by Rob May
‘Whose bunk is that?’ Kal asked in a low, dangerous voice.
It turned out to be the doctor’s. Kal shook her head in furious disappointment. ‘What are we going to do with you, Sawtooth?’ she said. ‘Maybe if you want the treasure all for yourself so bad, we should tie you to a gold bar and throw you overboard.’
‘Hang him!’ Dogwood said with a grin.
The doctor was as white as a sheet, and looked resigned to his fate. And Kal was resigned to hers, too: a fate that had decreed that she would take someone’s life tonight.
‘Lu,’ she said. ‘Fetch the rope again.’
* * *
They gathered once more on deck under the mainmast. While the doctor stood with Lula, who had even made him hold the coil of rope, Kal addressed the crew.
‘All your past crimes and transgressions were wiped clean the moment you pledged yourself to me,’ she reminded them. ‘But I’m going to show you now that there will be discipline and justice aboard the Swordfish.’
‘We’re all dead anyway,’ the doctor said in a quiet voice. ‘Whether by your hand, or the Magician’s, we’re all going to be lying in Whalo’s arms at the bottom of the sea before this business is over.’
Kal let the doctor’s words hang in the air for several silent moments, before she revealed her course of action. ‘Hanging is too good for you, Sawtooth,’ she said. ‘Wait here.’
She left them in suspense and returned to her cabin. When she came back, she brought with her an item that Dead Leg had once fondly referred to as the ship’s pussy: a leather baton that sprouted nine three-foot-long thongs of knotted corded cotton.
‘Lula,’ she said to her quartermaster. ‘I think it’s time the doctor puckered up and kissed the wooden lady.’
The rest of the crew let out a nervous laugh at this expression. The doctor was stripped to the waist, turned to face the mast and made to hug it. Lula tied his hands with the rope. He squeezed his eyes shut as everyone stepped clear, and Kal shook loose the cat.
‘You’re going to get through this, Doctor,’ Kal said, ‘because we still need good men like you in our crew. Everyone here is too valuable to lose. You’ll get your treasure eventually, but you’ll always have these scars to remind you what you risked to get it.’
The cat made a soft whipping sound as it fell, but the doctor’s screams split the predawn sky.
Kal worked in silence, but inside a part of her was also screaming at what she had to do.
IV.iv
Hempen Halter
The Swordfish blew into Port Black on the westerly wind just as the sun started to rise over the Purple Mountain. The town was still in darkness, and it was quiet, like it always was in the mornings. But it was not unguarded …
A new ship lurked in the middle of the bay: an enormous galleon. It was the kind of ship that in years gone by might have formed part of the Republic or Eldragoran treasure fleet: a slow, hulking container ship that hauled plundered gold and artefacts from one end of the world to the other. No sooner had Kal noted the newcomer than a puff of smoke signalled the imminent arrival of a cannonball.
‘Incoming!’ Dogwood yelled as the shot hurtled towards them. But he needn’t have worried: it plopped into the water a good fifty yards off their larboard bow.
Lula had a telescope trained on the galleon. ‘That had to be a warning shot,’ she said. ‘Nobody shoots that poorly. The ship is in bad shape too; it looks like a patched up wreck. There are no lanterns on board even—how are they running the guns in the dark? … Wait a minute!’
‘What?’ Kal said, joining Lula at the rail.
‘Zombies,’ she said. ‘That ship has a zombie crew.’
Kal let out a harsh laugh. This was the state of the Magician’s defences? Kal’s confidence surged. Now that they were finally free of the curse themselves, the Magician had no power over them. His threats were all illusion, and his army was a shambling mess. The powerful and mysterious sorcerer was, to Kal, now simply a petty crook and a trickster. Taking him down would be a quick and easy pleasure.
‘Lu,’ she said. ‘Help me at the tiller.’
