by Rob J. Hayes
“Ship ahoy, aft of us, Cap’n. She’s a big bitch.”
Drake walked behind his desk and looked out the window there. He could see a speck on the horizon, little more than a dot at that distance. He pulled his monoscope out of his belt and extended it to its full length before looking again. It was a ship, alright, and a large one. He couldn’t see the colours from this far out, but he didn’t need to.
Turning back to the room, Drake found all eyes turned his way. “It’s Sarth,” he said heavily.
“Back to The Phoenix, Morley.” Stillwater turned and walked for the doorway.
“Princess,” Drake said. “Get us ready to sail, all the speed we can muster. Anyone not on duty, wake them the fuck up.”
“I think I’ll stay close,” Beck said quietly to Drake as he made to round the desk and go after Stillwater.
“You do whatever you want, Arbiter, as long as you don’t get in my way.”
Out on the deck of the Fortune, everything was activity. Pirates were crawling over the rigging like fleas on a mangy dog’s back, and the refugees who hadn’t gone below were busy trying not to hamper their efforts. Drake caught up with Stillwater just before the man followed his crew members into the boat waiting below.
“You still haven’t answered me, Captain,” Drake said, grabbing hold of Stillwater’s arm. The other captain turned and gave Drake a warning look, but it would take more than a stern glare to scare Drake Morrass.
“I reckon it can wait, Drake.”
“I don’t,” Drake said, not letting go of the man’s arm. “I’m not running.”
“What?”
“I’m turning the Fortune around and making sure those bastards don’t go burning any more of our towns or our people.”
“Any more of your subjects?” Stillwater scoffed.
“Aye. Can’t be a king without them. I’m gonna turn and fight. I need your help, Stillwater. I can’t do this alone. That Man of War will have twice the Fortune’s crew. Can I count on you?”
Stillwater held Drake’s gaze another moment before his face softened just a touch and he nodded. With that, Drake let go of the captain’s arm and let him descend into his longboat.
“You really think you can take that ship?” Beck said as Drake moved to the stern to watch it approach. He felt her compulsion seek out his will, but as always he slipped away from her.
“You scared, Arbiter?”
“Yes. You’d have to be mad not to be.”
“Aye.” Drake lowered his voice so that only she would hear. “Me too.”
Chapter 13 - The Phoenix
It wasn’t a long crossing from the Fortune to The Phoenix, but it was one of the most tense trips Keelin had ever experienced. Morley and Kebble kept silent despite their knowledge of the situation, and Keelin used his monoscope to watch the approaching Man of War. As the giant ship drew near, Keelin found himself more and more certain that Drake’s plan was madness.
The crew of the Fortune scurried about, making the ship ready to sail, and as the dinghy bumped against The Phoenix, Drake’s ship began to move. A few moments later she started to turn. Meanwhile, Keelin’s crew stood at the railing, watching and wondering what was happening.
“He’s a bold man, that Drake,” Kebble Salt said just as Keelin grabbed hold of the rope ladder lowered to him.
“A captan many would follow,” Morley agreed.
“I hear many follow Tanner Black also,” Kebble said.
Keelin shot the man a dark glare. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew the old bastard.” Keelin scaled the rope ladder up to the deck of his ship. He took a deep breath as the others followed him up and his crew gathered around.
“You’ve all no doubt heard there’s a ship behind us…”
“It’s the Man of War,” Smithe said with challenge in his tone. “Has to be, a ship that big.”
“It is. Morrass means to attack them. Pay them back for what they did at Sev’relain.”
Everyone started shouting at once. Some voices yelled their support of the plan, others decreed it suicide. Keelin noticed a few faces he didn’t recognise in the crowd, those belonging to the refugees they’d saved from Sev’relain. The idea that they’d rescued them from one massacre only to throw them into another occurred to Keelin, and he remembered the woman he’d ordered placed in his cabin.
“Quiet!” Morley roared over the din. “We following the Fortune in, Captan?”
