by Simon Archer
I liked to think while sparring.
“Any idea what that bloody means?” Mocker wanted to know.
“Nothing good,” Mary answered. She had slunk up to us while we were distracted by our own thoughts. “If we had a map of the currents, Ligeia and I could figure out if there’s a pattern or if this is just something that one of the seaborn races is doing for their own convenience.”
“Which could be a cause for concern all of its own,” Ligeia added.
“Now, I’ve heard tales o’ what’s down there,” Mocker said as his gaze focused on Ligeia. “But I’d say that ye probably know for true, aye?”
She nodded. “In all likelihood, the truth is worse.”
He paled as his eyes grew wide. I just reached over and clapped the man on his shoulder, almost knocking him off his feet.
“We’ve already fought fish-men,” I said. “An’ I’ve seen sea serpents, an’ even a leviathan.”
“Tiny is a good deterrent for most creatures of the deep, as his kind prey on them,” the siren added. “‘Tis merfolk, sahagin, and their creatures that are most likely to threaten us.”
Sahagin, I recalled, was what she had called the fish-men.
“What should we expect?” I asked curiously. While I’d seen some monsters of the deep, I hadn’t taken my axe to many of them. Witch wards on ships tended to deter most creatures unless they had more than idle interest or were smarter than your typical shark or squid. Whales weren’t likely to attack ships without good reason, and pirates, for the most part, had nothing to do with whalers.
Ligeia shrugged. “Sahagin can grow very large,” she answered, her dark eyes distant. “Their great mothers and fathers are sometimes as tall as that ship,” she pointed in the direction of The Black Cat , “is long.”
Mary let out a low whistle. “Here’s hoping we do not attract the attention of one of those, then.”
“They also worship the great lords of the deep,” the siren continued. “The kraken, the leviathan, and the lascu.”
“What is that last one?” I asked. The others I’d heard of, but that one was new to me.
“‘Tis much like a kraken,” Ligeia answered, “but half-shark and half-octopus. Likely the most fearsome, save perhaps the leviathan, as it will try to kill and eat anything, much like a shark, but is as smart as an octopus.”
I grunted. Part of me wanted to fight such a thing for the bragging rights, if nothing else. Likely there had been few, if any, pirates who’d ever faced such a creature. My orcish blood fairly started to sing, or maybe war-chant, at the idea, but I kept my thoughts to myself. Neither of my women would be pleased with the idea of me endangering myself simply to make more of a name for myself.
Mary poked me in the side. “What are you thinking, my Captain?” she asked with a knowing smile.
“About how to fight these damned things, if we need to,” I answered. It wasn’t a lie, and my witch would know that. Of course, she’d suspect that I was a bit more interested in battling a monster than I let on, but I would take that chance.
She nodded slowly, perhaps buying it, but likely not, and smiled at me. “You will, of course, have all of us at your side.”
“Of course,” I nodded and returned the smile, then looked over to Jimmy. “Care to take the wheel an’ hold her steady, Mocker?”
He smirked and nodded. “Aye, Cap’n. I’ll relieve ye. I see ye eyein’ the spar goin’ on.”
I laughed and stepped aside, letting my first mate take the ship’s wheel, then motioned to Mary. “Care to join me?” I asked her.
She blinked in surprise. “That depends, my Captain,” she purred. “Do I get to dance with you?”
“If ye want,” I replied, caught by surprise. It’d be interesting to face Mary in a practice fight, especially after seeing how well the little witch handled herself in the battles we’d fought aboard The Indomitable and ashore on Old Man’s Isle and the coast of Milnest. She was fast, merciless, and deadly as a demon with her paired knives, not to mention her evil eye.
Would she use that in a practice bout?
“I do want.” Mary grinned as she sauntered off down the stairs to her main deck to have a quick word with the orc overseeing the practice, Dogar.
I watched for a moment as Jimmy laughed. “Good luck to ye, Cap’n. ‘Twas nice knowin’ ye.”
“So ye think, blackheart,” I growled through a grin as I started walking away.
“This is… practice fighting?” Ligeia asked as I brushed by her.
