“Why would Francois try to kill us?” I asked Tristan. “Specifically, I mean? I didn’t even know who he was. Why did he think I was such a threat?”
He shook his head, fuming. “I don’t know, Samantha. Perhaps he thought we were Randall’s greatest blockade and he didn’t want us to become his as well.”
“We need proof that he did it,” Mark said behind us.
Tristan and I formed a small circle with him and Abella, ignoring the others beside us for a moment.
“Aye, I agree.” Tristan sounded angry as he spoke. “The crew of the Isobel has been labeled traitors. If we show up at the Temple without proof, they will think we’re only trying to seize power for ourselves.”
“Surely, if you three are with them, The Order will see reason and know that they aren’t Black Knights?” There was fear in Abella’s eyes, and an uncertainness that might have been causing the shaking of her hands.
As if he weren’t even thinking about it, Mark wrapped his fingers around hers, making a comforting noise.
“I was thinking the same thing,” I confessed. “They know how adamantly we have fought against Thomas Randall. I can’t see any man accusing Tristan of being a Black Knight.”
“But this is a different group of heathens,” Tristan replied sourly. “Aye, we have battled Randall time and time again, but he is not part of this group. They could say we only wanted the power for ourselves.”
“C’est impossible!” Abella shook her head decidedly. “I do not think any man who knew you would accuse you of such a misdeed.”
“He’s right, though.” Mark frowned. “I already wear the brand of the Black Knights. I am an outsider, and yet the two of you have welcomed me with open arms. That alone is enough to cause anyone to distrust you.” Anger flashed across his features and he peered at the night sky, frustration exuding from him. “I’ve compromised your standing. Again. Why is it always me that screws everything up?”
“Lomas will vouch for you,” I instantly offered. “Abella, too. Everyone you fought with in Arizona knows where your loyalties lie.”
“Yes, when it comes to Thomas Randall.” His eyes darkened and he glanced at Tristan. “But not when it comes to loyalty to Francois.”
“We haven’t a barrel to stand on without proof.” Tristan growled, seeming like he would very much like to punch something.
Bevard’s voice sailed through our tiny group then, shouting over the racket. “My brothers, calmer vous.”
Staring at the spirit, I felt an uncomfortable turn of the stomach at the expression he now wore.
“There’s more,” I whispered, poking Tristan’s shoulder and motioning for him to pay attention.
After a moment, the men seemed to calm, their attention returned to the man on the wall.
“There will be a time for accusations and explanations, but there is a more pressing matter to be dealt with. In the time that you have been gone from Paris, Francois has broken the code on the Grand Master’s map. He knows where the treasures are and how to reach them. At this very moment, he is sailing to the Gate of Atlantis, with a fleet so powerful, it would make an entire country quake. The fabrication of your traitorous status has allowed him to convince the rest of The Order that you are here to rob them and they come to protect the sacred items stored here. The majority of them have no idea they are actually part of a raid against the city, to steal the objects kept here.”
“How?” Captain MacDonald demanded. “How has he convinced them to do such a thing? How have they fallen for his trickery so easy?”
“Fear is a powerful thing, my friend.” Bevard smiled sadly. “And you have taken the brunt of the hit, I’m afraid. It is your name that has been smeared with the title of murderer and traitor. The Order comes for you, to deliver the justice they wrongfully assume you deserve.”
“They mean to cut the head from the snake.” Captain MacDonald snorted once, humorlessly, and then turned to his crew. “I must apologize then, for the lot of ye have been besmirched because of me.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Dagger said, calling everyone’s attention. “You can’t help that someone lied about you.”
MacDonald smiled. “Still. I canna ask ye to fight my battles. I will go out and meet the fleet myself. Let them take whatever justice they may, while my men—” He looked at Abella and I then, a slight laugh in his gaze. “And my women escape.”
“I think not.” Dagger raised an eyebrow, staring at him with a cool sense of disobedience about him.
