Chronicles of the Dragon Pirate

by David Talon

  The Shadowman cackled like an old witch from a story. “Same old suspicious Harry. But a bargain’s a bargain,” he said as the others joined us, “so here’s what Olde Bill promised ye.” He reached down and began picking up bulging leather bags that clinked as he tossed them, one by one, to the men. When he reached me he paused. “Yer not a member of the crew, but yer betrothed is, so she gets yer share.” He tossed a bag to Pepper, who’d just walked up with Arabella and Redbeard, Pepper catching hers with a surprised look as Redbeard got the next, the Shadowman giving the captain an evil grin as he tossed the largest bag of all on the table in front of the captain. “There...promise kept.”

  From around me came exclamations of surprise. Jeremiah held out his open bag so I could look inside, the gold coins with the head of the king of Spain glinting as if they’d been polished, and I heard surprise in the Mulatto’s voice as he said, “This is far more than I expected.”

  Black Pox Bill spread out his arms, the black leather gloves on his hands cut off at the knuckles, leaving his white fingers exposed. “We’re all friends here,” his smile becoming almost pleasant as he motioned back towards the tavern counter. “I had Sam back there make up a special batch of bumbo rum punch in yer honor, and our girls who been drinking it say it’s right tasty.”

  An alarm bell began clanging in my head. “Sir, I had Star poke around and she found several bottles of claret behind the counter. Since I know your fondness for wine, I’ll gladly go get them so we can all drink that instead.”

  The smile left the Shadowman’s face. “The bumbo’s far tastier than claret. Harry, are ye gonna let yer apprentice dictate to ye?”

  “I be thinking drinking claret’s a fine idea,” Redbeard said. “Anyway, the lad not be dictating to anyone but be keeping his captain’s interests first in his mind.”

  Black Pox Bill gave Redbeard an incredulous look. “The Dava I used to know never turned down rum punch.”

  “Aye, but the Dava Harry knows now likes to know what be in his punch before he be drinking it.”

  “We didn’t come here to drink,” Captain Hawkins said, his suspicious look now turned on the Shadowman. “Let me hear your proposal so I can get back to the Davy.”

  Black Pox Bill gave me a dark look before motioning towards the chairs, his exposed fingers gnarled as old tree roots. “As ye will. Tie up to the dock and we’ll talk.”

  Redbeard gave the chairs a dubious look and remained on his feet as did Pepper, Maria and Panther joining her. The rest of the men traded looks before sitting down, Jeremiah and the Mulatto moving their chairs so each could keep an eye on the entire room as I stood at the captain’s shoulder. Arabella drifted over, her voice different as she spoke with the accent of a dock whore. “Master, lemme stay too. I kin make the captain feel more welcome.”

  Black Pox Bill gave me a sly look as he spoke. “Turn yer charms on the Dragon’s redhead, so she and the rest of the crew’s entertained while me and Harry talk.”

  Anger flashed inside me like lightning before a storm as Arabella turned and drifted towards Pepper, who gave me a look of such sadness I wondered how many times she’d been forced to perform for a Shadowman’s pleasure, as Arabella came up behind Pepper and put her arms around the girl’s waist, her lips caressing the freckled back of Pepper’s neck. I knew most men standing where I was would’ve looked at Pepper as tainted from what she’d been through, deeming it somehow her fault...but I wasn’t most men. I began to step forward but a look from the captain held me in place, his eyes locked on mine a moment before he turned back towards Black Pox Bill. “Is this necessary?”

  “They’re pets, Harry; a way to keep yer men distracted.” He leaned forward in his seat. “There’s differences ‘tween us and yer men, and they need to accept us as we is, starting with yer lad there.”

  “William, you aren’t making any sense.”

  “Olde Roger wants the New World,” Black Pox Bill hissed. “He’s got a plan to destroy all the towns, villages, pirate havens, everything that ain’t people living like savages, and he ain’t gonna stop until they ain’t nothing left.”

  Captain Hawkins was shaking his head. “That doesn’t make any sense either. What would he hope to gain?”