I paused and nodded. “We have to keep our skills, an’ if we don’t use them, we can lose our edge.”
“Even you?” She tilted her head and studied me curiously.
“Even me,” I grunted. That was something I hated to admit, even to my siren, but it was a fact of life. Without some kind of magic or unholy pact, humans, orcs, and any of the other mortal kin needed to practice our skills to keep our muscles honed and our reflexes trained.
“Ah,” Ligeia said flatly. “I must practice my songs, so this must not be any different.”
She had to practice her songs? Weren’t they a magical part of her?
“You do?” I drew up short and paused.
A smile touched the corners of Ligeia’s lips, but she kept her sharklike teeth hidden. “Oh, yes, my Captain. The magic is what I am, but the beauty of the song must be cultivated, along with the strength and tone of my voice.”
“Huh,” I mused. “Do ye have to put magic in all yer songs?”
She shook her head. “All sirens prefer to as it keeps us practiced with all aspects of our selves, but we are not compelled to do so.”
“Perhaps ye can sing for me with just yer voice some time,” I proposed. “‘Twould please me greatly.”
“I’d love to hear it, too,” Jimmy chimed in.
I’d forgotten he was still within earshot, but I couldn’t really blame him for wanting to experience Ligeia’s song. Hell, I’d let her sing me to sleep after my fight with Bloody Bill Markland in the underground grotto below the ruined city on the shore of Milnest, and that was something I would never forget.
The siren’s skin blushed faintly, and she dipped her head. “If thou wishes, my Captain.”
“I do,” I said. “Ye wish to try yer hand at the spar?”
Ligeia shook her head. “I am not suited for practice fighting,” she explained and opened her mouth to show off the almost terrifying rows of shark teeth within.
“True.” I grinned. “‘Twould be rude not to offer, though.”
“I thank thee, then,” she said seriously, giving a nod of her head. “I will, however, watch, and perhaps cheer for thee… or perhaps for Mary.” One of her second eyelids slid across that eye in a wink.
“Thank ye, I think,” I said before I turned and descended to the main deck, where Mary waited with a pair of practice knives, her mismatched eyes scanning over the other crew.
“Who wants to be first?” she asked with a broad grin.
7
“ S ails ho!” Gol the Clanless called down from the crow’s nest the moment before my foot hit the main deck. “Land ho!”
I snarled in frustration at the interruption of the planned spar. What in the hells were we sailing into? With a curse on my lips, I bounded past the crew to the foredeck and gazed off into the distance. An island, one of the smaller free isles, was a dark shape on the horizon, and yes, there were sails, and past them, smoke rose into the air.
“Mary!” I yelled over my shoulder. “Call yer winds and fill the sails. I've got a bad feeling about this. Dogar, Daka, get the crews ready for a possible fight.”
To the credit of my men and my witch, no one questioned me. Shouts ran through the ship as my pirates made ready. I turned and strode back down to the main deck, then yelled up to the crow’s nest. “Gol! Raise the battle flag.”
“Aye, Cap’n!” the lookout shouted back.
Kargad and Shrike would follow suit, and I expected Tabitha would do the same, what
with her experience. I wasn’t disappointed. When I took the wheel from Jimmy Mocker, who hurried off to the fore, the other three ships had all hoisted their battle flags. They were a little behind us, but all of my captains had reacted quickly.
I couldn’t place the sinking feeling in my gut when I gazed off at the smoke and the sails on the horizon. Something bad was happening, and I needed to find out what. If it was pirates, well, they were attacking a free town, but if it was the Empire, they were starting the war earlier than I had expected.
Either way, I wasn’t going to stand idly by. My allegiance was to my crews and to the free towns, despite not yet having much of a name beyond Jetsam. Word had spread, though, at least among some, of what happened in the straits and the fight between my ships and Commodore Arde.
The Hullbreaker picked up speed, her rigging fairly humming under the pressure of the witchwind in her sails. Mary sang on, her body swaying as she called up the elementals of the air to carry us along, until my ship and the others fairly flew across the choppy seas while the crews made ready.
