Orc Pirate: Raiding the Seven Seas

by Simon Archer

  My crew all froze in place and turned to face the guards as they moved to surround us. Mary, Shrike, and Jimmy all put their hands up or sheathed their weapons. Daka and Drogar, chewing back their battle lust, took a bit longer, prolonging the standoff until I let out a low, warning growl in their direction. That did the trick.

  The leader of the guard, a grizzled half-blooded orc wearing a steel cuirass and carrying a short musket, gave the situation a quick once over before looking to me with recognition plain on his square features.

  “Cap’n Bardak Skullsplitter,” he said as he fixed his black eyes on me. “Should have known ye’d be involved in this fracas.”

  “Good to see ye, too, Sergeant Ulgar.” I chuckled and nodded as the bloodlust started to cool. “Seems we may have saved ye an’ yers a bit o’ trouble.”

  “Aye, mayhap. Who’re these blokes, anyhow?” The sergeant nudged one of the dead Imperials with the toe of a boot. “Anythin’ to do with that fleet squattin’ just outside o’ cannon range before the harbor?”

  “Fair bit, aye.” I rested both hands on the butt of my axe and looked over the carnage. “Mary, how’s your find?”

  “Alive, Captain,” she replied.

  “Help him live ‘til tomorrow while we talk,” I ordered. “The rest o’ ye dogs help her out an’ do what she says.”

  The rest of my crew let out a chorus of ayes and set to helping the witch as I looked back at Ulgar. The old half-orc met my gaze and frowned.

  “So, ye say these ‘mayhap’ have somethin’ to do with our floatin’ problem outside yon harbor?”

  I nodded. “Apparently, the Admiralty has got it in for the free towns and greenskins in general now. Lord Broward tried to assassinate me.”

  “How’d that go for him?” Ulgar snorted.

  “About as well as ye might expect,” I replied with a grim smile. “Left the bastard’s head lyin’ on the cobbles for his trouble, and Kargad an’ the crew started a few fires and holed a few hulls before we sailed off.”

  “Found another that’ll make it, Captain,” Mary called.

  “Right,” Ulgar grunted and looked back at his men. “Rig some stretchers, you lot. Load ‘em up and let’s get back behind the walls. Might be more o’ these whoresons still lurkin’ about.”

  As ragged and mismatched as the Jetsam guard were in their armor and kit, they were disciplined. That was one thing that the empire had taught the orcs, we couldn’t just mass up in a horde behind a strong leader and expect to win. We had to learn to give and take orders, to not fight back against a change that might be in the best interest of our survival. Sure, it ran counter to our nature, and we had more than our share of howling berserkers, but in the end, we just learned new ways to make war, and we orcs made damned good war.

  It didn’t take long to get the survivors patched up enough to load them on makeshift stretchers and set out. We weren’t far from town, and there was a crowd gathered at the gate by the time Sergeant Ulgar led us through.

  Jetsam had grown since the last time I’d visited. It had mostly been an orcish settlement, established by a retired orcish captain who’d lost a leg and an eye fighting the Empire prior to Asmond Blackburn and his penchant for assimilating non-humans. Previously, the town had a lot fewer people, but now, there was a mingling of orcs, humans, some dwarves, and even a passel of goblins. There was an undercurrent of tension that wasn’t hard to pick up, and the stink of too many bodies in too small of a space.

  The buildings were wood and brick, there was plenty of straw to go around, and trade was usually good enough to allow tar for waterproofing wooden roofs. There was quite a mix of architectures, too. Large, open structures of wood and mortar for orcs, smaller, occasionally two-story narrow wood and brick buildings for humans, low stone and brick constructions for dwarves and goblins both.

  Ulgar caught my appraising look and gestured about. “Refugees. Other free towns in the islands aren’t so well provisioned or protected.”

  “What’s keeping them out of the harbor?” I asked. “Can’t be just your cannon.”

  “Ain’t,” the half-orc replied matter-of-factly. “We got a great chain we use to secure the inlet, raised the thing soon as we saw their sails on the horizon. Their witches can’t abide the iron to hex it out o’ their way, and they don’t dare risk gettin’ a ship trapped in it.”

