbow. He’s down below getting it extracted and the wound sewn up.” Blackthorne took a breath, his demeanour slowly calming. “What was that, sir? I’ve never felt so...”
“Threatened, overwhelmed? Like you stared at impending death? I felt it too. The air felt heavy, dark as if the descending wave carried something—”
“Evil.” Blackthorne finished his sentence, and Rafe nodded. The first mate cast his eyes around the ship, taking in the confusion and mess. “We were lucky, sir, weren’t we?’
“Yes. If the stone hadn’t banished the dead back into the sea, if they managed to attack...I hate to think of what we would have faced. We’ll need that luck to hold to the end of this. We’ll need that luck to hold.”
Chapter Thirteen
The Grey Sisters
A SOMBRE CREW SAILED into a sheltered cove and anchored off the island of Raven Rock. Men set to tidying the ship and fixing any remaining damage done by the thwarted attack, while Rafe and Blackthorne were rowed to shore in a jolly boat. The pair alighted on the sand, and Rafe dismissed the rest of the men.
“Go back to the ship. I’ll send a signal when we’re ready to return.”
“If we return.” Blackthorne’s faint grumble fell on Rafe’s ears only, and the captain gave him a sharp look. Blackthorne stared at the sand as the boat rowed away.
“You didn’t have to come.” Rafe watched the boat move off. “You could have stayed on the ship.”
“No, sir.” Blackthorne squared his shoulders. “It’s just...this whole business doesn’t sit right. Not only coming here. It feels like...like it’s the end. As if, whatever happens, the world won’t be the same.”
“You do know I hate it when you get these premonitions, don’t you?”
“I do, sir. I do.”
A gust of wind blew sand between them, and the trees behind them rustled.
“Listen to your man, God of Souls. He is a perceptive one.”
They turned to see three cloaked figures standing where the beach met the tree line. A breeze swirled around the trio, tugging at their grey cloaks, playing with wisps of their white hair. Silver eyes glinted under their hoods like stars surrounded by shadows, and their voices echoed together as they spoke once more.
“Welcome. We have been expecting you. We have the answers you seek, and more. Follow us.”
Trees parted as if alive, revealing a path through the wooded area and underbrush. The three women glided forward, Rafe and Blackthorne hurrying along in their wake. They were led to a perfect circle of trees with cascading red leaves encasing a clearing. The women slipped between the vegetation into the glade. Blackthorne and Rafe hesitated at the edge of the woodland.
“Join us in the circle, gentlemen. Come, come.”
Rafe took a breath and walked into the clearing, Blackthorne at his heels.
The women moved, forming a semi-circle in front of the two men. “We see between the worlds. We stand between the shadows and the stars.” They pushed down their hoods, wild manes of white hair and haggard faces exposed to the day. Three sets of eyes stared at Rafe with something akin to amusement. “We have been waiting for this day. For this and other days.” They laughed a cold, vibrating sound. “Your path is a long one, God of Souls, and you walk much of it blind. You seek for answers. You have questions. And always the maelstrom swirls around you as much as you try to escape.”
Rafe gritted his teeth, his patience exasperated. “Enough with the vagueness. Can you help me? I need—”
The Grey Sisters cackled again, interrupting him. “We know what you need. Do you? We saw you flailing here and yon. Following our clues. The trail of crumbs left for you. We know you seek the Horn of the Gods. We know you must retrieve the Bow of the Hunter.” The trio snuffled half a snort, half a laugh. “And you do not need our help to find the path that leads to the horn. That journey has been revealed to you through a little shipboard Mouse.”
Startled and angered by their unexpected reference, Rafe snapped, “What do you know of that? Have you been spying on me?”
The Grey Sisters chuckled. “We spy on everyone. Don’t think you are special. How else do we know when the threads of destiny are coming to their place in time?”
“Destiny?” Rafe snorted. “Is that what you call all this twaddle? Hidden clues, cryptic babble, obscure hints to secret locations wrapped in a nonsense song? More like luck than destiny that I solved the puzzle at all.”
/> “Perhaps.” The Grey Sisters shrugged. “Or perhaps luck is just another word for destiny. The world is how you perceive it, God of Souls. And all destiny needs its keepers. Even if those keepers are sometimes poets that think they are clever.” They sighed. “Sometimes we must make do with what we have and work to keep Fate on course. Even by spying.”
Rafe frowned, not liking the implications of what they said. “How much have you been meddling?”
