Trifles and Folly 2

by Gail Z. Martin

  In short, I needed a crew that could sail a Bermuda sloop and who didn’t mind thievery, men who could hold their own in a fight but weren’t bloodthirsty lunatics. It wasn’t always an easy combination to find. I had no problem finding candidates who fit the first three requirements, but it could be difficult weeding out the lunatics.

  It was the middle of the afternoon by the time I finished hiring crew. We’d given the Vengeance a fresh coat of paint and a new name for this trip since our ship was becoming a little too well known. As far as Philadelphia was concerned, I was captain of the Venture. That suited me just fine. While a reputation as a dangerous pirate was a benefit in some circles, in the company I was keeping in the city, it was more likely to result in a trip to the gallows, something I preferred to avoid. Sorren even managed to provide letters of marque for the Venture, making us a more genteel sort of pirate, a privateer.

  When I returned to the rooming house, I found that Coltt had packed all my things and was in the process of having them put aboard a wagon. “What the devil’s going on?”

  “Lawry’s gone. He was supposed to move from the Cummings’s house to the Hewsons, but that’s not where his carriage went. He left an hour ago, and I followed him straight to the port. He’s booked passage on a merchant ship there, the Sea Lass. Our ship is faster and better armed, but they’re likely to have more crew. They looked like they’d be sailing pretty shortly, so I packed your things and hoped you’d had success hiring a crew or we’ll lose Lawry once he heads out.”

  We had to scramble, but we were under sail shortly after Lawry left port, putting us far enough behind him to hopefully evade his notice, but close enough that we could follow. I used my water magic to slow his progress, while keeping the sea friendly to the Vengeance. Yet every time I used my magic, something alien touched my power. Whatever Lawry had in those two boxes was strong magic, and it was dark. I didn’t like its touch even at a distance. The feel of its magic gave me the shivers, and every time, the same image came to my mind. I had once passed the Half Moon Battery in Charleston late at night, and through the barred windows, I could hear the piteous wailing of those imprisoned within, criminals, debtors, and the deeply unlucky who served their sentences. It was a chilling sound, made the more so since few if any who heard it were likely to be moved to compassion for the rogues inside.

  Despite our quest, my mood lifted as we left the gray North Atlantic for warmer waters. We easily kept the merchant ship in our sights, with a plan to attack that night, before we reached Bermudian waters. Yet even the warmer temperature and bright sunlight couldn’t drive away my sense of misgiving. And the nearer we came to Bermuda, the more my magic tingled in the back of my mind. There was something strange about these waters. Growing up along the coast, I’d heard stories of ships lost to pirates and to the treacherous reefs. There were dozens, maybe hundreds of ships that had gone down over the last few hundred years in the shipping lanes between Bermuda and the mainland. Some blamed it on reefs while others cursed fickle winds and dangerous currents. But as we sailed onward, I recognized another reason these waters had become a graveyard of ships. Magic.

  I could feel the wild magic on my skin, making the hairs on my arms rise. It waxed and waned like the wind, swirled in eddies no one else could see, and slipped along the surface of the sea in places, racing the current. It was a tinderbox, waiting for a spark.

  “Do you think he knows we’re here?” Coltt asked.

  “More to the point—if he did know, would he care?” I wasn’t sure what the limits were for the magic of those confounded boxes, or what type of magic it was. The sooner they were off Lawry’s ship and onto ours, the happier I’d be.

  While the Vengeance couldn’t outgun a warship, our guns were more than adequate for frightening a merchant ship into submission. Adjusting our sails, we quickly pulled up alongside the Sea Lass, and readied our guns for a shot across their bow. But as my men went to load the cannons, the Sea Lass slowed and came around, and as it did so, wooden panels in the sides opened up, baring the muzzles of twenty cannons. That was five more cannons than the Vengeance carried, which wasn’t good. We looked up to see Lawry smirking at us from the deck, which now brimmed with heavily armed pirates, not the passive merchants we expected.