“They’ll kill you without a second thought!” Disbelief covered my features as I watched him.
Captain MacDonald nodded. “I ken that. But it’s the head they’re after, no? So, I will give them the head. It matters not if I live or die, only that my crew makes it out to live another day.”
Dagger snorted, rolling his eyes. “You and your rule. You really mean to not let any of us die before you have?”
“I am an old man, Dagger. My life is not as important as the ones I lead. A good captain is nothing without his crew, and a good man is nothing without his sense of honor. Aye, there will be no dying among ye, not unless I’ve gone first.” The captain matched his look, not backing down in the slightest.
Dagger sighed, stepping away some. Then, scanning the group, he raised his voice. “Will we allow our captain to meet his death without putting up a fight?”
“No!” The response was immediate and resounding, causing Captain MacDonald to pause in surprise.
It was no wonder to me that my own voice had responded. In that moment, I think we all knew what we had to do—what our own honor and courage demanded we do for a man who was willing to lay down his life for all of us.
“Will we allow him to send us on our way like yellow bellied cowards while he claims all the glory in battle?” Dagger smirked as he said this one, watching his captain as if he were playing some game with him.
“No!”
“Will we mutiny if he tries to make us?”
“Yes!”
Patting the captain on the shoulder, Dagger shrugged. “Well, there you have it, Captain. You’re stuck with us, whether you like it or not.” He smiled then, the kind of look you would give an old friend. “You won’t be dying today, William MacDonald. Not unless we go first.”
The wind ruffled my hair, blowing a few strands into my face as I stood at the helm, watching the open waters. There was no sign of Francois and his fleet yet. Their impending arrival hung heavy in the air, though, like a black cloud of death and fear. The rest of the crew waited patiently on the deck, armed and ready to fight, watching the horizon with steady eyes.
It was strange, knowing that the spirit realm was right here, the entrance shielded away. It was like my whole experience there had been some fantastic dream. The proof of the visit was all around me, though. Magic still clouded the air. In the water beneath us, the shamans waited, sworn to protect their land. The force that was headed for us right now was sure to be shocked when they discovered we had mermaids gifted with such powers on our side.
“Stay close,” Tristan whispered, standing behind me. “This won’t be a fight like any of the others we’ve participated in.”
“I know,” I muttered. “I’ll do my best.”
His hand found mine and squeezed my fingers. “I know ye will. Ye’re an exceptional fighter, Sam. Mind yer footwork, though, and don’t charge ahead of me. I want eyes on ye at all times. For my own peace.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I smiled, tightening my hold on him. “If we die, we die together.”
The statement caused a shiver of fear and I looked away, swallowing hard. We’d faced impossible battles before, even going against mystical items and armies, but this felt different. We’d be facing a force so much larger and stronger, and there was almost no chance of survival. I hoped we would be fine, after hearing from Rachel that more children were waiting to come to us, and being told by Cathal we had a duty that needed to be fulfilled in Ireland. Still, the
re was that voice in my head that said this could be it—one or both of us could die today. Acknowledging that possibility made me grip the hilt of my sword a bit tighter and stare harder at the horizon. Any moment now, ships would appear there, and our fight for survival would be underway.
Peering around the deck once more, I let my attention settle on Captain MacDonald and Zaka, both of whom were standing on the steps leading to the helm only a few feet away.
“You will have us behind you,” she was saying softly, her gaze trained on the horizon as well. “Once we have made the first move, you should advance. With any luck, we will catch the majority of them.”
“Aye, I think ye will.” He cleared his throat, his knuckles white as they gripped around Sheila, his expression grim. “I thank ye. It is not my choice that my crew faces this obstacle with me.”
“It is their choice, though, and that matters more. I think you know that, or you wouldn’t have allowed them to come.”
He didn’t answer, closing his eyes for a moment and breathing deeply. I sensed some hesitation in him, as well as anger and worry. It wasn’t worry for himself, however. It was clear that his only thoughts were with the people around him.
