The Crew (Captains & Cannons Book 2)

by Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  Ethan tacked on that last part on the fly, hoping the men before him respected a cutthroat leader more than an easy pushover. The dark chuckles and gleams in the men’s eyes prompted him to finish the offer. “Well, what do you say?” he asked. “I have a regatta to enter, and I’m not in the mood to waste any time getting there.”

  The group looked at each other, and after a quick semi-huddle where hushed whispers were exchanged, Jean pivoted on his heels to face Ethan once more. “Alright, Captain,” he said. “We’ll join, but before that happens, I have two requests—simple ones really for a man of your power.”

  Ethan raised his eyebrow, faking as much as he could borderline indignation at being told what he had to do. In truth, he didn’t mind the negotiation, and he was thrilled he’d have more under his command shortly, but as Zoey had said, he had a part to play. “What, exactly, would you ask of me?”

  “First, there’s a ship out there, the Red Fish, that’s sailed the regatta the last couple of years,” he said. “If we cross her, I want her sunk and her captain keelhauled.”

  Ethan dropped his brow, unsure what to make of the bloodthirsty request. “Because…?”

  “Because she and her crew captured my brother’s ship, the Blind Mako, three years ago off the coast of Piram. They took his cargo, and after he refused to give up our family ring—a simple copper band worth nothing to anyone else—they killed him and the rest of the crew and sank the ship.”

  “You were there?” Ethan asked.

  Jean nodded and pulled his shirt aside to reveal a large scar on his upper chest. “Shot through the chest and fell overboard,” he said. “Managed to pull myself onto a rowboat that broke free once they’d left me for dead. Now, I want my revenge.”

  Ethan turned to Zoey, looking for more input on the matter, but it was Katryna who spoke first. “The Red Fish is captained by a man named Sir Gideon North—part of the Golden Templars.”

  “Who are they? Pirates?”

  “No. They’re men who’ve taken the idea of a zealous crusade to an entirely new level,” she said. “At times, they’ve been known to take ‘donations’ to help purge the land of darkness.”

  Ethan shook his head and cursed. “Figures.”

  “I told you morality was ambiguous at best around here,” Zoey said. “And to tack on to the end of that, if there’s a Golden Templar in the race, we don’t have to pick a fight with him. He’ll be looking to sink us on his own. Undead crew and all.”

  Ethan cursed again, but despite the grim warning, he wasn’t about to let it get to him. “Alright, Jean,” he said, turning his attention back to the man. “We run into this Red Fish, and we’ll sink her, but not at the expense of the race. Fair enough?”

  The man nodded. “Oui. Fair enough,” he said.

  “Good. What’s the other thing?”

  “The other thing is I want you to free our lads from those corsairs,” he replied. “I figure a task like that should be easy for the killer of a lich.”

  “Are you mad?” one of the others exclaimed. “Let’s set sail this very instant.”

  “We’re not leaving anyone behind,” Jean said evenly.

  “They outnumber us thirty to one,” the man protested further. “That’s not tucking tail. That’s being savvy.”

  “I said we’re not leaving anyone behind,” Jean said, a deep crease forming in his brow. “I’ll have a word outside with any man who says otherwise.”

  “Easy, Jean Bayard,” Ethan said, holding up a hand. “We’ll get your friends back. I promise you that, and everyone here is going to help.”

  Jean Bayard curled his lips into a devilish grin. “Good, because I tire only dreaming of revenge.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, once Marcus was thoroughly convinced Ethan, Zoey, and Katryna were all dry and thus allowed to move away from the hearth, the group of eight stood around the table as Katryna unrolled a large parchment. On it was a rough sketch of the corsair’s fort, done in charcoal. Loose, smudged lines formed the bulk of the map, though she had made finer, more intentional strokes for her labels.

