Shiver Her Timbers: The Plundered Chronicles

by Alex Westmore

  Innis shook his head. “They have five cannons, Callaghan. They’re already a threat.”

  “We can’t beat that ship with either the Breeze or the Mystery, Innis. All we can do right now is take care of the immediate peril. Get yer men in formation and wait fer my cry.”

  Everyone but Tavish left the castle.

  “Why attack and not defend?” Tavish asked. “I am unclear, lad, aboot yer line of thinkin’.”

  Quinn wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Because it is what Grace would do.”

  “Do ya think she kens aboot a phalanx?”

  Quinn shook her head. “Nope. And neither will they. That is precisely what I am counting on.”

  * * *

  “Stay in formation and stay alive!” Quinn yelled, tucking her telescope into the pouch around her waist.

  As she waited among a crew that had never been this quiet, she thought back to her tutor and his lessons about Rome and Greece. She’d barely paid attention since the lessons had all been geared for her brother, Patrick. She hadn’t cared about Rome or Greece. All she cared about was Ireland and how to make her better and stronger.

  This that was about to happen was the antithesis of better or stronger. It was decaying from within, and it was a brilliant strategy of Elizabeth’s crazy father, Henry VII. He had planted this seed of destruction long ago, when clan fighting had slowed down. He stirred that pot, and here they were now—boiling inside of it.

  She did not want to kill the MacMahons or any other Irishman, but they had no choice. It was the O’Malleys versus puppets of the English, and whoever won here—if winning was even the right word—would inherit little more than a bloody legacy.

  It made her sick... sick to think that the MacMahons had allowed themselves to be manipulated enough to continue doing the work of the English.

  Their choice.

  Their death.

  She had become one with it.

  “Callaghan?” Tavish whispered. “There’s only one flaw in this plan.”

  Quinn nodded. “I know. No one has our flank. We are vulnerable from that area.”

  A few seconds ticked by before Tavish whispered, “I’ll not let them have ya.”

  “I know. If it ever comes to that, I fully expect ya to end me.” Quinn counted to ten. It was time. “Forward! Always forward!” she cried.

  The phalanx moved forward, swords out and at the ready.

  The first MacMahons they met were stunned that the O’Malley clan had brought this fight to them. They went down like pigs to the slaughter.

  As the first bunch of MacMahons fell to O’Malley swords, the three rows of men behind them fell to the rain of arrows. The MacMahons stopped moving, their dead already all around them.

  “Push forward!” Quinn yelled.

  Recovering from their shock, the next group of MacMahons fought harder, the phalanx nearly collapsing until Tavish yelled at them to keep a tight order.

  The O’Malleys lost three men in that second surge, but the majority of blood on the island was MacMahon blood.

  “Keep movin’!” Tavish shouted.

  Quinn looked over at the large, barrel-chested man who had been her protector these six years. He fought beside her not for gold or glory but because they shared a bond. She would die for him if it came to that.

  The next salvo of arrows would be the last, as the O’Malley clan pushed their adversaries out of reach. Each push forward, always in formation, kept the MacMahons off balance just long enough to even the odds.

  When the MacMahons peeled off to the left of the phalanx, Quinn yelled for the men to break loose and deck fight.

  Not knowing what this was, the MacMahons slowed down their charge, allowing the pirates to change their tight knit formation to the looser but still organized attack they were more familiar with.

  Deck formation.

  Now the bloodshed began in earnest as the pirates were free to fight as if they were confined to the deck of a ship. It was a brilliant strategy born out of Quinn’s understanding that the MacMahons had the added advantage of always fighting on land. Quinn had removed this advantage ahead of time by explaining to the crew why they needed to fight within their ability.

  It proved to be a wise tactic. The MacMahons and MacHughs painted the earth red as they fell like cut trees in a forest. The pirates, sensing the tide had turned in their favor, slashed, hacked, and gouged their way through those foolish enough to continue attacking.

  Even those who tried to attack them from the side tasted their metal until, at last, the MacMahons, seeing they were losing the battle, turned to run.

  “Hold!” Quinn and Innis yelled simultaneously.

  All but two retreated, allowing the MacMahons to escape.