  That explained the saboteurs. Send a sneaky crew in to kill guards and then sink the chain, so the Commodore and his warships could sail right in and shell the town to bits. If the saboteurs fired the powder stores or ruined the cannons in the process, all the better.

  “Ye think this explains them?” I pointed my thumb over my shoulder and back in the direction of our recent battle.

  The sergeant nodded as he led us through the dirt and cobbled lanes to a large stone-and-wood structure. “Aye. Bastard Imperials want to crack us like a nut.” He snorted and spat as we paused at the large doorway. “We have a healer I can send my boys to, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the help o’ yer witch.”

  I shot her a glance where she’d been walking beside the two wounded orcs on their stretchers. “Mary!”

  She looked up. “Aye, Captain?”

  “I’m sendin’ ye with these boys to the town healer. Fill him in an’ help if ye can. The rest of us will see to all our non-magical supplies.” I pointed deeper into the town. “There’s an inn closer to the docks under the sign of a drunken goat. Meet us there when yer done.”

  “Of course, Captain.” Mary gave me an odd look as she nodded.

  “All right, you lot,” Ulgar shouted. “Any o’ ye not on stretcher duty, partner up and get back on watch. Keep close. Forest patrols are to pull back, so sound that horn. I don’t want to risk losing any more o’ my people to these Imperial snakes.”

  While he went about rousting his own men and reassigning them, I turned to the rest of the crew. “Jimmy, Daka, and Dogar, ye louts, pitch in and help Ulgar and his mates. Since the Imperials are goin’ after the free towns an’ all, we should lend a hand where we can.”

  “For free, Cap’n?” Jimmy interjected.

  I whirled on him with a low growl, and he shut up and just gazed at me with wide eyes.

  “Jimmy, I know ye mean well, an’ that ye think we need chests o’ gold for any bit o’ charity,” I argued, “but it ain’t The Hullbreaker way to just let these folk flounder an’ sink.”

  “Besides,” Daka added, “we need friends. Ports to hide us.”

  Jimmy shook his head and laughed. “Aye, then. Ye have the right of it, an’ old Jimmy Mocker’s the fool.” He turned and made a bow to me. “My apologies, Captain.”

  I nodded and reached out to clap him on his shoulder, and he staggered under the impact with a wince. “Good man.” I then motioned to Shrike. “Let’s go buy supplies and arrange to get them carried back to The Hullbreaker.”

  The new crewman gave me an odd look but fell in on my left as I started walking away. Mary had already disappeared off to the healer’s with the stretcher-bearing orcs, and the other crew joined Sergeant Ulgar and his other men as they set out.

  “What d’ye need me to do, Cap’n?” Shrike asked as we made our way down towards the docks.

  “I like to have a crew that I can count on to do their duties without me breathin’ down their necks,” I replied. “Ye’re new aboard ship, so it’s yer turn t’come with me an’ help see to the resupply.”

  “And that’s it?” Shrike’s brow furrowed, a crease forming in his forehead

  “Aye,” I said with a laugh. “Did ye expect something else?”

  “Reckon not.” He shrugged and smiled crookedly before pushing his long, black hair back out of his eyes.

  As I’d noticed when we entered, Jetsam was tense, simmering with rage at the Empire and the Admiralty. The streets were crowded with refugees and the dispossessed. It was one time that the known hospitality and strength of Jetsam was its downfall. The town couldn’t support these people for long. All it
would take was a little spark to set things off: a couple of weeks on short rations, illness, sabotage, or assassination.

  The Empire was well-equipped to make any and all of those things happen. They’d turned the most welcoming of the free towns into a powder keg, and Commodore Arde held the lit match over the fuze.

  There was a market down near the docks, where traders would set up shop to offload whatever goods they’d managed to buy from the ships that came through.

  I could tell at first glance that the tables were sparse already. Resupplying would cost us dear, but the guards and the town chief knew me. We’d get what we needed, though we’d likely end up owing more than a handful of favors once we were done. Squaring my shoulders for the task ahead, I led Shrike into the market.

  A sense of desperation had already taken root with the appearance of the Imperial ships out beyond the entrance to the harbor. From the docks, I could see two of the five vessels, the largest pair, most likely, riding at anchor beyond cannon range. The criers’ shouts were shrill in my ears, their insistence grated on me even before we stopped at the first table.

