by Rob J. Hayes
“Quickly, Deun.”
The Riverlander nodded slowly and turned away, barking orders to his crew in their own language. Keelin let out a deep sigh and ran towards his ship. The Riverlanders joined him, swelling the numbers of his crew.
As the Man of War finally collapsed in on itself and sank beneath the waves, leaving bits of flotsam and bad memories as the only proof it had ever existed, Keelin scanned the sea. Everywhere he looked, ships were locked together, ships were on fire, ships were stopping near wreckage to pull their comrades out of the deep blue. The sun was shining and the world somehow seemed dark.
“We’ve got incoming,” Deun Burn said, and Keelin turned. The Riverlander was growling as he stared out to sea. Keelin followed his gaze; another ship was approaching, flying the colours of Sarth and wearing the scars of a recent battle and victory.
“Ready to repel boarders,” Keelin shouted.
Chapter 67 - Starry Dawn
Elaina scrambled up the rigging as fast her hands and feet would carry her, climbing in a way that would have made her mother’s monkeys proud. Reaching the yard, she grabbed hold with both hands and let go with her feet, dangling high above the deck. She turned and swung her legs up to grip around the yard and started to scurry along, upside down. By the time she reached the flaming section of sail it was long past salvageable. Elaina wrapped her legs tight and let go with her hands, pulling a dagger from her belt and cutting away at the sail with wild abandon. Before long the flaming canvas was floating harmlessly down to the deck, and Elaina had only a few minor burns to show for it. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Cap,” Alfer shouted up from the deck. Everyone down below looked so small.
“Aye?”
“Ocean Deep is moving up on our stern.”
Elaina barked out a laugh and swung her body upwards, catching hold of the yard and turning around again, then headed back towards the mast. It was just like Blu to wait until the the fighting had thinned down a bit before joining in. No doubt the coward was looking to claim some glory. Some of Elaina’s glory.
Heading upwards instead of down, Elaina raced towards the nest. She climbed in quickly, giving Four-Eyed Pollick a quick shove. Pollick screamed, turning on Elaina with a small knife. “Oh, fuck. Sorry, Cap. Thought it was… um… I dunno, really. Not you.”
“We’re all a little on edge, Pol…” Elaina trailed off as she took in the sight from up high. As far as she could see, ships dotted the blue water, some locked together, others sailing or sinking. One pirate ship was running – or rather limping, given the condition of its sails – back towards home. The thickest of the fighting was to the north. Man of Wars and galleons from both sides were crashing into each other, tiny specks leaping from one ship to another. Captain Khan’s behemoth was over that way too. The ship was moving, but it looked in bad shape. Even from such a distance Elaina could see the holes in her side and the smoke still trailing out of her hold. North Storm wasn’t done though. She was turning towards the fight and picking up speed.
Close to Khan’s ship was an enemy Man of War swamped beneath some sort of dark mass that was tearing at the ship. At first Elaina thought it was Everfire, but it didn’t appear to be burning, just ripping the ship to pieces.
The Black Death was free of enemies and sailing fast towards the fighting to the north. Elaina knew her father well enough to know the man would be itching to get into every fight he could find and sow as much chaos as possible, furthering his own dark reputation. Elaina wished she could be beside him, but she wished to be queen even more.
Ocean Deep was slowing beside them, and from up high Elaina could see Blu’s crew on deck and armed, many of them looking like they were about to board an enemy. A nasty feeling started crawling its way through her gut.
Half swinging, half falling, Elaina raced down ropes and rigging to the deck of her ship. She arrived just as Blu’s men starting to board. Her brother’s crew were armed and fresh and ready for a fight. Elaina’s crew were weary from battle and not expecting an ambush from those they considered allies.
Ocean Deep’s pirates started moving forwards, overwhelming Starry Dawn’s crew with sheer numbers. None of Elaina’s pirates fought back; they knew when they were well and truly fucked, and this was most definitely one of those times. Swords were taken, knives confiscated, and any who fought back were given an efficient beating.
As soon as Elaina’s crew had not a weapon to share among them, Blu appeared. He leapt down from his bigger vessel with a cruel grin.