“As much as necessary. Don’t be cross, God of Souls. Fate is nothing more than an alignment of happenstance. Sometimes, we must nudge such events to put everything in their place.” They grinned. “So, whether by luck or meddling, you come to where you need to be. Does it truly matter how?” The wind gusted as they spoke, swirling the edges of their capes and scattered bits of vegetation.
Rafe stared, spitting a retort. “Who are you to play with the existence of the world and my life?”
“We are the Society of the Shadow Guard.” The voices of the Grey Sisters turned grim and harsh, and the air lost its warmth. “We are the Keepers of Harmony against Chaos. We stand against forces older than the creation of this mortal world in a cause you barely comprehend.”
Rafe stood his ground even as his skin shivered but said nothing in reply. For a moment, they glared at each other, and then the Grey Sisters smiled. They spoke softly, gently. “You have what you need, however the cause. Stop fussing over the delivery. Petulance will gain you nothing.”
Rafe sighed, still angry, but gave ground. They were correct. He nodded his compliance.
“Good. Now you must act and sail your path for soon there will be need of the Horn. The bones are coming, rising to drag the living into the dark, deep sea.” This time the Grey Sisters shivered as a cold wind blew across the glade. “Travel the course you set, and the horn will be revealed by the Giant’s Eye.”
A trickle of lingering annoyance mixed with unexpected relief slid along the edge of his thoughts, and Rafe sucked in a breath. He let it out slowly, asking, “What of the bow?”
The three women smiled. “Our secret. One that comes with a price.” They all raised a hand and pointed at Rafe. “The price of a promise. The Hunter’s Bow is yours for a promise.” A silence settled over the glade. All movement, all sound ceased.
Rafe felt his magic stir in his blood as if he stood on the edge of something remarkable...or terrible. When he answered the sisters, his voice came out a whisper. “What promise?”
“To return here when you have retrieved them. Return here with the bow and the gift. Here at Raven Rock is where the beast must be summoned to this world. Here is where it will be killed. You must bring your army to the island. Your soldiers will meet his in these waters. Only here he can die. We have seen this, and you must promise.”
Rafe stared at them. “What are you talking about? I don’t have an army.”
“You will.” The sisters nodded in unison. “You will. They will come to you after she brings the gift. Promise us, and you will have the bow.”
Rafe licked his lips, confused but willing. He inhaled and said, “I promise.”
“Welcome to the first step of a greater destiny, God of Souls.” Their high-pitched laughter broke the quiet, and the sky erupted in thunder. “The bow lies with the girl who sees, underneath the temple rock she rules: an Oracle’s chamber underground marked by your Sign of the Star.”
“What?” The witches’ words took him aback. “Are you talking about the old passages beneath Rock Island Temple?”
The witches nodded.
Rafe stared, his mouth open. “That’s impossible. The temple may be old, but it’s not that old.”
“Of course not. Your Temple is merely the last place the Bow has rested. A whisper here, a twitch there, and the Horn and Bow fade in and out moving between time. The Society sees to that.” The three women smiled. “Now you have your answers. Seek the Horn first. It will be needed soon. Then the Bow to end the beast.”
They moved together and glided past Rafe and Blackthorne. “That is all you require this day. We await your return. Now come with us back to the beach.”
They slid through the trees, leaving Rafe and Blackthorne no choice but to follow them.
Once back to the shore, Rafe tossed a ball of energy into the sky, a burst of magic to signal the jolly boat to return. Blackthorne walked to the water’s edge, leaving him alone with the Grey Sisters. He stared, words on the edge of his lips. About the Society, his family, and so much more.
The women smiled, shaking their heads. “Save your questions. We will not answer. But we will tell you this. You walk between worlds, God of Souls. Between the Stars and the Night, between the Living and the Dead. Never fully of one, yet dwelling in all. We do not envy you.” A strange pitched cackle sounded in unison from the trio, and Rafe repressed a shudder.
Then he gave a nod, his queries unspoken, and a reply, “Not a sentiment I am unfamiliar with, good ladies. I doubt you’d find a soul in any world that would envy me.”
Another cackle and they said, “You might be surprised, God of Souls. Indeed, you might be surprised.” The three gave a final laugh and wandered back into the trees leaving Rafe to stare at their retreating backs. He turned to Blackthorne as he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Time to go, Captain.”
“Indeed.” They walked back to the water’s edge to wait for the jolly boat.