  Quinn was about to give her next orders when she saw dozens of MacMahons and MacHughs running at them from behind.

  Quinn and Tavish looked at each other before taking their fighting stance.

  “Callaghan?”

  Quinn looked over her sword at what was behind their attackers. She grinned. “I see it.”

  The men coming toward them were not running to them; they were running away from something. Eyes wild, arms churning, the Macs veered off in two directions.

  “Hold!” Quinn yelled as the group of men ran away on either side of them, revealing what they were running from.

  Chasing after the Irishmen were none other than the galloglaighs, with bloodied sparths in the air and battle cries that would curl one’s toes. Bloody and fighting in what the Goths had once called berserker battle when they fought the Norsemen, the glaighs cut down every man in their path.

  “It’s Lake!” Quinn yelled, her eyes scanning the area behind the large warrior running after the frightened MacMahons. When her eyes lit upon Evan, Quinn felt a rush through her body like the heat of Scottish whisky––from her chest to her arms and legs, she was aflame.

  Running up to her, arms and face bloodied, Lake frowned. “Ya canna let them live, Callaghan. Ya did so once, and here ya are. Doona ask us to show mercy. We shall not.”

  Quinn glanced over her shoulder at the crew. She knew he was right and hated herself for what she was about to do. She hated that it had come to this. Most of all, she hated that her earlier doubts and questions had been answered. As long as the Irish clan leaders could be bought with Elizabeth’s gold, Ireland would bleed.

  “Kill them all,” Quinn said. “Let no one live.”

  The crew and the galloglaighs tore off after their adversaries, leaving Lake and a few others behind to finish off any wounded.

  “How are ya here?” Quinn asked as Evan joined them. She wanted to hug Evan. She longed to kiss her all over and tell her how happy she was to see her. She wanted just one moment alone with her to tell her how she felt.

  “Later. When we feast. Right now, we must make sure the dead stay dead and that the nearly dead are completely dead.”

  Lake held his hand out and Evan handed him a well-sharpened pike. “Evan, stay here. I need ya not fer this.”

  Evan raised an eyebrow. “As if ya could stop me.”

  “Come on, Tavish McGee,” Lake said. “Let’s kill, collect, and pile on the shore. Let the bloody bastards rot there fer all to see what happens when someone attacks Grace O’Malley’s kin.”

  When Lake and Tavish were out of earshot, Quinn swallowed hard and clasped her hands behind her back lest she do something foolish with them. “Well? How is it ya are here in Ireland?”

  “We are here, Cap, because Mary of Scotland feared fer Grace’s safety after ya left. A missive from Elizabeth was intercepted and spoke to makin’ an example out of a faux queen. Mary felt Elizabeth’s intent was to show the Irish what happens if ya side with the Scots. She sent us straight away, and we came as soon as we could.”

  “Came? But how?” Quinn looked away as Lake jammed his pike through a wounded man’s eye.

  “First, we rode through Scotland. Then Bernard’s father, a fisherman, took us across to Dublin.
While Lake and I were tryin’ to secure horses, there was all sorts of talk aboot the pirate queen bein’ held prisoner. Lake was able to visit Grace to see what is was she wanted us to do. Lake respects her like I have never seen him respect enna man.”

  Quinn’s eyes grew large. “Lake? How did he get in to see her?”

  Evan smiled and produced a stamp with Mary of Scotland’s seal. “It is how we move aboot unmolested.”

  Quinn stared at the stamp. A slight bit of red candle wax clung to the edge. “Ya forged a document?”

  Chuckling, Evan put the seal back in her pocket. “No need. He merely produces the folded and sealed document, speaks in a Gaelic voice nearly incapable of bein’ understood, and is a giant of a man no one would dare say no to, and... in he goes.”

  Quinn realized her eyes hadn’t left Evan’s lips. She forced herself to look in the woman’s eyes. “Brilliant.”

  “Grace told us what she’d ordered ya to do, so we jumped on fresh horses and rode to the coast. No one can ride like us.”

  “And that English ship?”

  “Was at the harbor when we arrived. We... borrowed it and the crew.” Evan glanced around. “And by the looks of it, not a moment too soon. Ya were well outmanned, Cap.”