Together they tackled the heavy wooden arm, and the Swordfish elegantly fishtailed between the galleon’s subsequent shots, which fell on either side and behind the playful schooner. The Swordfish slipped into the centre of a group of closely-moored brigs and let out the anchor lines. Kal wasted no time in dispensing orders:
‘Take up all the canvas, lower the flag and strike the figurehead. I want to see bare poles before the sun comes up. We want to look liked we’ve been moored here all night. This ship isn’t the Swordfish any more. We’re all going ashore separately, and nobody’s to let on that we’re back in town. I want to surprise the Magician if I can.’
Kal looked over her crew. ‘Line up by the capstan for your orders.’
Dogwood had hauled up a crate of treasure from the hold, which he had bagged up into equal portions. ‘Are you sure about this, Moonheart?’ he grumbled as the crew started to gather, their eyes bright with expectation.
‘It’s a gamble,’ she admitted. ‘But that’s what I do best. Trust me, Silas!’
She turned to the line of sailors, who were as well-ordered and respectful now as she had ever seen them. ‘Alright, listen up,’ she said. ‘I’m giving each of you a thousand doubloons. Exactly how you spend it is up to you, but I want three things done before the day is out. I want you equipped for battle, so grab some close combat weapons: muskets, swords, axes—whatever you’re comfortable with. Dogwood’s going to secure us some cannon, so I also want each of you to recruit a new gunner for our crew. We need to be able to sail and shoot, so we need more hands. Find someone you trust, and pay them whatever it takes to secure their loyalty. And finally I want it known that there’s more treasure where this came from for other captains who are willing to fight for the Republic.’
She looked into each of her crew’s faces. ‘I promised that I’d release you from the Magician’s curse. This time tomorrow he will be dead: I’ll deal with him personally. Our real enemy is the Armada that’s following in our wake. If we can show them enough strength, we can make them back down. These islands will be safe again!’
Safe under Ben’s control again, she thought to herself wryly as the crew nodded along with her. When all this was over, she was going to take her new crew far, far away to lands where no one had even heard of the Republic.
The crew stepped up one by one and accepted their bag of booty. ‘Make sure you have all the tools you need,’ Kal told the doctor as she handed him his share. He seemed almost in awe of Kal now—amazed that he still had her trust—and accepted the bag with an obedient and grateful nod. Then they all set off for shore, rowing both launches off via different routes. Two of the crew took to the water in a small round coracle they had found in the hold. Kal and Lula were left alone on deck. They both stripped off and packed their clothes and weapons in watertight bags. They wouldn’t need to carry any gold for their particular task.
‘Last one to the fort is a powder-wetting bilge-swiller,’ Lula said, diving into the dark water before Kal could reply.
* * *
When they got there, the fort was deserted. The gates and cell doors where open, the cells empty, and the battlements deserted. Kal sat straddling one of the giant forty-two pound cannons (far too big to steal for her own ship) and looked out over town as the dawn light flooded through the sand-swept streets. The town seemed to sparkle; it was beautiful and quiet.
‘If he’s not here, then where is he?’ she wondered out loud.
‘Somewhere out in the jungles perhaps?’ Lula said.
Kal remembered the first zombies she had seen, marching up and down in rows in a field. They had been farmers, she had later realised, tending the Magician’s marijuana crops. ‘He could even be on another island altogether,’ she conceded. ‘Wherever he is, he must have a large zombie workforce manufacturing Sirensbane. If we can find it, we can free them. The zombification will
wear off, given time, I’m sure of it.’
Kal saw hope flicker in Lula’s eyes. ‘You think so?’
‘I do,’ Kal said. ‘We came back from a brush with it. There’s no reason why Dead Leg and the others can’t, too. It might not even be too late for your father, Lu.’
Lula’s father, her only family, was one of the hundreds who had gone missing from the island, leaving their villages deserted.
‘We’ll kill the Magician, when he appears, then turn away the Armada, and then go find the Islanders,’ Kal insisted. She smiled. ‘All in a day’s work.’ She looked back out to sea. There was no sign nor sound of the Armada’s approach. Did the Magician even know they were coming? And would he fight or fly when the Eldragorans arrived?