  “Olde Bill don’t know,” a trace of fear touching the Shadowman’s voice as he went on, “but he ain’t gonna spare either yer crew or mine...so we gotta band together.” The captain stared at him in disbelief and Bill said, “Harry, yer crew will accept it once...”

  Captain Hawkins stood up. “We’re done here,” he snarled, the rest of the crew scrambling to their feet as Arabella whispered in Pepper’s ear before letting her go.

  Black Pox Bill remained sitting in his chair. “Yer making a mistake, Harry.”

  “Band together and make both crews one?” The Shadowman nodded and the captain turned to the others. “What say you?”

  Jeremiah snorted. “I’d rather give up to Cholula and band with her.”

  “Or with ze Spanish,” Claude said.

  “Captain,” the Mulatto said as he fixed a dark look on Black Pox Bill, “I say we return to the Davy, sail here in the daylight and burn Freehold to the ground, killing everything on two legs that moves.”

  Captain Hawkins shook his head. “No, we’re returning to the Davy, packing up and leaving this place.” He gave Bill a disgusted look. “It’s only the debt I owe you for saving my life that’s keeping me from doing exactly as the Mulatto says...which reminds me of something else. Now that I know you can’t lie to me anymore, tell me about the day you found me, washed up on the beach.”

  The shadows from the candlelight gave Bill’s face a sinister cast as his eyes became hooded, though his mouth smiled. “Olde Bill always wondered when yer thoughts would sail back to that shore. What did happen that day, when Olde Bill pulled yer body out of the sand and Drake healed ye? Walk away, Harry Hawkins, and yer never gonna learn the truth.”

  The captain gave him a disgusted look. “Some things aren’t worth the price. Gentlemen,” he said as he looked around, “let’s go.” He turned towards the door and I turned with him, the rest of the group keeping their hands on their weapons as they did the same, and we started towards the doorway we’d walked in from.

  “It ain’t over, Harry Hawkins,” Black Pox Bill called out behind us. “Olde Bill’s gonna make you captain over all of us, one way or another.”

  Something in his voice made me stop and turnaround as the others continued walking. A black haired mortal man holding a bow and arrows in one hand had evidently stepped out of the doorway and was now pouring what looked like claret from a bottle into a wooden cup as Black Pox Bill opened his leather shirt and pulled a out piece of metal sticking out under his breastbone. Like uncorked wine his black blood spurted into the cup as well, and the Shadowman plugged the wound back up as the human, a native of the island from his features, swirled the mixture in the cup before setting it on the table and dipping an arrow into it. In one motion he put the arrow to his string, sighted, and fired at Captain Hawkins.

  Time slowed as the arrow left the bow and I pushed against the invisible wall holding me back, trying to reach the captain as the arrow moved as fast as a man walking in a straight line towards him. I pushed against time as hard as I could...breaking through, the arrow almost even with me as I leaped towards Captain Hawkins and pushed him away then reared back as I saw movement from the corner of my eye. The black coated arrow sailed leisurely past my nose.

  Time returned to normal, the captain stumbling while the archer dipped another arrow and put it to the bow’s string, sighting on the captain once more. I screamed, “Archer! We’re betrayed!” Captain Hawkins’s gaze went straight to the archer as he caught himself, and as the native man loosed again he dove towards the stone floor as the rest of the group spun around.

  Whistling John screamed. Looking over my shoulder I saw the arrow meant for the captain sticking out of his ches
t, the man gasping for breath as he dropped to his knees, his face already turning pale. The archer tried to reload but Jeremiah and Claude both took aim with the pistols now in their hands and fired, the man spinning about as his chest erupted in a gout of blood and he fell to the floor. Suddenly Jade hissed in my ear, “Gunpowder weapons, behind us.”

  “Girls, touch off the powder,” I shouted, whirling about to see an old man wearing a striped shirt take aim with a pistol and fire. The ball whined as it passed over my head.

  Five girl voices shouted, “Aye, Tomas,” as from across the room I saw more pistols being aimed at me. I dove for the floor as they went off with a roar of fire and smoke. More girl voices called out to help and I said, “Any who’ll set off powder take a little strength and go.”