  It’s no myth that an army travels on its stomach, and the same is true for sailing. Food and drink served better to keep up morale than extra cannonballs and barrels of powder, so that’s where we started.

  I managed to secure about half the dried fruit that I wanted for twice the price and moved on with a low growl.

  From there, it only got worse. Rum and beer were going for almost five times the usual price, beans for twice, and dried goat for far more than it was worth. I stubbornly kept going as my reserves of gold diminished. A captain had to do right by his crew, damn it all.

  Shrike could sense my growing irritation, and, to his credit, tried to divert me. “How ‘bout we grab a drink at that inn, Cap’n, where ye wanted Mary to meet us?”

  I nodded, happy for the excuse. We left haggling over the cost of dry, salted fish (by the barrel or by the pound) and walked over to The Drunken Goat. It wasn’t as crowded as I’d expected from past visits. Only five or six locals occupied tables or seats at the bar. Greza, the owner of the place, was a muscular half-orc woman with a dueling scar over her right eye. She was manning the bar and gave me a nod of recognition before motioning for us to sit anywhere in the mostly empty common room.

  “Even ye have to show yer silver, Bardak,” she called to me as I claimed an empty table with Shrike.

  I nodded and jingled a belt pouch in her direction. It was woefully light after the purchases I’d made for The Hullbreaker, but there was more than enough to treat the shore crew to a few rounds.

  “Good enough,” she said as I poured a couple of silver pennies onto the table. That got us a ceramic jug of strong-smelling rum and some chipped mugs, walked out to the table by Greza herself.

  “Thank ye,” I said as she set the drink on our table.

  She nodded, scooped up the coin, and returned to her place behind the bar. Shrike and I watched her go, then I gave him a nod and poured us both a generous drink of the strong, Jetsam rum.

  “How long ‘til the other’s get here, Cap’n?” Shrike asked as he downed a swig of the rum and made a face. “Gods! This is strong stuff!”

  “Likely close to dark,” I replied before I took a drink of my own. The rum had a burnt caramel taste to it and scorched my throat on the way down before its warmth spread to my belly. “I think we’ve got all the supplies we can from here. Ain’t as much as I’d like, but it’ll get us out beyond the Empire’s reach.”

  “Where are we bound to then?” Shrike cupped the mug between his hands and stared down into it.

  “There are free towns out westwards towards Milnian territory, or we could set course towards the Orcish lands in the frozen north.” I shrugged. It didn’t really matter. We needed gold, supplies, ships, and crew if we were going to mount a successful campaign of piracy against the Admiralty and Erdrath shipping, and we could get that in either of those places.

  Once again, Shrike seemed to read my mind. “We need gold, aye?”

  I fixed him with a look I normally reserved for idiots, and he dipped his head.

  “Stupid question, I know,” he admitted, “but what would ye say to Bloody Bill’s treasure?”

  I took another drink of rum and straightened in my chair. Bloody Bill Markland was a legend among pirates and privateers. If any of the stories were to be believed, he had more kills, captures, and gold than any other pirate known. He always sailed out of nowhere, cannon’s blazing with a crew of vicious scoundrels ready to swarm aboard a disabled ship or sack an unprepared town.

  After a quiet minute or two, I frowned. “Ye were his first mate, ye said. He left ye an’ the crew to Commodore Arde and fled with his witch, aye?”

  Shrike nodded and took a small swallow of his rum. “Bill was thinkin’ o’ retirin’, hid his treasure on seven islands in the Archipelago, always usin’ expendable crew to go ashore and bury it. The story was always the same. We’d anchor, Bill would take a newly pressed group ashore, then a few days later, he’d walk out of the forest alone, row back to The Fallen Angel, and we’d set off again.”

  “Do ye know where any of these hoards are?” I demanded.

  He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “I know where they all are, Cap’n Bardak Skullsplitter, an’ I’m happy to lead ye there.”

  I tossed back the last of my cup of rum, refilled it, then leaned back and crossed my arms over my broad chest. Shrike was proving to be a useful member of the crew, and if he did truly know of Bloody Bill’s treasure, he’d be even more valuable. Thing is, could I trust him? I didn’t have any reason to, but then, I didn’t have a reason not to, either. I was willing to chance it.

  “What do ye get out of this?” I asked at last.