“No,” Keelin answered quickly. “We’re getting the fuck out of here, making for the nearest port, dropping off these poor sods just lost their home, and finding the nearest merchant ship to pillage.”
There was a mixed response from his assembled crew, but for once Smithe didn’t speak out against his captain.
“So that’s the plan,” Keelin said, raising his voice. “Anyone with a job, get to it. Anyone without a job, get the Hells out of the way.”
As pirates sprang to his command, one remained behind. Morley had a look of disappointment as deep as the sea on his face. “You’re condemning him and everyone on that ship to death, Captan.”
Keelin shook his head, but he couldn’t meet his first mate’s eyes. “Drake condemned them to death when he decided to attack the Man of War.”
“What about the charts?”
“Damn the charts,” Keelin said with little to no conviction. “Right now I just want to get out of here alive.”
Chapter 14 - Fortune
The wind was on their side and so were the numbers, with Stillwater’s crew backing them up. The soldiers on that Man of War might be trained for combat, but they wouldn’t be used to fighting on a ship. With the deck moving beneath them and cramped confines, the battle would sway in the favour of those with relevant experience, pirates who had earned their salt a hundred times over.
The Man of War was growing steadily now as the Fortune flew towards it, and Drake found himself truly grinning for the first time in what seemed like an age.
“She ain’t coming,” shouted Pip from up in the nest.
“What?” Drake screamed back, his good mood evaporating in an instant.
“The Phoenix is turning away. She’s running, Cap’n.”
Drake stormed to the aft of the ship to find Pip was right. It was clear as day The Phoenix was presenting them all her arse and leaving Drake and his crew to an enemy that greatly outnumbered them.
“That fucking piece of shit pretend fucking pirate cunt running off to suck on Tanner’s black fucking cock leaving us to fucking die. Fuck!” Drake screamed impotently at the retreating form of The Phoenix. He turned to find a number of his crew staring at him with expressions one part impressed at the tirade, and four parts terrified at their captain proclaiming they were all about to die.
Princess appeared, near leaping up the ladder from the quarterdeck. “She really leaving us?”
“The Hells do you think?” Drake was still very much in a rage.
“We turning tail and runnin’ then, Cap’n?”
Drake turned, slammed his fist onto the aft railing, and spat a huge glob of spittle into the sea. The Oracle, Drake’s own brother, had predicted that he needed Stillwater on his side, and he’d also predicted that Drake would die many decades from now and not in a suicidal attack on a superior force. The possibility that Hironous could be wrong, that Drake might die before establishing his empire, had never even occurred to Drake until now.
Drake turned to find Princess, several members of his crew, and Arbiter Beck all staring at him, waiting for his decision. It was the presence of one of his brother’s Arbiters that made Drake’s decision for him. He would trust his brother.
“Stay true to the course,” Drake hissed. “Someone go below and see to the refugees. Anyone can hold a sword gets one, anyone looks like they can swing one gets to come up on deck and fight for their lives with the rest of us.”
“We’re gonna fight ’em?” said one of the newer members of his crew, a pirate named Wes, if Drake wasn’t mistaken. “
That’s suicide!”
Drake cracked a rictus grin. “I’m captain, so I’ll tell you what is and ain’t suicide. You really reckon I aim to die here?”
There was a slight pause. “No.”
“Reckon that’s settled then. Get to your damned orders.”
Beck stayed behind; it seemed she was serious about sticking close to Drake. He wondered how serious she would be once the fighting started. Drake knew he wasn’t the best swordsman in the isles, nor on his own ship, but he wasn’t one to shy away from a fight no matter how shitty the odds.
“You ready for this?” he said. “Could always put that coat of yours back on. Bastards on that ship are from Sarth – they’d never attack an Arbiter.”
Beck shot him a glance. “You might be surprised what men will do when they think they can get away with it. Inquisitor Vance gave me instructions to keep you alive. I can’t do that if I’m hiding in a cabin, begging for mercy.”