  Shots fired, close at hand. I looked up to see that eight of the ten new sailors I had hired in Philadelphia stood armed, their flintlocks pointed at the rest of the crew. Grappling hooks flew through the air, pulling the Vengeance closer to the “merchant” ship as rope ladders were flung over the larger ship’s sides and dozens of invaders scurried down the ropes to land on the Vengeance’s deck.

  “My sources were quick to tell me of your interest in my ship,” Lawry taunted. “It didn’t take much to buy the loyalty of your newest crewmen. You seemed quite fascinated with my expedition at the reception,” he said, fixing his gaze on me. “You’re just in time to see the real show.”

  Lawry’s pirates and the turncoat sailors prodded the rest of us to climb the rope ladders that hung from the sides of Lawry’s Sea Lass. We were badly outnumbered and while we would have given them a fight for their money had we the chance to draw our guns, as it was, we were outmatched.

  “Where are your divers?” I challenged Lawry. “Is this really all about retrieving treasure from old shipwrecks?”

  Lawry did not answer. He sent the majority of his sailors and the traitors from my crew back to their posts with a jerk of his head. Several armed guards herded most of my loyal crewmembers into the hold, while Lawry and three of his guards motioned for me, Coltt, and two of my crew into his cabin.

  There on the desk in his cabin sat the mirrored cube Coltt had spotted in Lawry’s room back in Charleston. And as Lawry entered the cabin and locked the door behind him, I saw the small cube on its chain around his neck. Lawry wore a triumphant smile, and the armed guards made him bold.

  “Treasure is only part of it,” he said. “Have you never heard the strange tales about these waters? Even the Spaniards whisper about the number of ships that have gone missing and the odd things they’ve seen if they were lucky to pass this way and leave alive. Some blame the currents, and some say it’s the winds, but I know the truth of it,” Lawry said with a conspiratorial grin. “It’s the magic.”

  I remembered how my own powers had sensed the oddness of the magic in this place, how my nerves jangled and my skin crawled. “Magic?” I said, wondering whether Lawry could sense my power. I clamped down my shielding, just in case.

  Lawry lifted the small cube on its chain and caressed it with his fingers. “I intend to own these waters. I’ll turn the wild magic to do my bidding, and when I am the master of this sea, I’ll have the power to take Bermuda for my own. We’ll control this shipping lane, and all who want to pass will pay tribute or be destroyed. We’ll have gold aplenty from the wrecks, and time enough to loot them when our men aren’t waylaying ships.”

  “How do you plan to do that? There’s a British fort on Bermuda. Magic or not, why would they just give up without a fight?”

  Lawry’s smile broadened. “Let me show you.” He jerked his head, and two of his guards pushed one of my crewmen forward. Lawry removed the cube necklace from around his neck and held it out toward the frightened hostage. The mirrored surface of the cube began to shimmer and glow. It flared, and for an instant, I thought I saw a reflection of the crewman’s terrified face reflected and distorted in its surface before the man fell down dead without a word.

  Coltt and I surged forward to take Lawry, but the guards held us back. He turned his cube on the second crewman, who met the same fate as the first. This time, I was certain that I saw a reflection of his face on the small cube.

  “What is that thing?”

  Lawry fingered the cube fondly. “A tool. What matters more are the souls in my cache that amplify my magic, giving me the power to bend this region’s wild magic to my will.” He walked over to the large cube and held the small cube out toward it. Both cubes pulsed
with a bright glow, and I felt a surge of old, strange magic as a flicker of light moved from the small cube to the large one. Worse than that, in my mind, I heard both of my crewmen scream, and I knew in every fiber of my body that it was their souls held prisoner within that awful cube.

  Coltt and I exchanged glances as the realization struck us. Not soul cash. Soul cache. A hoarding place for stolen souls, kept prisoner for eternity, robbed of their final rest. A source of power that Lawry could draw upon at will to strengthen his power. In time, he would become invincible. Perhaps he already was.

  Lawry seemed to tire of impressing us. He turned to the guards. “Go aboard their ship and disable their guns. Take their firearms, and leave the two of them tied up. Set a fuse in their munitions stores, and rig their sails to carry them into the shipping lanes.” He looked back to Coltt and me. “I do so love a good fireworks show.”