  I spread out an arm but only felt one pair of clawed hands grip my forearm, the dragon-ghost as large as a woman from the size of the claws painlessly digging into my arm as a pair of fangs pieced me and began drawing strength. Coldness seeped into my arm as Pepper screamed, “Tomas, no; it’s a Dark Sister!”

  Suddenly the Dark Sister shrieked. Her fangs ripped out of my flesh, doing no damage, and as my arm was pushed away the air began swirling before me, picking up dirt from the floor as it whirled faster and faster. Gunpowder began exploding as old men cursed burned fingers, several screaming as their exploding gunpowder horns set them alight while Redbeard roared a challenge and charged them. The swirling air suddenly imploded with a pop, leaving behind an air-golem.

  It was a banshee, the ghost of a madwoman with wild hair and a face locked into a rictus of pain, her clothes white rags that fluttered as she moved. The banshee stared at me a moment with eyes of insanity then shrieked again, clawing at its face as it circled me, all activity in the room coming to a halt as everyone watched her fly about the room, overturning tables and smashing the air-golem into the tavern counter, sending bottles flying. The tall African behind the counter ran for the door and suddenly all the old men were doing the same as the banshee continued shrieking and smashing itself into crates and casks behind the counter until it suddenly dissolved. But the voice of the Dark Sister continued shrieking as she fled the room.

  Butter wouldn’t have melted in Jade’s mouth as she spoke in my ear. “I fear my sister is going to have a trying time: she just woke up the spark inside her she thought was forever laid to rest. I wonder which path she will choose this time.” Suddenly she hissed, “Tomas, behind you!”

  I rolled to my knees, Arabella moving towards me as I turned around. Black Pox Bill was standing on the table, and as I watched, he pulled an Artifact pistol from behind his back and took aim at my chest. Time slowed, and I began pushing against it as he fired, the pistol roar becoming a deep growl as the metal ball streaked towards me as fast as a man could run.

  I felt time begin to give as Arabella leaped in front of me. Her face gasped in pain as the metal ball hit her side, time returning to normal as Arabella collapsed to the ground. I jumped to my feet and ran towards her as the Shadowman, cursing as he got another metal ball and piece of frozen quickfire from a pocket of his trousers, began to reload.

  Panther leaped at him. She hit Black Pox Bill square in the chest with her shoulder, knocking him off the table as his pistol flew out of his hand, Panther rolling off the table to the other side as Bill hit the floor. Jeremiah and Maria were shooting at the retreating men, the little Artifact golem between them reloading their pistols as fast as Star could make it work while the Mulatto had joined Redbeard in going after the few who remained. Several of the old men were still on fire, screaming in pain as they rolled about on the stone floor, but Redbeard raised his great-axe and stove in a burning man’s chest as the Mulatto pulled a knife as long as my forearm and slit another man’s throat, a third one putting his fire out and trying to crawl away. But the Mulatto pulled the man’s head back and cut his throat as well. As I reached Arabella, Pepper running towards her as well, I saw Bill try to get up...only to freeze in place as Claude leaped over the table and stuck the barrel of his Artifact pistol in Black Pox Bill’s eye.

  Captain Hawkins climbed to his feet as I knelt down next to Arabella, Pepper doing the same. We tore off pieces of her dress to bind the wound, her blood a deepening stain on the red fabric as the captain said, “Claude, don’t kill him; we may need William to negotiate our way out of here. Tomas, how is the girl?”

  “I will be fine,” Arabella said, gasping.

  “Not until I get Jade to heal you,” I said.

  “Stay your efforts,” Arabella replied, adding in response to our disbelieving looks, “Pray examine the wound and you will see.

  Pepper peeled back the strips of fabric we’d put in place and we both stared. Arabella had been hit just below her ribcage but the bleeding had already stopped, the edges of the wound looking raw but not at all bloody. Jade spoke from a spot beside me. “I could not heal her if I wished to, for it seems Arabella’s flesh is healing itself.”

  Claude had Bill move back towards us, Panther following as the rest of the group, except for Whistling John, rejoined us, the wounded man now curled up in a ball on the floor where he’d been hit. Captain Hawkins knelt down beside Pepper. “Tomas, since Jade’s not needed, send her and the rest of your girls on patrol to see what’s waiting for us outside.” As I did so, he drew his white sword and laid its edge against Arabella’s throat. “Now,” and his voice became mocking for a moment, “hunter of Shadowmen, you will tell me exactly who and what you are, and especially how your flesh is able to heal without a dragon-ghost’s help.”