Drake considered making an amorous comment, but the threat of death was too high even for him. Maybe after the battle, when everyone’s blood was up, he’d see about getting the Arbiter naked. Drake made his way to the railing overlooking the main deck and looked down upon the gathering pirates and refugees. It wouldn’t be long now until that same deck was awash with red, so decorated by those same men and women. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Can’t we run?” shouted one of the refugees.
“Ain’t time for it now,” Drake shouted back. “Wind would be against us. Better or worse, we’re fighting our way out of this one.”
Princess and Beck joined him at the railing. He spared each of them a glance and found himself sincerely hoping neither of them would die.
“Besides, folk on that ship have killed too many of us. They burned Black Sands. They murdered your family and friends in Sev’relain. They’re looking to fucking kill us all, and they ain’t about to stop unless we stop them.”
“They outnumber us.”
“Nah.” Drake cracked a grim smile. “We outnumber them. Each one of us counts for ten of those land-loving turds. Ain’t a one can stand straight on a boat, let alone fight.” He glanced up at the approaching Man of War, and it suddenly looked close. He wagered just another minute and they’d be exchanging pointy projectiles.
“Those” – he pointed towards the ship with his sword – “are Volmar’s lapdogs. We” – he waved his sword over those below him – “are Rin’s chosen, and we’re fighting on her sacred waters. Ain’t no way she’ll let us die. So let’s make some noise and show those bastards they picked a fight with the wrong bloody pirates!”
A cry went up, followed by the sound of weapons being bashed upon wood, and Drake had to admit it was loud and, hopefully, intimidating. His pirates went about taking up positions of cover against the immediate threat of arrows, while most of the refugees milled about on deck, believing they were invincible all of a sudden.
“Nice speech,” Beck said as she took up her own position, near Drake but behind a mast.
“Rin’s sacred waters?” Princess said.
“Fuck knows.” Drake grinned, ducking down behind the railing on the quarterdeck. “They might be.”
“If it means anything to ya, Cap’n, I really hope you don’t die,” Princess continued, with what might have been considered a smile.
“Do you find yourself missing that spider, Princess?”
“Hells yes, Cap’n. Bloody great thing terrified the shit out of me, but I always felt she was watching out for the crew.”
With all the noise his own crew was making, Drake didn’t hear the soldiers on the Man of War loose their arrows, but he did hear those arrows thud as they hit the Fortune’s hull; he also heard the scream of one of the refugees not smart enough to find cover. Drake wondered where the arrow had taken the man, but it wasn’t really important. Some arrows poked holes in the sails, holes that would soon need fixing, and others cleared the ship entirely. Only one man down from the first volley, and Drake hoped the next would follow suit.
“What’s this bitch called, anyway?” Drake asked Princess in as jovial a tone as he could muster.
Princess shifted his position and poked his head above the railing for just a moment. “Righteous Indignation. She’s pretty close, Cap’n.”
Drake groaned even as another volley of arrows embedded themselves into the wood of his ship. One of them impacted into the mast Beck was hidden behind, just a few inches from her arm. By the look on her face she didn’t take the near miss well. The Arbiter stepped out from behind the mast; her mouth was moving, but Drake heard no words over the noise of his pirates. She threw something small towards the bigger ship before ducking back behind the mast. A moment later Drake heard a loud bang, accompanied by fresh screams not coming from his ship.
Drake risked a look over the railing. The Man of War was close now – very close. A small portion of its bow was a splintered, smouldering wreck, and in that moment Drake had a little more respect for Arbiter Beck’s magic. It was short lived, though, as more pressing concerns quickly took over. The first of the Sarth soldiers swung across the gap between the two ships on a rope, and he was soon followed by more men as well as grappling hooks.
“Repel borders,” Drake screamed as he darted out of cover. He turned just as a Sarth soldier in a pristine blue-black uniform landed right where he’d been standing only a moment earlier.
With Princess beside him, Drake rushed forwards and darted a quick jab at the soldier to get his attention. Princess capitalised on the distraction by sticking his own sword into the soldier’s groin, before both captain and first mate leapt backwards to meet the next wave of soldiers coming aboard.