  Shrike shrugged his thin shoulders. “I get me fair share and keep me head on me shoulders,” he replied with a grin. “Bill knew o’ ye an’ respected ye enough to sail for greener pastures whenever he heard ye were near.”

  “Now yer just flattering me, sailor,” I said with a shake of my head and a snorted laugh, even if Shrike didn’t have the look of a liar about him. “Color me intrigued, Mister Shrike, so I’ll give ye a chance. Once we’re back on The Hullbreaker, we’ll chart a course to the closest o’ these treasure islands and see what we can see.”

  “Thank ye for yer trust, Cap’n,” he said quietly.

  “It ain’t trust yet, Shrike, but ye do yer new clan right, and we’ll have yer back.” I raised my cup to him.

  Shrike nodded, lifted his cup, and we lightly tapped them together, then drank. The deal was done.

  8

  When the Drunken Goat’s door slammed open, I looked up, expecting Mary and the rest of the crew. Instead, a bulky orc with a thick mane of grey hair and a bushy beard much the same stalked in. I recognized him immediately: Sturmgar Ironhand, the founder and lord of Jetsam, and sponsor of any number of smaller free towns here on the edge of the Empire.

  When he headed for our table, I gave Shrike a nudge and rose respectfully to my feet. Shrike was smart enough to follow my lead, down to the chest thump salute I gave the old orc. Sturmgar was that rarest of things, an orcish war leader who retired on his feet with his heart beating. He’d fought the Empire before Blackburn’s rebellion and taken his ship to the far reaches, along with his wealth, to establish the first of the free towns, Jetsam.

  He was an old orc, missing an eye and stomping around on a wooden peg, but his shoulders were still broad and unbent, and his good eye still burned with passion. Beneath a seal fur cloak, he wore a coat of sharkskin and a broad, black leather belt. His pantaloons were a deep, blood red, and his one boot was a well-worn black.

  Sturmgar was one of my few heroes when I was a young orc and a large part of the reason I went to sea in the first place.

  “Bardak Skullsplitter,” the old orc drawled after he stopped and looked me up and down. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you and your privateering on the Milnian f
ront. What brings you to Jetsam and by land?” He grinned somewhat lopsidedly. “And who’s yer human mate, here?”

  “This is Shrike,” I replied as I scratched my beard thoughtfully. “I picked up him an’ a witch up in the Insmere dungeons. The Empire tried to assassinate me, so I killed Lord Broward and sailed out, along with some useful-seeming prisoners. My crew left behind a few cannonballs, some chain shot, an’ a few fires.”

  He let out a booming laugh that turned every head in the place, then spun one of the extra chairs around and sat down heavily. “Good for ye!”

  Shrike and I took that as a sign that we should sit down as well, and I poured the old orc an offering of rum in one of the extra cups Greza had brought. He took it and waited until I had poured for Shrike and myself, then raised his cup. I lifted my cup as well, Shrike followed, and we lightly clinked them together in a silent toast.

  “So,” I said, focusing on Sturmgar, “what can we do for ye?”

  He chuckled. “See right through me, do you?” he answered a question with a question, then shook his head. “Fine. Ye didn’t lose yer ship, did ye?”

  I shook my head. “She rides at anchor off the coast of the island, out of sight of the Commodore’s fleet.”

  “Good.” He nodded slowly. “First, then, I want to thank all o’ ye for dealing with our little infiltrator issue. Likely, if ye hadn’t been out there as well, they’d have made it in and disabled the cannon and opened the harbor. All the refugees make it hard to keep Jetsam secure, but I ain’t like to turn them away.”

  Sturmgar looked down at his large hands where they rested on the scuffed, rough-hewn tabletop. “What can ye tell me of what’s going on? Refugees speak of Admiralty ships shelling the free towns, capturing and scuttling their ships as they sail through the archipelago. Used to be there was a peace ‘tween us and Erdrath, but it seems as if that’s gone straight to the hells without a by yer leave.”

  “Aye,” I said as I poured another round. Shrike gave his cup a queasy look, and I hoped he wouldn’t get ill where Sturmgar could see. “I’ve the word of a witch, a pirate, and my own eyes and ears that the tide’s turned against us. Commodore Arde is out there waiting for Admiral Layne and his fleet. He’s got time to kill, and he knows ye don’t.”