  “Aye. That we were.”

  Before Quinn could say another word, Lake returned, wiping the bloody pike off on the kilt of a fallen Mac.

  “Ya fought well, Captain, but ya needed us in the end.”

  “Indeed. Thank ya, Lake.”

  “No need to thank us, Captain. We go where the fightin’ is. Just glad we could help. I was afraid we might be too late.”

  As the rest of the crew slowly trickled back, some bleeding and others wearing the blood of their enemies, Innis pulled Quinn aside “I’m afraid Jonesy didn’t make it.”

  Nodding, Quinn sighed. “I want a list of everra man we lost this day. Their families will be compensated fer their loss.”

  “Collectin’ our dead now. It was... not nearly as bad as it could have been. Well done, Callaghan. The phalanx was a stroke of genius.”

  When the dead had been carried back to the castle, Quinn realized both ships were gone. She was glad of it. Stopping at the castle door, Quinn turned and addressed the whole group. “Clean yer weapons, say yer prayers, and then get ready to empty the pantry. Tonight, Irish men and galloglaighs are goin’ to celebrate a battle that will go down in history! We saved our home and sent a message to ennaone who thinks they might come fer it or us. Well done, fellas. Well done.”

  “What about the captain? What now?” One of the men asked.

  Quinn held up her goblet. “Now, we drink to our victory. Tomorrow, we go get our captain!”

  * * *

  The banquet hall smelled of cooked meat and spices still simmering on the trays. The wine was flowing, the ale was overflowing, and the laughter rattled the roof. Irish and galloglaighs alike smashed mugs in ribald toasts, tore meat from the bones of animals, and slapped each other’s backs with enthusiasm.

  Several times, a crew member would come to Quinn’s table and hug her from behind.

  “Ya saved Clare,” one of the pirates said, his ale-ridden breath wafting through the air behind her.

  “We saved her, Pearlie. We did it.”

  Pearlie released her, toasted Quinn for the fourteenth time, and staggered off to continue the party.

  “The men ken we couldna done it without ya. Ya lead well, lad. Yer phalanx was the key, as was yer connection to the glaighs. Ya ken they’d not have come unless someone loved ya hard.”

  Quinn cocked her head at Tavish. He had flecks of food in his beard. “Tavish––”

  He held his hand up. “It’s true and ya ken it, lad. Mary may have sent them to help, but I doubt she would have without someone persuadin’ her. I think we both ken who that was.”

  A small smile crept on Quinn’s lips. “You could very well be right. Thank you.”

  “Captain O’Malley’d be proud, Callaghan. Truly. It was an amazin’ victory.”

  “Tavish you know as well as I do that the glaighs saved us.”

  “Maybe. But up until then, we dominated the field. Don’t ya forget it. Yer plan was workin’.”

  When Tavish was gone, Evan appeared from just behind him and filled Quinn’s goblet of wine. Setting the decanter down, Evan raised her glass goblet, “To victories and vices!”

  Quinn laughed, feeling slightly lightheaded, and held her glass up. “To fierce friendships!”

  The room broke out in a roar.

  “So,” One Eye said loudly as he leaned across the twelve-foot table. He’d lost the top part of his left ear, and it was still bleeding. “What does Lake think our odds are of freein’ the Captain?”

  A few of the less drunken pirates turned to Evan.

  “Ask him,” she replied. “No one speaks fer him. Not even me.”

  One Eye grabbed his ale and staggered away, a few others trailing behind him.

  Turning, Quinn lowered her voice. “What’s yer opinion on us goin’ after her, Evan?”

  Evan slammed back the rest of her wine and let out a large burp. “In all honesty, Cap, that would be a fool’s play. We would lose more men than she would wish.”

  “We? Evan, ya and yer warriors are free to go. Ya did what Grace asked ya to do. Ya owe us nothin’ more.”

  Evan leaned far back in the chair and laced her fingers behind her head. “I see I need to teach ya the ways of the galloglaighs. We doona walk away from fights, Cap. We run to them. Run. Fast. Verra fast. Lake would no more walk away from ya now than he would sever his own limb, but even he kens when a battle has the potential fer too much loss of life.”