“What’s the meaning of this, Blu?” Elaina shouted up to her brother. She was itching to get her hands on a sword. Unfortunately the traitorous pirates had taken hers, and it didn’t look like they were considering giving it back.
“Ho, little sister,” Blu said with a smug grin. He was wearing his finest clothing. There was a battle raging around them, and here was her brother, dressed up like a peacock, staying far clear of the fighting.
“Get off my ship, Blu,” Elaina hissed.
“Um… no,” Blu said, following up with a dramatic laugh that many of his crew picked up and carried on.
“Cap?” Surge said. “What do we do?”
“You do nothing,” Blu shouted. “What can you do? This ship is mine now, taken in battle, and all you on board are my prisoners. I expect them back at Land’s End will want a few pirates to hang once all this is over.”
“You’re siding with them?” Elaina said.
Blu looked at his sister and laughed. “Da said you were as good as queen already. Reckoned the only thing that’d keep ya from it is death. Time to test that.”
Chapter 68 - King’s Justice
“That one seems to be coming right for us,” Daimen said. “Looks like Tanner ta me.”
Admiral Wulfden shouldered Daimen out of the way and stared at the approaching ship. Their escorts had been forced to peel away, and now there was nothing between them and the angry pirates bearing down upon them.
“How can you be sure it’s that black-hearted wretch?” Wulfden said.
“Well, mate, the first thing to give it away would be that it’s his ship.”
Wulfden growled and shoved past Daimen again. It appeared that no matter where he stood, it was always in the man’s way. The admiral ran a hand through his perfectly groomed hair, messing it out of place, and sent a worried glance towards one of his officers, who looked nervously at one of the other officers.
They were in trouble, and no mistake. Two other Man of Wars had been assigned to escort the admiral and his ship. One of them was busy suffering at the hands of North Storm, and the other had been sunk by what looked like a kraken. The wind had gone right out of the admiral’s sails when the beasty rose up from the water and ripped the ship to pieces.
“His ship is smaller,” Wulfden said. “We will outnumber his forces.”
“Aye,” Daimen said. “Reckon ya will. Of course, Tanner Black ain’t exactly a stranger to taking on shitty odds, mate. His men are rabid blood drinkers. Half of them ain’t even rightly people. Least, not like you and me. Civilised folk, ya know. Word is he uses some dark magics too.”
The admiral glared at Daimen, who almost laughed. The wind was already turning, and he was about to find himself on the wrong side of it again. He needed a way out, and it was unlikely Tanner would provide one for him. He needed to convince Wulfden to turn tail and flee.
“I’ve heard…” Daimen started.
“Shut up, Poole,” Admiral Wulfden hissed. “Turn us into them. I want all hands armed and ready. Tanner Black in chains will be a fitting prize to present to the king.”
The officers jumped to their admiral’s orders while Daimen stood nearby, trying to figure out a way to get the man to change his mind.
“Battle don’t look to be going too well,” he ventured.
“It could still go either way,” Wulfden growled. “See there.” He pointed towards North Storm and the Man of War locked together. “We have weakened the vessel. S
he falls apart as my soldiers cut down her crew.”
“Ya ships are burning, Admiral.”
“So are yours.” Wulfden glared scathingly at Daimen. “Do you really think yourself so subtle, pirate? Your loyalties are finally made clear. Don’t worry, I assure you you will live to see your people die.”
“My loyalties are to myself, mate. And I’m not responsible for this shit storm you think you’re winning. You are.”
The admiral turned and drew his sabre from its sheath.
“Ah, fuck me.” Daimen backed away. “What happened to keeping me alive to witness the downfall of me people?”
“I find myself no longer able to abide your presence, Poole.” Wulfden took a wild swing in Daimen’s direction.
“Admiral?” shouted one of the officers.
“Just ridding myself of this pest.” Wulfden took another swing.
Daimen again dodged backwards out of his reach, well aware that he would soon run out of places to run. The man led forwards with a lazy thrust and Daimen turned away from the attack, again moving out of his range. Wulfden was already starting to redden in the cheeks.
“Stand still and die,” he said with another swipe.