Ligeia gave me a questioning look as she mounted the steps up to the aftcastle deck. “What is wrong, my Captain?”
“There be an island a bit to the port of fore,” I replied, my grip tight on the ship’s wheel. “A small one, only named for the town an’ what it makes; Winemaker’s Run.”
She nodded slowly, her head cocked a bit to the right. I spared the siren a glance and a grim smile, my eyes drifting from her dark eyes to the damp, straight hair that spilled over her shoulders, only partially concealing her small, firm breasts.
“Smoke an’ sails from the direction of the island an’ the town,” I continued. “Ain’t likely to be a peaceful gathering, I don’t think. Might be pirates or might be Admiralty, but in either case, I’m inclined to interfere.”
“Why?” Ligeia asked. “Will this benefit you in some way?”
I answered with a grunt and was silent for a moment as the winds swirled around me. “Aye,” I replied at last. “We be needing friends in the archipelago to shelter an’ aid us against the Admiral, so we are helping folks as we can.”
“Very well.” She gave me a closed-lipped smile. “Tiny and I will ready ourselves to attack on thy signal, should we be needed.”
“Thank ye,” I said simply, returning the siren’s faint smile with a broad grin of my own.
Ligeia whirled and dashed to the rail, not even breaking stride as she leaped, planted a foot on the smooth wood, and pushed off into an arching dive for the water, falling behind our course in the mere moments before her slim body disappeared beneath the waves. As if he knew her thoughts, the Dragon Turtle submerged as well, his massive shell disappearing beneath the dark waves.
“Ships ahead ain’t flyin’ colors,” Gol shouted down from the crow’s nest, her powerful voice carrying over the howls and whistles of the witch wind.
I let out a low growl. That meant that whoever was out there wanted to conceal their allegiance, which normally wasn’t something the privateers of the archipelago did. Either these were Milnian ships or Admiralty ships, and whichever they were, they didn’t belong.
It wasn’t long at all before we drew within sight of the entire situation. Something on the order of eight ships of the line were drawn up within cannon range of a small town and port, Winemaker’s Run. The town itself burned, a thick column of smoke rising into the air. The attackers scrambled to prepare for us, but I had one of them dead to rights.
“Prepare for ram!” I bellowed, as all my men on deck braced for the impact.
Under full canvas, with the sails swollen with the howling gale of Mary’s witchwind, The Hullbreaker’s heavy, armored prow slammed into the closest of the enemy ships with a wonderful, horrible noise of splintering wood and an impact that almost threw me from my feet.
I held tightly to the wheel and roared, “Winds down! Oars out!” as we sailed through the wreckage of the now broken and sinking Imperial warship.
Mary ceased her song as the watch officer relayed my orders belowdecks. Shouts of acknowledgment and commands reached my ears, including the deep, accented voice of my cannonmaster.
“Orders, Cap’n?” the dwarf called out.
“Bord! Ready the cannons and fire at will!” I kept bellowing orders as we lurched on through the line. A few musket shots and such rang out, but the enemy was busy reacting to us, and I was past the blockade ships and headed for the docks of Winemaker’s run before they could get their cannons turned to broadside me.
The other ships of my little fleet, not equipped with a ramming prow, swung off to the sides to lay down broadsides at the Imperials. Well, all but The Black Cat. She sailed through the line in my wake, then broke to starboard and fired a full broadside of her own at one of the ships in my path. Chain and grape-shot devastated the crew on deck and cracked the vessel’s foremast.
I grinned fiercely. My goal was the docks. Several of the enemy ships rode at anchor, and l suspected they’d discharged marines to assault the town, pillage, and burn while the rest of the fleet protected them and shelled any pockets of resistance. It was ruthlessly efficient, completely out of character, and likely spelled some kind of trouble.
It was also something that I couldn’t allow to happen.