  Arabella shook her head. “Guild secret,” she said, her voice as cultured and elegant as it had been the night she’d spoken to us out of the darkness. “Harry Hawkins, did you think I would be here right now, infiltrating a nest of renegade Shadowmen, if I did not have certain advantages? I am who I said I was, and what I was: a Shadowhunter for the master of my guild. I capture renegades not only for the gold but also for the knowledge they possess about Olde Roger’s activities, which I pass along to my guild master.”

  “Who does he work for?”

  “He works towards his own purposes, but I will say this without guile or trickery: we are not the least bit interested in seeing you or any member of your crew turned over to any crowned head or order. You serve us best right where you are.” Arabella moved her fingers to the white blade and gently moved it away from her throat, Captain Hawkins sheathing the sword back in its scabbard again. “Thank you. Perchance, could you have Tomas look behind the tavern counter for a small leather bag? The tavern keeper doubled as the town’s doctor, and inside the bag are his tools. If Tomas could use them to dig out the ball, so the wound does not heal around it, I would be grateful.”

  Captain Hawkins looked at me and nodded. I got to my feet, Pepper, Jeremiah and Maria joining me as we walked warily towards the tavern counter, Maria slipping the manikin she’d picked up back into the leather travel bag, an Artifact pistol in her hand as we reached the counter and looked behind it. The smell of rum was strong from an overturned bowl, now broken in several pieces as it lay on the stone floor, along with a lot of other debris. But a small leather bag was sitting by itself on a wooden shelf and I grabbed it, the four of us moving back towards the table, where Arabella now laid.

  Everyone, including Redbeard and the Mulatto, had moved back to the corner and was standing on one side of the table so I moved to the other, the side closest to the doorway, so I’d have room to work. Taking care not to step in the blood seeping from the body of the native man, I set the bag down beside Arabella and opened it up, the tools surprisingly clean though smelling of rum, as if the tavern keeper had used it to wash off them off after they’d been used. Rummaging through the bag I found a set of narrow tongs and held them up, Arabella watching me as I said to her, “Are you ready?”

  She nodded, one hand gripping the table as Pepper, who’d taken a place beside her, grasped the other. I took a deep bre
ath to steady my nerves then used my fingers to widen the wound a little more. Looking inside, I saw the wound was raw but no longer bleeding even a little, the intact ball resting next to an exposed piece of bone, so I used the tool to reach inside it and grasp the metal ball. Twice it slipped away but the third time I got it in a firm grip and pulled it out, Arabella releasing her held breath as she let go of the table, her fingers still holding onto Pepper’s. “Thank you. Pray do not worry about washing it out, for what does not kill me outright I heal from.”

  “At least let us bind it,” Pepper said to her. Arabella nodded, and Jeremiah unwound a piece of his sash and sliced it off, Arabella letting go of Pepper so she could wrap it around the Shadowhunter and tie it securely around her waist.

  Arabella held up a hand to Jeremiah, who warily took it, and she used his strength to help herself sit up. “I will not be myself for a while, but at least I can hold my own.” Letting go of Jeremiah’s hand she reached out to Pepper once more. “Pray forgive me for the part I had to play.”

  Pepper grasped her hand as she smiled. “There’s naught to forgive. Cholula was right: I had to face the fear I held that I’d be made one of their pets again, and it was easier...and harder as well, to face than I’d realized.”

  “I pray you never need face this fear again. However, should you need to talk, I will always have a sympathetic ear. All you need do is ask.”

  From the back where Claude still had a pistol aimed at Black Pox Bill, the Shadowman said, “Harry, don’t trust her. Them Shadowhunters is tricksy, pretending to be folks they ain’t, just to get more gold when they burn you...”

  Captain Hawkins snapped, “William, shut your pie-hole or I’ll have Claude shut it for you...permanently.” Claude jammed the barrel of his pistol against Bill’s head and the Shadowman’s shoulders slumped as he closed his mouth.