Finally, he opened his eyes, his voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear what he said to her. “The last time I allowed someone to make their own choice and follow me into battle, they were killed. I have spent my entire life since then trying to keep the same from happening to others, always putting my own wants and desires to the back of my mind in favor of those around me. I dinna ken for certain that I am doing the right thing by possibly allowing them to forfeit their lives for me, as Isobel did before.”
“I have spoken with your Irishwoman. What she has to say on the matter is not for me to tell you, but it would do you good to speak with her, I think. It is time you stopped avoiding her, friend. You can only run from the spirits for so long.”
“Perhaps fate means to send me to her now, as a spirit myself.” He smiled weakly, his eyes meeting mine as he gazed past the gatekeeper.
Embarrassed to have been caught eavesdropping, I turned away, blushing.
“Sails, on the horizon!”
The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Everyone rushed to the edge, squinting and trying to catch sight of what the man in the crow’s nest had seen with his scope.
“How many do ye see?” Captain MacDonald yelled.
“At least ten ships, Captain! Moving toward us in formation.”
“They’ll have spotted us, then.” The Captain turned, looking at the crew, his features grim. “Now is the time to flee, if ye wish to do so. I will not blame ye, and neither will any other person with any kind of sense.”
We all stared at him in silence. He knew where we stood, even if he didn’t like it—at his side, ready to fight.
Nodding, he took a deep breath, shouldering Shelia. “Right then. Today, we fight for our honor and for our lives. Some of ye have been with me from the start, and some only for this voyage, but ye have all shown me what it is to stand by someone in their hour of need. It has been my great honor to serve ye, as a man and as yer captain.”
He bowed his head, touching two fingers to his brow, reverencing us in the same manner the Atlantians had. When he rose, he was smiling, a sparkle in his eyes. “May we continue to live well, long after this day. If not, may we die well and with so much strength that we inspire many a tale and song.”
“Hear, hear!” Unsheathing his sword, Dagger raised the blade high in the air, grinning wickedly as he saluted his captain. “To living, dying, and everything between!”
All around him, the men followed suit, raising their blades and shouting. An energy took hold of the group, spreading like wildfire, the war cries growing louder. Before I knew what was happening, we were moving, setting the sails, securing the anchor, and turning the ship, heading toward the massive force.
Beneath us, the shamans swam, their colorful tails and tentacles flashing through the water. Their hands moved as one, creating a large sweeping motion that caused the water to ripple from us. As the air caught our sails, yanking us forward, they began to chant, continuing with their ritual.
Dashing up the steps to the helm, where Captain MacDonald stood, the steering mechanism in his hands, I called above the sound of the wind as it picked up. “What are they doing?”
“They’re creating a bit of a distraction, in the hope of breaking apart the fleet,” he replied loudly. “To the ropes now, though, lass! We need yer help bringing the sails in before the gale takes them!”
Turning quickly, I jumped the steps, running to the main mast and joined the line of men handling a long, thick rope that lead to the sails. The riggers were furiously trying to raise the billowing canvases, pulling the ropes tight and holding on for dear life. The action would basically stop us completely, but we couldn’t risk losing a sail or breaking a mast.
Behind me, Tristan also handled the ropes, heaving the heavy line with ease and far more ability than I had. He did his duty like it was a dance, the movements flowing from him effortlessly, his attention trained on the task at hand.
Clumsily, I put one hand in front of the other, trying not to take a peek at the approaching convoy. I did my best to keep the rope pulled tight, frantically hoping the sails wouldn’t rip and blow away before we could get them in, the wind all but howling around us. The boat shuddered beneath us, and I gasped, gazing at the water.
The shamans were still chanting and waving their arms, the water rippling from them, but there was something more out there now. I could see it slowly raising up, like ghosts from the deep, shattered, breaking the surface of the water, joining us in our approach on the Templars.