  “The fort is built up on a small hill overlooking the entrance to the cove,” she said, pointing it out. “The mine they’ve got everyone digging at is about two miles south, and their galleon is anchored nearby with probably thirty or forty onboard at all times. Prisoners are kept in a building here, chained together, and the three buildings here are barracks where the corsairs will be. Last, the fort has six watchtowers spaced around a wood palisade, with embankments for cannons here, here, here, and here.”

  “Are those the cannons from town?” Ethan asked. “We noticed they were missing when we came in.”

  Katryna nodded. “They are. They brought them over, two at a time, with oxen, along with other tools and materials looted from town.”

  Ethan studied the map for a few moments and then a few more to verify his gut reaction. He hadn’t a clue what to do given their numbers. “Does anyone have any initial suggestions?”

  “What are these?” Zoey asked, tapping a spot on the map near the southern wall.

  “Kitchen, armory, and general stores, I think,” Katryna replied. “They never gave me the full tour, so it’s all guesswork.”

  Ethan perked. “Armory? How stocked of an armory?”

  Katryna shrugged. “Not sure, exactly, but enough to handle the needs of two hundred men.”

  “Any chance that means other than the guards, they’ll be unarmed?”

  The woman shook her head. “No. They keep their swords and pistols on them at all times, even when sleeping. The armory probably only has extra powder and shot, though it might have whatever weapons they took from their captives.”

  Ethan frowned and let slip a curse as his masterful plan was dashed before it had a chance to take off, even if he knew, ultimately, it was nothing more than wishful thinking. But it didn’t take long for Ethan to realize it didn’t matter if corsairs slept with their weapons if he could take care of all of them in one fell swoop.

  “You’ve got that look,” Zoey said, cutting into his thoughts.

  “Well, I’ve got a rough plan,” he said as he took a drink from his own stein. “We take out the guards on a couple of the towers and sneak through the gap. Once inside, we use surprise to our advantage and win the day.”

  “Straightforward. Bold. I like it,” Zoey said, raising her mug. “Course, now all we have to do is figure out that bit about using surprise to our advantage.”

  Ethan drummed his fingers on the table and hummed. Had he specced military genius, he felt as if he could’ve come up with something truly amazing. As it were, all he could do was voice the top of his wish list. “This would be so much easier if we could just nuke it from orbit.”

  “I doubt the prisoners would like that plan,” Zoey replied.

  “Guided missile, then. I heard a tomahawk cruise missile can hit the driver of a jeep going fifty from a thousand miles away. A few of those would take care of those barracks in no time.” Ethan paused and glanced at the others, who all looked at him like he was stark raving mad. “Never mind,” he said. “I’m rambling.”

  Confusion continued to plague the other pirates; Marcus as well, but Katryna’s eyes gleamed, and the corners of her mouth drew back. “We might not have those, but what you said gives me a grand idea.”

  Ethan tilted his head. “It does?”

  “It does,” she repeated. “We’ve got skeletal minions, right? Or will, at least. We strap some makeshift bombs to their chests, give them each a match cord to hold, and then send them into the barracks. They should be coordinated enough to self-detonate.”

  “Oh, I like that,” Ethan said, feeling the hairs across his arms raise in excitement. “I like that a lot. I mean, not only is it effective, but can we get any cooler than kamikaze skeletons?”

  “Blow them up? Bah!” Marcus said, thumping a heavy fist on the table. “All that time and material
wasted! Won’t even get to see how effective they could be.”

  “Think of it as an investment,” Ethan said. “They’re going to create a lot more material for you to use. Now then, what’s the downside to this plan?”

  “We have to get the skeletons into the barracks before the alarm is raised,” Katryna said. “That might be hard enough with the watchtowers and guards posted at each building alone, but there will also be at least three roaming patrols. The moment anyone stumbles on a body or sees a skeleton running around, they’ll raise the alarm.”

  “Or worse, put a shot through one of the powder kegs,” Jean Bayard finished.

  “Then I guess we better make sure they don’t see us,” Ethan said.

  “And how do you plan on doing that?” Jean asked.