“Aye, fuck that.” Daimen stepped into the next thrust. The blade missed him by a breath and he punched the admiral hard in the face, and then again because he really wanted to.
Stunned and reeling, Wulfden was in no condition to stop Daimen as he plucked the sabre from his fat hand and spun him around. He held him tight, sword to chubby neck.
The soldiers and sailors who had rushed to their commander’s aid quickly slowed when they saw shining steel threatening to murder the man in charge.
“Aye, I reckon ya all got the right of it now. Any of you fuckers take another step my way and I’ll bleed this bastard like the fat fucking pig he is.”
The admiral groaned.
“Ah, fuck you too. I’ll curse all I fucking want.”
Wulfden was starting to recover from the punches, no doubt realising exactly what was happening and how much shit he was in. “You’ll hang for this, Poole.”
Daimen pulled the sabre a little closer to the man’s throat, pressing it tight against his skin. “Well, seeing as you were about to kill me anyway, I reckon I’ll take my bloody chances. ’Sides, all I’m trying to do is save all our lives. You, ya fat fuck, should be shitting grateful, not trying to skewer me.”
“Uh, Admiral…” said one of the officers, the one with the shifty eyes.
“Turn us around,” Daimen shouted. “Back ta the Five Kingdoms, I reckon. Haste and all that.”
“They’ll broadside us.”
Daimen risked a glanced behind. The Black Death was closer than he’d have liked and bearing down on them with speed. For a brief moment he thought he could even see Tanner Black standing on the bow, grinning with mad abandon as he came on.
“Fuck!” Daimen turned back to the crew. Wulfden was sweating and his skin was slick. The bastard was fidgeting, but was far too scared to move with a blade so close to his throat.
Daimen grabbed hold of the admiral’s left arm and twisted it behind his back so that he hissed in pain. Confident that his prisoner had no chance of escape, Daimen raised his voice to a shout. “Pull in the sails and bring us to a stop. All weapons down. Any one of you fucks thinks to fight and I’ll bleed this bastard.”
A few of the sailors glanced at each other; the officers looked far from convinced. “If we surrender they’ll kill us.”
Daimen laughed. “Of course not. Tanner Black is many things, it’s true, but the man’s honourable as an ordained priest.” Daimen had to wonder if he’d ever told a bigger lie. “We surrender the ship and he’ll let ya all live. Better chance than trying to fight him. Not to mention having to explain to ya king why your admiral is missing his throat.”
“Do it!” Wulfden sputtered.
Daimen had to respect the crew for their loyalty. They quickly set about taking in the canvas and all weapons were dropped to the deck. A crew of pirates would have stormed Daimen whether he held their captain or not.
The Black Death sailed up beside them in quick order, and Daimen could see Tanner and his murderous crew waiting aboard. Grapples were quickly tossed over, and a moment later pirates swarmed onto the deck of the Man of War, Tanner first among them. They paused when they saw the sailors and soldiers of the Five Kingdoms huddled at the far end of the deck, unarmed and expecting quarter. Tanner stepped forward and eyed the cowering men, then swept his gaze up to where Daimen was standing, his sword still at the admiral’s neck.
“Uh…” Tanner started.
“We surrender,” Wulfden said as Daimen pressed the blade a little tighter.
“Wonderful,” said Tanner. “We don’t.”
“Prisoners, Tanner,” Daimen shouted.
“Ah, you know me, Poole – I don’t take any.”
There was some nervous shifting on the deck where the Five Kingdoms soldiers and sailors were cowering. They had only a few weapons close by, whereas Tanner’s crew were far forwards, weapons ready and menacing.
“You do now.”
“You don’t dictate terms to me, ya damned traitor. Especially not when I’ve taken your ship.”
“Ya only took the fucking ship because I made them surrender.”
“And we of the isles thank ya from the bottom of our hearts.” Tanner mounted the steps to the forecastle. “Still going to kill you all though.”
“Fuck me, Tanner. Would ya just take ya head out of ya arse for a drop and look at what I’m giving you? This fat bastard is Admiral Wulfden, commander of this here entire fleet. He’s the key to winning this war right now. He can give the signal to surrender. For all of them to surrender.”