  “Then he would not attempt to rescue Captain O’Malley?”

  Evan smiled. “I didna say that. Tomorrow, when he is sober, ask him all these questions. He’ll be forthright and honest with ya.” Evan reached for the wine. “But tonight, let the men celebrate. They have earned it. Worra aboot tomorrow... tomorrow.”

  Quinn looked left. Then right.

  Evan leaned closer. “Not here and not now. I’m not goin’ ennawhere tonight, Cap, except where ya are.” With that, Evan poured more wine and the two disguised women drank together throughout the night, laughing, cursing, and discussing the victorious battle.

  As the celebration raged on, some men passed out while the majority did what all men do: they replayed their best kills. They acted out the moments they were heroic. They enjoyed what living felt like.

  When Lake called Evan over to help him retell his tale, Quinn watched in silent fascination as the little laoch cuidich played her role.

  There was something magical about the way Evan lit up a room. She was a ball of fire who drew everyone in and allowed people the chance to see that for all of his physical intimidation and brutishness Lake was a loyal and caring man who could tell a tale like an aged bard.

  Together they captivated the pirates, who edged nearer to the storytellers, and as Quinn watched and listened, she realized that somehow Evan had cast her spell on Quinn as well.

  “Callaghan, can I talk to ya out of doors?”

  Quinn looked over her shoulder to find Innis. “Certainly.”

  When they were outside in the brisk night air, she glanced back at the two glaighs as they rolled on the telling of their tale.

  The spell had been successful. She was mesmerized.

  “What is it, Innis?”

  Innis knelt down and picked up a stone. “Ya saved us, Callaghan, and we both know we were completely outmanned. What ya did was nothin’ short of genius.”

  “That or a miracle.”

  Innis chuckled. “That, too.” He stopped abruptly. “Callaghan, I know the men are lookin’ to ya fer leadership, and I––”

  Quinn held her hand up. “I do not want yer job, Innis. Ya are Captain O’Malley’s first mate. Not I.”

  “But––”

  “Let me finish. On the deck of enna ship, ya are the better leader. Ya know
the winds like a man knows his wife. Ya are Grace’s choice. Unless and until she changes that, ya will remain such. I have no intention of usurpin’ yer role.”

  Innis looked down and slowly shook his head. “The men need the best leader, Callaghan, and––”

  “And that’s us. Together, Innis. I took over this time. Just this time. Next time, ya will have the information needed to give us the best chance of success.”

  Innis looked up at her. “I... I am afraid my eyesight will make it too hard fer me to lead.”

  Quinn smiled. “No, ya don’t get off that easily, my friend. Ya were a jackass to me when I first came on board, but that was a long time ago. We are brothers, ya and I. Brothers to the end. And I told ya I have a friend who can help with that eye problem of yers. She is a healer, and she might be able to help ya.” Quinn smiled softly. “We’re brothers, aye?”

  Innis’s smile matched hers. “Brothers to the end.” He started to walk away and then slowly turned back to her. “Mebbe it’s the ale, mebbe it’s just the wind, but sometimes, Callaghan, ya speak like a person of means.”

  Quinn strode over to him and patted his shoulder. “Trust me, Innis. It’s the ale. The only means I have lie here.” She took her hand off his shoulder and laid it on her chest. “The men in the castle and the captain of our ship are the treasures I hold dearest.

  Innis’s face broke into a wide grin. “Aye, on that, Captain Callaghan. Aye on that.”

  * * *

  Quinn expertly brought Evan to the height of an orgasm that rattled Grace’s huge bed in her castle chambers.

  “Oh, mo omia ith tu me a mharu,” Evan murmured.

  “I’m not killin’ ya... yet,” Quinn said, rising from between Evan’s legs. “But I can if ya wish me to.”

  Pulling Quinn on top of her, Evan held her tightly, their sweaty bodies melting into each other. “I was scairt half to death when we landed and I saw how many of them there were and how few there were of ya. I couldna let meself think of ya gone.”

  Quinn kept her head on Evan’s shoulder, her battlesore body getting heavier with every passing moment. “I wasn’t sure I would ever see ya again. When ya didn’t come say goodbye... ”