For a brief moment Drake considered rushing forwards to cut away the grappling hooks that were pulling the ships together. Soldiers coming across a few at a time they could deal with, but if the gap were close enough to leap across they would soon be overwhelmed by superior numbers. Unfortunately, his moment of procrastination made his decision for him as two more soldiers swung across to protect the grapples. The first died of a gunshot wound – Beck’s work – but the second quickly unhooked a shield from his back and stood guard.
Again Drake rushed forwards with a quick jab and Princess followed his captain in, but this soldier was a little more ready and parried Drake’s sword only to block Princess’ attack with the shield. Another soldier hit the deck beside his comrade, and Drake was forced to retreat a few steps.
Fighting merchant sailors just trying to defend their cargo was one thing, but these soldiers seemed to be trained in the tactics of assaulting a smaller vessel. If anything, they seemed to be using tactics that pirates had been taking advantage of for years.
Princess feinted right and then switched left for a wild swing, which the soldier with the shield again blocked. Drake stepped forward to capitalise and found himself engaged with the second soldier, a man larger than most and wielding a broadsword in one hand as if it were as light as a feather. Drake quickly found himself giving ground, and that left Princess all alone even as more soldiers crossed the gap between the ships. Drake decided his claim that each pirate was worth ten soldiers might need reconsideration.
It was his experience that big men, even if they were as strong as the average ox, were usually slower on their feet, and given that the man currently trying to run him through was definitely bigger than him, he decided to rely on that speed advantage. With a parry that turned the man’s sword away, Drake stepped into the soldier’s reach and kicked him in the shin and drove the pommel of his sword into his throat all at once. The soldier choked and stumbled backwards, and the lights dimmed for Drake as a meaty fist caught him on the side of the head.
It was a few moments, and then a few more, before Drake’s vision returned to him without blinding white spots, and he found himself on hands and knees on the deck getting a good up-close look at the grain of the planks. A shadow fell across him and he turned his head just in time to see the big soldier with the
broadsword taking an executioner’s swing at his face.
Something punched a hole into the soldier’s chest right through his heart, and the man stopped mid-swing, looking utterly perplexed. Drake wasted no time in jumping to his feet and planting his own sword, halfway down the blade, through the soldier’s confused face.
The soldier went down heavily, dragging Drake’s sword from his grasp. Drake looked around and saw Beck up on the poop deck, fighting two soldiers with only her pistols in hand. She was using them as bludgeons and, judging by the three bodies on the deck around her, Drake guessed she was using them well.
Princess had been joined by two more of Drake’s crew and they were busy trying to fight towards the grapples on the quarterdeck, but it was too late. Even as Drake watched, the first of the next wave of soldiers leapt across the shortening gap between the two ships and was quickly followed by more. Things looked little better on the main deck, as more and more soldiers were replacing those that had fallen and the pirates and refugees there were quickly becoming outnumbered. Drake saw Pip go down with a nasty slash across the stomach that, if not fatal, would do nothing to improve the man’s disposition.
A body hit the ground just a few feet from Drake, fallen from the rigging with an arrow in the eye. The pirate hadn’t even had a chance to scream. With a growl, Drake snatched up his sword from the big soldier’s ruined face and charged towards the battle his first mate was losing. Unfortunately, he didn’t even manage to make it to Princess’ side.
Another soldier, just as big as the last one and with a gruesome hair lip, broke away from the melee and charged at Drake, bringing a shorter, shield-bearing friend along for the slaughter.
Drake neatly sidestepped Hair Lip and launched himself at the big man’s comrade, only to take a full-body shield hit that sent him sprawling. He recovered just in time to duck under Hair Lip’s sword as it slashed through the air, and Drake scuttled away before the two men could surround him. It was about that time that he sorely wished a couple of his crew would appear to turn the odds, but judging by the number of soldiers pouring over from the Man of War, he knew every pirate and refugee on the ship was as outnumbered as he was.