  “And my crew?”

  Lawry gave an exaggerated show of false remorse. “Unfortunately, they will not be joining you. They’re much more valuable to me as fuel, so to speak. But the captain and first mate of the Vengeance, now that’s a prize that lets me send a warning to the region.”

  Lawry clucked his tongue. “Oh yes, I learned the true name of your ship despite its hasty repainting and new name. You’ve made quite a reputation in a short time, and it will serve me well to let your ship explode where others will see it, where the wreck will bear witness that someone was able to best you.” He nodded to his guards. “Get them out of here.”

  Coltt and I struggled, but Lawry’s guards had us outgunned and outnumbered. I could see anger and defeat in Coltt’s eyes. Lawry left us, and within a few minutes, as the guards bound us and began to make their way back to the Vengeance, I heard the silent screams of my crew in my mind as Lawry fed their souls into his soul cache.

  How could Sorren have missed such a thing? Then again, unless he had ever seen the words actually written, there was no way for him to know that “cash” was “cache.” But I had bigger worries. I had no idea how to keep Coltt and myself from being blown sky high, let alone stop Lawry from making himself master of some of the most valuable shipping lanes in the Atlantic and Caribbean.

  Lawry’s guards made short work of their assignment. They tied us hand and foot, and dropped us like luggage in my cabin aboard the Vengeance, taking care to lock us in and leave with the key. Before they left us, they clipped us both soundly on the head with the grip of their cutlasses. Coltt was knocked cold; I ended up with a hell of a headache, but I managed not to lose consciousness, though my vision blurred and I swore I could feel every beat of my heart like a drum in my head.

  I could hear Lawry’s men making their way into the cargo hold of the ship, looting our guns and setting the fuse in our munitions store. Once they cut our ship free, they’d probably leave a man aboard long enough to light the fuse, and the unfortunate man would have to jump ship and swim back as the Vengeance caught wind in its sails to carry it away.

  We didn’t have much time, but I wasn’t about to lie back and wait for the ship to explode beneath me. I could still hear the echoes of my dying crew’s screams, and the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I rolled closer to my hammock and kicked with my bound feet until I sent a pair of boots flying from under the bed. I managed to get my bound hands inside the right boot, and with my fingers, nudged at the blade concealed in the toe until its tip peeked into view.

  Bracing the boot and its knife as best I could, I sawed away at my bonds, having no idea how long it would take Lawry’s men to complete their task. They had used good hemp rope, and it seemed to take forever to free my hands and feet. Coltt was still unconscious. I paused to check for a pulse and was relieved to find that he was breathing, but he would be no help to me. I tried the door and threw myself against it, but it was made of sturdy oak and held fast. I resolved to hide a spare key within my cabin should I—and the Vengeance—survive.

  I heard the clatter of the grappling hooks as they were withdrawn, heard the creaking of the ropes and mast as the sails were hoisted. Lawry’s men were ready to light the fuse and abandon us to the current. We were running out of time.

  Desperately, I cast about the cabin for a weapon. Lawry’s men had been efficient in tossing the contents of my drawers and chest onto the floor in search of firearms or swords, all of which were missing. I kicked at a bundle of clothing and found it strangely solid. Curious, I bent down and moved the shirt and cloak aside. Beneath them were the Dow pipes.

  I had told the captain’s widow that I could not play, but that was a lie. I had been afraid of the claim the pipes might place upon my soul if my magic woke them. I stared at the pipes, knowing that whether I was blown to bits or used the magic of the pipes, my soul appeared consigned to Perdition. I glanced back at Coltt’s still form, and closed my eyes, hearing the desperate, anguished screams of my murdered crew. Rage filled me. I picked up the pipes and walked to the porthole as I felt the Vengeance’s sails fill with wind and carry us away.

  The sight of Lawry’s ship receding was not what filled me with dread. A strange mist had risen from the water, and as far as the eye could see from side to side, the horizon glowed an eerie green color. I stole a glance at the compass on my desk. The needle had gone crazy, bouncing from side to side erratically, giving me no indication of our course, but confirming my suspicion. Lawry had begun to draw upon the soul cache to work his magic.