More cannonfire rang out as we passed through the firing arc of an Imperial ship, cannonballs splashed around The Hullbreaker , and a few even rocked her magically reinforced hull. The oars kept stroking, and the dock, half-burning now, drew closer. Water splashed, timbers creaked and broke behind us, and men screamed. A glance over my shoulder showed that Tiny had entered the fray, surfacing beneath one of the warships so that it cracked in half over the sharp ridge of his shell. The Dragon Turtle let out a bellow of challenge and submerged again while I returned my attention to the rapidly approaching docks.
“Make ready to back water,” I called out to the watch officer, who relayed my orders to the oarmaster below. Oars lifted, and I began spinning the wheel hard to port.
“Port side! Back water!” I roared, bracing myself on the wheel.
Mary, beside me now, gripped the deck’s rail tightly as the ship began to yaw and turn under the rudder and the heaving oars. She laughed wildly while The Hullbreaker slewed sideways, lost momentum, and crashed, broadside, against the end of one surviving pier. Wood creaked and cracked, but held. Crewmen tossed ropes and grapples, quickly mooring us and gathering up as if to board.
“Right, ye lot,” I said as I snatched up my axe and strode down to the main deck. “We’re here out o’ the goodness of our black hearts to fight the Empire, so get out there an’ put every bastard in a uniform to the axe!”
An earthshaking cheer rose from the throat of every pirate on deck, and they swarmed over the railing to leap to the pier or scampered down the hastily placed gangplank. Mary, knives in hand, slid up on my left while Jimmy Mocker and Gol the Clanless stepped up on my right.
“Hope ye don’t mean us to miss the fun,” Gol said, a broad grin on her face. Her dark eyes sparkled with bloodlust.
“I’ve one word, lass,” I growled before I raised my axe and started forward. “Charge!”
The four of us followed suit after the rampaging mass of orcs and humans to join the first clash, as my crew hit it’s first stumbling block in the form of a unit of Imperial Marines. This was where discipline and organized chaos clashed. A few shots rang out, but the headlong charge didn’t falter.
Jimmy skidded to a halt and took a knee to bring his musket to bear while the rest of us kept pounding along. Gol and I simply bulled our way through by dint of power and sheer determination. Mary, though, slipped between struggling fighters like a dancer, spinning and dodging with deadly, beautiful grace.
I reached the line of Marines, stepped around an embattled fellow pirate, and broke the line with a broad sweep of my greataxe. One Marine fell headless, and two more leaped out of the way.
“There’s the captain!” someone yelled behind the line, and all
of a sudden, I was the object of a great deal of unwanted attention.
Well, it wasn’t exactly unwanted. I had the bastards right where I wanted them. The first marine that closed with me took the butt of my axe to the face and fell back with blood and broken teeth spraying from his caved-in face. From that, I planted my feet and swung at an angle at the next two men. One dodged back, but his mate caught the axehead in the ribs and was thrown aside like a rag doll, spilling gore and viscera from his opened torso.
That was when Mary seemed to just appear behind one of the marines, slit his throat from ear to ear with those long knives of hers, then turned and paralyzed another attacker with her evil eye.
Gol and I started to advance past the witch, the she-orc’s cutlasses a good complement to the rise and fall of my axe. Step by step, we drove the Imperials back. We were outnumbered, but that was fine, too. My blood sang with battle-rage, and I claimed the forefront of the combat by right of arms.
More of my crew grouped with me, while several skirmish teams formed up and took to the side streets and alleys. Mocker vanished up to the rooftops, climbing up the rough brick of a chimney like a cat. Moments later, I heard a musket shot ring out, answered by a scream.
The Marines ahead of us fought like demons, though, and forced us to work for every step we gained. Blood decorated the rough cobblestones of Winemaker’s Run, and surprisingly little of it belonged to my crew of buccaneers. What I wanted to know, though, was who had recognized me.
Not that it was really a hard thing to do, but still, I did harbor a bit of curiosity in the back of my mind.
I split another skull, grabbed the corpse by its armored jacket before it fell, and hurled the dead man over the cobbles, knocking a few marines too slow to get out of the way from their feet. Mary landed on the chest of one, plunged her knives through the man’s eyes, and bounded away while Gol and I just charged past. I trusted the pirates at my back to take care of anyone I missed.