RAFE STOOD ON THE QUARTERDECK watching the ship cut through the waters, sailing away from Raven Rock. On either side stood Mouse and One-Eyed Anders, Blackthorne at the helm.
“Well, gentlemen, you two seem to be our resident authorities on where we’re headed. What’s our best course through the Pirate Keys to Shipwreck Cove?”
“The lad and I have been discussing it, sir, and it seems keeping to the edge of the seven unnamed keys, sailing through their channels, putting them between us and Black Sand Island would be best. If we come in along the backside of Shipwreck Cove, out of sight of Black Sand, we look to avoid the worst of them pirates.”
“Sounds reasonable. What do you think Blackthorne?” Rafe turned to his first mate.
“Avoiding pirates sounds very reasonable to me.”
“Then a winding sail through the seven keys and the backside of Shipwreck Cove it is. But we’ll man the cannon and the harpoons and set watch for marauding ships. Blackthorne, relinquish the wheel to Mr. Anders if you would and ready the ship.”
“Aye, Captain.” Blackthorne handed off the helm and walked to the lower deck while Anders eased the ship out to open water.
“Set the course, Mr. Anders.”
“Aye. Setting course, Captain. Straight to Pirate Keys.”
Chapter Fourteen
Pirate Keys
THE Jewel sailed into the Keys undetected, winding through the islands with shipboard tensions high and every sailor on alert. Not until they turned to exit their sheltering lee and tack around Shipwreck Cove did they find trouble.
The cry came from the spotters in the rigging. “Two ships dead ahead! Flying the Sword and Skull on their mast!”
“Are they moving towards us or blocking the channel?” Rafe shouted as he raised his spyglass to scan the horizon. Sure enough, he spotted two distinctive pirate flags waving in the distance.
“Blocking the port side of the channel, Captain! Trying to herd us, I think!”
“Sounds like they be trying to drive us round Shipwreck Cove into the rocks, Captain. Or to Black Sand and their waiting ships at Deadhead Cove.” One-Eyed Anders jumped into the conversation as Rafe confirmed the other ships’ positions through his spyglass.
“It seems so, Mr. Anders. Bring the ship port side and aim her between the ships. We’ll show those pirates that we can’t be herded like cattle!” To the rest of the crew, he shouted, “Full sail! Maintain speed!”
Blackthorne shot him a worried glance. “What are you planning, sir?”
Rafe grinned. “Do you remember Cockcrow Bay?”
“I do.
” Blackthorne groaned and then whirled, shouting down to the main deck. “Man the guns, boys! Captain’s going to try the Starburst maneuver! If they don’t run, we may be engaging the enemy!”
Rafe trotted to the far end of the quarterdeck and turned to face the bow of the ship. With his back against the stern, he grabbed hold of the outside rail with both hands, summoned his magic and ignited the corresponding power of his ship. He felt the hum of energy that snaked through the wood, the cadenced shuddering of the rudder, the thwack of the sails in the wind, the power running like lifeblood through the grain and fibre of the Jewel.
He connected to it, awakened the bond that held them together, made his magic and hers one. He focused their energy, controlled it, waited until the striking moment, and sent it barrelling through the ship on a stream of shining sea-blue energy. The blast shot straight out the prow into the sky and streaked across the air like lightning. It smashed into one of the pirate ships, shattering the foremast and leaving a smoking hole in the deck. Another blast followed, smashing into the other ship before Rafe collapsed to his knees, his heart racing, his breathing rapid.
Cheers echoed over the ship and shouts of, “They’re turning tail!” washed across deck.
Rafe leaned against the railing, croaking out the words, “Maintain the guns and the watch and our speed. Full sail.” Blackthorne relayed the quiet commands with barked orders, and the crew cut short their jubilation for duty. To Anders, the captain said, “Set our course around the island. Get us about Shipwreck Cove to the Giant’s Eye.” Then he leaned back against the rail and closed his eyes to rest.
“DONE WITH YOUR NAP, sir? We’ve arrived.”
The voice woke Rafe who still sat on the quarterdeck. He scrambled unsteadily to his feet as Blackthorne repeated what he said.
“We’ve arrived at the Giant’s Eye.”
Rafe looked out to see a beach and an island cliff off the starboard side of the ship. Vegetation, crags, and trees dotted the spit of land and the towering edifice, but a great outcropping could be clearly seen in roughly the shape of an eye.