  I took a deep breath, and called my magic to me. First, I reached out in my own power to the water, using it to slow our progress, keeping us in sight of Lawry’s ship. I sent a surge of power toward Lawry’s vessel, giving it a sudden patch of rough sea to keep them occupied. Then I lifted the pipes and began to play.

  I only knew one song for the pipes, Loch Lomond. It seemed fitting to play a song written by a man about to be hanged, a man who expected to return to his beloved homeland by the “low road”— his spirit walking through the valley of the shadow of death. I saw no way to defeat the burning fuse amid our powder kegs, but I had every intention of taking Lawry and his infernal cubes with me. And as I played, my anger called up my magic, and my magic through the pipes called to the spirits.

  With the screams of my crew still fresh in my mind, I swept the magic of the pipes toward Lawry and his cube. My anger fairly vibrated through the music, and I felt the pipes find the imprisoned spirits within the cube. There were many, many more than I had imagined. Not just my poor crew; oh no, there were hundreds of souls stored in Lawry’s soul cache. I remembered the feckless vagrants and servants back in Charleston that had been found dead without a mark on them, and I knew where their souls had gone. I put everything I had into playing those damned pipes, trusting its magic would do as its doomed owner had originally intended and free the spirits to go home.

  All around me, I could feel the magic rising. Outside the porthole, a green glow now stretched from the sea into the heavens, but Heaven had nothing to do with this cursed phosphorescence. Above me, I could hear the winds howl, and the sea beneath us had begun to pitch with the frenzy of a storm. On and on I played, and I heard the howls of the imprisoned spirits grow to a maddening pitch, echoing the anger that moved my fingers over the chanters with more speed and skill than I had ever mustered on my own.

  But the magic of the pipes was not selective, and too late I remembered what had doomed their maker. The seas of the Scottish coast were not the only ones filled with the wrecks of ships and the skeletons of the lost. These waters off the Bermuda coast held an untold number of ill-fated ships and their drowned crews and passengers. Some had gone to their watery graves by accident of fate, while many more had been sent there by treachery and murder. All had been cheated out of their full lifespan, and as they rose, I knew that they had one thing in common. They were very angry.

  The spirits whipped around the Vengeance like hurricane winds, tattering its sails and stirring the sea to white-capped fury. The winds blasted open the portholes and the door of the hold a
nd set upon me with such power that I feared I might not keep my feet. They tore at my hammock and sent my papers flying, buffeting me. I heard the winds howl through the hatch and heard the spirits toss the contents of the hold as if the heavy casks were empty. With a crack, the lock on the door to my cabin split in two and the door swung open.

  I had loosed the ghosts from the soul cache and summoned the spirits from the sea, but I had no idea of how to set them free. Yet as they whipped around me, plunging the cabin into an icy chill, I sensed… curiosity. Oh, there was malice aplenty, but not directed toward Coltt and me.

  Lawry was a different story.

  I felt the spirits of the soul cache and the sea dead gather their forces, even as, across the waves of power and water, I felt Lawry summon his power. All along, I had played verse after verse of Loch Lomond, over and over, until my fingers ached and my lungs felt as if they were on fire. I played with crazed speed, off-key, a refrain of the damned. Lawry sent his power along the channels of magic in a blast he hoped would scatter the spirits. It was magic worked by a living mage, magic that took the high road. The spirits were ready for him, and they massed their power, aided by the Dow pipes, and the magic of a mage surrounded by the dead. The low road, the pathway of the dead, was faster.

  Through the magic, I could feel when the cube prison exploded, knew it sent mirrored shards at lethal velocity all around as the tormented wraiths that had been held captive burst forth. Empowered by the magic, they did not rise as mere vapor; no, these revenants possessed the will and wherewithal to set themselves upon their captor and his guards. I heard their screams across the water even as my bond through the magic showed me the attack, and I watched the enraged spirits strip skin from bone and suck the breath from their bloodied, terror-struck keeper.