  “A little bit of stealth and backstabs, courtesy of Zoey,” Ethan said, “and a whole lot of trickery, courtesy of Maii. I’m sure he can stall anyone we need long enough to set those bombs off. Once that’s done, we can certainly handle whoever’s left.”

  “Maii? Who’s that?” Katryna asked.

  “My ahuizotl.”

  Katryna’s eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped. The rest of the room had a similar reaction. “You have an ahuizotl?” she asked.

  “Didn’t I mention that before?” Ethan said, knowing full well he hadn’t and enjoying the surprise on the faces of all.

  “How is that even possible?”

  “Because I’ve had him since he was a pup, and he knows who’s the alpha in our group,” he replied. “Now then, how long will it take to get there? We need to strike tonight, and we’ve still got to get back to the graveyard, raise an army, and pick up Maii.”

  “We can’t strike tonight,” Marcus said. “There’s no possible way we can flesh out all the details in such a short period of time. Just coming up with a list of contingencies will take a week, and that’s not counting making sure we have an ironclad understanding of our foe’s habits now that the fall storms are upon us.”

  Ethan shook his head. “We don’t have to know everything, everything. We’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  “Yes, we do need to know,” Marcus said, thumping a heavy fist on the table. “If we’re going to be that sloppy, we might as well only rehearse our parts four score and seven times!”

  “We strike tonight,” Ethan said, deciding he needed to end this objection immediately. “This isn’t up for debate. Aside from the fact that I have to be at the race in a few days, those corsairs are going to realize a few of their men are missing soon, if they haven’t already, and once they find the bodies, we’re going to lose our element of surprise. Trust me. We have to go tonight.”

  “I’d like to, Captain,” Marcus said. “But even with your ahuizotl helping, I need time to familiarize myself with Lord Belmont’s staff and ritual book.”

  “Ethan is right,” Katryna chimed in. “There’s no point waiting for the grass to grow.”

  “Exactly,” Ethan said, nodding his head. “And surely you’ve had some success in raising the dead already, Marcus. The staff ought to make that tenfold easier.”

  “I’ve had some, yes…” the minotaur replied.

  Jean Bayard laughed. “Some. Is that what we’re calling it now?”

  “I’d call it tremendous if the lot of you would respect my rules!” Marcus bellowed. “How am I supposed to work when I’m dealing with wet floors all day?”

  “That has nothing to do with it.”

  “It has everything to do with it, you ungrateful sack of—”

  A single pistol shot ended the argument before it devolved any further. “Sorry, Captain, if I took too much liberty,” Zoey said, sliding the smoking weapon back into her waist band. “But I know how much you hate infighting. Figured the proper thing was to at least give them a warning before you start taking limbs.”

  Ethan hesitated, but only for a moment. His thoughts fell in sync with hers a moment later—a feeling that seemed almost supernatural—and he blew out a long puff of air as he readopted his part of the man in charge. “Let’s stay on task, gentlemen,” Ethan said. “Exactly how much success have you had?”

  Marcus grunted before sticking his pinkies in each side of his mouth and whistling sharply. From the back room, a skeletal dog bounded out. He stood a little over knee-high at the shoulders and kept a knotted sock firmly locked in its jaws. When he reached Marcus, he sat on his haunches while his tail wagged excitedly.

  Ethan took one look at the undead canine and sighed, already knowing the answer to the question he was about to ask. “Tell me you have a full kennel with thousands of these guys.”

  “Not quite,” Marcus replied.

  “Hundreds?”

  “Almost.”

  “Almost?” Jean repeated, chuckling.

  “One is closer to a hundred than a thousand,” Marcus growled.

  Ethan wanted to slump but forced himself to stay upright. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Zoey with an amused look upon her face. “What?” he asked.

  Zoey jerked back and laughed, clearly having been caught in her own little world. “I was just thinking, at least it's not a skeletal hamster.”