“I would never…” Wulfden sputtered.
“No?” Tanner said. “I think you will.”
With a wave, Tanner summoned a couple of his crew forwards to take custody of the admiral. Tanner remained behind, his sword drawn and a dark look in his eyes as he stared at Daimen.
“Don’t see why we need you, mate,” he said with a grin.
Daimen threw Wulfden’s sabre to the deck. “I’m not the traitor, Tanner. I just did what I had to to survive. Fucking Morrass is the traitor.”
“What?”
“Bastard set this entire thing up. Organised it right from the burning of Black Sands. He’s the reason all this is happening. He sacrificed hundreds, thousands, just to sit his arse on a throne and have you lick his boots.”
“That so?” Tanner said, advancing on Daimen. “Tell me, Poole. Have ya got any proof?”
Chapter 69 - North Storm
The clash of steel on steel rang out loud as T’ruck landed a heavy blow on the gaunt soldier. Before the man could recover, T’ruck sent another overhead swipe crashing into the bastard’s sword. They weren’t even from the Five Kingdoms – these men were wearing the blue-black colours of Sarth – but T’ruck didn’t care. His blood was up and pumping rage-fuelled strength through his veins.
The man beside him, a charming veteran of the seas, went down with a sword in his gut, and T’ruck roared. He shoved his huge shield forwards, pushing the gaunt soldier backwards, and then swung at the soldier who had skewered the pirate. T’ruck couldn’t remember the pirate’s name, but it didn’t matter; the man was part of his crew, and T’ruck counted his crew as family.
A woman almost as tanned as T’ruck himself stepped forward over the groaning veteran as he died, and T’ruck treated her to a toothy grin before charging into the enemy lines.
A lucky strike opened a wound on T’ruck’s right leg, but it wasn’t serious enough to bring him down. He swung his sword first to his left, over the top of his shield, and then to his right, causing as much chaos as he could in the enemy lines while his own crew pushed forwards. Spinning around, T’ruck brought his sword upwards in a foolish slash that left him wide open. The blow caught a Sarth soldier in the face and snapped his head backwards. It was impossib
le to tell which killed the soldier – the gaping, bloody gash that had once been his face, or the broken neck. It didn’t really matter.
Parrying a spear thrust, T’ruck tripped over a body and stumbled. He caught himself on North Storm’s railing and realised for the first time just how close the two ships were. Loosely lashed together by some rope and grapples, the boats were only a man’s height from each other and North Storm was riding low in the water. More soldiers were waiting aboard the Man of War, and T’ruck had to admit that he was once again outnumbered.
His own crew were pushing hard against the Sarth soldiers now, trying to reclaim the deck of their ship, and T’ruck loosed a battle roar to inspire them.
A soldier crashed into T’ruck’s shield. The man was big and heavy and almost knocked him to the deck, but he steadied himself on one knee. His sword was gone, slipped from his grasp, so T’ruck reached forwards, grabbed hold of the soldier’s head, and slammed it against his shield. After three solid blows, the soldier was bloody and stunned. T’ruck pulled him around by his head and tossed the bastard overboard between the two ships. A hand locked onto T’ruck’s arm with an iron grip and tugged him half over the railing.
Dropping his shield and holding on to the railing, T’ruck struggled against the big soldier’s weight. The man’s face was bloody, and his snarling lips showed at least one broken tooth, but there was fear in his eyes.
The two ships were drifting closer, their hulls coming together. T’ruck tried to pull his arm back, but even his strength had limits.
“Let go!” he screamed at the soldier still gripping his arm.
T’ruck squeezed his eyes shut and pulled with every bit of strength he had as the two ships met. There was a brief scream and then he was free, stumbling backwards from the railing and colliding with someone, sending them both crashing to the deck.
When T’ruck opened his eyes he found himself lying atop a half-stunned soldier with a crooked nose and a dazed look in his eyes. T’ruck rolled off the man and back to his feet. He realised something was still attached to his wrist – an arm, severed at the shoulder, its fingers still locked in a death grip.