Each sunken ship appeared to have been through hell and back, holes and scorch marks painting many. Tattered sails blew in the wind, unmanned helms spun out of control, yet they somehow stayed afloat, turning their faces toward The Order and plowing forward through the waves. As I watched the abandoned vessels rise from their watery graves, I realized the shamans were trying to give us more boats to fight with, as well as terrify our enemies before we even began to face them. By the time all the ships had been lifted from the ocean floor, we had an armada surrounding us, some of the phantom boats even pushing ahead.
“Steady!” Captain MacDonald yelled from the helm.
“Sam!” Tristan’s voice caught my attention and I ducked, noticing the sail above whip dangerously in the wind. Digging in my feet, I focused back on keeping the line pulled tight, my heart pounding in my chest.
Slowly, the ghost ships passed us, gaining speed as they moved forward in a straight line, their hulls so close some of them even scraped together.
“Batten the hatches and hold on, mates!” Captain MacDonald actually laughed as he called the order. “Rain’s a comin’ and we’re about to get wet!”
Confused, I glanced at the sunny sky, my hair stinging my face as it whipped about, coming free from its bun.
“Rain?”
Tristan wasn’t listening, though, his figure already crouching to the deck, the end of the rope wrapped around his waist. Following suit, I got on my knees, watching the action around us.
Zaka had taken a spot just beside us, her arms raised high, words I didn’t understand streaming from her mouth. The sky overhead began to darken, clouds billowing from nowhere, heavy and black. The air turned cold, and there was a flash of lightning, bright and hot, that struck the middle of the ghost ships, accompanied by a sudden clap of thunder so loud that I screamed in terror.
The wood, despite having been long submerged, lit like a candle, the red flame jumping from one ship to the next, creating a wall of fire.
Eyes wide, I watched the phenomenon, almost unable to believe what I was seeing. “It’s a blockade!” Speaking mostly to myself, I laughed in surprise, watching as the barricade crashed into the first of The Order’s ships.
All around me, the men cheered, watching as those who would see us dead scrambled
to miss the mess in their paths. Several other vessels were unsuccessful and plowed straight into the fire, finding themselves entangled with the broken and burning ships. Sails caught the flame and the sailor’s attention was drawn from fighting to saving their own skin. Three of the ten ships came to a full halt, crashing into the wall and moving no further.
Then, as if by some cruel twist of fate, one of the ships missed the wall, then another, and another, until the seven remaining ships were headed right for us, moving quickly, sailing around, as the clouds broke and rain began to pelt down.
A flash crossed the water and I gasped, watching as the shamans darted forward with incredible speed. It was if the water weren’t even there, their forms flying through the liquid speedily, weapons in hand. When they reached the vessels, they passed by the flagship, letting it continue on. The next two weren’t so lucky, though.
It took the incoming boats a moment to realize what was happening. One second they were home free, moving straight for us. The next they were stopped dead in churning waters, lightning flashing as men were suddenly being picked off the sides, as if by magic. Even from this distance and with the storm, I could still hear their screams of terror as the mermaids and other creatures attacked.
As I watched, shocked and also somewhat grateful for the help, I suddenly realized that the men were being left in the water, alive.
“They aren’t killing them,” I said in surprise, looking back at Tristan.
“No,” Zaka responded, drawing everyone’s attention to herself once more. “Captain MacDonald doesn’t want any deaths that could be avoided. He believes it will help The Order to believe that you are not their enemy.”
“Merciful,” Tristan muttered, shaking his head. “It might work, if they don’t kill us all first.”
“Riggers, get to yer stations and tie those sails down!” The captain’s voice roared past us once more and the men were on the move.
Tristan jumped to his feet, untwisting himself from the rope and tying it down properly. Without another word, he grabbed the rigging and pulled himself up, scurrying to the arms of the mast and securing the gathered sails. As I watched, I noticed that Mark was also there, working on the front mast.
Hidden Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book Three) Page 33