As the sun rose in the sky, life returned to Port Black. As noon approached, the smell of grilled seafood filled the air. Taverns were opening on the seafront, and Kal could see some of her own crew mingling with the crew of the sloops and clippers that sailed into the anchorage. The watching galleon had allowed most of them past—they were smugglers working for the Magician, no doubt. Port Black was still his distribution centre. He was here somewhere … ‘All we have to do is find him,’ Kal muttered impatiently as she watched the activity.
‘But where?’ Lula said. ‘He’s never to be found unless he wants to be. ‘Once, I woke up one day wondering where my next shipment of Sirensbane would be coming from, and there was the Magician—’
‘—sitting at the foot of your bed,’ Kal guessed, remembering a similar story of Dead Leg’s. ‘Wherever he is, we can’t sit here all day. We need to think of a way to make him reveal himself. Wait—what’s that building there? The long white building with the flagpoles on the balconies?’
‘The customs house,’ Lula said. ‘It’s where we used to pay the levy on our trade, when the town was under Republic control. It’s a flophouse now, though.’
‘The Magician’s going to be there,’ Kal said.
Lula peered down at the building. ‘How can you tell?’
‘Look what they’ve put up in the square outside. Come on, things could be happening any time now. In fact, it’s most likely to be noon.’
* * *
Kal and Lula hurried along the causeway towards the mainland. On the beach and on the streets there was a general movement of people, like a longshore current, towards the customs house. Kal and Lula let themselves be carried along, listening to the buzz of angry conversation. Many among the crowd appeared to have grievances they wanted to air with the Magician. Kal pulled the brim of her hat down; if he was indeed going to be there, she wanted to get as close as possible to him before she was discovered.
The square was packed. On the wide stone steps that led up to the customs house, a raised wooden platform had been erected, and rising from it was an eight-foot-high post with a cross beam. Kal had a horrible feeling that, unlike her own improvised noose she’d had Lula throw across the yardarm, this one wasn’t for show.
There were guards on the customs house balcony, on the other surrounding rooftops and surrounding the scaffold. Not zombies; the Magician trusted his personal safety to mercenaries. Most of the guards here today were black Nubarans, probably recruited from the fearsome pirate gangs that infested the Silver Sea. They looked around the crowds with predatory eyes, hoping to find some disquiet they could quash.
As the bells and clocks around town struck noon, the Magician appeared on the wooden platform. He literally appeared: one moment he wasn’t there, the next he was. There was probably a trapdoor involved; it was a cheap trick that didn’t impress Kal, but the crowd were momentarily silenced, allowing the Magician to take control of the situation.
‘I know why you are all here,’ he said. ‘Your cargo has been seized and you fear that I have the gall to simply steal it from you. You should have more faith, my friends! I will be paying you today for your plunder, as I aways do, but this time you will receive more than just gold.’
This kept the crowd quiet, as they waited for the Magician’s next words. Kal shoved her way closer to the scaffold, with Lula following in her slipstream.
‘My secret laboratory has been working overtime,’ the Magician boasted. ‘Today, your ships will leave Port Black for all corners of the world loaded with Sirensbane!’
The crowd didn’t seem too impressed by this. They were clearly the holdouts who had yet to fall in with the Magician’s schemes. ‘We just want gold!’ one man shouted. ‘Take your cut, and pay us for the rest, like the old governor used to do. We don’t need none of your nasty drug.’
‘Arr!’ several other pirates concurred.
‘You fools!’ the Magician spat at them. ‘You could all be rich beyond your wildest dreams. New untapped markets are opening up in the Empire of the Moon, in Zorronov, Indux and Balibu … There is an unquenchable thirst for my products. The old governor was a near-sighted fool, who paid you a pittance, bleeding you all dry in the name of his Republic masters on the far side of the world. Pledge yourself to me and you will all rise in power and status as I do. Pledge yourself to me, or …’
Kal was near the foot of the platform now; she could see the Magician’s controlled fury up close. He had his audience in the palm of his hand with both fear and promise. There was no way they could refuse him.
The silence dragged on. Then one captain squeaked, ‘Or?’
The Magician sneered. ‘Or take your chances as lawless pirates on the Silver Sea. I will no longer buy the treasure you steal on your voyages … Instead, I will hold you accountable for your thefts. Let me now show you what I do to those who steal from me. Bring out the prisoner!’