  The comment hit Ethan just right, and his face lit up as he smiled. “No. No it’s not,” he said before forcing himself to stay positive. “Alright, Marcus. If you can raise one not-skeletal hamster with that staff, you can raise us an army. I’m sure of it. Now make me a believer.”

  Chapter Seven

  Minions

  A couple of hours after the sun had set, underneath a cloudless night sky, the group managed to return to the graveyard at Lenada after Ethan had picked up Maii from the Victory and grabbed the staff and ritual book as well.

  Marcus stood near one of the older graves, gripping the staff tightly with one hand as the other held the leather-bound book aloft. At his side, Katryna kept an oil lamp raised so he could read. The minotaur murmured to himself the entire time as he did, asking himself questions about how things worked, only to chuckle a few moments later when his eyes apparently found the answer within the text.

  Ethan and Zoey waited patiently nearby, hands clasped with one another’s, while Maii used the clawed hand at the end of his tail to scratch himself behind the ears. Jean Bayard and the rest of the men stood spaced out around the area, hands nervously twitching on the hilts of sabers or butts of pistols.

  “I’m telling you, he’s watching me,” one of them said, his gaze fixated on the ahuizotl.

  Jean Bayard shook his head. “No, he’s not.”

  “Don’t tell me what my eyes can see,” he shot back. “That thing wants to eat me.”

  “It’s your imagination. Nothing more.”

  “Oh, I definitely want to eat you,” Maii replied, licking his chops and flashing his razor-sharp teeth. “But at least I’m willing to admit it.”

  The man’s pistol flew out of his waistband and pointed at the ahuizotl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” Ethan said, shooting Maii a displeased look. “He’s not eating anyone here.”

  Maii went into a deep, downward dog stretch. “As you say, master.”

  “I do say,” Ethan replied, hoping to not only nip this potential problem in the bud but also quell any and all fears growing in the others.

  Marcus turned, his brow knitted, and huffed. “I’m going to start now. Further interruptions may cause...interesting results.”

  “What about nibbles?” Maii asked, throwing a wicked look at the snack he wanted.

  “That would be an interruption,” Marcus said with a growl.

  “What if they are quiet nibbles?”

  “Maii!” Ethan barked. “I already told you once. You’re not eating anyone here.”

  “Who said I was asking about me? I’m not the one with the rumbling stomach.”

  A pang of hunger stabbed through Ethan’s gut, even more intense than the others had been. The rabb
it from before, an adequate snack at best, had become a distant memory, meal-wise. Now, Ethan could feel the approach of invisible claws, claws that would soon tear at his sanity if he didn’t eat relatively soon. That said, he managed to keep a stoic face. “I’m sure people can wait. Now stop causing trouble so Marcus can work.”

  The minotaur grumbled to himself before turning back around. He drew a deep breath and rolled his massive shoulders a couple of times like a prizefighter about to enter the ring.

  Marcus cleared his throat and raised the staff high. Words, dark and sourced from some strange language Ethan had no hope of understanding, flowed from his mouth. The tip of the staff started to sway, slave to his wrist. At first, the movements felt stiff and jerky but quickly fell into rapid, flowing motions, as if the necromancer swayed to the sounds of a tribal beat that only he could hear.

  The air all around took on an electric feel, raising the hairs on Ethan’s arms and the back of his neck. The temperature dropped suddenly as well, at least forty degrees, and breath from everyone hung in front of their mouths.

  “Yes, yes,” Marcus said as he focused on the ground at his feet. “Feel that? I call, and the grave answers.”

  Earth cracked into tiny fissures around the grave into a weblike pattern some five feet across. The air chilled ever more, yet at the same time, heat poured from Marcus’s staff, drawing everyone close to keep skin from freezing.

  A bit of bone pushed its way loose from the soil, drawing audible gasps from everyone—everyone but the necromancer. The minotaur’s eyes gleamed with maddening delight, further accentuated by the disturbing laugh that came from deep within his belly.