Two strong Nubarans dragged Che up on the scaffold. His dirty clothes and white face gave him the look of a walking ghost. Without any preamble, he was hoisted up onto a wooden stool below the gallows and fitted with a rope necktie. The crowd sighed as one with collective awe; the legend of the accursed albino thief had spread far and wide.
‘Ah, hush Dada,’ Che managed to whisper. ‘I’m sorry, Dada.’
‘Your father is gone,’ the Magician hissed. He raised his voice to the crowd: ‘The governor is dead, and it was his cursed son who begat his downfall by robbing him of every penny he had. I am the only man who can rule these islands now. You all know me as the Magician, but from this moment on I will have a new name. It is Corus Sirensbane!’
Kal’s fury rose like a leviathan from the depths. How could a man be so evil that he would sacrifice his own son to further his schemes? She made to move forward, but Lula held her back. ‘No, Kal. What are you going to do? Jump up there and kill this Sirensbane in front of his guards?’
‘Why not?’ Kal snapped. ‘As soon as he falls, they won’t be his guards any more; they won’t hurt us.’ She slid her cleaver out from her belt and looked for the moment to leap up onto the platform.
A man’s voice spoke softly in her ear: ‘If you try anything, your friend dies.’
Kal slowly turned her head. It was Jako. The muscular Nubaran was stripped to the waist as usual, and had one of his long scimitars curved across Lula’s shoulders, caressing her neck.
Kal was staring at Jako in silent fury when she heard the sound of the stool being kicked away on the platform. She looked back to see Che dangling from the rope, his hands clutching at his neck, his legs kicking and jerking beneath him. His breath came in short sharp gasps, and some colour actually came to his face: a horrid livid purple.
Sirensbane watched impassively as his son choked. If there was any emotion on his face, it was satisfaction. Then, just before the end, he turned and walked away. Nobody saw where he disappeared to, not even Kal, since all eyes were on the horrible spectacle of the hanging man.
With the Magician gone, even the hardened Nubaran guards softened a fraction and cleared the steps at the side of the platform to allow someone to come up and offer the traditional act of mercy. Jako nodded his assent, and Kal was up in an instant. She grabbed Che around the waist and tried to still h
is twitching body.
‘I found your treasure,’ she said to him, although he was barely conscious. ‘And I’ll spend every last penny on seeing that fiend dead. I swear it!’
Then she yanked down hard, snapping Che’s neck and finally freeing him from his life of torment.
IV.v
Nautilus
Kal held on to Che for several long seconds, lost in an island of calm amid the tumultuous sea of shouts and voices. Then she turned around. Jako was still holding his scimitar to Lula’s neck. ‘Alright, Moonheart,’ he said, ‘come with me. I’ll find you two somewhere nice and damp until it’s your turn to dance the hempen jig.’
Kal moved slowly, using every second she had to try and think of a plan. The nearest guards were occupied taking down Che’s body; if she moved fast enough, she might get a knife in Jako’s head—or at least his sword arm—before he could hurt Lula …
Her thoughts were interrupted as bells started ringing all over town again. Not the slow bong, bong, bong that tolled noon, but a discordant jangling that could only mean one thing …
Port Black was under attack!
Jako’s concentration only wavered for a moment, but it was enough time for Lula to kick him in the groin and slip out from under his arm. She took Kal’s hand and together they dived into the crowd, which was moving like a spooked school of fish towards the beach. Every captain, sailor and fisherman wanted to get to their boat … but whether to fight or flee, who could say? There was no time for Kal to make a rousing speech and whip up support for a defence of the town. Not that she would have been very eloquent considering the grim mood she was in.
They ran instead back to the causeway to the fort, where Dogwood had brought the ship as close as possible. It was drawing not much more than five fathoms in the transparent water, the rudder scraping the silver sand. Half of the crew had made it back, and others were following in Kal and Lula’s wake, some to get to the ship, the rest to man the fort. When they got on board, Kal noticed some new faces … and some guns.